Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (8 page)

“And I shall give you some more if you cease to behave adequately,” Phoenix coldly replied. But Sun Wo Kung had already moved to Sun Tzu and wrapped his arm around him.

“IlikeyouFangy. Fangymademefreeagain. Butthesepeopledon’tknowwhatFangyisright? Don’tyouworry. MonkeywillkeepFangy’ssecrettohimself.”

“And I greatly appreciate that,” said Sun Tzu as he patted him on the head like a pet. Only then did I notice a golden circlet around Sun Wo Kung’s head.

“I shall leave you to play a game with Abigale. And if you lose, you will have to do what she says. You will have to be her friend,” continued Sun Tzu.

“Yes. Yesyesyes.”

Sun Tzu’s eyes seemed to twinkle as he smiled at the monkey man before turning to my apprentice. “Abigale, he’s all yours. Do be careful. His nature is that of a trickster.”

“Yeah, one who needs decaf,” I replied, smirking at my own jokes.

“That was weak, Erik. Not half as funny as him calling you ugly,” shot Amaymon.

“Can it, kitty. Or shall I leave you here for him, in case he needs a snack?”

“Sore loser.”

I turned to Abi, who had gotten up and removed all those wires and pads. “Sure you’re ready for this?”

She gave the Monkey King a hard look. “Yes. I’ve trained for it. Besides, I have a feeling Sun Tzu wouldn’t let me take him on if he didn’t trust me.”

“Indeed,” said Sun Tzu. “We must vacate the room so that Abigale may begin. I wish you luck, my dear. Erik, Amaymon, I believe a proper cup of tea and a chat is in order.” And with that, he walked toward the entrance.

“Good luck,” I said as I raised my fist.

She bumped hers with mine. “You, too.”

We sat down at a table. Sun Tzu provided a bowl of noodles and those rice crackers dipped in oil that everyone loves. I tried hard not to stare too much at the other table, where Long and Tiger were slapping mahjong tiles as they exchanged dirty looks with one another. A portly Chinese man built like a barrel with a shaved head, bushy eyebrows and a forest-green Chinese suit, sat between them and faced me directly. He caught me staring at them and waved enthusiastically, smiling like a dental commercial. It wasn’t even a fake smile — the man seemed genuinely jolly. So this was Turtle, I presumed.

Sun Tzu sat down, interrupting my awkward nonverbal introduction to Turtle, and settled two whiskey glasses in front of us. He uncapped a whiskey bottle, filled the glasses, and swallowed the amber liquid from his glass.

“I thought Asians were supposed to drink
sake
,” I said as I noticed the American label on the bottle. I took a sip, letting the booze burn through my throat and settle in my stomach in a warm, familiar sensation.

Sun Tzu let out a small burst of laughter. “
Sake
is the Japanese name for rice wine. And no, I prefer something different. When it comes to alcohol and firearms, nothing beats American.”

I nodded, raised my glass, and met his in midair.

“Do I get some, too?” Amaymon’s voice was muffled, with noodles wrapped around his whiskers.

“No. Last thing I need is a drunk version of you,” I replied.

“Just for that I’m eating all the noodles.”

“You would have eaten them anyway.”

“True.”

I snatched a rice cracker and munched on it. It was not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach, and considering I hadn’t had a proper meal since the previous day, I tried to fill up so that I wouldn’t make too much a fool of myself.

“You said you wanted to talk?” I said to Sun Tzu.

He set down his glass and refilled it, his storm-gray eyes never leaving mine. “Yes. I wanted to discuss that strange ability you used downstairs.”

“Look, Sun Tsu, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hit you, I just panicked. From where I was standing it looked like you were killing her or something,” I said.

Sun Tzu raised his hand. “It’s fine. I completely understand. It is only natural to want to protect those you love. I would be a fool to hold that against you.”

I nearly choked on my whiskey. “Love? Nah, she’s just my apprentice.”

“And that is a form of love, my dear friend. Now, why don’t you tell me all about your ability?” asked Tzu.

“There’s not much to explain,” I replied. “Amaymon did tell you all about Lust right?” He nodded. “Well, that’s it really. When she killed me, I got sent to another dimension or something and saw this huge black tree. There was some strange creature there, never saw anything like it.”

“You were sent to Ashura. It’s a small plane, very close to ours. The Ashendales razed it clean of all life, back in the day,” said Amaymon. “What you saw was most likely a manifestation of your soul. But I don’t know why Ashura specifically, or why you are the only one who can go there when it’s off limits to everyone else. It doesn’t even register on the maps, so to speak.”

“Why do you say a manifestation of the soul?” asked Sun Tzu.

“I see that damn tree every time I access my power,” I replied. “It’s like I get pulled there but I never really leave.” I took another swig of booze, hoping that the alcohol intake could make sense out of that last sentence.

It didn’t.

“It seems that something is pulling at your soul, and using this power of yours is triggering it,” said Tzu.

“Why can’t it just pick up a phone and say it outright?” I grumbled. Sun Tzu didn’t answer, but poured me another glass. The way this conversation was heading, I was going to need a designated driver by the time I left.

“What are the specifics of this power?” said Sun Tzu.

“Shadows, it seems. Black stuff. Reinforces matter and transmutes on a whim. As far as I can tell, it’s some form of armor.”

Amaymon looked at me. “You’re kidding, right? That’s the best you could come up with?” He shook his head, throwing noodles everywhere. “It’s obvious that those ‘shadows’ are energy, the purest kind. They respond to the most basic of instincts and constantly evolve with the user.”

Sun Tzu directed his next question to the cat. “Do you have any idea as to the type of energy it is?”

“Life magic.”

Sun Tzu raised his eyebrows. “Life Magic? Impossible. That is the earliest magic in the universe, the power to create and change life itself. It is the power of the gods, not mankind.”

“You explain this situation, then,” challenged Amaymon. “When an asmodaii gave this idiot a hole the size of a plate in his chest, an archangel grabbed a fistful of anima particles and shoved them inside him. And then, lo and behold, the idiot walks right back up as if nothing had happened. I’m telling you, that’s Life magic. I don’t know how, but that’s the only logical explanation I got.”

“Magic like that does not suddenly appear,” said Sun Tzu. “Surely there must have been other incidents.”

Amaymon turned his head toward me. “Erik?”

“I don’t remember any,” I said.

“Let us be the judge of that,” replied the cat.

“What are you talking about, kitty?”

Amaymon let out a soft hiss. “I’ve been dying to hear your full story. I wanna know what happened from the moment you first used magic to how the curse manifested. I’m sure there’s a hint there somewhere. Gramps is right — this kinda power is usually the first to show. So spill.”

I gave the cat a dirty look. “You remember our deal when I first got you? No questions asked. Especially about my past. I had a horrible childhood. I repressed most of it, and I’m not about to open that can of worms again.”

Sun Tzu cleared his throat, gaining my attention. “But, my friend, there will be a time when you will wish you had dealt with it. Your past may contain clues as to how to better control this new manifestation. And if not for yourself, you owe it to the world to use this power against the enemies who wish to destroy it. You owe it to Abigale.”

Good one, old man. Play the guilt card. Heaviness settled on my chest, and even after two refills it wouldn’t go away. Damn Chinese and their philosophies. Leave it to the cat and the mentor to lay a guilt trip on me. And using Abi, the person I wanted to protect most, as leverage. Was I that transparent to the world?

I crossed my arms, pouting. “Fine. But even if I wanted to get psychoanalyzed, I still don’t remember much. It’s called a repressed memory for a reason.”

Sun Tzu calmly reached out and tapped my arm twice in encouragement. “It’s okay, my friend. I’m sure that once you start your memory won’t fail you.”

I immediately felt a small wave of power wash over me, and a thousand soothing voices reassured me that life was fine and all the worries I had were for nothing. I felt my mind at ease as if I’d taken the most powerful narcotic in the world. I wasn’t sure whether I was mentally floating or actually levitating on the chair in reality. I still wasn’t sure what he did to me, but strangely enough, I didn’t complain or fight back. I trusted Sun Tzu, and he had yet to give me a reason to doubt him. And besides, if there were any danger, I’m sure my old buddy, the black tree, would flash in front of my eyes once more and ruin my day. Perhaps not fighting back was part of the spell or perhaps I was overthinking it. Either way, I didn’t care. If this spell helped me remember, it was all well and good. If anything, I would get a few hours of mental peace.

“So, where shall I start?” My voice was quiet and relaxed, almost serene.

“Well, why don’t you start where all stories do?” Sun Tsu said. “The beginning.”

Approximately 13 years ago

It all started with an eleven-year-old being thrown into a puddle of mud.

Me.

“That’ll teach you to break my bike.” The voice belonged to one of three schoolchildren with scraped knuckles and dim looks. I forced myself up again, trying to ignore the throbbing pain on the side of my head. My sister, Gil, gasped from behind me and started crying. The three of them clenched their teeth in rage. If there is one thing bullies hate, it is when someone stands up to them. It especially hurts when it’s a little wimp like myself.

This started when one of them shouldered me into the bike rack. I upturned a couple of bikes and used one of them as a crutch to get back up again. There was a tingling inside my chest, like lightning coursing through me. It felt warm and fuzzy, so I assumed it was due to the smack on the head I had gotten from a bike handlebar.

But the bike I grabbed began smelling funny and felt like dust inside my palm. Looking down, I saw the skeletal structure of the bike crack and flake off. The unmistakable color of rust spread from where I clutched it, slowly spreading all over the structure. I let go of the bike, looking at my hands. They looked no different except for the stains. The bike lay in a complete mess. Rust spread through it like a plague, literally dissolving it into stinky, brown flakes. Soon, what was left of the bike looked like a remnant from a nuclear winter.

The boys’ stunned looks soon turned sour and the beating began. I felt strangely spent after I had gotten up, but I chalked that up to getting thrown onto a bike rack. They punched and kicked me, throwing me around like a football. I soon found myself thrown to the side again, this time into a puddle of blackened water and mud. I got up again, my frustration and anger giving me strength. I mean, I had done nothing wrong to begin with.
They
shoved me inside the bike rack. And I had no idea where all that rust had come from. It was probably the owner’s fault for not taking proper care of that bike. Why was I taking the beating? I saw my sister, with whom I was supposed to wait quietly until our ride got here, crying and covering her eyes. Gil had probably never seen a fight before. She lived in that innocent world every privileged eleven-year-old inhabited.

I screamed at my tormentors like a cornered beast and threw myself at them. Of course, this wasn’t like those anime cartoons where one scream can empower someone into a victory. This was real life, and the reality of it was that they were three and I was by myself. They were bigger, as all bullies tend to be, and this was my first real fight. Reason should have indicated that it wouldn’t end well for me. But I never felt such hatred until then. I didn’t care if I got seriously injured. I wanted nothing more than to swing my fist and smash the big guy’s nose in. He was the one in front, the one who shoved me, the one who threw the first punch. He started all of this and I really hated him for it. So, I went for it.

They didn’t fight well, moving around like uncoordinated walruses. But then again, neither did I. Fighting was not something a family like mine approved of. It didn’t matter - I just wanted to hear the squishing sound his nose made against my knuckles. I did have my wish granted, taking the guy by surprise. After all, the last thing bullies expect is there for victims to hit back. He buckled back, blood spraying from his nose. I had gotten some on my knuckles as well, much to my morbid satisfaction. But I had spent all of my energy getting that one punch in and forgotten all about what happens next.

I got hit back. A lot.

They left me lying there, in the same puddle of mud, having gotten tired of hitting me. After the second blow to the head, there wasn’t much I felt afterwards. My vision became spotted with black dots and everything began spinning. They stopped, panting heavily, and walked away. Gil came to my side, her tiny hands trying to help me up. But I wasn’t sure which side was up and my legs wouldn’t respond to my commands.

I did hear a car pull up, and through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, I saw a jet-black limo silently parking.

“Mr. Faust, over here,” cried Gil, waving her hand. The driver switched off the car, and from the backseat emerged the creepiest man alive.

A lanky figure, pencil-thin with long arms and an even longer face, Mr. Faust served as our butler and chaperone. His uniform was immaculate, of course, and with his swallow-tailed jacket, the crisp, black vest underneath and the pocket watch chain dangling ever so slightly from his vest pocket, he looked like he belonged in a Dickens novel. His long hair was held in a ponytail by a long ribbon of midnight blue, his smile malicious and predatory, and his eyes were a disturbing shade of sulfuric yellow. He looked at my state with a hint of amusement and disgust, and then cocked his head sideways toward the direction of the boys. They remained rooted on the spot, taking in the long, black vehicle, the malevolent-looking butler, and what it all meant. No doubt they thought my family was some sort of mafia and they had just made the biggest mistake of their lives.