Firstborn (The Legacy Series)

FIRSTBORN

Book 1 of

The Legacy Series

RYAN ATTARD

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 Ryan Attard

Cover art by Viola Estrella, www.EstrellaCoverArt.com

Published by AEC Stellar Publishing, Inc.

All rights reserved.

ISBN:
1940820081

ISBN-13:
978-1-940820-08-8

1

Maybe it was the black trench coat. Or perhaps the twin guns strapped to my thighs like the hero of an action movie. It might also have been the short sword handle occasionally poking out from under the coat. Yeah, that was probably why everyone defiantly averted their eyes as I walked down the streets of my hometown − La Fortunata district, Eureka.

Yeah, I get the irony
, too. There was nothing fortunate about the constant appearance of supernatural creatures and the fear that permeates the air around here.

My name is Erik Ashendale
, and I’m perfectly fine with the sideways glances. Hell, they all knew what I did for a living. They poked their heads into my office window, hoping to catch a glimpse of me performing a ritual which summoned forth some ancient demonic entity.

All they saw was my extensive collection of trinkets and, occasionally, my cat licking itself.

To be fair, that would horrify anyone.

I arrived at my destination. It was a narrow street in a quiet part of town – or at least, it was before today. Police cruisers had piled in front of the entrance, creating a thick
, black and blue ball on an otherwise grey road. Uniformed officers were bent over open car doors, their guns steady in their hands. Others crouched beneath the bumper. Shotgun barrels poked from beneath cover and at the building.

“You’re late.”

I turned around and was face-to-face with a young, blonde police officer in plainclothes.

“Fashionably so,” I replied.

Detective Roland March shifted his stance, clearly under stress, and fumbled in his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Well, now you’re here. That’s good.” He extracted a lighter and struck it once, twice, three times before a small flame appeared. It took him another couple of tries to light the cancer stick.

“I didn’t know who else to call. Inspector is on my ass and I’m lost out here. We’ve shot at them, but bullets don’t stop them.” Roland’s voice shook.

“And,” he continued, his eyes now wide open, “they aren’t human. I swear, Erik, they looked like giant walking lizards. No one will admit to it, but we all saw it. Looked like it belonged in a cheap sci-fi flick.” He sucked deeply on his cigarette and did his best to hide his nerves from other officers nearby.

“Lizards?” I asked. This wasn’t the first time the law contacted me to help out with some
extraordinary
case. Usually my job consisted of looking at cadavers and figuring out how they were ripped in two, whilst the coroner sits at the back denying everything not found in the textbooks. But sometimes, my job gets a little more exciting. “Long necks, elongated snouts, tail thrashing about? Like an iguana on steroids?”

“Yes!” Roland yelped. “Exactly like that. There are at least five of them in there.” The cigarette was half gone by now.

I smiled happily, much to Roland’s chagrin. “Lizardmen. You found Lizardmen. They’re like the Big Foot of supernatural zoology. It’s been decades since the last documented sighting.”

I couldn’t keep the glee out of my voice. Everyone is a geek about something. There are people who are completely obsessed with Star Wars, or comic book characters. Heck, I knew a guy in elementary school who just wouldn’t shut up about aircraft.

Liking my job is probably what keeps me sane.

“I don’t care what they are or how long it’s been since someone saw them,” hissed Roland angrily. “Just tell me how to kill them. There are kids in there.” He lit a second cigarette.

“You guys can’t handle them,” I replied. “Only I can. With my . . . um . . . methods.”

Roland leaned in close. “You mean magic, right?”

I cringed my nose against the foul smell of his breath. “Yes, magic.”

Roland is perhaps the only cop who knows about the existence of magic. We’ve known each other for a couple of years now
− ever since I saved him from that newly turned vampire. The beat cop thought he was dealing with a guy high on PCP. I happened to be wondering by and saved the young Roland. A year ago he got promoted and kept hiring me as a
consultant
every time he ran into something cuffs and bullets couldn’t handle.

I yanked the half-finished cigarette from his mouth and channeled my magic through it. The amber glowed until the whole thing burst into flames.

“Hey, I wasn’t done with that!”

“Yes, you were. Smoking too much of this stuff will get you killed. And I need this gig. The rent’s due.” I walked with him toward the police cars.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked quietly.

“You get rid of every camera around here. I will go in and do my thing. When I’m done, I’ll call you, you will collect the kids, and everybody will live happily ever after.”

“You wanna go in alone?”

“Yes. If any of you go in, you’ll be providing them with a free lunch. You guys are not suited for this type of threat,” I said grimly. “You’ll only slow me down and I can’t babysit anyone. Not when there are innocent lives involved.” I was being harsh, but sometimes you have to be direct to get your point across. It was a language that cops understood.

Roland raised his hands. “Fine. I’m not gonna argue. I’ll say you’re a negotiator or something. Just call me the second it’s safe for my officers to go in that place. And Erik—” he called after me.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t screw up.”

I smirked. “When have I ever?”

Before Roland could retort back with some very true accounts of my behavior around his crime scenes, I made my way to the front door of the school.

I un-holstered my guns, a pair of identical Berettas, and took a deep breath. My sister was going to be so jealous when she hear
d about this. She’ll probably chew my head off for not capturing one alive.

After a few seconds of smiling like an idiot and pushing the slowly
building anxiety away, I was ready to confront the horrors that had the entire police force cowering in their boots.

“Let’s go negotiate.”

2

I may have magical powers, and I may make a living fighting off monsters, but I am still human. And every human fears the dark.

I knew they were there – I could feel their creepy lizard eyes on me. Of course, they knew. They were the hunters.

The first indication was a slither. It all starts with a slither, a movement in your peripheral vision and the whisper of a shadow. Then, if you look closely enough, the shadow grows into a nightmare. There were two of them, attached to the walls like the most bizarre ornaments in existence. Their claws were spayed for a good grip on the flat surface. Their long, thin bodies held flat with only the tail moving like a lazy rudder. Their necks were unnaturally long for lizards and made them look like miniature therapods. Really bizarre, not-so-herbivorous therapods.

I couldn’t see them so much as feel them there. My eyes could only pick out jerks of movements and the occasional yellow eye
-shine. The entire corridor was coated in tangible darkness. I recognized the telltale signs of magic and knew someone other than the non-sentient Lizardmen must have cast this spell. My mind had already displayed the red flags, the little hints of foul play. But it would all have to wait.

I
channelled my magic into my guns and there was silence no more. My powers enhanced the bullets, leaving little red streaks of light in their wake. It was a pre-emptive strike, meant to break up the formation. Surely enough, both creatures scurried about, hissing like crazy.

I focused on one, trailing bullets behind it.
The hiss became a croak − I had hit it. I saw something thrashing and fired off more rounds.

I
focused my eyes on it.

A tail. That damn Lizardman shed its damn tail.

I sensed the owner come back at me. In a practiced blur, I holstered the guns and reached under my coat. I pulle
d out Djinn, my magical short sword. My magic reacted with it, making the blade glow azure, and the Lizardman veered to one side. I fully extracted the weapon and held it aloft. It was about half a meter in length with a double-bladed edge and a leather-wrapped hilt. My finger slid in its crossguard – a thick ring in between the blade and the handle. The blade emitted blue light like a glow stick.

I felt both Lizardmen cower away from the light.
That would explain the darkness magic. It was daylight outside, and having monsters which are afraid of sunlight wasn’t very useful – unless you cast a spell specifically designed to dissipate light and turn the area pitch black .

I poured magic into the weapon and sliced the air. Energy streaked from the weapon in a crescent shape towards the first tailless Lizardman. It let out a scream and fell silent. Without missing a beat, I spun and stabbed. Djinn’s blade elongated
− going twice, three times, and four times its usual size until it impaled the second Lizardman on the other side of the corridor.

I smiled, relishing my victory. I mean, come on, if waving around a glowing magic sword and battling giant lizards doesn’t g
et you going, you’re dead inside.

But in that moment, that little microsecond where I let my guard drop, that was when the third Lizardman emerged.

My senses picked it up too late. I felt a blow on my right side and was knocked through a door and into a vacant classroom. The monster, erect on two legs, hissed furiously and stomped after me. I groped for Djinn and found nothing.

“Crap, crap, crap, crap,” I cursed, each word louder than the one before it. I pulled out my pistols and started firing at the Lizardman. The last thing I saw was its giant shadow looming over me. I closed my eyes and kept on pulling triggers until my fingers ached and the guns clicked empty.

There was a ringing in my ears, like when you suddenly turn off a really loud stereo and all you hear is that faint, high-pitched sound. Once my ears adjusted, there was complete silence.

I opened my eyes and saw a dead Lizardman splayed on the ground, its head resting comfortably between my legs.

“That went well,” I muttered partially in sarcasm as I retrieved Djinn. A series of deep breaths helped my racing heartbeat to regain its normal tempo. I made it back to the pitch-black corridor in the middle of darkness.

There are many ways to undo a spell. A subtle and cunning magician would take some time to study the mechanics and energy flow and then find the right component to remove. But I am neither subtle nor cunning.

I like blowing shit up.

With Djinn held high, I poured my magic into it. Blue light became white and after a few seconds
, it became a hot, searing, smiting supernova which pushed back against the swallowing darkness. Atmospheric pressure dipped and my ears popped.

And then
, it was over.

Natural light hit the walls, revealing a very mediocre paint job.
I heard things that had been dulled out before like the chirping of birds, the tense orders from the police officers outside, and the muffled whimpering of children. Following the latter sound, I came to a plain, wooden door and placed one hand on it.

I concentrated on the flow o
f energy behind the door. Huddled in a corner were a bunch of tiny energy bundles − the children presumably. Directly in front of the door, as if it were some grotesque bouncer, was a jagged and sharp energy signature vibrating at an erratic pace and swirling in unnatural patterns. Its shape, color, and texture were completely different from that of the children. It was the aura of a Lizardman.

I willed my eyes open again. It wasn’t a good idea to fight in front of those kids. If I made a single error, they would end up suffering and that was unacceptable in my book.

Instead, I calculated the position of the monster and pointed Djinn at where I assumed its chest would be. I placed the sword’s tip on the cheap, wooden door and channeled my magic once more.

The azure blade shot through the door and embedded itself inside the Lizardman’s sternum
, throwing it across the room, dead and immovable.

I opened the door and sheathed my sword.