Black Magic - Chapter Three: Friends Of The Family
Chapter 3: Friends Of The Family
Well, Sunday certainly was a welcomed break from yesterday‘s fun little poltergeist fiasco, otherwise known as the 'top worst day of my life'. I have to add 'top' to that statement because the 'worst day of my life' always seems to get outdone by another day's events. By the way, I slept as soundly as a kitten surrounded by ravenous dogs and running chainsaws that night. So sue me, I'm not the kind of manly man that can go through a horrifying experience and completely ignore the remaining mental images once my head hits a pillow. No, I'm the kind that has nightmares, much like a little child does.
I had a lot to reflect upon regarding the events that unfolded that day. To straighten everything out and put things right, I swallowed my pride and requested assistance from the Conclave. I'm an independent entrepreneur in the field of magic, sort of, so relying on the big boys is always a little disheartening. A group of magi were all over us in mere minutes, securing the location and working up a cover story for why the property had to be walled off with an actual wall. The homeless family was relocated and provided for, seeing as how all of their possessions and valuables still sat inside of a paranormal disaster zone. As I walked away, unpaid but still alive, a few questions came to mind. First of all, what was that thing, because it certainly wasn't any geist I'd ever seen before. Next off, how did it speak, and how did it speak coherently and in complete sentences? Poltergeists are supposed to be mishmashes of leftover anger, greed, pride, fear, sorrow, and other negative emotions; sentient creatures but unintelligent ones that are devoid of proper thought processes. They usually only think in three speeds: scare, harm, and kill. This one was talking, mocking me, and even boasting. I tried listening in on the magi as I left and heard something about necromancy, the possibility that the geist had been created, but was soon shown the door before I could learn any more.
"A necro that can make intelligent and competent poltergeists from scratch?" I remember pondering to myself. "Scary stuff..."
But I digress, that's all in the past, and at least I finished those errands that my Dad wanted me to do, right? I've gotta worry about the present, eh? So once again I woke up to the ear shattering sound of my alarm clock, happily rupturing my inner skull with its evil noise. I smacked the thing off of the table, flawlessly knocking the batteries out of it, thus meaning that I'll have to reset the clock AGAIN. Oh well, like I haven't done that a million times before, right? My schedule rested in its usual place on the wall, daunting and ominous as I dared to look at it. But surprise-surprise, today's date was not circled in blindingly bright red marker like yesterday's was, which could only mean that I actually had got a day of freedom and procrastination ahead of me. Freedom and procrastination; my favorite flavors. I sighed, the common habit of a young man already overly jaded by the world, then slipped into a 'clean pile' shirt and pair of pants. Well, clean-ish anyway.
"It's too good to be true. Things are gonna get complicated today too, aren't they?" I whined, stumbling across my room to the bathroom. "I don't see how when compare to yesterday, but I just know."
Well, against some amazing odds, things did in fact become rather complicated rather quickly. I took a shower, ate a plain bologna sandwich, then prepared to step out into the soothing daylight. As if by fate, a rap tap tapping came at my front door the moment I set eyes on it, which is never a good sign. I answered it and saw a familiar face wheezing for air.
"Dominic?" Said Zeke; short on breath. "Problems, boy, we've got problems."
"Why wouldn't we?" I grumbled. "Come on in."
My visitor was a friend and valuable information resource named Ezekiel Witherspoon. He looks pretty bland, decked out in a gray business suit and gray baseball cap, but that's actually because he prefers it that way. He's currently trapped in the perpetual Hell that is the mid-thirties, the age that is neither young nor old. No one would ever suspect an ordinary tax consultant and accountant of being anything other than boring and dull, especially not otherworldly, right? Ha ha, wrong. Zeke is far from human in many ways, though you could say that his species is far from everything in every way. He's a mimic, a sneaky shape shifter that can transform their physical appearance and augment their physical abilities to closely match whatever form they've chosen to take. Cats, dogs, birds, men, women, little children; he can do it all. Well, almost all; mimics can only transform into things that they themselves have come into physical contact with. I've hired him to dig up information and spy on shady individuals for me too many times to count, the rewards for our covert operations always cashing in big. I've never regretted working with him, an upstanding non-human willing to use his talents for justice; though it looked like I might this time around.
"What's going on, Zeke?" I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee. "You look a little out of it."
"How could I not be, man, after seeing what I did?" He replied nervously.
He wore his suit well, like you would expect from any businessman, really, but his face always displayed his emotions crystal clear, just as it did now. There was stubble on his chin and there were wrinkles under his eyes from where he rubbed them, hints towards his chronic nervousness and all the all-nighters he had to pull for his job. As a mimic, Zeke could have easily been a master thief, the criminal of a lifetime, but that was made impossible by the Conclave. They've got his number and a vial of his blood for safe keeping, and trust me when I say that blood is the absolute worst thing that you could let fall into the hands of a wizard, let alone thousands of them. So, with a life of perfect, unsolvable crimes out the window and impossible, Zeke's left with the option of leading the same kind of life as the rest of us..., bland, aggravating, and uninteresting. He was almost always a little frazzled due to his work, handling other people's money, but he looked especially terrible today.
"What did you see?" I question, pouring him a cup next.
"Zombies, man, all over the place in the closed off section of the industrial district!" Zeke exclaimed. Fortunately my Dad was elsewhere at the time, because Zeke didn't hesitate to spout that stuff really loudly. "I was on my brake, eating a bagel with cream cheese and lox when I saw it, a zombie fumbling towards me from behind a metal gate!"
I knew Zeke to be a casual pot smoker, someone who did it just to relax every now and then, so I had to have my doubts about his story. That and the fact that he'd accidentally cheated before and ended up smoking some reefer laced with acid and a few other things. This wouldn't have been the first time that my paranoid little friend had cried wolf, that's for certain. Still, he seemed pretty frightened, more so than one would be had they just been lighting up a couple behind a bus terminal. His eyes were clear and his stare was focused, so he didn't LOOK as high as a kite at the very least. I decided to dig deeper, maybe just for the hell of it.
"What were you doing in the industrial district, especially the closed off areas?" I prodded sarcastically, lifting one eyebrow. "Why take your lunch break there?"
"No one's there to bother you, you get a great view of the river, and it's only a couple of minutes away from my office." He answered, all points valid. "I was enjoying myself until I saw that thing getting closer and closer out of the corner of my eye! It was behind a fence, sure, but that wasn't really an issue at the time! The problem was simply that it was there to begin with! Where there's one zombie, there's more! I dropped my snack, forgot all about work, then came directly here!"
"You said that they were ‘all over the place' just a few seconds ago." I sighed.
"Yeah, and that's because I was fucking flipping out!" He responded, just a teeny bit louder than I needed. "I only saw one, alright?!"
"But you think that there are more?" I asked.
"And you don't?" Zeke snidely snapped back, thankfully less loud than before.
He made a good point. I've never seen just one zombie shambling around all by its lonesome. Who would be afraid of that? Zombies are slow, dumb, and relatively weak. A child with a lead pipe could take one out by himself, then go tell his friends about how much of a badass he was and how he saved the day 'all by himself'. No, the only real strength that zombies have is in their sheer numbers. When they swarm, you've got problems. Though they're slow, they take very little damage from anything, even gunshots, so trying to kill one will usually just set you up for nine others to come out and eat you. Sure, you could easily knock one down and proceed to beat it senseless with a bat, but it wouldn't be quite as easy with all of his friends chomping on your shins.
"You‘ll come and check it out with me won‘t you?" He begged.
If he was telling the truth and not suffering from a simple sticky icky hallucination, I'd be putting the entire city in jeopardy by not going. Man, I hate being the hero sometimes.
"Why me and not the Conclave?" I grumbled. "Big things like this is their territory, really. Why me?"
"I don't trust those guys, you know that!" He interjected, loudly again. "If you‘re not a hume, you might as well be a criminal in their book!"
I wish he wasn't telling the truth, I really do, but that's a pretty accurate picture he's painting. The term 'hume' is a derogatory term that most non-humans use when referring to humans, which I actually find fairly acceptable. Think about it; we have humans in this world that are actually prejudice against other humans. Stupid, isn't it? Well, the Conclave is stupid in that way too, being that their treatment of non-humans is only a little bit less acceptable than how the United States government treats any non-Caucasian citizen. So, after rolling the options around in my head, I came to the conclusion that I was, in fact, his only option. This realization came with a big 'Duh' sound effect that only I could hear.
"Alright, but if I'm looking into a possible zombie infestation and their necromantic father, then I'd like to bring some backup." I sneered, sitting up and pushing in my chair. "We're taking a little detour."
I went upstairs into my lair and packed some things into a backpack, the sort of stuff that would get you arrested at an airport bag check station. Dante took off a pair of headphones as I walked by and turned off the TV.
"I don't recall you having any plans for today." He said with a confused look on his face. "Something come up?"
"Yep, something big..., maybe." I replied in a semi-laugh. "I'm gonna go enlist some aid from the locals and then have a chat with some zombies. Tough mustard for them that I chat pretty hard."
"Zombies, eh?" Dante chuckled. "Sounds interesting. I think I'll accompany you."
"Your call." I shot back. "Meet me downstairs when your ready."
The three of us hopped into my piece of shit Pacer and buckled up. I jammed the key into the ignition and heard the sounds of metallic death, obviously meaning that the vehicle was in perfect condition and was running at optimum efficiency. Oh..., if only. Our first stop was a distant thicket of trees called Helena Woods, a small wildlife reserve that sat on the outskirts of the suburbs; which sat on the outskirts of town. Being neither large nor home to any rare or endangered species of animal, Helena was often overlooked by most wildlife enthusiasts, and was left undisturbed for the most part. This quiet tranquility, unmolested by modern mortal society, was a welcome home to all sorts of non-humans from Jenohva, the faerie lands. The creatures that inhabited these woods were old, to be respected, and not to be trifled with. When we arrived, I opened the door, jumped out into the tiny gravel parking lot, then slammed it shut. The very moment I tried to think, my senses went wild with the magical forces that surrounded the area. They weren't dangerous, not to me, but they were EVERYWHERE. I felt like a startled submarine officer looking at a sonar screen full of millions of red blips; red blips that could be either friend or foe.
"Wait here, Zeke." I said firmly. "I'll be right back."
"Uh, no problem, chief." He answered back, uncertainty filling his voice. To be honest, I couldn't blame him for being a little skeptical. I told him that we were going to get reinforcements, but here we were at a wildlife reserve in the middle of nowhere.
After taking a small hike, far enough to obscure the view of the highway at least, I shouted into the green, overgrown distance, "Forte! Forte, can you come out to play? I need some help... again!"
Some leaves rustled behind me as a gust of wind blew through the woods, every tree in sight swaying in the breeze. Crickets chirped, birds sang, and the sounds of overly ripe fruit falling to the ground could be heard in every direction. A small, cloaked figure holding a long cane suddenly appeared in the shadows of a massive oak tree and began walking towards me in a causal stride. As he approached, I detected a subtle aroma, a mixed scent of cinnamon and wildflowers. A melancholy smile complimented Forte's childlike features in a way that I can't quite explain, making the tiny warrior look both wise and innocent. He outstretched his little hand in greeting, which I then gripped in a firm handshake. Forte nodded his head, smiled again, then pulled back the hood of his ebony cloak, revealing the face of a boy who has yet to reach the double digits in age. His long, long braid of brown hair nearly reached the ground by his feet, which were clearly not feet, but tiny padded fox paws instead.
"You, my friend, are always in need of assistance." He chuckled, his fluffy foxtail wiggling out from under his cloak behind him. "How can I help you today, hmmm?"
Before I had a chance to answer, the tiny sage lifted a paw and scratched idly at his chin; lost in thought.
"Be it your hand again?" Questioned Forte. "Your preternatural keeper came to me mere days ago in search of the answer. We stumbled upon a few of my older tomes and researched together for many an hour, and I do believe we found an answer or two."
Again with my hand. Was everybody more worried about it than I was?
"No no no, that's not the issue." I replied with a vague wave of one index finger. "And anyway, Dante already filled me in on the details."
Inquiringly tilting his head to one side, the wise little guy then mused, "I see; and are you comfortable with our findings?"
"Hey, are you even listening?" I sighed; rolling my eyes. "That's not important right now. What I have to request of you, however, is."
Folding his small arms, Forte smiled and asked, "I will allow you to change the subject just this once. Very well, what have you come to request of me?"
"There's some trouble in the city, man." I stated, leaning against a tree as I took a sip of some bottled water I had in a drooping shirt pocket. "Big trouble it seems."
"Well, that is to be expected." Forte replied. "Everywhere you go, Dominic, trouble seems to follow. It is as though some greater power has dictated that you be Twilight's defender."
"Oh God, I certainly hope not..." I sighed, rolling my eyes. "I don't know if I could handle that job permanently..."
"Worry not, for as long as you fight, I will fight as well." He said calmly, the animal ears atop his head moving about in reaction to all of the ambient sounds around us. "Now, tell me what disaster plagues you this day."
Yeah, this must sound really strange, enlisting the aid of a child when I'm planning to do battle with a possible undead army, but calling Forte a kid would be the understatement of the century, if that hadn't become clear to you already. He's a sprite, a breed of faerie that looks remarkably similar to any ordinary human child, though are still noticeably different to anyone diligent enough to look closer. Sprites like Forte tend to possess many animal traits and qualities, and much like the forest fox that he takes after, Forte is shrewd, clever, and very wise. He may look adorable, and trust me, he does, but this little guy has lived for nearly two centuries and has weathered many magical battlefields. There are few around that can top him in experience or raw power, and besides, he's just a nice guy to be around. And enjoying your partner's company must count for something, right?
"Here's the deal." I explained. "A friend of mine, a mimic named Ezekiel Witherspoon, thinks he saw a zombie bumbling around in the industrial district. He's worried, like I'd hope anyone would be, that one zombie pretty much means tens or hundreds of zombies. I don't want to go into an undead nest alone, so I'd like to enlist your aid."
"Hmmm, an unholy plight within the city would be a painful memory best avoided, to be sure." The petite hermit pondered aloud. "But what worries me is the necromancer that must have summoned them up. If the perpetrator is still near, then we may well have a fully-fledged battle on our hands. I have not crossed swords with a dark wizard in many a year."
"And that's exactly why I need your help." I said. "I took on an extremely dangerous assignment just yesterday and I was lucky to make it back completely intact. I should have called in some backup then, so I'm not gonna take any chances now."
"Oh? You took on a little more than you could chew the other day?" He asked, legitimately concerned.
"A poltergeist like never before." I said, further leaning against the tree. "This thing had serious power; power unlike anything I'd ever seen a geist throw around. It was bad..."
Forte closed his eyes and took a deep breath before saying, "I dare say, things such as peace and harmony have been on the decline lately, have they not? I, myself, have sensed the dark forces of this world growing in strength and number. I wonder, has the time come to deal with these evils?"
"You know me, Forte." I smirked, sticking my chest out. "If I see something befitting the word ‘evil,' then I smack it back down to Hell before it even gets a good look at who I am."
"Is that so?" He laughed. "Perhaps you are the hero that this realm needs."
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but with this much evil around, I might need some help regardless." I stated, very matter-of-factly. "So, are you gonna give me a hand?"
"Lad, your mother asked me to watch over you quite a few years ago and I intend to keep my word." Forte chortled with a gentle, easygoing smile. "She was a good woman and a cherished friend. I would be ashamed to let her down now, so let us be off."
A little embarrassed, I stayed silent for a brief period of time. It slipped my mind, as it often did, that Forte and my Mom were old friends and comrades. She was tied to the world of witchcraft and sorcery long before I ever even existed. Having very little recollection of her, it's mostly through Forte's stories that I came to know her as a person. Dante calls it my 'magical legacy', yet another reason why I should study hard, night and day, to learn the complicated ways of magic. When explained that way, it's as though my mother passed the torch on to me and allowed me to pick up where she had left off. I like thinking about it from that perspective...
"...I knew I could count on you, Forte." I muttered quietly.
"Certainly." He mused, grinning. "And as I said before, let us be off."