Firstborn (The Legacy Series) (2 page)

The air in front of me popped and a Lizardman materialized out of thin air. I froze and stared at it, eyes wide open. This one was clearly different from the others. Its hide was a different shade of gray, lighter and milkier. Its eyes shone yellow and were shaped like a cat’s, rather than a reptile’s. It had slender limbs lined with wiry muscles. Its tail was shorter and stouter, as if its owner had evolved beyond the purpose of needing a tail. The snout was considerably shorter, like its neck.

But the real danger
s were those claws. The unusually straight, sharp claws it bore on each hand were serrated on one side.

Nature had already given Lizardmen all they needed to survive
− the claws, the teeth, the thick skin, and tail. There simply was no need to evolve. To my knowledge, none ever had serrated claws or any of the features that this particular specimen bore.

The Lizardman flicked its thumb and forefinger claws against eac
h other. It honestly reminded me of someone waiting impatiently. It looked more human, and those intelligent eyes spoke of evolution beyond its cousins.

It dawned on me that those serrations were self-inflicted. It had found a way to improve what nature gave it – just like a human.

The monster’s crocodile smile widened as it plunged one clawed hand into my chest. As I fell to my knees and onto the ground, I thought,
Did that giant gecko just chuckle at me?

I did not die. Yeah, I fell face forwards in a pool of my own blood.
But I did not die.

Call it a curse or whatever, but I guess my special condition has got its advantages at time
s. You see, I’m exactly what you might call a generic wizard. My sister and I were born under a curse. I don’t really get most of it but here’s the gist. She got the brains of a genius but lacks the raw magical power to do much. She can still kick some ass, mind you – but that’s my major. I got raw energy, tons of it. Problem is, it’s too much for me to handle. So, yeah, I’m a wizard who can’t use magic. Pretty useless, right?

Well, that’s not completely true. I can use magic if I channel it through something, like a gun or a sword. Otherwise there’s a chance my own powers could disintegrate me.

Not a pretty picture. There is, however, one very sweet upside to my condition.

“Hey, ugly,” I rasped. Both guns were in my hands and I found the strength to get up and aim.

The Lizardman spun, poised to attack. I squeezed both triggers at an inhuman pace, forcing the guns to spit magically enhanced lead at a rate that no human could ever achieve. The shrapnel tore the Lizardman’s body to shreds. I looked down and hoped that I wouldn’t see a gaping hole in my chest. I felt my magic concentrate on the wound and heal it almost instantly.

Detective March burst into the room seconds later
, flooding it with SWAT officers.

“Nice job, Er— Holy shit,” Roland exclaimed as he pointed at my guns.

The barrels had completely melted and molten steel was dripping down like water.

“How the hell?” I remarked as I emptied
any bullets from the guns and tentatively pulled their triggers. As I did so, both pistols simply exploded into a million pieces, leaving me standing there with nothing but a pair of very useless grips. I felt like a cartoon character after a bomb goes off in their face.

Police officers shook their heads in disbelief and murmured between themselves. I glanced at the nearest police officer, a blonde female with an intense look.

“I’m too hot to handle,” I said with a wink.

She gave me a look as if I was a fly she had found in her salad.
It was Roland’s turn to shake his head.

“Don’t bother. Every single cop in this town has heard stories about you,” he said as he patted my back.

Oh great, now the guy gets to patronize me.

“All good stories, I hope.”

“Good stories, yes. Mostly funny ones. You never look good in any of them,” he said, no longer trying to hide his amusement.

I sighed. “Then they’re probably true.”

3

“Ugh, what a day.”

I slumped on my couch and cracked my stiff neck. It was hot as hell this time of the year. Maybe I should invest in an air conditioner. Not that I could afford it.
I had a lazy ceiling fan spinning around, but it was more like a blow-dryer. I looked at the remains of my guns, slumped carelessly on the coffee table and sighed.

Nope, no air conditioner for Erik.

Maybe I could sell something – though I doubt I’d find anyone with my interests. Both sides of the room were littered with cabinets and wardrobes full of occult ornaments and artifacts. Some of them gimmicks to sell an image, others the real thing.

There was a cheap
, wooden desk at the far end of one wall. It looked like an antique – I got it at a pawn shop for a hundred. Not that I had any real use for it. Most of its surface was littered with Chinese takeout cartons and empty soda cans. There were some metallic parts on one side. Those belonged to the jukebox. The ancient music player had been left here when I’d gotten the place – and I loved that jukebox. It had a collection of records that I never got tired of listening to. Jazz from the sixties, an Elvis album and even a few MC Hammer vinyls.

Maybe I should put something
on and doze off. I found naps are a good cure for boredom and dealing with the trauma of having a giant lizard impale you.

Even thinking about it made me uneasy
− an evolved Lizardman. How the hell was that possible? Someone was messing with the natural order of things. Lizardmen don’t just appear and terrorize schools. Someone used magic to create that spell and mutate that monster.

Someone that I would probably
encounter again and have to stop. And most likely not get paid for it.

I closed my eyes.

My nap lasted exactly five seconds.

I felt a ball of fur settle on my chest. I snapped wide awake and swung off the couch
, hitting my leg on the coffee table and falling face forward onto the rug beneath.

“Ow,” I heard myself moan pathetically. Not one of my finest moments.

Amaymon sat on the coffee table, chuckling. The black American shorthair flicked its tail, clearly enjoying watching the clumsy human trip over him.

“Dammit, Amaymon,” I said as I nursed a bump on my head. “I told you to stop doing that.”

“And I told you I will not stop as long as you keep reacting like a frightened eight-year-old girl.” Amaymon talks. He’s a talking cat. A very annoying talking cat.

Don’t be fooled, he’s not all cuddles. Amaymon is a demon, and a very unique one at that. He belongs to a very old branch of demons
− those that existed in Hell way before the first humans learned to run two sticks together for fire. He’s also an elemental, governing anything to do with earth. And I don’t mean the planet. Until a few centuries ago he was the second in command in Hell, right under the Emperor. He led demon armies and waged war like a Viking on a mission.

Right until he rubbed my family off. They captured him, turned him into a cat, locked away all of his powers into an amulet and eventually made him into a little
, kitty-shaped paperweight.

Now
, he spends his time doing cat-like things such as sleeping all day, licking himself and giving me disapproving looks. Except his come with a commentary.

“And you broke your guns, again. Second time this month isn’t it?” He played around with the parts, rubbing his claws against them.

I made it to the kitchen and grabbed a soda can from the fridge.

“Oh
, God, not another lecture from the damn cat,” I moaned as I pressed the soda can against my forehead.

“Stop using regular junk as channels. Breaking stuff is not in your best interest. You’re already behind on your rent,” continued Amaymon, completely ignoring my complaint.

“It was a critical situation,” I replied weakly.

“Critical, my tail.”

“Amaymon, you’re an immortal demon trapped in a cat’s body. Are you really gonna bitch about the rent?”

“Yes,” he replied promptly. “If you starve to death no one can buy my food. I mean
, I could always eat you after you’re dead but, bleh. I doubt you’d have any nutritional value. Not to mention a complete lack of taste.”

“I’m so glad you draw the line at cannibalism,” I said.

“Dude, you gotta be of the same species for it to be cannibalism.”

It’s always a relief to know you’re taken care of after you pass away.

“By the way, the mechanic called,” he said. “Your car in still in the shop. He’s gonna need a few more days to fix that kind of damage.”

“Oh
, great,” I said sarcastically. I popped the can open and gulped the cool drink inside.

Amaymon hopped on my lap. “You’re having one of those
I hate my life moments
aren’t you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, I can start munching on you right now, man.”

I frowned at the cat and put my soda can down. Lifting the cat by its collar
, I dragged it all the way to a corner in the office where its bowl was and filled it up with catnip.

“Munch that,” I said as I dropped him.

He began to savagely devour the contents of the bowl, when his ears twitched.

“Someone’s coming.”

Amaymon is probably the most reliable home security system, if you’re willing to put up with sarcasm. I had not put the OPEN sign up yet. Was the monster population in Eureka that bad? I’m certain people don’t show up at my doorstep because of my charming personality.

Amaymon hissed. That was generally a bad sign.

“Let’s see what the universe is plaguing me with now,” I said, smiling at my own wit.

I opened the door and was greeted by a short
, young girl dressed in an olive-green, Victorian-style suit complete with an ascot and cloak. Her platinum-blond hair gleamed in the afternoon sun and her skin seemed to glisten. Her penetrating green eyes matched my own color, but burned with an intensity that seemed to weigh your soul and then judge accordingly.

Behind her stood a very tall and lanky man, dressed in a traditional butler’s suit. His long, wavy hair was pulled ba
ck into a ponytail, held firm with a midnight-blue ribbon. His most striking feature was his eyes. They matched Amaymon’s − golden orbs with black slits. He grinned, revealing a set of pointed, serrated teeth. The kind you would expect to see on a shark. Behind them, a pair of bodyguards stood still, like statues. They wore the typical
Men in Black
outfits, complete with the iconic dark shades.

The girl broke the increasingly awkward silence. “Hello, brother.”

My sister’s presence was enough to make me feel uneasy. I think of her as an omen, only appearing to either ruin my day or drive it further into the ground. As far as plagues go, she was the worst. Good one, universe.

4

She didn’t reply, or nod, or glare or show any reaction that normal emotional human beings show. Instead, my fraternal twin sister simply strode in past me, as if she owned the office. Guess it’s hard to consider other people when you’ve lived like a queen all your life. I shut the door and put on a very fake smile.

“Hi, Gil. It’s been too long
. How are you doing? Can I get you anything? Perhaps something to go.”

They say siblings fight, but apparently they’ve never been a part of my family. Gil and I have a strained relationship. After our psychotic father tried to kill us, she decided to continue the family tradition of obscure magic, capturing monsters and experimenting with some very dark stuff. I guess that’s what Warlocks do. Our entire family was born in a line of Warlocks. I guess Gil wanted to carry on the family tradition. We had an argument.
It did not go well.

I ended up going my own separate way and renounc
ing my Warlock heritage, reverting back to the status of Wizard rather than a Specialist. At least I sleep better at night.

Gil sat on the couch next to the cat. Like roy
alty, her poise and posture was impeccable − the way she crossed her hands in her lap and sat upright, advertising her aristocratic upbringing.

She sighed and her lip trembled. Whatever she was here for made her uncomfortable, much to my pleasure.

“I have a big problem, Erik.”

“That’s next door. We’re small-to-medium problems here.”

Amaymon let out a soft chuckle. Gil wasn’t impressed. Sometimes I think I was the one who got all the sense of humor in the family.

“The mansion’s creatures have escaped,” she said seriously.

I blinked a couple of times. “Escaped?” I asked, all notion of humor gone from my voice.

“Yes. All gone.”

“That’s not good.”

“Glad you are finally catching on,” she replied.