Heir Of Fury

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Book excerpt

Epigraph

There's a vast place between black and white, good and evil. It’s a distinct line, easily recognizable. But in the vast of the gray, where the edges are often blurred, there are no lines. Good can be found in evil, the same time evil can be found in good. There are greater evils, there are greater goods. Sometimes, being what I am, evil and good are hard to be told apart. I am the familiar of a greater evil, maybe even the greatest of all. For him I hunt. I choose who lives and who dies. Or become something monstrous that a million deaths is nothing but kindness in comparison.

The Hunters cheer me on, the Sidhe have my back. They say it is for the greater good, for the survival of all mankind. But they underestimate Remo, how close he is to achieving his goals. How I have helped him do so. The end is almost within his reach.

In this pre-apocalyptic time, I am the devil. A mere minion of the end. Owned by Remo, I collect the bodies of greedy people, to be possessed with beings from the Quasar Stellar.

So Remo’s army grows. He trusts me more than any other agent, but he doesn’t trust me enough to reveal the location of the main portal, the permanent gap in time and dimension that brought him to this world. I know the Sidhe will grow impatient. I know the Hunters will become restless, anxious to hear “good news”. No one has given me an ultimatum but I know it’ll come.

Maybe soon they will decide I have taken too long and too many lives have been lost, and they'll try to get rid of me. Maybe they will be doing me a favor. Maybe I’ll fight back and they will realize the monster I have become.

Regardless, or until that ultimatum, I search the caves relentlessly, whenever Remo is not present. I have found private quarters in these caverns, old documents forgotten. They are not about Remo’s secret lair or the notes he made of the portal. But there are valuable documents there. Documents I dare not tell anyone about. They aren’t evil or good, but they can be used for either purpose. I don’t trust myself with them. I don’t trust the path I will choose when the time comes.

--Roxanne Fosch

Chapter One

“Please,” the air mage begged. “I wish him no harm. I just want to enjoy this new life.”

The please tugged at my heart. As if sensing it, he begged again, “Please. Let me go. No one needs to know. Say I ran away, say I met an accident…”

I yanked hard on the rod and the mage lost his footing, fell to his knees. I gave him a full minute to blubber, aware he wouldn’t have the luxury for much longer.

With the agility I didn’t think possible for someone bound, the mage jumped, tried to throw me off. The rod kept us apart, the iron metal reinforced with steel and glyphs to keep even the stronger creatures from breaking it. I yanked on the rod again, sent a pulse of static through the cable. The mage fell, tears leaking from his eyes. I hadn't known transitioned spheres could fake emotion this well.

Swimming gray eyes looked at me pleadingly. “Please, just let me go. I promise to disappear.”

“He’ll find you,” I said, not cruelly. “He’ll make it worse if you inconvenience him.”

“Let me go, I’ll deal with the consequences should he find me.”

God, he looked so earnest.

“One chance, please, I’m begging you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. The mage searched my face, his tears ceasing at the resolve he found in mine.

He huffed. “No, you aren’t. You enjoy your position of power. I was wrong. I thought you were here by force too. I thought you’d understand.”

His words cut, and I yanked on the rod harder than I’d intended. He sprawled face first, hands cuffed in front of him. I waited for him to stand, to wipe at his face with his bound hands. We tracked through the passageway, the length of the rod all that separated us. The Judas rod was a three-foot-long hard iron cable with enchanted cuffs at the end. Like the handcuff Remo’s giant agent had used on me back in the MGM, the enchantment neutralized the wearer’s preternatural abilities while the rod kept the three-foot distance between bearer and wearer.

We entered the war cavern from a side cave. My stomach dropped at the number of agents, lieutenants and minions present. Remo was taking this more seriously than I expected.

Granted, the mage was the first agent to defect that I knew, but he wasn’t planning a coup. He just wanted out, to live the life he hadn’t known existed out there.

Quasar beings were abstract creatures, beings made of energy who existed on a planet without substance or form. They had a conscience and nothing else–no sense of emotion, no sense of being, no sense of material things. They needed no food, no sleep, no water or air to survive. They existed, and that was that. And here Remo was, bringing them over, capturing them in small spheres where they stayed until he implanted them in a body, a vessel. There they observed life, they understood there was more to existing than merely drifting. For a time they enjoyed the pleasures of taste and sight and touch, the amazement and beauty of things. And then Remo commanded them, and they realized they were pawns to a bigger scheme. They all conformed and obeyed their “God” without question, thankful for the chance they'd been given, this miracle of life.

I brought the mage straight to Remo, to the center of the cavern, right by the stadium-sized hole that used to be a lake. The hole was now a dimensional pocket, a place between time and place Remo used as his junk drawer, where he confined the minions who lost their sanity to energy hunger.

I bowed my head. “Master.”

Remo studied the agent, his black eyes pitiless, lacking any mercy.

“Michael.”

The mage stood straight, kept his chin high. The blubbering man of a few minutes ago was gone. He was going down with his dignity intact.

“You no longer wish to serve me, to see our mutual goals to fruition?”

“Your goal isn’t mine. I just want to live this life without strife, without causing pain to others.” He bowed his head a fraction. “I don’t wish to be in your way, master, I just don’t want to be the cause for death and suffering.”

“My goal is to have my people, in the long term, be free and happy. To reach there, death and suffering are inevitable.”

“I understand. I just don’t think I have it in me to be part of it.”

For a few long seconds, Remo said nothing. Then he turned to those assembled, raised his voice. “I sacrifice a piece of myself to bring you here. I make enemies with the most powerful creatures to give you a body. All I ask of you is to help build a future for ourselves. It’s alright to sacrifice myself, it’s alright to be hunted like an animal because of you. My people, I can’t build our future alone. For that, we must all stand together, hand in hand and make it happen.” He turned back to Michael. “Weak-minded people are always the first to fall, and leave a gap open for the enemy to strike your neighbor. I cannot tolerate a foolish dream to cause a weak link in my army.”

A murmur broke through those gathered. Remo placed his hands behind his back. “Michael will be taught a lesson, one I hope you all take to heart.”

He turned to me, and I clapped once, closed my right hand on the palm of my left and pulled. A translucent light grew between my fist and open palm, forming a thin, glowing blade. Before Remo could voice his order, I swung, cutting off Michael’s head.

Chapter Two

I knelt at the foot of the distortion, Michael’s pleading eyes stuck fast in my memory. With a sharp talon, I slashed my wrist, let the blood drip atop the old, rusted blood contouring the lines carved on the stone. I learned I didn’t need to trace my blood over the symbol to power the rune. I learned the symbol didn’t need to be carved on the stone, that as long as it was drawn in clear lines, it would work. I learned all I needed was to focus the energy into the shape of the symbol and for a brief time, it would work. But for this purpose, to bring over a new sphere, the runes and sigils and their bastardized versions were carved on the stone, powered both with blood and my life-force energy. For this purpose, I didn't dare risk anything less than perfect.

The carved rune began to glow, the distortion above it thickened. It was just a small slash above the ground, a foot atop the symbol, no taller than a few inches, no wider than a couple more. Such a small thing, So much destruction. A rift, a temporary portal.

I traced Vermot first, to power the weave around the rift, to link the runes with all the bastardized and natural symbols together. Second came Thobus, a natural containing ward, to keep the being summoned from interacting with outside specks by encasing it into a sphere. Third was Zargas, a bastardized containment symbol, to keep the rift from sucking the energy poured into the ritual, and to keep the sphere and the working from blending.

I placed my hand atop the glowing symbols, with Zargas in the middle, untouched, directly beneath the rift and the same size as the slash. Not a millimeter longer, not a millimeter wider.

The energy flowed out of me in a painful current, something I was used to by now. I brought so many spheres into this world, the pain was like a natural occurrence, something to be expected, inevitable.

A moment later, the fourth symbol, Shodah, the one connected to the Sidhe land, began to glow.

Somewhere in the Sidhe land, the energy frequency would rise and gather atop the surface, pushed from the earth beneath it, a small pocket where Remo had connected Shodah to. As the being from the quasar hurtled toward the slash of the rift, Shodah grew brighter, the energy in the Seelie land draining down the vortex.

I had no clue how much the Sidhe land had lost with all the spheres I'd brought through. I had no idea how much time had passed on Earth. I was afraid to know. I was afraid to think about it. What mattered the most was that Zantry was out there and alright. He’d been with me all along, a comforting presence, my anchor to sanity. Throughout my time as Remo's familiar, throughout the pain, the fear, the agonizing need for a ray of sunlight, Zantry was there, sending through our bond encouraging thoughts and urging me to hold on, that soon, soon, this would all be over. There was only one way Remo could break me, and it was by hurting Zantry. The thought terrified me, and I didn't dare disobey Remo. Not to help a mage escape, or turn a blind eye and wish him good luck.

Someday, I knew, Remo would send me after Zantry, because Zantry was his number one enemy, one of the few capable to stop him. Only, no one knew Remo couldn’t be stopped. Not without dooming all the worlds. I’ve searched every hidey-hole in this place for a solution, gone over Remo’s prized documents and notes. But time was flying by, and every minute Remo got closer to achieving his goals. It was a race to see if I’d find something to use against him before he destroyed those who had the power to stop him.

So I fulfilled his every wish, afraid to show any sign of rebellion, afraid to resist or even hesitate. I was his most faithful servant. His prized pet assassin. He had only to wish for something and it was his. Imploring gray eyes filled my head, and I pushed Michael’s face from my mind. I wasn't proud of myself, of the things I did for Remo. I loathed myself for being weak. I no longer blamed Mwara for reveling in the power Remo gave her, for letting it consume her fears. I've been tempted to do the same, to let go of the guilt and the fear and the pain.

I knew I’ve been terribly selfish. I wasn't sorry for my deeds, even if I loathed what I did, what I’ve become.

I wasn't afraid of pain. I wasn't afraid Remo would hurt me. He knew that. And I knew he knew. So to keep him away from what I cherished, I damned the world.

***

The sphere was almost here. My heart pounded a heavy drumbeat, my breathing rasped in my ears, my arms trembled to keep my face from meeting the ground. Yet I didn’t let go of the runes. Remo no longer supervised these sessions. If I were ever to do this wrong, I’d be claimed by the sphere. And I would deserve it, as Remo informed me the first time I let go too soon. If I couldn't control a temporary portal, then I wasn't worthy to be his familiar. As if I wanted to be.

Something swirled inside the rift, a sentient darkness. It studied me. It didn’t want to be here. It was a curious one, as few had been.

Bit by bit, the swirl solidified, took shape atop Zargas. Activated by the presence and powered by Thobus, a clear sphere formed and shut the dark swirl inside. Where it would stay until Remo gave it a vessel. Vessels of which he was running short. Most of his prized army was already possessed to capacity. Some even with as much as three spheres. Most had transitioned, meaning the previous owner of the body had met an “accidental” death, facilitating the sphere's takeover of the body. Like the bad boy dude from that long-ago motel. Those–the agents who’d transitioned without a glitch–were placed around Earth, some in the position of power, others not so much. Remo’s armies were vast and loyal, they believed in his cause. Save for Michael.

Shodah lost some of its brilliance–the sphere had fully crossed. I held on for a moment more, even though I was nearly drained. This sphere hadn’t wanted to come.

Possession now would mean an instant takeover. Once shodah was completely dark, I eased on the energy flow. Yet, none of the other three runes, Vermot, Thobus or Zargas dimmed. With another talon, I slashed the wrist of my fourth arm and let the blood drop onto Zargas, focusing the energy while I let go of Thobus and Vermot. The distortion a foot above the ground lost its clarity, almost invisible now. A dying portal. Soon I’d no longer be able to use this one. Remo would have to open another. I should act then–he was his weakest then–but I knew I wouldn’t. I never did.

I sat back, swaying. Not from the weight of the wings on my back, but from almost being drained. Recovery was going to take a while. The sphere sat inside Zargas, the bastardized symbol glowing gently. I stayed on my haunches for a few moments more, regaining my breath, head lowered.

When I pushed back and shifted to my human form, I sensed him. Dread filled my body, hidden underneath a layer of deference. I picked up the sphere and turned to face Remo.

“Master,” I said, bowing my head once, expression cold, unfeeling.

Remo studied the sphere in my hand. I didn’t offer it to him. The spheres were my responsibility. I was to see it safely with the others in the warded cave behind the library.

“It’s time, familiar.”

“Whatever my master wishes.” Nothing of the sinking feeling in my middle came through in my voice, or showed in my eyes.

“You will go and bring me an army. I need vessels, powerful ones.”

My heart sank further. Had he been able to implant a sphere on one of the wyverns without my knowledge? God, please don’t let it be Dathana.

“Yes, master,” I murmured instead.

Maybe–I hoped–he didn’t mean more wyverns, maybe he wanted some lesser beings instead. I didn’t voice any of my thoughts. What mattered to me, whatever I cared about–it was just another noose he could tie around my neck.

“I want you to leave soon,” he began, cupping his tiny hand around the back of mine. His energy force slammed into me like a freight train and my knees buckled with the onslaught. I almost dropped the sphere. But I didn't make a sound. The dark swirls filled every part of my being. Inside, my soul wept with the corruption. After a long moment that was no more than a few seconds, the energy flow cut off and I collapsed into a boneless heap. Remo's foreign energy tried to bond with my depleted one, mostly in my chest, stomach and forehead. Chakra points, vital points. My body grated from inside, refusing to accept the foreign energy. I panted in that undignified position, down on my knees with my arm wound around my middle, fist closed around the sphere, my other hand bracing me from total collapse.

“I want at least a dozen,” he said. His words shocked me enough the nauseating pain was forgotten. My arm dropped, my head lifted and I met his eyes–and they skittered aside. After all this time, I still couldn't meet his eyes.

“A dozen, my master?” I dared ask. It was the first time I showed him any doubt at one of his commands, but I couldn’t help it. Fighting one wyvern into submission was hard enough. Dragging it through the leeway without bleeping on the guardian’s radar was worse.

But a dozen? I’d never be able to do that.

“I want preternaturals. Master vampires, dominant weres, accomplished shifters,” he went on, and I nodded, lowering my head. I could barely hear his next words, blood was rushing in my ears so hard.

He was sending me to Earth. To hunt for him, yes, but I was going back.

“I want you back in three weeks Earth’s time.”

I bowed my head. “Of course, master.”