[2:47PM, January 9, UTC +02:00]
Would you like to perform another transaction?_
DAMILARE pressed the button beside the "NO" option. The ATM's display flickered, its cursive gold font reverting to blocky white text over a black background as it whirred and ejected the card with a click. He pulled out and examined the flimsy-looking piece of plastic. It was the same size as the average bank card, except its only features were a holographic gold 'H' on its plain white face and a line of unintelligible symbols below the gold-rimmed magnetic stripe on the back. He had received it from Ecru, who said that it was meant to cover all expenditures in the house, and when he asked about the PIN, the vampire only gave him a weird look and dashed out the window. Damilare still pondered over the strange behaviour. He knew Ecru had been an emotional mess since Adam lost consciousness, but over the last two days he seemed to be on some urgent secretive self-imposed mission.
"Excuse me, is it working?"
Damilare pushed the card into his pocket as he turned around and tried to ease the frown off his face.
"Yes..." he said, but then he stopped and reconsidered. There was no telling what his unusual card had actually done to the machine. "Actually, I'm not sure. Try it and see."
The young man responded with a confused look and Damilare shrugged as he stepped out of the ATM booth. The cold wind blew harshly against his parka, and he pulled up his hood and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. Given the weather and security circumstances, he would have preferred to sit at home, but the Grand Mage Wynter Erwith had decided to move into the basement - because it 'sort of smells like a tree' - and after two days of complaining and one near-fatal attempt at trying to fix the radiator using magic, Damilare had to be the responsible adult and call the repairmen. He felt an unusual wave of energy and looked around. A bell dinged as the door of a small café opened, releasing the delicious aroma of fresh pastries. A young couple cursed as they struggled to load heavy bags into their car. A group of children were running down the street and kicking snow at each other. He smiled. It was a nice change of pace after the three days of heavy snowfall, and he tried not to slip as he moved across the wet sidewalk of the car park.
Someone screamed.
He looked forward sharply. A teenage girl, with a frightened expression on her face, turned and ran away from him. He quickly and self-consciously examined himself. His tail was still tucked in, his wings had not made an appearance, and though he could not see his face, he was sure there weren't any changes obvious enough to elicit such a reaction. A man skidded around him from behind and fell, then frantically got up to continue running. Damilare stumbled as he looked back to see what was happening.
The ATM booth collapsed, metal squeaking as the fibreglass panels cracked and crunched unnaturally. Blood leaked out from beneath the compressed mass and Damilare gasped when he remembered the young man who had been using the machine just moments before. Grit and sand sprayed as the top corner of the bank's wall broke and fell, crushing the windscreen of a car parked beside. The car's alarm rang out and there was a loud guttural growl over the shrill sound as two more cars were crushed under an invisible weight. Damilare turned and ran, cursing the drag of his heavy winter boots. Metal crunched and car alarms blared as more vehicles collapsed in succession behind him. He powered his muscles to move faster as his heart thundered. His overwhelming instinct was to flee, but there was an inkling in his rational mind to overlook the immediate sense of danger and examine his situation logically.
Maybe Kojiro's rubbing off on me...
He forced himself to think past the haze of adrenalin, trying as much as he could to ignore the crunching footfalls of the invisible pursuer as it closed the gap between them.
From the damage, it has to weigh at least a ton. Probably gargantuan if tissue density is within normal range.
There were sounds of fright and confusion from the street, which were sharply silenced by a loud boom. Windows shattered from the parked cars and he was thrown off his feet and into a snow bank. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him but flipped around quickly and rolled to the side, his eyes widening as a massive four-toed clawed footprint crushed into the snow beside him. He scrambled off his feet and dove forward on all fours, rapidly flicking his gaze around to check for bystanders. The street seemed to have cleared out, and though he was sure there were onlookers in the buildings, discretion was pushed down his list of concerns.
It's now or never.
He released his wings and tail, ripping the polyester off his back. He quickly sprouted fur to cover the defect and shot off the ground with a powerful flap, launching himself onto the roof of the bank. He varied the photoreceptors in his eyes, switching his visual range towards ultraviolet. He frowned. There was still no image of what was attacking him, and as he began to vary towards infra-red, there was a tremor and a gust of wind whipped the snow into his eyes. He hissed and jumped back instinctively, flapping his wings to gain aerial advantage and possibly evade any surprise attacks.
Strange...no projectiles so far.
He wiped his face as he opened his eyes, his attention pulled by a stirring of the air below. Something was moving, and he noticed that the snow on the black asphalt parking lot was being blown outwards in a fan-like pattern.
It's flying.
Shit.
He flapped harder, his eyes tearing up at the cold winds as he sped towards the darkening sky. He cleared the dense lower clouds and looked down. An enormous round tunnel tore through the cloud and dispersed it, shooting white streaks of vapour radially. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he ripped off his jacket, quickly covering his exposed torso with fur, and threw it down. As expected, it fell a short distance before it suddenly disappeared. It reappeared after two seconds, ejected sideways, and Damilare smirked at that before looking up.
Large visual continuity disruption sphere.
Very likely not self-projected.
He channelled his energy within himself, extruding dense keratin through the leathery skin of his wings. He swiftly wrapped the wings around himself like a protective cocoon as the nail-hard shell hardened, parting them slightly over his face to peek through as he turned and plummeted towards his estimated centre of the sphere. He knew he would only have a second or less to make any observations, and he honed all his senses and braced himself for some sort of impact.
The image of the lower clouds flashed white and with a flicker of iridescence, a gargantuan maroon and black dragon with glowing blue eyes appeared. Its scaly horned wings were at least fifteen feet wide and huge muscles bunched underneath its long powerful frame as it attempted to twist towards him. Damilare adjusted his angle and fell past its large body, then pushed his tail out through his cocoon to wrap it around the dragon's. The dragon whipped its tail reflexively, and he hissed as it yanked painfully on his spine, throwing him upward. He sighted a glowing red metallic muzzle over its mouth just before a flash of yellow light in his peripheral vision pulled his attention. He tried to see what had created the light as he sailed over the dragon's head, but then the muzzle glowed gold and shattered like clay as powerful jaws opened, baring rows of sharp serrated teeth.
Holy-
A wave of heat poured over him even before he caught sight of the orange glow of flames rushing out of the dragon's throat. He uncoiled his tail quickly, letting the upward momentum of his body take over and throw him out of its path. The stream of fire missed him by barely an inch, and he broke the keratin shell off his wings, flipped sharply and flew at a downward angle, a move he knew would be hard for the large creature to attempt successfully. A frustrated growl affirmed his assumption, and as he considered his escape, he realized that he would be leaving the creature to wreak havoc on a town of unsuspecting defenceless people. Fighting it was equally unwise. As with all Earth mages, his abilities were suboptimal at this time of the year, and even if everything was ideal, taking on a dragon required more than just power and brute strength. Dragons could be incredibly intelligent, despite appearances.
Which leaves me with only one option...
He groaned internally and stopped flapping, bending one wing awkwardly and feigning a pained grimace. The cold air whooshed past his ear as he fell, spiralling slowly as he headed towards the lower clouds. He shivered, though he wasn't sure whether it was from the cold or trepidation. He knew this idea was insane, and there was no way to predict how the dragon was going to react, especially as he had been putting up a fight barely moments ago. He closed his eyes and held his breath as he breached the layer of clouds and there was a gravelly roar behind him. He opened his eyes again, and startled slightly at the sight of the tiny buildings as the ground rushed towards him. From the loudness of its wings, he could tell the dragon was much closer now.
Almost there...
He felt the heat from the dragon's mouth and powered his wings in a strong sideways flap, deviating sharply from the path of his freefall just as a stream of fire blew past and singed the end of his tail. He hissed as he opened his wings rigidly, holding them against the direction of his fall to decelerate as the dragon's head rushed past, its jaws snapping. He grabbed at one of the bony projections running the length of its neck and missed, but then his fingers caught hold of a thick leather strap that connected to what looked like a small saddle. The dragon jerked upwards to throw him off, but he held on tightly and reached to the side to place his hand on its cold scaly flesh. He poured out his energy through the point of contact and closed his eyes as he focused, plunging into the pool of vitality that held the creature's consciousness.
All sensation of the world around him disappeared, the rushing wind, the biting cold, the pain from his tail and the pounding of his heart. He silenced his mental noise and waited. For a moment, he felt vacant, like an empty shell, and then the emotions assaulted him. Rage. Frustration. Malice. Fear. He pushed past these, forcing himself to sink deeper, reaching for the core. He found it, bubbling hot and wild like an epicentre, and countered its chaotic emanations with a wave of calm. It fought back, its rage particularly pronounced, but he persisted, until its pulse slowed and the stormy emotions simmered down. He eased away and shut off his influence as he rode the current of energy back towards the surface.
Shrill wind whistled in his ears and slowly he opened his eyes. He was lying across the ridged plates of the dragon's neck, surrounded by a cold blanket of pale grey. The dragon's wings flapped slowly and opened to glide, streaking through quietly as it flew out of the cloud towards the setting afternoon sun. There was a low rumble from its body, like the sound of bowels churning, and Damilare stroked the creature's broad neck.
"Hungry?"
It chuffed in response, creating a small stream of vapour through its nostrils. Damilare chuckled.
"Lucky for you, I know a place we can get you sorted out."
}-{
"Do you have any idea what you brought back here?"
Damilare looked up from the chopping board and pushed the sliced paprika into a bowl. Wynter was giving him a stern look, yet there was a hint of excitement behind his concerned eyes. Damilare wasn't sure what else the older mage had expected him to do, but he was not in the mood for an argument and his mind was more preoccupied with finishing lunch before the kids returned from school.
"No," he answered tiredly, "but I assume you're going to tell me anyway."
"That's a Braenian dragon."
Damilare raised his eyebrows curiously and Wynter rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Braenians are the rarest, smartest and arguably the most ferocious species of dragons. And you thought it wise to have one sitting in the yard, behind a house that's soon to be filled with children."
"It's not going to attack anyone," Damilare huffed, moving off the kitchen island towards the freezer. "I warned it not to. Besides, it's already been fed, and Ecru said he'll help me set up a perimeter to stop it from going beyond the forest and into town. Could you please get the coriander?"
"Stop referring to him as an 'it'," Wynter replied, searching the top shelf which contained the jars of spices. "What's worse is that you didn't just bring back any ordinary dragon. That's a Royal beast. He belongs to King Oberon."
Damilare twisted sharply and almost dropped the large Ziploc bag filled with frozen meat. "What?!"
"I caught and trained him myself, over two years ago," Wynter said proudly, placing the small plastic bottle of coriander on the marble countertop. He placed bottles of rosemary, ground ginger and cumin powder in a row beside it. "His name's Jota. He's a bit of a drama queen but he's loyal to a fault. Try that combination, it's incredible."
"Thanks." Damilare muttered, dropping the bag into a plastic bowl in the sink and filling it with hot water. "So how did it - I mean, he - end up downtown trying to eat me?" He pointed to a small bowl of carrots. "Could you help me dice those?"
"I don't know," Wynter said as he grabbed the large knife beside the chopping board. "Even if he escaped from the Reserve, considering the lockdown, it would have been impossible to get out of Arcadia. And that's ignoring the fact that the Royal Reserve is one of the most protected areas, basically off-limits, even to the Nobles. The only people allowed in there, other than myself, were the-"
"Proles," a hoarse voice completed.
Damilare turned. Ecru was leaning by the door, his hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket. His pale skin seemed almost translucent and there were dark circles around his eyes, but his strides still carried his usual energy and swagger as he moved to one of the kitchen island stools. Wynter gave him an uncertain look which he returned with a wry smile.
"It seems your factory workers have joined a different union."
"What are you talking about?"
"Proles have been spotted triggering incidences and engineering chaos in several locations," Ecru said, picking up a piece of carrot that had rolled away from the board. "They're obviously foot-soldiers, so I don't think they're calling the shots. So I've been considering the people who have both the means and the motive to pull off the series of events we've been experiencing in the past two weeks."
"Any leads?" Wynter asked, hissing as the knife grazed his finger. He inspected it to be sure he wasn't bleeding.
"No. And the M.O. isn't clear enough to point in any particular direction."
"I thought this whole thing was about the Nucleus," Damilare said.
"At first, it seemed so. The incident with the Aquila and the attack on Erwith's home could be connected by the Nucleus, but that's not all we've seen, is it? Nathan has disappeared, the Shinto pantheon is in disarray, Kojiro's family has been attacked twice, and last week, the Lawrences had a close brush with a werewolf, in Australia, of all places."
"Wait..." Damilare said, "Kojiro was attacked again?"
Ecru raised an eyebrow. "I assumed he told you. I only overheard when your daughter was talking to Yuriko. Relax, they're unharmed. However, my point is this: whatever's happening, it's bigger than we thought. I decided to check with a few of our associates, to get a better picture of what we could be dealing with. Orthus has seen a rise in magical crimes around East Germany during the last month, the APM hasn't held their quarterly meeting because two of their board members went missing last week, and Giacomo says Esoterica has had way too many Anomaly flares for the holiday period. The meat's thawed."
Damilare turned around and dipped his finger in the now tepid water, then poured it out and transferred the meat into a saucepot. As he moved it towards the cooker, the gas knob twisted and flames burst out from the burner. He placed the pot over the fire and turned around to meet the spice jars floating behind him.
"Easy on the cumin," Wynter said, maintaining his concentration until the jars were picked out of the air. Damilare threw a generous amount of seasoning over the meat and covered the pot before turning back to Ecru.
"Do the others have any leads?"
"No. Like us, they were all handling their problems locally. Everything's still speculative, but Franco from APM suggested that someone might be trying to kick-start another Mage War. However, Giacomo said the evidence was not in support, and pointed out that the attacks didn't seem to be the workings of a revolutionist group because nobody has taken responsibility, and there's no clear pattern or motive tying any of it."
"So... now what?"
"Considering all the knowledge gaps, we all agreed that our only option is to tighten security and remain vigilant, at least until we can pinpoint a culprit."
"Basically, the same thing we've been doing so far," Damilare muttered.
They fell silent. Damilare grit his teeth in frustration. He hated this, this defensive position that involved waiting and constantly being on edge and looking over his shoulder wherever he went. He wanted to attack something, to be the aggressor, but he knew it was just the animal in him talking. In dealings of magic, going in without a strategy was asking for a hopefully-quick and very-likely-not-painless death.
"How's Adam doing?" Erwith asked softly. Ecru's face somehow managed to get more sullen.
"I really don't know," he responded after a pause. "His body is still the same, but he's...he's not in there."
"You think his soul has been removed?"
"No..." Ecru sighed. "If that were the case, he wouldn't have the energy keeping him alive. It's more like his consciousness is missing. I've tried calling him out, but he's just...gone."
He sounded so forlorn that Damilare had to check to be sure the vampire was not crying. Ecru sniffed and looked up from the table.
"Reduce the heat, the base is starting to burn."
It took a second before Damilare perceived it. He reached for the gas knob but then it turned and Wynter cleared his throat.
"If Adam's still alive, then it's either whoever pulled him out wants him alive, or he managed to arrest his soul extraction before it was completed. Whichever's the case, sadly, there's really nothing we can do about it. Shouldn't the fresh spices and such be in by now?"
"Thanks, I forgot," Damilare said as he received the levitated bowls of chopped herbs and vegetables and dunked their contents into the pot, then poured in a glass of water and some salt for good measure. "So the next issue is...who's going to be in charge until he wakes up?"
Ecru gave him an amused smirk. "You, of course."
"Eh?"
"It can't be me. I'm limited by sunlight and my altered sleep cycle. Also can't be Kojiro, he's too old. Paula's too detached to take up any responsibility, and Adrianna... well, Adrianna is Adrianna."
"But...but I'm not..."
"Do you need to lie down?" Wynter asked, chuckling slightly. "You look like you're about to faint."
"We'll all give counsel and argue out the tougher decisions," Ecru said encouragingly. "So think of yourself as more of a coordinator. We just need an established chain of command so things don't go out of control. We have the children cum trainees cum subordinates to consider."
Ecru looked at him expectantly and Damilare exhaled, dragging out the breath for as long as he could.
"Fine," he said finally. Ecru looked somewhat relieved.
"I know it's daunting, but I have a good feeling you can handle it."
"Hopefully. This whole Prole betrayal situation is really annoying, though."
Wynter snorted. "Out of everything, that's what's bothering you?"
"I'm tired of doing all the cooking."
}-{
Damilare's first rule as a newly appointed leader didn't seem to be going over well with his subjects. Still, he tried to keep his mood amiable as he turned towards Elisabeth, ignoring her facial expression as he gestured towards the silver shaker in front of her plate.
"Could you please pass the pepper?"
The frizzy-haired girl maintained her dead stare. "Seriously?"
"Seriously, what?"
"You're really going to have us do this every day, like we're in some old British boarding school."
"There's nothing wrong with having a scheduled mealtime. Besides, this gives you all a chance to interact, you know, get familiar, rather than sitting in your rooms all day, plugged to the internet until Ecru shuts off the router."
There was a disapproving murmur from somewhere down the table and he ignored it. Even with everyone seated, the long banquet-sized dinner table was barely half filled. The five teenagers sat on one side, siblings beside each other, while the adults - the ones who had agreed to come out of their rooms anyway - sat on the other side. Which, for now, were just Paula and Wynter.
"What's this supposed to be?" Paula asked, picking up the ladle filled with brown broth.
"Chicken curry sauce."
"You can make Indian food?"
"Yeah. Among other things."
"Hmm."
She took a small helping and passed the bowl before reaching for the plate of jacket potatoes. Across the table from her, Portia was typing eagerly on her touchscreen phone, her plate of food untouched. Damilare wanted to say something, but the process of getting her down here was enough antagonization for one day.
"Where's Adam?"
Olutayo was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Damilare sighed.
"Out. I'm in charge until he gets back."
"When is he coming back?"
"I...I can't say. Hopefully soon."
Portia looked up immediately, her face ashen. "What...what about Mr Ecru?"
"Arrangements have been made for him," Damilare replied tersely. He hated having to lie - or bend the truth - but he didn't want to raise alarm. Olutayo's gaze lingered for a few tense seconds before he looked back at his food.
"The spices are too strong, and the meat is overcooked," Henri said dismally. There was a moment of silence as everyone turned to look at him. He rarely spoke, even when spoken to, so his voicing out his opinion was rather surprising.
"I think it tastes just fine," Folasade countered.
"Of course you would," he replied dryly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You always-"
"Hey," Paula said, cutting him off, "Maybe next time, you cook, okay Henri?"
Henri muttered something under his breath in French and Damilare did his best to ignore the rude tone. Elisabeth looked up suddenly.
"Dad?"
Wynter choked on his tea, then coughed to clear his throat. "Mm?"
"Why's Adam called 'Arch Mage'? What's the 'arch' for?"
"Well, it means he's capable of influencing four of the six magical elements."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
"In ranking Mages, it goes from Prime to Alti to Grand to Arch. Prime means expertise at one element. Beyond this, the ranking is more about capability than expertise. Alti mages can influence two, Grand Mages, three; and Arch, four."
"What about five?"
"Nobody can control that many. Mastering even two elements is really-"
A loud vibrating hum interrupted him, and Folasade muttered an apology as she picked her phone from the table.
"Hello, Mummy?"
Damilare tensed. He wasn't even sure why he felt this way, but there was just something about hearing from or speaking to his ex that put him on edge. Folasade's face quickly morphed into a worried frown.
"What? Hold on, please talk slowly, I can't hear you."
Everyone stopped eating. Folasade's expression went from worried to panicky.
"What? What did they say?...Oh my god...What about Alison, is she...why? Okay. Okay, I'll tell him. Okay. Okay, please just...shit."
She looked at her screen and hissed, then slowly looked up, her eyes wide and glassy.
"What happened?" Elisabeth asked, voicing the question that was no doubt on everyone's mind.
"There was...an explosion at Brian and Alison's school" she said, swallowing thickly. "And Brian...he's missing."