Contractor (7 page)

"For someone so adamantly apathetic, you’re

asking quite a lot from people who are

consumed with their own lives, their own

battles, and busy keeping their heads down."

"Apathetic?" Daniel said. "Where the

hell was this bit about being a cursed life-

sucking magician last night? You kept quiet

because you figured to save the juicy stuff

until after I was locked in." Xik’s averted

gaze confirmed Daniel’s words for him. "I

don’t want to be anyone’s savior. I just want

some stability for me and my brother. I guess

an average life was too much to ask from the

universe. Wanting to live without being

bothered is just too much ambition."

"If you had agreed last night, I would

have given you more details before

bestowing it in full, so please calm

yourself." Daniel sat back in his chair with a

skeptical look on his face. Xik was quiet for

a long time. "Perhaps it is unfair to thrust this burden on you," the alien said. He lowered

his big frog eyes. "But wouldn’t you rather

know? Wouldn’t you rather be the one

fighting than the one going about without a

care in the world?"

"No. War is young men dying and old

men talking."

"Who said that?"

"I forget. But they were right."

"…maybe so." Xik said. "But are you

really stubborn enough to let your brother

die?"

Daniel slapped the contract. "Can this

be altered if I find any of its conditions or

stipulations lacking?"

"…well, I -"

"Yes, or no."

"…yes. Probably," Xik added quickly.

Daniel swiveled to face his desk. He

dragged a piece of scrap paper over and

carefully began to read, copying parts as he

went along. He expected tricks, or at least

some vaguely worded clauses, but it was

open and direct. By the end of it, he’d

written a short summary of the entire

contract.

- On condition of agreement, the

contract manager will advise the

contractor in matters pertaining to magic

and the Vorid.

- The contractor agrees to use his

magic for the purpose of combating Vorid.

If it is judged by council that this

responsibility is neglected to serious

extent, the contractor shall become an

enemy of the state and treated as Vorid; on

this account, there will be no quarter or

appeal.

- In exchange for this service, when not

in combat against our mutual enemy, the

contractor shall be free to use his powers

at his discretion. However, if the

contractor’s actions violate local laws or

otherwise earn the enmity of those in his

universe or any universe to which he

travels, the Klide will offer no special

protection or guarantee of safety. The

contractor is solely responsible for the use

of his powers.

- The artificial unlocking of magical

talent provides the contractor with unique

magical skills, but does not necessarily

enable the contractor to learn any and all

forms of magic.

- The contractor will be unaffected by

Vorid spells that replace extracted souls

with magic shells. He shall be able to tell

them from real people, and his memory will

remain unaltered.

"…Xik."

"Yes?" Xik leaned forward. "Finished

reading?"

"There’s nothing in here about the

magic."

"What do you mean?"

"Say I accept the contract," Daniel said.

"What can I do? Breathe fire? Wear pinstripe

suits? Conjure tea?"

"Well, about that." Xik fiddled with the

collar of his suit. "I’ve no idea."

"…you’re serious, aren’t you?"

"Deadly," Xik said. "Magic can be

learned by those with the talent for it, but it

takes years of study to master. You are

different." Xik lifted his index finger. "I know one thing for sure: you gain what you

would call an enchantment. Any tool you use

will be very sturdy and have the capacity to

harm Vorid. The efficacy of said device will

depend on your weapon of choice and the

strength of your powers. Secondly." He

flicked his middle finger up. "It gives you

your own particular magical talent."

"Xik, you’re killing me. Be specific."

The frog shook his head. "I told you—I

don’t know. It depends on the individual.

Amongst the species I’ve visited, I’ve seen

flight, telekinesis, accelerated healing,

transmutation…it could be anything. Unlike

normal mages, you will have an intuitive

grasp of your power without the need for

sigils."

"Sigils?"

"The monkey wrench, as it were, of the

magician," Xik said. "A sigil serves to focus magical energy into a defined purpose. It’s

like a magic word…just more complicated.

Point being, you don’t need them."

"…one last question."

"Yes?"

"Is it really random? Picking me out of

seven billion people?"

Xik unfolded his legs and knitted his

hands between his knees. "Natural magical

talent is a link of the soul into the energy grid

that underwrites all reality. Magic is the

ability to call upon and manipulate that

energy. Few in your universe are so lucky.

Fewer still occupy your position—more

talent than the average person, but not so

much that it manifested as magical power."

Xik looked at him. "You are one of those

people. In a sense, it was random."

"In a sense." Daniel nodded. "And that solves the mystery of your persistence. I’m a

rare breed, and you need every soldier you

can get."

"You have an incisive manner of finding

out what you want to know."

"I just hate bullshit."

"I see."

Daniel sighed. He held his head in his

hands. He fiddled with the lock of hair that

hung over his eyes, spinning it in circles with

a finger.

And then he stopped. "Can you take it

away from me?"

"The contract’s magic?"

"No, my pet elephant," Daniel said. He

put a hand over his eyes. "Yes, the contract.

Can it be taken away?"

"No. It’s permanent."

"How permanent?"

"Absolutely permanent," Xik said. "The contract alters the connection between your

soul and the multiversal energy field.

Undoing that would be like un-burning a

piece of wood."

"Great. Let’s get this over with before I

change my mind."

Xik clapped his hands together.

"Then…?"

"Yeah. Where do I sign?"

"You don’t need to." Xik peeled off one

of his white gloves, revealing smooth, lime

green skin. The frog stretched out his hand.

"We just have to shake."

Daniel looked at the extended hand for a

long moment. Was there any other way? No.

He couldn’t fight the Vorid. That thing was

stuck in Felix’s back, grown into the skin—

even if he could rip it out, it would take

Felix’s insides with it. Magic was the only

thing that could save his little brother.

Daniel started to swallow, but he

stopped halfway. It felt like trying to choke

down a basketball.

There were two possibilities. The first,

and the far more likely, was that he’d gone

completely insane. The second—this was all

real, and Felix’s soul was in danger of harm.

No, not harm—removal. Erasure.

He took Xik’s hand.

Green fire flared down Xik’s arm.

Angry flames coated Daniel’s hand in an

instant. He jerked free of Xik’s grip; the frog

let him go without a struggle.

The fire didn’t burn. It wasn’t fire,

either—it didn’t give off light. It spread like

ooze, but it flickered and wavered like fire

should. It coated his wrist, then slipped

under his clothes. It felt like moist rubber

steadily sealing him up.

The flames rounded his shoulder, spread

down across his chest, and then up his neck.

Daniel felt himself tense as it crept up to his

chin, but it stopped there, leaving his face

exposed. He kept his focus on his bookshelf,

trying to ignore the rest of it. Eventually, the

wet rubber worked down his legs, squeezed

into his shoes, and curled about his toes.

It stopped. For a moment, Daniel

relaxed. This was it—he was the Green

Lantern in a latex costume. A little more

ostentatious than he’d expected, but hey,

maybe he’d be a real life superhero. He

started to rise.

A beam of red light cut through the air

between Daniel and Xik. He threw himself

back down into his chair. Blinking showers

of lasers blossomed to life in seconds.

Numbers, symbols, and lines twisted into an

intricate net within the glowing construct.

Daniel’s eyes darted to keep up with the

changes.

The lights formed a rough orb, which

began to spin, and it grew, like a ball of

twine picking up extra slack. Through it all,

Xik was silent, and still, an odd green statue

that grounded the chaos.

The rotating sphere halted. Someone

turned up the dial on the brightness. The

bedroom was dyed in maroon light. Whites

reflected pink; blacks and browns went the

color of dried blood.

Daniel felt a punch in the chest. He

grunted and shut his eyes. A rush of air

whipped his hair and clothes and stung his

face. He struggled to get a new breath in the

high wind.

And then it was gone.

He sat back, snapped his eyes open, and

breathed. The red lights had vanished. He

checked himself over. The green coating was

gone. No injuries.

"How do you feel?" Xik asked.

"I guess…" Daniel blinked a few times.

"…well…about the same, really."

"First you need to learn about your new

sense, and how to conceal yourself. Close

your eyes and relax."

Daniel did as he was instructed. A few

long breaths helped his heart return to a

normal pace. "Ok."

"Scrying—that’s what you’re about to

do—takes concentration. The only rule is

that you must be still. Remember that."

Daniel nodded and shut his eyes. "Now," Xik continued, "imagine stretching your mind

outside your body, floating up into the room.

Push yourself out of your body."

Daniel prepared himself for a herculean

effort of will. Xik made it sound simple, but

from what he’d seen so far, magic was

anything but. He braced his hands on the

armrests of his chair and mentally shoved

himself through his skull.

It was a bit hard to tell if anything had

happened.

"Open your eyes."

Daniel opened them. They widened

immediately. The color had gone.

Everything was cast in shades of grey.

The edges of objects wavered as if made out

of smoke. He was a spirit in some ethereal

alternate reality.

"Very good." Daniel turned. Next to him

was a shining sphere of light. It pulsed as it

spoke. "The light is me. You look about the

same, just so you know. Come. I’ll show you

your brother, and the Vorid. To move about,

simply will it. It will happen. Just like

moving an arm or a leg."

It turned out to be as easy as advertised.

Daniel followed Xik’s sphere without

trouble. They passed right through Daniel’s

door like phantoms, then floated across the

upstairs landing and down into the living

room. Felix was on the couch, watching TV.

He was a bright fire compared to the pale,

ghostly cushions, almost painful to look at.

The Vorid was latched onto his back

like a leech. Its tentacles wound through

Felix’s body, wrapping around him in

patterned, pulsing net.

And he could see it now—the pattern. It

reminded him of Xik’s magic, only smaller,

less complex, a carefully constructed tangle

of black lines and sigils. A dark cloud rested

around it, the antithesis of Felix’s white soul.

Daniel watched it with sick fascination. "Can

it see us?"

"No. Vorid spawn have little

intelligence and no magic of their own."

"How do I kill it?"

"Let’s return to our bodies first."

Xik’s white ball went up. Daniel

followed. They slipped through the ceiling

and back into his room.

Daniel focused on moving himself back

into his head, and in a moment, he was there.

He blinked. The color was back. The smoky

fog had vanished, replaced with the straight,

solid lines of reality.

"You’re a natural."

"Are there any limits on that?" Daniel

asked.

"Did you notice how everything

appeared rather hazy? Indistinct?" Daniel