People who failed to receive a pact at a university, but who still wished to serve a Nephil, had the option to pledge their eternal service and become cursed. Likewise, a Nephil can also curse an Acolyte who refuses to follow the laws and abuses their magic, though they lose access to their power in exchange for eternal servitude. The Cursed, being controlled by the Nephil, also have to follow the laws mentioned above.
On the opposite side of that coin, a Nephil could curse a human for no other reason than bad breath; however, if that person was not in a patron’s service beforehand and if they did not seek out the Nephil, then they have no obligation to serve, though the curse remains. From there, the Cursed without a master is left to their own devices, usually cursing—or infecting—others and expanding their kind. That’s how the world gets clans of vampires or packs of werewolves or hordes of zombies that run amok. Those are the monsters that Xander and I usually fought—like modern-day Van Helsings.
Where did we leave off? I know I went on that tangent for a reason…
Oh, yeah. I had just picked up the shoe propping open the door. I placed it back where I found it to prop the door open, figuring Xander would need a way into the garage.
Darkness shrouded me like plunging into the depths of a frozen lake—that’s why I went on a rant about the laws, hurting Sheep, and destroying property. The parking garage, isolated from any Sheep, was a damn good place to use destructive magic without harming innocent people or their property. I sighed, realizing I had stepped into a trap. If the creatures really wanted to meet and have a civil conversation, they would have at least set the location in an open parking garage with proper lighting and a few witnesses. Instead, they went for abandoned and pitch black, and not a single person—not even my shadow—to witness it.
I itched to call on my magic, to see through the dark, to defend myself against their impending attack. Instead, I settled for the small flashlight built into my phone. It cast a soft white light across the cement. The lack of vehicles made the ramps and columns feel more like the skeletal remains of a monster, rather than supports to an abandoned building. Using the light, I navigated stairs to the basement level.
Now, I know what you’re thinking—won’t the phone light attract attention? Obviously, the answer is yes. But, in my defense, if the bad guys—or gals—had chosen to conduct their meeting in a bitch black area, there was a good chance they could see in the dark. So, light or no light, they had watched me walk into their domain. I had no advantage in this situation, so I decided to at least be able to see where I walked.
Pausing at the bottom of the steps, I listened before exploring. I heard water dripping onto cement and wind ripping through the cavernous spaces above, but nothing else. If I chose to use my magic, I could have enhanced my senses to find magical auras and locate the baddies, but I refused.
Remember the third law? An Acolyte cannot abandon their patron or their gifted powers after swearing service. Well, I had done exactly that. In my search for Callie’s killer, I had also used my magic to harm Sheep in order to obtain information, all while ignoring the tasks that Hephaestus had commanded of me. That right there—using his imbued power for my own gain, while refusing to work for him—made me an oath-breaker. To complete the trifecta, I eventually abandoned him completely.
If I accessed my magic now just because I was a little afraid of the dark, not only would I expose myself and possibly Mel to the enemies I had created over the years, but Hephaestus would catch a whiff of my location. Knowing him, I wouldn’t even get a chance to appeal my case to the Nephilim Council. That deformed loser would just kill me himself.
I stepped deeper into the bowels of the basement level. A rank odor met me, but I pushed through it. I was versed in death, and the stench of rot wouldn’t dissuade me from getting the information I needed. Water puddled on the ground, reflecting the glare of my phone. Darkness owned and overran most of the underground area. To appease my growing desire to utilize my magic, I gripped the butt of the gun Xander had given me.
Turning my phone over, I checked the time. Just past nine. I tapped Xander’s contact, dialing his number. When he answered, I didn’t say a word, I just used the light to guide my way. He listened on the other line, as we had discussed.
“Hello!” I called out, loud enough for my voice to carry and echo. The fingers on my right hand completely wrapped around the Glock’s handle. Though years had passed since my last magical fight, I didn’t feel nerves or anxiety. A calm had settled over me, as it always did before a battle. I felt natural, like a shark in an ocean of blood.
Despite my steeled resolve, I gasped when a strange, cold female voice responded to my call. “Joseph Hunter.” If a bag of hissing snakes could form words, they would have sounded like her.
I shivered, glaring into the darkness before me, seeking out the source. I saw no one. Nothing.
Then movement shuffled behind me, and I whipped around, casting my phone’s light in the direction
