My senses returned, and I started swearing like a sailor.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy SHIT! What the FUCK!”
“Got what we came for,” Craig said. “Also, the name of the dealer.”
“Fuck!” I was still panicking. “Is he—is this guy going to be alright? He’s- is he having a heart attack? Do you have a phone? CALL 911! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”
“Calm down, Boy.” Craig sounded more annoyed than anything. He frowned at me. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Me? ME?!” I said, hysterical.
“Calm, Practitioner,” Wol said.
“What did you think would happen?” Craig said.
“I thought we were going to fucking question him! Maybe rough him up a little! Not give him the practitioner equivalent of a mindfuck gangbang in broad daylight in the middle of New York! What the FUCK!”
“He’s fine,” Craig said dismissively.
“What the hell just fucking happened?! Did you and the dog eat his mind? W-What if he’s epileptic now?”
“It’s not my first rodeo, Boy,” Craig growled, dialing up the hostility in his voice. The tone began to resemble a warning more than annoyance now. “I know what I’m doing. He’ll wake up without any memories of us and go on his day.” He huffed at me. “Check for yourself.”
Hesitantly, I knelt and put a finger on the boy’s temple. The jerky seizures had stopped completely, and frothy drool dribbled out of the corner of my mouth. I was still freaking out inside. This guy wasn’t part of the supernatural world. Sure, he might be a teenage drug dealer who might one day be a grown-up drug dealer, but drug dealer or not, it seemed wrong to just go about using mind magic on someone unrelated to the supernatural.
I reached out with my senses, trying to see if I could sense anything.
Slippery rolls of oily darkness rose to meet my senses, rubbing on my Third Eye and leaving it slimy.
“Ack!” I pulled my hand back.
Craig spat. “Good.”
“Good?!” I sputtered.
“If you were able to reach into that boy’s mind over there without any tools, it would mean you have enchantment talent on top of thaumaturgy,” Craig said. “Sure signs of someone who’s been dealing with souls. Like a warlock, for example. And that was as stupid and amateurish as it gets, reaching out blind with your Third Eye like that.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. “You were testing me?”
“Now, if you had a tool or a trinket in your pocket to look into a mortal’s mind, then we’d be singing a different tune.” His thumb glossed over the pommel of his walking stick, and I found my eyes drawn to the runes running the length of the stick. “Know this, boy. I don’t take kindly to warlocks digging around people’s minds. Don’t let me catch you.”
And the anger that had been boiling beneath the surface tipped over.
I was so angry. So angry. Ever since we met, Craig had been pushing and pushing, and I’d tried my best to put up with it. But I have a thing for bullies wearing the uniform of authority figures; Craig reminded me too much of people who walked into the classroom, took one look at me, and decided I was something I wasn’t. That I was just another trouble maker because my dad was poor. That because I was poor, I wasn’t worth their time. Because I came from a single-parent household, I was fucking trash. And that because I was all those things, it was okay for them to pick on me.
Because I didn’t belong anywhere. And not belonging anywhere meant you had no one in your corner.
Except yourself.
Let someone bully you once; it’s just a moment. Let it happen again, and you’re a victim.
And it’ll never stop.
“How many times do I have to tell you, whatever this fucking warlock thing is, I’m not it. And you’ve literally just done the one thing you said I shouldn’t do, you hypocrite,” I snarled. “Boy this, boy that, I have a fucking name. And isn’t there a rule against using magic on non-practitioners? You mindfuck a kid, a fucking kid, and have the right to lecture me on—”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
I never saw the Black Dog coming.
Thousand Pounds of draft-horse-sized old English folklore lunged at me from behind, letting out a high-pitched yip that was the horror screams of a dozen men rolled into one. He bowled into me, suffocating me, and his grinning face ended up inches from my own.
Now, I’m not an experienced practitioner. Hardly. Far from it.
But I’m no stranger to a scrap. I’ve been jumped, bullied, beat up… you name it.
And my initiation into Practitionerhood had been through daemonic fire and blood.
“Eldritch,” I gasped out, one hand supporting the wrist of the other that held the knife—blade pointed towards the Black Dog’s salivating mouth.
Hwari had already drawn the circle in the air right behind the Black Dog.
Eldritch flames, made of dread and pain, surged from my gravity knife in an uncontrolled wave, washing over the hellhound’s chin, chest, and body. There was an ear-splitting yowl, and suddenly, the crushing weight was gone. I could breathe again.
But there was no time. I immediately rolled to the side, just barely dodging Craig’s golf swing. Coming up on my knees, I pointed my knife at him. “HWARI!”
Hwari moved, drawing another circle by Craig’s feet. But the old man was too quick; he shuffled his feet, dissipating the inky substance that Hwari left behind. He slammed his staff on the ground, and a different combination of runes lit up and down the whole thing.
My Third Eye felt Craig’s working take effect, but not in any way that I could see, hear, or touch. It was as if the spell was air—it was there, but I couldn’t prove it. But every ounce of instinct I had screamed that Craig had done something to the metaphysical air around me. His working had touched reality on a level deeper than the physical plane or mental plane. His working went higher than that: Astral or Spiritual.
And whatever happens there flows down.
I froze, eyes darting left and right to try.
“Wrong move, boy,” Craig said. Then he wound the tape on his watch and disappeared.
“It’s a hex,” Wol screeched. His weight left me. “Luck! He’s manipulating luc—”
Wol never got to finish as filthy, rancid water came splashing down on me from above.
It was warm and fucking putrid.
It came down for a solid three seconds, drenching me from head to toe. Now, I feel the need to remind you that it was the middle of winter, and it took only seconds for me to start shivering. My breath fogged, and the water became ice-cold splinters: a thousand needles piercing my naked skin through my clothing.
“You cool your head now, Boy?” Craig said from behind me.
I turned around, teeth clicking together. Not a droplet had touched him.
“Y-y-y—” I couldn’t finish.
He began to walk towards me.
Wol blocked him.
Craig stopped. Then he reached into his suit jacket and brought out a dog tag. It looked like an army tag, but another similarly sized tag sat beside it. The light flashed just right, and I saw the symbol etched on it: a burning pitchfork.
“I’m allowed to push the rules, Boy,” Craig said. “If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”
“N-n-Nietzsche,” I stuttered.
Craig turned his gaze on Wol. “You ought to recognize this symbol.”
Wol nodded, his body language stiff. “I do.”
“Tell him, familiar.”
Wol stepped back, his tail raised. There was a tense moment when I thought Wol wouldn’t listen.
“You’re a Pitchfork,” Wol growled.
“The official title,” Craig growled.
“…The Hounds. Battlesmages with the license to track down, control, bind, and at times, kill things that pose a great threat to Society.”
“A-a battlemage?”
“Not always. Don’t have to be.” Craig sighed and put the dog tags away. “Figures the boy would focus on that part of the title.” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “I’m the part of the interview making sure you’re not crossing any lines, Boy. The background check. Dusty! Get your ass on back here.”
The Black Dog, which had been rolling on the floor in my Eldritch flames, suddenly sat up. The flames were still licking away at him. He grinned, got up, and shook his fur in the way that dogs do. My eldritch flames dissipated into the nether.
It hadn’t done a thing to him. He’d been acting.
‘I wanted to watch,’ He said playfully. ‘He’s not like those Society Scions. I’ve met those twice his age that cannot—‘
Craig silenced him with a look.
“…T-the whole thing. Y-y-you were testing me again. P-pushing on m-m-my buttons. This entire t-t-time?”
“You ain’t worth all that, Boy,” Craig muttered. “You got in a huff all by yourself. I just played you like a fiddle.”
“I—”
“Your knife. What’s in it?” Craig asked.
I hesitated, looking at Wol.
It was Hwari who answered. ‘A shade. Shade of the footsteps of forgotten gods, who were lost on purpose for the sake of sanity.’
“The fuck?” Craig said, looking confused for the first time.
Every breath felt like sucking ice splinters into my lungs. So cold. “It’s not illegal to be a Warlock. We e-e-established that. Or the Hallow h-h-house would have been wiped out centuries ago. It doesn’t make sense.”
“But we ain’t never had a warlock who killed highblood a month after he got awakened either now, did we?”
My heart dropped.
“That wasn’t me,” I whispered. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Don’t matter none,” Craig said. “You really think three Practitioners came here to interview you for citizenship? Don’t tell me you’re dumber than I was starting to give you credit for, Boy.”
Oh, shit.
This wasn’t about the interview at all.
“You pissed off a lot of people, boy. Valentine had friends. Allies. A real family,” he said.
They wanted to pin the murder on me. Or at least, find a different reason to punish me for it.
I couldn’t breathe. It was my childhood all over again.
All I did was defend myself. From people trying to hurt me, to take things away from me. And they were finding new excuses to try to blame it on me. All of a sudden, I was that scared little kid back in the principal’s office, being yelled at by some other kid’s mom. Even though he was the one who hit me first. I was the victim.
“Let me give you a piece of advice, Boy,” Craig said. “People are looking for an excuse. Oh, everyone wants a piece of you. Just one reason. One reason is all they need.”
Hwari floated in front of me protectively.
Craig tapped his staff on the ground. A sharp rap, just enough to catch my attention. “I even catch a whiff of you involved in something you ain’t supposed to be even near, you’re done. And I’ve seen enough bad apples to know there ain’t no second chances.”
I stared at the ground.
“Got anything to say?”
I didn’t.
“…You can pick up your half of the money from the Worm.” Then the old practitioner turned around and left. The Black Dog gave me a grin and trailed his master.
“…Fool thinks he can throw hands with me. Fought in fucking ‘ Nam, and green sprouts think they can…”
As Craig’s voice trailed off into the distance, I could only think about one thing.
They were here to get me. Not take my shit away. But get rid of me. Or do something worse.
And I’d just wasted the last month lying about in bed instead of preparing.
The early bird gets the worm. But I was no bird. I was a worm. A worm that had wasted precious time. And worms get eaten regardless of whether they’re early or late.
Making sure the boy was stable, I headed home.