Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (27 page)

I climbed on the first crate and leapt onto a higher one. My body remembered the mechanics of climbing from all those days of training in the forest. I ran toward a particularly high container, took two steps upwards and grasped the ledge. I pulled myself up and climbed a smaller container on top of that. Soon, I was only a few feet away from banging my head against the ceiling. The chiropteran flapped below, its focus completely on Tenzin.

Here’s a little piece of knowledge about birds or anything that flies. Their advantage is that they can swoop down from the shelter of the sky and surprise their victims. They don’t have to worry about something sneaking up on them because where is it going to hide? They also think
they
are the only ones with the aerial advantage and therefore have no protection against something that is above them.

I was above the chiropteran in plain sight, and yet it never noticed me – which was exactly what I was going for. I jumped down, with Djinn glowing an intense blue, my power ready to strike. I rocketed down towards the bat’s long, furry body and unleashed a crescent-shaped blast of azure energy. It caught the target perfectly, and no amount of shrieking and flapping could slow the bat as it slammed into the floor.

Now, here’s some information about
our
species: we can’t fly, but we think we can. I thought that I could either land on the bat as it fell down or that maybe the blowback from my energy would propel me towards a container where I could then perform some awesome ninja acrobatics, land safely, and amaze everyone.

I was wrong.

For one thing, I couldn’t aim that well – no land creature can. I veered off to one side as I swung my arm to blast the chiropteran with Djinn, which meant that all I was going to land on were crates and a hard concrete floor. And the whole blowback thing was just cartoonish - Newton’s Third Law, applied in midair, too. But that just meant that if I were thrown upward, I’d have more distance to fall.

Having Gil do all of my homework was now coming back to bite me in the ass.

My back met a wooden crate at a million miles per hour and flattened it. I’m pretty sure some of the cracking and snapping was my spine, as well. The impact made my eyes roll to the back of my head, and I felt as if every bone in my body had been broken. I couldn’t breathe and was hanging onto consciousness by a fine thread.

The chiropteran was lucky. The impact still hurt it, but the damn thing was covered in fur. My hazy mind made a quick connection – fur equals less ouch, which means the damn thing could get up faster.

I had no such protection. I certainly had no fur, unless you counted the two whiskers of hair growing on my chin at the speed of continental drift.

The chiropteran stood awkwardly on all fours and loomed over me. It brought its disturbing sucker-mouth close to my face, ready to shred me. I got Djinn in between us, aimed the tip at its neck, and closed my eyes in disgust. I channeled all my power through my sword and a beam of energy shot from the tip, carrying the bat upwards. It flapped its wings, trying to regain balance, but instead crashed against a wall.

A quick burst of light exploded from the walls as the smell of ozone and burned plastic filled the air. The chiropteran spasmed, but remained glued to the walls, or rather, its wing remained firmly attached to the metallic support bar that it had brushed against. Shrieking made my ears ring, and after a few seconds the light was gone as every bulb in the warehouse burst into a quick shower of glass. The monster crashed onto a stack crates, lying very still.

I stood and searched for Tenzin. With a light sound, the emergency lights on top of the door kicked in, and I saw the Asian crouched slightly with his fingers hovering around an electrical outlet.

“Was that you?” I asked. I still hadn’t fully regained my breath. Magic can’t heal the shock of plummeting down such a distance, even when the fall is non-lethal.

“Yes,” he replied as he rubbed his fingers. The smallest of lightning bolts, tiny enough to crackle between his middle and index finger, snaked once around his hand before disappearing completely.

“Neat trick.”

“It’s all about subtlety, Erik.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” My eyes wandered over to the dead monster. “I wonder what made it nest here.”

“There are two reasons creatures take shelter,” said Tenzin. “Fear or breeding.”

I looked at the chiropteran’s claws. The sensation of being raked by them was painfully fresh. “I don’t think anything could have scared
that
away.”

“Then, perhaps, we can search for signs of breeding,” suggested Tenzin as he walked over to one corner. I followed his lead and headed over to another corner.

I found what I was looking for easily enough. It looked like any other bird’s nest, except it was the size of a small car. Inside were three eggs, ordinary as can be. Each looked about four times the size of a regular chicken egg and had small spots.

“I think I found our happy family,” I called out. Beside the eggs sat a broken crate and a half-eaten ham. Guess that solved the mystery of what was in the crates, as well as the bones I had seen earlier.

Tenzin glanced over to the eggs and placed a palm on one of them. “These hatchlings are soon due. A month, perhaps, at the latest.”

“You’re a bat whisperer now?”

“I have a way with animals,” replied the Asian. Then, his expression darkened. “They will hatch and demand a fresh kill. Something with running blood. This preserved food will not be sufficient for them.”

“Meaning they’ll hunt people,” I said.

“Yes.”

Without warning, I tightened my grip on Djinn and channeled just enough power into it to coat the blade in azure flame and elongate it. I brought the weapon down on the eggs, destroying the hatchlings before they could hurt anyone. I hacked once, twice, and backed away from the goo spilling over. The carcasses of the baby monsters spilled, most of them in a bloody mess. I sent them a wave of energy just to be sure.

Tenzin made a sound.

“What?” I said. “Was I supposed to let them live because every life deserves a chance or some other bullshit?”

“No,” he said simply. “I was just wondering if the eggs were edible or not.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a chuckle, before smashing the egg and looking back at him. Tenzin had a twinkle in his eyes. As we walked out, he slung an arm around my shoulder. We both smelled like bat crap.

“You got anything that makes water?” I asked.

Tenzin straightened up. “Like what?”

“I dunno. A magic water deva or something.”

Tenzin concentrated, and the Alsatian appeared with the usual light show. Tenzin petted the dog once and sent it away. The dog ran down the dimly lit street, its tongue lolling from its mouth.

“I’m just sayin’,” I continued. “You got a magic friendship dog. Why can’t you have something that makes water? Water is useful.”

“Why would I need God’s help getting something so easily procured? It’s called God’s favor, not a wish list.”

“Do you have any water then, since it’s so easily procured?”

“No, I do not have any water.”

“So, where am I supposed to get water?” I insisted. Tenzin pointed at the ocean. “Really? You expect me to wash in salt water?”

“People have been doing it for centuries,” replied Tenzin with a shrug.

“That’s fresh water. Like a river.”

Tenzin eyes opened wide in wanderlust. “Perhaps that is why my clothes need replacing so often.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe if you had a deva that sews clothes.”

“No such thing, my friend. Now, excuse me while I welcome our friend.” Tenzin turned to face away from me.

The dog returned, followed closely by the warehouse owner, who huffed out of breath. He had probably run after the dog.

“Your buddy here smelled me out,” he said between wheezes. “I was waitin’ to see you in action.”

“I’m afraid the job is done,” replied Tenzin. He placed one hand on the man’s shoulder. “Listen to me. It was a giant bat, perhaps six feet long.” The owner’s eyes widened. “It’s dead now, don’t worry. But you need to burn the body and bury what’s left. Do not take pictures of it. Do not share this information with the public.” The dog rubbed against the warehouse owner’s legs and he petted it unconsciously. “I am saying this for your safety. There are many who will harm you if you start a conspiracy. It’s better to go about your peaceful life, my friend.”

Tenzin’s tone was calming and hypnotic. The guy just threatened the owner, but not once did I feel hostility coming from him. Perhaps he was referring to the other whack-job Wizards like my Dad, who wouldn’t think twice before killing a human.

The man nodded sharply. “I ain’t telling nobody. Who would believe me? I’d end up in a nut house.” Then, as an afterthought, he said, “You guys never told me how much.”

Tenzin smiled. “We never asked to be paid.”

“Then how about a crate? This is some premium ham, best of the best. I get it cheap from Canada,” he said proudly.

Tenzin was about to decline when he heard my stomach rumble. He gave me a look, which I returned by glowering at him. “Perhaps one for the road then.”

The man went inside to give us our payment.

“I thought you ate a fruit that the rabbit deva touched,” Tenzin whispered next to me.

“Yes, I did. But I think my magic must have nullified the spell,” I whispered back.

“Erik, you are one strange boy,” he replied with a sigh.

“You have no idea.”

That night we slept back at the abandoned warehouse. Not the most comfortable place to get some shut-eye, but hey, I guess warehouse beats ditch, right?

Besides, it wasn’t so bad. Tenzin was snoring lightly a few feet away, curled up in a blanket he produced from his rucksack. It looked thick and warm. I had no such luxury. A tarpaulin was folded under me like an extremely hard and rough cushion. The blanket I used to wrap around Djinn came from my shoulder to my knees and did very little against the cold ocean breeze that snuck in from holes and cracks all over the walls.

Yet, despite all that, I felt more comfortable than I ever had before. I lay on my back looking at a small window. I could hear the incoming waves gently brushing against the shore. Through the dinky window, the stars shone bright. Not quite as bright as they did over Trinity Forest, but they tried their best. The best part was the moon, a silver orange peel that bathed everything in faint light. This warehouse was peaceful.

It took a few days to adjust to my new lifestyle with an Asian hermit. It was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. Tenzin was nothing like any other person I had ever encountered. People have their own reasons for doing things - Tenzin seemed to exist solely to help others. He had completely risen above the need for companionship or money. He lived by whatever life sent his way and made that work perfectly. We spent a month together, roaming the land from one town to another. We helped people — not for money or rewards, but merely for the sake of helping those in need.

And for a while, I felt truly at peace.

But it couldn’t last forever. At the furthest recesses of my mind, the image of Alastair Crowley remained firmly etched. I kept replaying the night I killed my father over and over again, wondering if I could have done something different.

“No,” was the answer. I wouldn’t change anything. I would still kill him because he still wanted to kill Gil and me.

Gil’s horrified expression was something else I would never forget. I couldn’t even imagine what she was going through right now. Was she rebuilding the house? If it were up to me, I’d tear the place down and just move on. But Gil loved that place — for her, it had always been home.

I ran away and joined up with Tenzin in his nomadic mission from God or whatever, but I guess I mostly did it to outrun Crowley. I could feel him on the hunt, like some sort of sixth sense was warning me. He was getting closer, I knew it. Tenzin would listen and nod every time I relayed my suspicions to him. He would assure me that I was safe, and that he would protect me. I’d end up scoffing at him, pretending I didn’t need some old man’s protection and he would smile, knowing all along it was just an act. He would say to have faith, that God will protect us from Crowley and that God would never give us a challenge that we couldn’t face.

And for a while, God did protect us. But I guess he was on a budget, because one day Tenzin just up and decided to train me.

“I have been pondering this decision for a while now, my friend,” he said. “And I do believe that I can see your Achilles Heel.”

He sat down cross-legged and motioned for me to do the same. “You have skill when you hunt beasts. But this Crowley is no beast. He has more than instinct – he has intellect. You must learn how to fight off smart predators, not simply hunt the prey. And most importantly, you will learn how to fight your biggest foe.”

“Isn’t that Crowley?” I suggested.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “You think it is, but it is not so. Your biggest foe is also your biggest ally, Erik. It is yourself.”

“How the hell can I fight myself and ally with myself at the same time?”

“That, my dear friend, you will discover on your own as you progress.” He rose to his feet and placed palms together. Then, he bowed slightly. “Will you allow me to teach you?”

I mirrored his behavior and bowed. “Yes, I would be honored.”

That was when we moved back to Eureka, back to our old, abandoned warehouse. We were, perhaps, a few hours away by foot, and Tenzin spent the entire day just talking and talking, trying to explain philosophy to me. Honestly, I felt sorry for him. Trying to teach me anything by talking seemed to do as much good as putting swim fins on a cat and chucking it in the water. I think he finally got the message, because we spent the last hour in silence.

“So, this is where we’re gonna train?” I asked. The warehouse was exactly as we had left it two weeks ago when we had a case here. It was damp, dark, and smelled like scallops. Also, there wasn’t a single patch of ground that didn’t have oil stains or cracks, or just some weird pus-like moss spawning from it. One side had workbenches and tools, although they were more rust than metal. With no light or power, we had to make-do with windows and sunlight. And yet, this damp and crusty dump was more like home to me than the Mansion ever was.