his mother gasped.
The demon roared; a thousand nails across a thousand chalkboards. Its flesh blackened, blistered and exploded. Flaming chunks splattered against the wall, and sludge pooled on the carpet. His mother was covered in gore. She took another swig from the bottle, stared at his trembling hands, his fingers pointed towards her, and frowned.
“What are you doing, Danny? You look like you’re having a seizure.”
Incredibly, the creature was still moving. Its burning remains leaped into the air, narrowly missing the ceiling, and landed on the carpet, a headless, twitching abomination. Danny reached out with his mind and caught it, gripping the monster with his will, crushing the wriggling thing in on itself, tearing through its body like termites through soft wood.
His mother called his name again. Gray-green demon blood dripped into her open mouth.
“Danny, what’s wrong with you?”
The demon vanished, obliterated.
“Danny? Answer me. Are you okay?”
He blinked, then raised his head and smiled at her.
“I’m fine, Mom. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Good. You know, sometimes I—”
She trailed off. Her jaw went slack. Her eyes drooped. Slowly, the vodka bottle slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. The liquid sloshed out onto the gore. His mother slumped over in the chair, unconscious.
“Mom!”
Danny leapt from the sofa and ran to her. Her mouth hung open. She was breathing, but just barely. With one trembling hand, he reached out and shook her. His mother did not respond.
“Mom?”
He squeezed her hand. It was cold.
“Mom, wake up!”
She did not answer, did not move.
His vision blurred. What had he done? He’d wanted to fix things, make them right. But despite all of his confidence and research, he wasn’t a magician. He was just a stupid kid. At that moment, what he wanted more than anything was to be comforted by the nearly lifeless pile of flesh slumped in the chair.
“Mommy?”
Still no answer. Frantic, Danny called for someone else—called out with his mind.
If the old Russian heard him, he did not answer.
Danny had never felt more alone.
789
Outside Danny’s home, the presence hovered without form, without mass. Only its emotions had substance —thoughts, feelings, intelligence. Revenge. It longed to break free, to walk the world once more. Distraught, it felt itself fading, slipping away again. Its anguished cries were inaudible.
Then it was gone.
789
Gustav smiled, waiting for Bedrik’s response. His point had been proven. He’d let the other magus know that he was aware of his presence. Now the challenge would begin. The next move was Bedrik’s. Be it psychic or physical, he wouldn’t attack right away. His opponent was under the mistaken impression that Gustav was actually stronger than he was. Bedrik would be wary of a direct assault. Gustav counted on that. He had to make sure that illusion remained, make sure Bedrik continued believing he was stronger. It was the only way to buy time, and Gustav needed that time to increase Danny’s power.
And even then…
Before Gustav could reply, Danny’s summons slammed into his head.
The boy’s voice was panicked, on the verge of tears.
Cursing, Gustav ran into the night.
789
Gustav did not knock. He flung the door open and stepped into the house, out of breath and hair askew. His gaze swept past Danny and lingered on the boy’s mother lying on the couch. He sniffed the air.
“I smell magic, yes?”
Lower lip quivering, Danny nodded.
“Have you moved her?”
Danny flinched at the anger in his mentor’s voice. Gustav had called him ‘boy’ again, rather than ‘Danny’. He fought back tears.
“I…I moved her from the chair to the sofa.”
“Move aside.”
Danny stepped out of the way, barely able to look the man in the eyes.
Gustav dropped down on his knees in front of the couch and checked her pulse and breathing. He lifted up one eyelid and stared. Then he let it drop shut again.
“What did you do, boy?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I was trying to help her.”
“This is help?”
“It was an accident! You said all I needed was knowledge and power.”
“And you have neither. You’ve learned nothing yet. And power—power should be saved until ready. Not tossed away like…” He nodded at the limp form.
Tears slid down Danny’s cheeks. “Can you help her?”
The old man shook his head.
“Gustav,” Danny begged, “please, can you help her?”
Gustav muttered in Russian and then stood up. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“What can I do to help?”
“What can you do? Leave. Get out. That is what you can do. I need silence to concentrate. Go see your friends.”
“I can’t. They’re all mad at me.”
“Then go to my house and read. But do not be here right now.”
“Why?”
“I said leave,” Gustav shouted, waving his hands. “Do not question. Always with the questions, you are. Go. Get out. I can’t concentrate with you dancing around like circus bear. Go away. I call you when I know what we can do.”
Nodding his head, Danny left the house. The night was miserable, dark and windy, threatening to rain. It suited his mood. He didn’t bother getting his bike out of the garage. Filled with restless energy and no way to focus it, Danny walked. The sidewalk beneath his feet was the same, but seemed different than the day before. Everything had changed. He’d lost his friends, and possibly killed his mother. And for what? For magic? To make things better?
Was it so bad, his mom’s drinking?
Yes, it was. It hadn’t been once upon a time, right after his father’s death. But over time, it festered like a wound; the alcohol infected her bloodstream, changing her. She’d been beautiful once, everything a mom was supposed to be. Now, her face was puffy and there were dark circles under her eyes that she hid beneath a layer of makeup when she went to work. At night, she passed out in front of the television, and only got up on time if he woke her.
All he’d wanted was his old mom back, his old life, to be happy. He’d wanted the fucking dirt bike his dad
