Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (3 page)

In fact, it sounded like the sound came from right under my bedroom window.

I got up, now more alarmed, and after a quick thought I decided that pants took a priority over swords. Somewhere in between lying to us and plotting our murder, my father had found the time to teach me the basics of decency. Besides, I’m no Gregory Peck. No one wants to see a lanky, wiry wizard waving a glowing sword around with no pants on.

I strode downstairs, Djinn in hand, ready for any who dared cross the threshold to my office. The office area was undisturbed, still bathing in the glow of white light. I extended my senses and found the entire place to be devoid of intruders. A few seconds later, Abi appeared on the stairs with a gun in her hands. Amaymon was nowhere to be seen.

I heard the crash again, this time accompanied by voices, and walked closer to the window. Outside, a guy wearing a wife-beater vest and holding a wrench up high signaled to his friend across the car they were wrecking. The other wore a black sports jacket and stood very still with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Under the streetlight I couldn’t see what color the car was, but I knew it the moment that the wrench guy struck the front hood again.

My car. My relatively new, fresh-out-of-the-shop car.

The poor thing had suffered enough wear and tear from previous cases and my mechanic across town was kind enough to fix it at a quicker pace. I loved that car. For one thing, it replaced the secondhand piece of crap I’d owned before it. For another, I didn’t have to pay for it. Not directly anyways. It was a thinly veiled bribe from Heaven.

And to my horror, Wrench beat it again, further denting the hood.

“Come on, lift it up. I wanna chuck the engine through the window,” said the scowling one with a thick southern accent.

“I keep trying, but the damn thing ain’t budgin’,” replied his companion.

“Well try harder,” snapped back the other.

Wrench growled and stabbed the hood, driving the wrench through the stainless steel. He raised his other hand and claws grew from his fingertips. Stabbing it, he literally tore the hood apart.

“There ain’t no engine,” he cried. The other, Scowl, bared his teeth, exposing a set of shark-like fangs designed to rip flesh from bone.

“Vampires,” I spat from behind the window. I remained frozen in the spot, shaking with anger. It was one thing to come after me. But I hated these petty acts. If you’ve got beef with me, come face me directly. Don’t rip my car apart or tear down my office. As if I don’t have enough financial problems already.

I tightened my grip on Djinn, and already streaks of azure ran through the blade. I started making my way toward the door to give those vamps a taste of their own medicine, but was stopped by a pair of glowing eyes by the door.

“Erik,” said Amaymon calmly. “Think about this for a second.” The cat sat against the door.

“What’s there to think about?” I yelled. “They’re tearing my car apart. Now, I’m gonna do the same thing to them.” I grabbed the door handle but the door wouldn’t budge, as if it were walled shut.

Amaymon hissed. “Listen to me, Erik,” he said. “There are two hillbilly vamps out there whose idea of damage is taking a wrench to your car. And here you have an apprentice who failed her test earlier on, so to speak. How about giving her a make-up?”

“What are you talking about?” I said, still trying to get the door open. Unless I used magic and blasted the thing apart, the door wasn’t giving.

“There are two vampires out there,” he repeated. “Think about it. Where are you going to find such an opportunity again? They hunt in packs, Erik. She can’t handle a dozen. But with just two, you can take your time, sit back and watch her progress.”

I paused and let what he said sink in. Of course, he was right. I may have been biased — something to do with feeding him maybe, but my familiar is really a demon, and a powerful one at that. He’s the kind of demon about whom legends were spun and bards sung in Hell around the campfire. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a statue erected in his honor. Amaymon was a resident of Hell long before Hell became the place we know now. He existed before the Earth took its first rotation, long before man learned how to rub two sticks together and light a fire. He was the right-hand man of the only being powerful enough to conquer all of Hell and unite it as a kingdom. The Demon Emperor was the original Palpatine, and Amaymon was his Darth Vader.

“Fine,” I said.

Amaymon nodded and looked at Abi, who remained silent and observant throughout the exchange. Her very first lesson was to never, ever, interfere when the wizard and his cat are arguing.

I heard another crash and felt like crying. “Whatever it is you’re planning, could you hurry it up?” The cat let out a mew.

“Abi, you’re up against vampires,” said Amaymon. “Gun?”

Abi pulled back the slide. “Check.”

“Ammo?”

Abi looked at her gun and her face cringed. Hey, at least she was correcting her mistakes on her own, right? She drew open a drawer, pulled out an ammunition box and flipped it open, revealing several rows of silver bullets.

“Silver hollow points,” she said as she packed a number of bullets tightly inside the magazine. Putting it in place, she chambered a round and extracted the magazine. She placed another bullet on top and inserted the magazine again.

“Magic?”

Abi closed her eyes and the room began buzzing with the faint crackling of static electricity. The pressure dropped and heat began emitting from the apprentice. Discreetly, I used my own magic to sense hers. She had grown at a bizarre rate over the last few months. When we had just met, she could barely create enough turbulence to stir my sleep. Now, unless I tapped into my own reservoir of power, she could cause some serious damage. The girl was strong. Problem was that she knew it, too.

“Good,” said Amaymon. He had trained with Abi for a couple of weeks, creating role-play scenarios for her. Apparently, she listened to the damn cat more than she did her actual teacher.

“Payment for the cat?” he said. Abi pursed her lips as if she realized she’d walked into a trap.

“Two hours of snuggling while watching TV, you pervert,” she said with a loud sigh. And now I know why she had discontinued asking Amaymon for help.

“Good,” replied my familiar delightedly. Why shouldn’t he be delighted? The bastard. “You’re good to go.”

I stepped aside and the door opened by itself. Abi walked out silently, her eyes locked on her first target.

“You recognize that look, Erik?” said Amaymon when we both leaned against the window to observe the vampires. They were arguing now, the idiots. I hoped she made them suffer for what they did to my precious car. The cat was perched on the windowsill, his tail curled around him. I stroked his head absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” I said grimly. I had worn a similar look for years. I tried pushing down the memories like I usually did when they surfaced. But I did remember that look — the look of someone with something to prove.

The first vampire never knew what hit him. Three rounds hit Wrench – the first embedded itself squarely in his throat, causing his head to lop sideways as muscle and bone were ripped out. The second bullet veered off wildly, slicing into the vampire’s collarbone and only managing to tear a small chunk of flesh. The third one smashed into his nose and drilled further inwards, rendering his head a gory mass.

Scowl turned around and caught sight of the moving figure, her red hair catching the light of the street lamp and momentarily glinting. He leapt to one side, avoiding a bullet meant for his chest. Abi fired off more rounds, trailing glints of silver flashing behind the deceptively fast vampire. That was her first mistake. Wrench wasn’t out of the game yet. Through sheer luck he had somehow avoided getting hit in his brain or heart and was still staggering from side to side, as if he were a zombie in some cheap horror flick.

Abi was still fighting against Scowl, who darted around the apprentice. She stopped shooting and dropped her guard. The vampire was soon behind her, teeth bared. It wasn’t the cheesy Dracula scene where he hypnotically bites the victim in the neck. There was no lust or delicacy with this scenario. He just wanted to rip her head off.

As he reared his head backwards and then slashed at Abi’s neck, a large sheet of metal appeared between the apprentice and her predator. The stop sign at the other end of the road had been telekinetically ripped from its place and thrown in front of the vampire, who was currently clutching at his broken teeth and howling in pain.

From behind the window, I let out a low whistle. Ripping a large weight off a cement base required a good amount of power, the sort that Abi rarely displayed. Being succubus-adjacent, her abilities leaned more toward the manipulation of weak-willed beings. She could alter your senses and make you experience the world upside down. But this was the first time I had seen her telekinetically rip out a freakin’ road sign from its place and use it as a shield. My apprentice had just reached new levels of awesome.

As the vampire experienced the mother of all toothaches, Abi spun around, grasped the metal pole and forced the vampire to the ground. Pausing to catch her breath, she pulled back the slide of her gun and aimed at the vampire. Like a striking rattlesnake, his hand reached up and covered the barrel of her gun, upsetting her aim. The bullet tore through his hand, reducing it to a bloody stump. But hollow-point bullets aren’t designed for penetration. Their job is to lodge in the target and expand into a large chunk of metal inside the body. They were perfect for stopping power and ripping through the hardened, armored flesh of most supernatural beings.

She quickly readjusted her aim and would have managed to reduce Scowl into dust, if not for the second vampire, who crashed into her and threw her off his companion. She hit the ground hard, her breath knocked out of her body, and struggled to get up. Both vampires were already on their feet, shakily taking their first steps. Wrench walked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the left side of his face a raw lump of flesh and his left arm held close to his side. His torn collarbone wouldn’t allow him to move his arm as he pleased. Scowl, on the other hand, looked more pissed off than injured. His right hand was gone, leaving a stump halfway up his forearm. The bullet had torn into his left shoulder, but it was only a superficial wound. He let out a primeval hiss, and it was clear that he had lost some teeth. Or in his case, fangs. His beak-shaped nose was broken, twisted comically to the left.

If this were a movie, the vampires would quickly regenerate and go back to being pasty-faced supermodels with too much sex drive. But this is reality. Blood begets blood — that was the vampire’s way of life. They couldn’t live without blood, nor could they heal or exhibit any of their supernatural powers. Which is why their hunger for my apprentice doubled. Her blood was the alleviation to their pain and the regeneration of their limbs.

Abi stood up and held her weapon aloft. She had just a few shots left, not enough to stop both the vampires. She thought she could at least try to take down one, and aimed the gun at Scowl. She pulled the trigger and nothing happened. The gun let out that heartbreaking click of jammed metal, which meant the weapon was nothing more than an expensive paperweight. Scowl gave the apprentice his trademark expression in acknowledgement of her second attempt on his life. Abi’s expression became one of horror as she realized that she was going to have to defend herself up-close and personal. Fighting in close quarters with a vampire is the worst possible scenario – they have claws, teeth, and heightened senses, allowing them to be man’s perfect predator. We have soft, juicy flesh, bone with the strength of twigs, and internal organs that are about as tough a barrier to a vampire as foil wrapping around a chocolate bar. But my apprentice had an edge over your average Joe. She wasn’t omnipotent, although she makes that mistake sometimes, unlike yours truly, who is so humble. But she did have magic, and she was trained by one of the best monster hunters in the world (there goes that humility again). She waited until they were only a few feet away. In an instant she inhaled, filling her lungs with air, and let out a shriek in a sudden, quick burst.

There is an arcane form of martial arts, practiced by monks who spend their time learning how to destroy people with every part of their body, as well as meditating on how precious life is.
Kiaijutsu
is the art of yelling and channeling your internal energy for a devastating effect. Only the most senior of monks are allowed to practice this form of combat, and it requires decades of self-discipline, meditation and practice. My apprentice had none of the above. But her natural powers allowed her to easily manipulate the senses of others. When you think about it, all senses lead directly to the brain, and to someone like her, that was a virtual playground.

What Abi just did was
kiaijutsu
on steroids. Enhanced by her magic, the sound blast was enough to send Scowl flying backwards and crashing into my car. Wrench spun wildly, as if he’d been slugger punched with a sledgehammer. Every car alarm on the road went off, filling the ungodly morning hours with a chorus only attractive to a banshee. Windows of nearby houses shattered. The one car door window the vampires had left intact met its doom as well. Even the office window, behind which Amaymon and I stood, vibrated and a thin crack slithered down its length.

Without missing a beat, she flung her gun at Wrench, using a small burst of power to direct the awkward missile straight into his groin. Vampires may be dead, and they do have supernatural resistance and all that, but the nerve endings remained intact even after their natural life is over. And no guy on Earth, living or dead, is above getting hit in the nuts. Wrench doubled over, clearly not expecting the cheap shot. Abi reached to her side and unclipped a folding knife. Using her thumb to flick the knife open, she lunged at Wrench, grabbed his head, and she dug the knife in, trying to hack the vampire’s head off.

But magic has its cost.

Try as she might, Abi could not muster the strength to saw through the vampire’s neck. She sagged and looked like she was going to be sick. Wrench had recovered, and he swung his good fist into her ribs. Abi went flying, still holding the knife uselessly. From the way I heard her wheeze I was pretty sure Wrench had broken at least one of her ribs. I dug my hands into the windowsill, trying hard not to rush out of the door and end my apprentice’s torment. But I had to let her suffer. It was evil of me, and I hated myself for it. But this was our reality, and she had to learn how to deal with situations like this herself. The next Sin just might manage to kill me. And the worst thing I can do to her is let her depend on me every time her life was in danger.