“Ah, the new Hallow Heir. Finally, nice to put a face to the name,” he said plainly. “Name’s Vine. How may I be of help?”
It was like trying to look at the ocean, trying to get a perfect still-shot memory of the ever-shifting waves and shadows. Every time I tried to zoom in on a particular feature, like the color of his eyes or maybe an accent, his other features changed to draw my attention. The distraction was only for a second, but just enough for me to pay attention, and his characteristics would change to something else.
“Vine?” I said and searched my memory. I definitely heard of it somewhere.
“Vine,” the daevil confirmed, perched on an invisible chair. “You have not heard of me?”
“I’ve read about you. But if you’re asking if anyone has told you to me, no, I haven’t.”
He smirked, coy and confident. “It seems the deal still holds.”
“What deal?”
He stood up, his clothes changing to a butler’s suit. Vine did a formal bow at the waist. “I am your first point of contact to the Hallow depository, the conseiller en matière de mandat to the Hallows. I have served your father, and his father, and his father before him, as well as many others. Now, I answer to you, young Hallow.”
“What did he just say? After the first point of contact?” I asked Wol, pointing at Vine.
“I do not speak French.”
“Conseiller en matière de mandat,” Vine repeated.
“Gesundheit,” I quipped.
“Ah, a jokester. Your great-great-great-great-grandmother was one as well. A rarity among the Hallows, if I remember correctly. Even rarer still for a woman of those times,” Vine sat back down, his outward shape shifting once more. “I assume that you have questions.”
I chewed on my bottom lip and traded a look with Wol. Something about the daevil —besides the fact that he was a literal devil— made me uneasy. The whole conversation made me nervous, making me hesitate to ask questions.
“Hwari, reinforce the circle,” I said, reaching out with my connection towards the ghost koi.
She obeyed, rising from the shadows and circling the summoning working, leaving inky trails behind her.
Vine got up and walked in pace with her, mirroring her movements from inside the confines of the Circle. He folded his hands behind his back, almost like he was studying a painting. “Fascinating. You’ve decided to make contracts with the Shin familiars, then?”
Wol padded towards the invisible barrier. “You said you’re the first point of contact for the Hallow depository. What does that mean?”
“Ah, normally, I wouldn’t answer any questions of the Hallow family except the heir, but since you are his familiar, you are allowed some answers,” Vine said. “The Hallow depository is exactly what it sounds like. A storage of all the artifacts, curses, knowledge, and resources that the various Hallows have collected over the years.” He walked to the circle, facing me directly. “And now, it is yours.”
I frowned. “Wait, what?”
“You heard correctly, my leige. Everything that your forefathers have squared away, hidden from the purview of Society and the rest of the world, everything that they wanted to possess for themselves or deemed too dangerous to exist in the mortal plane, whether by simple greed or selfish altruistic goals, the Hallows have a formidable arsenal of treasures,” Vine said. “Would you like the list?”
“Holy shit,” I swore.
Vine smiled, leaning back and sitting on empty air again. “Indeed, though I wouldn’t make it a habit of collecting divine instruments, no matter how unsightly the physical shape.”
“Is there a staff?” I asked in a hurry. “One for a conjurer? Actually, even a staff made for an abjurer would do.”
“There is just the thing,” Vine confirmed. “17th century. Made of ghostwood. Your forefather won it in a duel.”
“Can I…” I swallowed. It couldn’t be this easy, but I had to ask. “Can I have it?”
“Most certainly not.”
Of course. I frowned. “Why not?”
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“You do not yet have the authority,” Vine said. He held up a hand. “Ah, before you ask, authority refers to your deeds, how you’ve affected the world. Both for the better or for worse. The greater the deed, the greater the authority. The first Hallow set this in place. Only those who’ve done great things can handle great power, after all. What is that saying you humans are so fond of? Ah, yes, with great power comes great responsibility. Fantastic movie, really.”
Forget the superhero reference, I was more curious about everything Vine said so far. “So you’re telling me that there’s a whole vault of Hallow artifacts, and only I can access it. Except I can’t really access it until I do something to change the world? Is that it?”
“To access the most powerful of them, yes.”
“Give me an example.”
Vine’s eyes glowed red, and his smile stretched from ear to ear. Literally, no fire. No smoke. Just skin stretching like it was a piece of clothing worn by something different than me. “Oh, I can give you an example right now. Years ago, your mother and father awoke a spirit in the mountainous region of Khangai. An old spirit. Upon her awakening, every villager within a twenty-mile radius hung themselves. It took—”
“Enough!” Wol snapped.
Vine smiled. “Is that what the heir wishes?”
I stared and belatedly realized my mouth was hanging open.
I’d heard over and over again what horrible people my parents were. Some people had downright hated me just because I was my mother’s son and of my father’s name. To me, it didn’t make a lot of sense. Sure, it didn’t sound like my mom was the best person —cue, Hwari being modified without her knowledge for example— but Assad also told me my mom helped the Table catch a serial killer. No one’s perfect. So why was I being hounded like this? Why did I have to fight tooth and nail for my mother’s inheritance, which rightfully should have come to me?
I mean, I could have asked Wol anytime. But I held back. I thought he’d tell me sooner or later. Besides, we’d been busy. Since meeting Wol and Hwari, it had been one danger after another, and I barely had time to catch my breath.
And truthfully, I think a part of me didn’t want to know.
My Third Eye showed me visions sometimes. Whether it was visions of the past or future, I didn’t know. I hadn’t really had time to address it yet. That was the issue. Time. I didn’t have time to do anything, and I unconsciously put the need to find out more about my parents on the back burner.
I’m not stupid. My dad was literally the greatest resource I could tap on in a moment like this. Forget summoning daevils, I should have been looking to get in contact with William Everblack Hallow, literally the only other Diabolist of the Hallow Name. But like I said earlier, reasons kept holding me back. Reasons like this.
I think I was afraid of something like this.
“How many?” I asked softly.
“Practitioner, this doesn’t—”
“How many, Vine?”
“Unfortunately, the villages were small in size. Approximately four-hundred ninety-seven souls were swallowed by the spirit because she was put to sleep.”
Holy fucking shit.
I looked at Wol. “Did you know?”
“Yes,” Wol said after a moment’s delay. “…I was there, Practitioner.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Wol put his back to the daevil, facing me directly. “Because you are kind. You are different from your mother and father. You are weak. I did not want to give you information that would shake you in the trial.”
“And you too, Hwari? You knew?”
‘You never asked, my Caller.’
“You two helped my parents commit mass murder, and you were keeping it from me?”
“Ah, I am compelled to point out that as perfect as your circle may be —kudos, I believe I’ve not seen one better since the nineteenth century— my time here is limited,” Vine said. “Perhaps we could resume our conversation?”
I knew Vine was manipulating me, trying to get me to ask more questions to put a wedge between Wol, Hwari, and me.
And it was working.
“This isn’t over,” I said in Wol and Hwari’s general direction. Then to Vine, “Tell me more about this vault.”
Wol placed a paw on my leg. “Practitioner, we called him to get information about our next steps. The staff and the knife. That is paramount.”
I bit my lip and had to force down something hot and fierce from coming out. “…How long do we have?”
“If you are planning to ask about the foreign presence in your back pocket, as well as the burnt branch in the corner and its aptitude as a staff, we have just about enough time,” Vine said smugly.
I slowly took out the knife, keeping in mind that Vine had sensed its presence before I even told him about it. I set it on the floor and the spines immediately stood up around the handle.
“Fascinating,” Vine said. “This isn’t an Eldritch Creature, but a shadow of one. One made through the marriage of a daemon and an eldritch influence. A child of both.”
I had a really nasty image of Maw frolicking with tentacles. I shook my head. “What does that mean? This is an eldritch ghost?”
“Not a ghost, though it could be. It is a footprint in the mud, a shadow, an imprint of what it used to be. That’s all that eldritch creatures are, remnants of the attention of an Elder god. This one is the imprint of an imprint, brought to semi-sentience through coexistence with a daemon’s soul. At one point, it was a parasite. Now… it is less than that, but could be more.”
“You’re speaking in riddles here,” I said.
Vine gave a well-mannered sigh. “Eldritch creatures seldom have bodies, on account of the very nature of their being. There are reasons for this, but none that your human brain could understand at this moment in time. Given a century to practice and study only the eldritch kind, and perhaps you could. But for now, consider this as an example,” Vine said. “Imagine the eldritch madness to be a streak of paint. First, it got on the daemon, leading it to madness. But the paint is now changed by the daemon, for as much as the daemon is stained, the paint no longer exists alone, but is now defined as the ‘paint on a daemon’. In your process of exorcising the daemon, you managed to get some of this paint on you. Now the paint is less daemon, and more practice. If I’m not wrong, you’ve awakened with this knife?”
I nodded.
“So the knife is integral to your practice. We go back to the same example. As much as your practice possesses the paint, the paint is now on your practice. You said you’re a conjuration talent?”
I nodded.
“Which wing? Abjuration?”
“Abjuration. Then thaumaturgy, not divination.”
“Ah, your talent is completely unilateral. That’s rare. Most practitioners possess talents in both directions, it’s rare to see the talent lean completely in one. Regardless, kindly draw a circle on the floor for me.”
I eyed Vine then Wol.
“I’m bound by contract to offer you neither harm, curse, or lead you in directions that would lead to what you would define to be a setback in your current endeavors,” Vine said, then eyed my arm and leg. “Though I would say I needn’t have tried. You’re well on your way already.” He clapped his hand. “Hurry on then, Heir. Draw the circle.”
“I will keep an eye on him, practitioner,” Wol said.
“Nice words from the kitty who lied.”
Wol’s green eyes fixed the daevil in place. “I never lied about what I am, daevil. I am Wol, the cat who fished the Moon. And I am his contracted.”
Vine gave a small shrug.
While they were talking, I took a chalk and drew a circle on the floor.
“Great, now focus, Hallow Heir,” Vine said, his voice growing quiet. “Take the eldritch knife in your hands and reach out towards it with your senses. Tell me what you sense.”
I did so, and for the first time since my knife got possessed by an eldritch madness, I opened up my Third Eye towards it.
It was like making contact with my fingertips, gently at first, and leaning in. Something wet, slippery, and craggly reacted to my touch, freezing at the sudden contact. Then I felt numerous tentacle-like appendages reach back, wrapping around my finger and exploring them.
“I would not make deeper contact than what you have now,” Vine said. “Keep it at a minimum.”
I nodded, retracting my fingers a bit. The creature inside the knife did the same.
“Now, pull on the connection. It should be easy, thanks to the knife being part of your awakening.”
Vine was right. The connection was there, similar to my connection with Wol and Hwari, albeit more stringy and less solid. It felt almost ethereal, like it could snap at any second, yet more elastic —like it could stretch much more than I expected possible.
Vine’s voice took on a fluid tone, nearly echoing and flowing right through me. “Now, chant after me, Hallow Heir. Eldritch.”
“Eldritch,” I chanted.
And the small circle I drew on the floor exploded into purple flame.
“What the fuck?!”
“Congratulations, Heir!” Vine said, clapping from inside the circle. “You are officially the first Hallow to conjure eldritch flames into the material plane!”