Mana Mutation Menace (Journey to Chaos Book 3) (11 page)

Eric grinned wryly, sat up, and drew her into a third hug.
She bristled and glared momentarily, then snuggled in.

"I'm sorry, Kas. I'll bring them next time."

"Bring the 'blessed with monstrosity' stuff
too!" she said into his neck. "I want my scientists to look it
over."

"I'll do that."

"Now that I think about it, it's
your
fault I
was humiliated. You almost dashed the world's hope for Medical Mana Mutation,
so you
still
owe me!"

She said all this while embracing him and resting her head
against his. Eric stroked her back as he did during their first reunion and she
melted further. He said, "Yes, I do."

Kasile yawned and leaned back. "I expect everything
to be ready in two days. Got it?"

"Got it."

"One more thing...take that with you." She
pointed at the choker lying on the ground.

 "Huh? Why?"

 Suddenly, she was shy again. "I'm...after you
leave...I'm afraid I'll put it back on."

 Eric picked up the choker and plopped it in his pocket.
"Done."

 Kasile looked up at him warmly. "Thanks, Eric. I
know I can always count on you."

Eric returned the affectionate gaze. "Whenever you
need someone to lean on, I'm here, but don’t ask me for political advice."

Her face turned harsh again. "I wouldn't ask
you
for political advice if you were Order himself.” She pointed at the door. “Now
get out of my sight before I arrest you for breaking and entering!"

Eric trickster-grinned. "I was never here."

He opened the window and vanished into the night. Kasile
waited until he was gone and checked for eavesdroppers with her divine flames
to make doubly sure. Then her hand went to her naked throat and the full impact
of her failure hit her. For the second time, she had been duped into trusting
someone and in doing so put her country at risk. She cried herself to sleep.

Now that Kasile was no longer in trouble, Eric walked out
of Royal Town with a light heart. He had time to indulge in all the petty mischief
he denied himself coming in. By the time he crossed the moat, he decided “Robin
Goodfellow” would be an appropriate pseudonym should he ever wish to use one.

On the streets of Roalt, he strolled over to Merchant Town
and into a late-night pawnshop. His fellows at the guild told him about this
place as a friendly tip to a junior. In a mercenary line of work, one might find
something of value and this was the sort of place to unload it. Thus far in his
career, he had few reasons to visit.

It was brightly lit; the only such place on the block.
There was a center island for merchandise and more set in glass cases against the
walls. He saw everything from jewelry to weapons to comics to antique lamps. An
orc bouncer and her fairy partner gave him a once over at the door and a rock
golem behind the counter muttered a prayer to Fiol.

"Good evening, Pilaocv. Did I pronounce it
right?"

The golem nodded. "What kind of business do you have
at this hour?"

Eric took Kasile's influence choker out of his pocket and
placed it on the counter. First, the golem held a device over it to scan for
mischief magic, and second, she placed her hand over it and stared into space.

"This is made from high quality silk, expert workmanship,
and the ruby is flawless, other than a mark where it seems like someone threw
it to the ground.” Pilaocv retracted her hand. “It's not something just anyone
could afford. This is the sort of thing fat cats give to ladies they want to
impress. Where did
you
get it?"

With his patented trickster grin, Eric replied,
"Prince Lunas gave it to Her Majesty as a token of his hopeless love for
her. As the love is unrequited, she gave it to me instead of throwing it into
the garbage. She found it to be ‘tacky.’ "

Pilaocv shook her head. "Whatever you say,
Trickster's Choice. What happens if this thing causes trouble for my business?”

Eric glowered. “You think I’m part of his prank? I hate
him more than anyone because he bothers me more than anyone.”

“True, but I’d like you to sign this agreement to reverse
any deal we make if it becomes a problem anyway.”

Eric’s eyes slitted.

“I gotta look out for my business.”

Pilaocv placed a sheet of paper next to the choker. With
the contract in front of him, Eric only saw squiggly lines. He couldn’t read it
nor could he remember how to sign his name.

“What’s wrong? There’s nothing sneaky in here. It just
says ‘negate the deal and reverse the transaction if criminal or tricksterish
action results from it.’”

“…Right. Just checking.”

Eric took the pen and made squiggly lines that he hoped
could pass for cursive.

“Okay. How much do you want?"

"How much will you give me?"

"Normally, I'd give you fifty percent market value,
but for something of this level, even that would tie up too much money. Few
people outside of 'Prince Lunas' could afford something like this, so I'll give
you twenty percent of its market value, but this one is damaged, so the repair
costs mean I can’t even give you that much.”

She talked solid numbers, percentages, mint condition
value, the value of this damaged one, and the ways she could make money off it.
All of it went over Eric’s head. He couldn’t follow it despite his memories
telling him that he’d done this sort of thing before.

It’ll pass…It’ll pass. I’m human, not a grendel.

Eric looked about the store and his eyes fell on the
jewelry case. Inside was a choker in a different style from the one on the counter.
It had black velvet straps with a silver clasp in the back and held an amber
stone set in gold. It reminded him of a certain special someone.

"How about a trade?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"That necklace there with the amber stone.” Pilaocv opened
the case and pulled it out. "Yes, that one."

"Deal. Is it a Torch Day gift?"

Eric nodded and Pilaocv gift-wrapped it. With the box in
his pocket, Eric walked out happy. Dragon’s Lair Rule Number 7 led him to a
quick score. Then he paused.
Dragon’s Lair! Mia!
He ran down the street
with grendel legs.

The door dinged as he stepped through, but Mia didn’t
greet him. Nor did she see him. A thick, dark curtain hung around the front
desk. Eric tapped out the ending of “Shave and a Haircut” and called for the pink
princess.

The curtain parted in the middle and retracted into the
floor along with a cot. When the transformation was complete, Mia was sitting
at her desk. Her hair was out of its pigtails and falling loose down to her
feet. She wore a long pink nightgown and clutched a teddy bear under her arm.
She rubbed her eyes and they lit up in recognition.

"Eric, oh my gosh!" She jumped over the desk and
glomped him. "I was so worried... Only a handful...Oh, I'm so glad you're safe!"

Flat on his back, Eric shrugged. "I'm lucky, I
guess."

Mia leaned away and gave him a sly look. "As the chaotic
book says, 'Those who live in The Trickster's favor are both blessed and
cursed, for their lives are both long and interesting.'"

"In other words, Tasio takes good care of his toys,"
Eric said dryly.

Mia giggled.

"Thanks for checking in." She stood up and
helped him to his feet. “Is there anything I can do for you while you're
here?"

"Have I missed any requests?"

Mia returned to her desk and looked through random
drawers. Then she stood upright as if realizing something. She reached over to
Eric, put her hand over his ear, and pulled out a long string of interconnected
bills. The sight of her trick warmed Eric's heart. She folded them on her desk
and brought out a pair of scissors.

"It's mostly tabloid junk about Her Majesty. Shall I
cut them up?”

She clicked the scissors for emphasis.

“No, it’s easy money.”
I should do what I can to
dismiss those rumors. They’re threats to my little sister, even if they are not
physical, life-threatening ones.

As he walked out of the guild, he made a note to himself
not to attack the writers of the tabloids. They were not the threats. The
rumors were the threats; the writers could be made into the opposite of
threats. He nodded to himself, satisfied with his non-grendel logic.

Tonight, he could sleep in his own bed. After months of
ship cabins, tents, the water-filled medical tank, and the prison cell, he
could finally lie down on his own mattress. However, there was a surprise
waiting for him on his doorstep.

Standing on the bridge above his house was a pale young
lady in a black gown. Her skin possessed a dim radiance, as if moonlight made
solid, and her stark black hair was finer than any he’d ever seen. Her figure
was perfectly proportioned and her gown perfectly tailored to both show it off
and remain tasteful at the same time. Looking closer, he realized it was
too
perfect. She looked like an artist’s finest ivory creation.

"Good evening, Eric Watley. Are you comfortable with
this form?"

“Sure," he said while brandishing his staff.
"You look better than most nobles."

"Wonderful. I try my best to furl my divinity so it
doesn’t overwhelm mortals, but you are currently a Razor Spirit, and thus more
perceptive of such things. I feared my presence would drive you to despair and
suicide.”

The chaotic point in his
soiléir
glimmered. “I am
not easily given to fear of gods.”

A wave of Divine Presence rushed through him and chilled
him to the soul. A string of ineffable sensations and feelings pulled into strict
authority over endless existence in a vain attempt at order in boundless chaos
and constant pain and despair and acceptance and peace and….His knees knocked,
but his stance stayed strong.

“Indeed. I am Samael, Right Hand of His Eternalness Lord Death
and Overseer of Necrocraft." She curtsied. “How do you do?"

"Fine. What's this about?"

She smiled gently. "I’ll get right to the point. Make
a contract with me or die."

"What?"

Samael stepped forward and Eric struggled to focus as her
skirts swayed. The motion was innocently seductive. When she spoke, her voice
was more melodious than a harp.

 “You stole a Senescence
podesta
from one of Lord
Death’s reapers. This is a crime against Lord Death, the Abyss, and the Cycle
of Life itself. If not for Tasio pleading your case, I would have killed you
already.”

The memory of Reno Grade strangling him within an inch of
his life hit him like a boxer's glove. Reapers served Death, one of the Three
Natural Order Gods, and as such ranked four orders of magnitude above mortal
humans. Even if he were immune to her death magic, she could break all the
bones in his body before he could comprehend the pain.

“I’ll have to thank him for that later.”

“Indeed. Now you have two choices: you can voluntarily
make a contract with me and become a reaper, or I can kill you and use your
stolen authority to force you to become a reaper.”

“Can’t I just give the authority back to Reno Grade, visit
the Temple of Death, and say ‘sorry’ with a generous donation?”

“No. Reno Grade is currently being sentenced in the Court
of Life and Death, and his punishment will range from suspension to
termination. Thus, regardless of the outcome of his trial, we need to find a
replacement.”

Eric weighed the pros and cons of stabbing her with the
soiléir.
His situation could hardly get any worse. The Torment Plans were not under Lord
Death’s jurisdiction, so all she could do was kill him, which she was already
planning to do anyway. If that failed, he could always summon Tasio. He was
probably hanging around anyway.

 “Furthermore,” Samael continued, “the Death Corps are
chronically understaffed because we are responsible for all of Noitearc. The
loss of just one of us is a grievous blow to our operation. If you make a
contract with me, you won’t have to die immediately, and you will gain
abilities someone in your earthly profession will find helpful.”

She stepped forward and lightly grasped one Eric's hands
in both of hers. "Please, make a contract with me and become a
reaper."

Eric pulled his hand away. "I refuse. I don't like
Death. I don't understand how Basilard can drink with him. Despite the power
Reno Grade's...
podesta
gave me, I rejected it during my recovery because
I don't want anything to do with him.”

Samael’s patience didn’t falter. “Reapers are not
responsible for the death of your family. If you do not accept this
responsibility, then the local anchored spirits could become dangerous and harm
other people you care about."

"You mean the spirits strong enough to resist the
Abyss' pull and stay in this world? Spirits of the same caliber as the
strongest mages? You want me to fight
those
?"

“If you became a reaper, it would be child’s play. Not
even Dengel could defeat one of us in the field, neither by breadth of
knowledge or force of spirit.”

This piqued Eric’s interest and he turned it over in his
mind. Just the Senescence
podesta
enabled him to rot any material object
into dust regardless of magical runes or spiritual power. That was the problem
that came from fighting Death; it always won eventually.

“What kind of abilities are we talking about?”

“As a reaper, you will gain your own set of
Podesta
Necra
, including legitimizing the one you stole, shed your fragile physical
coil for a solid spirit form immune to all harm short of chaos, and the
privilege to petition Lord Death for the delay of the passing of mortals."

“So I’d become an immortal, unkillable super being?”

“Yes.”

“Could I kill ordercrafters?”

“Outright kill? No, not right away, but you
could
drastically accelerate the countdown until their physical body implodes and
takes their soul with it. This is as good as killing them.”

“It’s a tempting offer but no thanks.” Eric extended his
soiléir
crystal and flashed its chaotic tip. Samael looked distastefully at it. “I’ve
read about reapers and I’d rather not become one; too many rules.”

He eased his way towards the stairs leading to his front
door. His bridge house had the best warding Kasile could provide. If he would
be safe anywhere, it would be there.

“I will kill Nulso with chaos instead.”

“That’s a good idea, “Samael agreed. “Elven immortality
would be more to your liking anyway, and Tasio could give it to you.”

Eric put one foot on the top stair. “Thank you for the
advice.”

“There’s only one problem.”

Eric put his second foot on the top stair. “What’s that?”

Suddenly, Samael’s right hand was around Eric’s throat and
lifting him off the ground. Her left hand grasped the shaft of his spear. Her
Divine Presence smothered his entire being; body, mind, and soul. Her eyes bore
into him with a power beyond that of Evil Eye.

"Tasio
is not here now. He is in the Abyss and will not be able to hear you."

“In... that case…” Eric gasped. It was getting hard to
breathe and he had already lost feeling in his fingers and toes. “Samael,
please trans—”

A shimmering arrow streaked across the night and head-shotted
Samael. It made her physical form flicker. The reaper couldn't remember the
last time she’d felt pain. Standing just off the bridge was her attacker, an
elf in a nightgown. Her body shook with the cold and yet she was sweating
nonetheless. She panted and her teeth clattered, but she still wheezed out, "That
won't be necessary."

Annala stared down Samael like a warrior stares down a
monster. In her hands was a gleaming white bow with golden filigree. She drew a
second arrow, notched it, and it gleamed as well. Instant runes shone beneath
her feet as a magic circle.

"Good evening, Angel of Death. What do you think of
my Death Killer bow? I made it myself in my mother's lab."

With effort, Samael removed the first arrow and crushed it
into nothingness. Despite the pain and annoyance this caused, her serene
expression remained.

"It is effective but presumptuously named. You cannot
kill me. No matter how many—”

Annala lodged a second arrow in her forehead and a third
in her throat and a fourth in her chest. Samael's form flickered so much it
disappeared, and the arrows fell to the bridge. Annala notched a fifth and
fired it just as Samael reappeared. This time, the reaper caught it.

"Elf, you try my patience," she said as the
arrow burned her hand. "This boy must become a reaper for the sake of the
omniverse."

"That’s preposterous!" Annala nocked a sixth
arrow. "He's kind and heroic and saves lives! He'd never be happy as a
cold and ruthless arbiter of death like you!"

"Hmmm... How odd." Samael reached into a skirt
pocket. "Lord Death supposedly has a high public approval rating in this
country." She pulled out a book and leafed through it. "I suppose it
could because you're an elf but... Ah ha. Here we are; Annala Enaz, niece to
Morrir Enaz. When he arrived, he listed your despair as one of his
regrets." She looked up with the disinterest of a busy bureaucrat.
"Didn't a reaper come by and address that?"

Just for that, Annala released the sixth arrow. "Hit
and run murderer!"

Samael deflected and tsked. "Yes, I imagine Reno
Grade wouldn't give a shit about mortal grief." Suddenly, her hands
clutched Annala's neck. "Then again, neither do I."

Fear of the reaper threatened to send Annala into shock
but her hatred of it enabled her to power through her fear. She smacked the
nether creature with her bow. Again, Samael’s form flickered and she grew two
more arms to restrain Annala's. By now, the girl was suffocating and, with her
last breath, she shouted, “Tasio! Ta—”

Samael broke her neck and tossed her aside. "Even
elves can't shrug that off.”

She phased out of Eric’s spear charge and caught him in
her arms. She wrapped them around his chest and drew him against her
well-developed form. She giggled at his blush.

"You humans are always like this, regardless of your
gender."

She leaned in close enough to breathe on his face and Eric
felt consciousness leave him. Since the transformation process was basically
rebirth into a minor god, it would be horrific and traumatizing. So much pain
and he’d have to remember it for eternity. It was a professional courtesy for
the contracted to be put to sleep for the duration.

"Did you ever wonder where the term 'kiss of death'
came from?"

“I don’t.”

For the first time that evening, Samael's smile flickered.
She looked up into the face of The Trickster and what she saw there forced her
to avert her eyes and step away from Eric. Ironically, she now resembled the
form she had taken; a demure human lady.

"I tolerated your threats to my chosen because he
broke your law, but I will not permit violence against my innocent
grandchildren."

Samael shouted alien gibberish at Tasio. It aged the
surrounding structures, caused nearby plants to wilt, and obliterated every
single microorganism in the water beneath the bridge.

"Careful!" Tasio ordered. "If you speak
like that, you'll make someone's head explode."

Samael stared at him in silence.

"The answer to your question is..." He waggled
his finger. “…a secret."

He clamped her mouth shut before she could shout
death-speech again.

Samael considered removing his hands, but the look in his
eyes made her reconsider. As the right hand of Death, she was the most powerful
of reapers. She could kill beings that were otherwise immortal. She could
reduce a planet to a barren wasteland with a swing of her scythe. However, even
she was as a damsel in distress before Tasio's anger. As much as she didn't
want to, she had to rely on her back-up plan. She tapped Tasio's hands and he
lowered them.

"As I recall, Trickster King, you are fond of wagers.
If this is still true, I would like to propose one to settle our dispute."

In his posture, bearing, and Divine Presence, such a title
was suddenly becoming of him. In a stern tone, he asked, "What do you have
in mind?"

"One of Eric Watley's foes has enacted a plan against
him and the elf girl. His home is a place associated with monsters and
mutation. If they retrieve him from such a place..."

She referenced her book for the proper name.

"…Ah yes, the Organic Research Repository, then I
will clear Eric of all charges. If Eric dies or loses himself to his monster
instincts, then I may claim him for Lord Death."

"Anything else?"

The subtext was clearly “not another word,” but she had to
introduce this next clause in order to make the plan work. Otherwise, she was
bound to lose.

"Neither of us may intervene nor send proxies to
intervene on our behalf. Aren't your kind always talking about
'self-determination' and 'helping mortals help themselves'? Now that you have
so much to lose, you have a chance to prove it."

Tasio softly clenched his fists, set his jaw, and closed
his eyes. To the unobservant, it would seem that he was mildly annoyed, but
Samael knew better. The Trickster was furious beyond words. If she pushed her
luck with the second condition, then Lord Death himself could not save her. Tasio
opened his eyes and Samael quivered.

"Agreed."

"I'm glad we could settle this peacefully."

Graceful as ever, she dropped a curtsy and returned to the
higher plane of existence known as The Abyss.

While he waited for Annala's healing factor to finish its
work, Tasio took out a pair of knitting needles. A half-completed scarf
appeared and grew longer by the second. He wrapped the part that was finished
around Annala to keep her warm. A few minutes later, Annala pushed her head
back into place and sat up.

"Thank you for the scarf, Grandfather.”

“You’re welcome, Granddaughter.”

Annala pulled it closer around herself. “What happened to
the reaper?"

"I took care of it," Tasio said nonchalantly.
"Please wake up Eric.”

Annala sat straight up and worried. "He's unconscious!?"

"He will be until you help him."

"What do I need to do?"

"Give him the kiss of life, of course."

Annala gave a luminescent blush. "Wha-but he's-I
can't-I..."

She looked away and tugged her ear. Tasio counted down
from five. By the time he reached one, Annala's face reddened further and she
mumbled, “I guess...since it's an emergency..."

She leaned over Eric, lowered herself, and hesitated. Then
she closed her eyes and kissed him full on the mouth. After thirty seconds and
no response, she looked to Tasio for directions. An angelic being stood next to
him.

She was tall and slender with pale skin and pink eyes. Four
grand and feathered wings sprouted from her back and long white hair cascaded
down it. Both feathers and hair terminated in green tips. She wore a white gown
decorated with gold bands at her waist and neckline, and gold trim in the
hemline. A ruby was set over her stomach. More gold was elsewhere on her
person, such as her wrists, ears, and neck.

Annala derived a conclusion and became adorably angry for
five seconds. Then she exhaled and dropped her shoulders.

"I should have known. Only a sower can administer the
true kiss of life."

"You could administer it yourself," the sower
said, "if you made a contract with me."

Tasio smacked her head. "No poaching. I already sent
away your twin for trying that on my chosen. I don't need you tempting my
granddaughter."

The sower radiated such beseeching sorrow and tragic
disappointment that Annala felt compelled to agree with her and sign anything.
Only the Seed of Chaos in her DNA kept her head clear enough to keep her mouth
closed.