Firstborn (The Legacy Series) (5 page)

We emerged outside of my office and my stomach lurched.

Amaymon leaned over as I hurled chunks. "Because this is highly amusing," he whispered cruelly. His evil laughter echoed throughout the empty street.

7

Here’s how life works with normal folks…you get up, go to work, do something after work that makes you hate life just a little less and then go to bed.

Repeat the following day.

Here’s how life works for me…get sleep interrupted, deal with clients, confront monsters and psychos, try not to strangle the cat, and go to bed, if at all possible.

I had just confronted five Lizardmen and a Behemoth: I think
I deserve some freaking sleep. But no, Erik gets no sleep. If I ever meet the personification of destiny, I am so punching her in the face.

This particular nightly interruption was a premonition of sorts. I’ve been through some weird stuff in my career, but this was a unique experience. It was like I was living the life of a stranger. And just to shake things up a bit, I was a girl. A pretty one, but a girl
, nonetheless.

First came the flashes
. Seems like I was a pretty waitress at a coffee shop because I remember serving clients. I also remember getting hit on quite a lot, much to my annoyance.

Then
, I remember running down an alleyway from something – something dark and evil. Something that was chasing me.

I arrive at
a college dormitory and make my way to my room. My roommate is there − she was someone I could trust. She dismissed my worries, blaming it on stress. But I could see the worried glint in her eyes.

A
nother flash had me at a party. My roommate had dragged me with her to blow off some steam. I didn’t really feel like conversation, so I made my way towards the back, near a small swimming pool. I liked the way light reflected off of the water. There was something soothing about it.

Then
, she came into view – a vision of utter beauty. Her high heels rapped against the floor as she approached me. The shadows slowly peeled off, revealing the epitome of the female human being. Her pale skin shone under the moonlight as her obsidian hair danced sensually on her shoulders and chest. Those wavy curls seemed to trace an even darker shade of black than the atmospheric light itself. Her blue dress sparkled lightly, hugging her immaculate body like a second skin. Her eyes completed the godly image she portrayed. As she came within speaking distance, her eyes sparkled in an amethyst hue. I stared deep into them, completely spellbound. Never in my life did I feel drawn so strongly to another person. I wanted to both ravage her and adore her – I felt like I could cry just by staring at her. Her eyes burned a hole in my soul − were they elongated, or was it just a trick of the light?

"Are you all right?" Her voice rang like a note from a pan flute.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," I stuttered. I felt my body temperature rise as she got very, very close to me.

She smiled, revealing dimples t
hat nearly gave me a heart attack.

"Lovely night," she said as she turned those beautiful eyes toward the starry heavens. "It has been too long since I had the time to stop and admire a night such as this."

As she spoke there was a voice screaming in my head, telling me that something was very wrong. It felt a lot like being in the jungle with a tiger. You can’t help but stare in awe at the majesty before you, the raw power that can and will tear you to shreds. You know there is absolutely no competition − this was the tiger’s ground and you can do nothing save struggle in vain. The tiger promised you one show of absolute power and then, a swift end. This is how the woman made me feel. That voice in my head let out a second warning, similar to the one I felt when seeing those shadows and sensing danger on my way from work. Except this was on a much larger scale.

At the same time, I wanted to lick the very ground she stood on, and beg her to make me her slave. If only she spat on me, I would be more fulfilled than I
ever had been.

But all I could do was stay there, rooted to the spot and nod effervescently.

"I used to enjoy many nights like this with my former lover." Her voice darkened. "That is, until that weak-willed bastard grew fond of another and threw me out into Hell itself." Anger rose from her like a tidal wave and the area around us seemed to darken.

She leaned forward. "But luckily, I now have many, many children to keep me company," she whispered. Her lips were twisted into a pleasant smile that failed to reach her eyes. Her eyes were wild, feral and full of lust.

"You have kids?" I asked. Her sudden change had upset and confused me. "How nice. How old are they? What are their names?" I began shivering violently and desperately wanted to change the subject. Anything to avert the savagery from her eyes.

The woman beamed pleasantly. "Oh, I have many children. I know as a parent you’re not supposed to have favorites, but we all do don’t we? I like my Asmodaii best. So sweet, so obedient," she cooed.

"What a weird name," I managed to say. Fog filled my mind and the world began spinning. I found it hard to focus on anything. My heart rate sped up and I felt the very air around us thicken.

"Do not worry. It will all be over soon," I heard her say. Her voice was melodic, yet it had none of the previous beauty. This was not the song of a siren but the menacing growl of a predator toying with its food.

Pain flared in my shoulder as she laid a slender hand on it to hold me in place.

She leaned forward, her motion very deliberate. A moist tongue trickled down the length of my neck. I heard faint crackling coming from her mouth
as her neat set of pearly, white teeth shifted into a mass of spiny fangs. With one swift movement she struck, digging into my neck. Blood gushed forth, trickling down my body.

I was helpless to do anything except wait for that creeping darkness to overtake me. The last thing I remember was the feeling of falling and the rush of cool water against my skin. I was staring at the woman, face up in the pool, as my blood pigmented the water.

There was a flash of light, like a supernova going off. But calling it simply a light would have been like calling the sculpture of David a carving, or the Mona Lisa a doodle. It was light with power, a light that was alive. I felt its power radiate into me, giving me strength. Not that it helped – I was too wounded by then. But it did oppose the woman, whatever beast she was, and bested her. The woman recoiled and screamed.

"This isn't over," she snarled, before disappearing into the darkness.

Reality shifted and there I was, fully Erik again, staring as the poor girl floated spread-eagle in the pool. It felt as if I had been there the entire time, watching remotely.

Protect the girl.
A disembodied voice echoed inside my head. There was no question, or request. The voice spoke with such power that I felt myself compelled to obey – the idea of saying no was non-existent to me.

We were in a hospital room
, now. The girl lay there with wires and pipes in her arms as nurses patched up her wound. For the first time, I saw that she had beautiful, red hair. She was very pretty, in an earthly kind of way. None of that superficial plastique – she was a natural beauty.

Protect her.

There was that voice again, echoing in my head like a madman with a megaphone. This time I gauged more distance, and when the voice echoed again, I could still retain a portion of my analytical mind and try to figure out who, or what, was talking to me.

It was a
message in a bottle.

Problem was, these mystical
, disembodied voices rarely give you any real investigative information – like, for example, a name or an address. Instead they spew clichés and messages of impending doom.

Very helpful
, indeed.

I could hear her heart monitor in the background. Beep beep. Then
, a new sound, like the ringing of a bell. That can’t be right. No heart monitor rang like a bell on those hospital dramas where everyone sleeps with each other and then spends entire seasons trying to figure out their feelings.

"Wake up, Erik."

It was a familiar voice – maybe Amaymon again.

I ignored it, pining for a few more moments of sleep. Maybe I’d dream about a sandy beach and crew of models in bikinis this time.
Not that I minded the redhead.

It was a sudden flash of pain that jerked m
e awake. My arm was on fire. Four scratches oozed blood droplets from my forearm.

I caught a glimpse of the cat’s tail disappearing from my room.

"What was that for?" I yelled as I rubbed my face. The doorbell rang again.

"Answer the freakin’ door, dumbass. I'm trying to sleep here."

8

Whoever was behind the door rang again – if this was some door-to-door salesperson again, there will be a murder today. Who in their right mind would ring a door bell at nine in the morning?

"Whatever you're selling, I don't give a—” I stopped mid-sentence and looked at the girl standing on my porch. Tanned, Latin, medium height, and piercing
, black eyes. I stared at her as if I had seen an apparition. This chick was quite literally the girl from my dreams. She was the redhead’s sidekick best friend.

"Mr. Ashendale?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's me. Can I help you?"

Her face lit up, hopeful
. "Mr. Ashendale, I've heard that you are able to solve certain problems that others cannot."

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for more detail. There is a screening process to my clientele. When you deal in the supernatural, it’s the skeptics and religious nut jobs who make up most of your clients. Most just want to see a performance and, when I leave them disappointed, they weasel out of paying me.
Over the past couple of years I’ve refused twice as many clients as I’d helped out. And just because I dreamt about her doesn’t automatically give her a pass. Believe it or not, coincidences do happen.

"I’m gonna need a little more than that,
lady. But if you’re looking for a dare or something to blow your mind, I’m sure Criss Angel is still around," I said.

Her eyes flashed into a panic. "Mr. Ashendale, please, I’m not trying to fool you." Panic – that was a hard one to fake. The despair in her eyes looked real
, too. "Please, hear me out. I will give you a token of faith."

Token of what now?

"This should be good."

"You're a wizard, right? Which means that you can do all kinds of controlling stuff with a person's name?" she
asked.

"Not as much as you'd think, but sure
, yeah, I could."

Truth be told, that’s more of a myth. I could have harmed her just as easily even without her name. Personal details are only good for bloodline curses or thaumaturgy. That’s not really my style. I’m more direct
− fireball-to-the-face direct.

"My name is Gracie Valdez.” She looked around. Was she expecting to blow up or something?

“My friend Abigale was seriously hurt last night. You're the only one who can help," she continued.

My heart sank.

"Is Abigale a redhead by any chance?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Gracie's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"Lucky guess. Come on in."

*****

"So, let me get this straight," I said. I was pacing behind my desk, while Gracie sipped on some coffee. “Your roommate was at a party, got assaulted, and is now in the hospital. Why not call the police?"

"I did. But there's more." She seemed to struggle to find the right words. "Abigale always had this thing about her. She could sweet-talk anyone. She was nice and comforting and always attracted people to her."

"Sounds like one of those charismatic-types to me." I didn’t like that kind much – I wasn’t charismatic, and women seemed to like that type. Whenever I see these suave guys with women dangling from their arms like candy, I consider that cheating. It should be a level playing field.

I think that’s just a long
, convoluted way of me wishing I was a charming guy.

"Yes, she is. Recently she’s been very spooked. She felt like she was being watched. A few days ago she came running to our dorm
saying something was chasing her." She looked up at me. "I know it's not much, but I'm really scared for her. And now she’s in the hospital after some psycho woman bit her neck. She could have died." Gracie shifted uncomfortably and looked up at me. I kept my face blank. She reached inside her purse. "Money is not an issue."

I sighed. I wish this was all just about the money. Even under normal circumstances, the case seemed genuine enough.

But then there was that dream − a series of visions, like a person’s memories. Abigale’s memories.

Somehow, somewhere, a being powerful enough to invade my mind wanted me to take the case. I could have just said no there and then, just out of spite. I’ve always hated following orders.
Although, if I did, it would be the girl who suffered. She would probably be targeted again. Heck, it was probably too late already. I could be investigating a murder instead of an assault, here.