"Paradise doth send her auditor, Master Megistus, and you are overdue," announced the man in black, his voice uncanny, with a gravelly and high pitch.
He paused with a smile, his toothy grin gleaming like a row of polished tusks. He spun like a maniac, arms wide, exuding an unsettling energy. He materialized a cane from a wisp of shadow leaking out of his sleeve. Three knocks against the ground. Such a cursed number.
"I could be thy accountant, Felix. Mend this matter for ya in a jiffy! You see... the Voice-Of-The-Clouds owes me some qui-pro-quo, Felix. I'll settle your accord, Fe-"
"Don't," I interrupted, my voice cold and firm. My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword, ready for any sudden movements.
"Can't blame a fellow sinner for trying!" he chuckled, leaning forward with a glint in his eye.
"I do."
"Well... I'll turn this pesky bauble over and resolve your personal matter with the ones mostest of high if you fetch me a rather trifling quarry."
I eyed him warily, shifting my weight and narrowing my gaze. "Trifling quarry?"
"Chymes' Codex, good sir!" he repeated, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Chymes' Codex."
"You take me a fool?" I scoffed, crossing my arms defensively. "Chymes is a myth!"
"Fools are the true kings, mine new pal-" he began, but I cut him off.
"I, most certainly, am not," I said, my voice laced with irritation.
"How crass, Mister Megistus, how crassssss. I'm sure your namesake could help!" He wagged his finger at me, his grin widening.
I adjusted my jaw and scrunched my nose, a flicker of anger in my eyes. Some nerve this fool has. "Insult my intelligence? Mention HIM? Listen Johnny Cash, you lost bartering rights. Hand over the hellion. Solve my matter with Paradise. Donate a considerable sum to the cause. Then, perchance, I MIGHT be able to solicit your codex, but I must insist on payment upfront."
"Touché, but only one soul can you have now," he replied, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Give me the tulpa," I demanded, stepping closer, my hand ready to fling flames.
"Reconsider while I am being magnanimous, Mister Megistus," he said, tilting his head.
"Hand. Me. That. Dammed. Marble." I spat each word with venom.
The man tossed the sealed spirit over to me, then materialized a piece of ancient vellum, dyed with blood. He waved it in front of me, tauntingly.
"A simple please would suffice. Hmmmmmmmm," He stroked his bald chin. "hmmmmMMMMMMM!"
"Don't burn yourself," I muttered, barely audible, my eyes fixed on the vellum.
"Philanthropy is not my common cause. Have you any suggestions?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I replied mocking his vernacular, "I doth find myself down bad for the groovy trinkets from the days of yore."
"Marvelous! I have just the thing!" He clapped his hands, producing his offer.
"Three tarot cards?" I asked, skeptical.
"Its sentimental." He explained as he flourished them, "The Wheel for money. The Magician for power. The Hermit for knowledge."
"How classical. Have anything.... less generic? Perhaps-"
"That's my Final Offer," he interrupted, his tone firm.
"I see," I resigned, better than nothing.
"Shall we bleed like the ancients?"
"Zero chance."
"Your true name then."
"Hard pass."
"It must be Body."
"No!"
"Denied thrice! How Biblical!" He then bit his own finger with his sharp incisors, a drop of crimson pooling on his index. He signed his name, his true name. Dear God.
"You—You're—" I stammered, my eyes widening in shock.
"I would caution against betraying me," he whispered, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Oh! Also I need the codex before the equinox! Thanks a million bud!"
A puff of smoke and no more Johnny Cash. He left me, terrified and confused, a crimson sheet at my feet and a trio of tarot in the air. I lingered for a moment, bewildered. Why? Why me? Every soul I save. Each monster I slay. All for not. Any conceivable redemption I manufactured during the last decade lost in a conversation with an infamous autograph attached.
Desperation seized me, and I rushed back to Stonehenge with the promise and the prizes. Invisible to the eyes of the Englishmen around me, I leapt over fences and bumped into bewildered pedestrians, their confused mutterings drowned out by the haste of my steps.
The Bluestones loomed ahead, and I slipped into the old ways, twisted through time and space. For what felt like a short eternity, I wandered, my mind leaping to possible outcomes, terrible nightmares, and how cunning of a plan I needed to survive this pact.
Only when I was certain that no scrying eyes followed, I cut through the veil into my otherworld. Inside my sanctum, I rummaged through my belongings with a frenzied haste, muttering to myself the incantations and protections I had learned over the years. Everything that warded me. Anything that comforted me.
First, I reached for the Plume of The Morrigan, an obsidian feather hanging from a sinewy chord, to conceal my presence from destiny. I slipped it over my neck, feeling the cold pinion's reassuring weight against my chest.
Next, I rummaged through a lacquered clay vase and retrieved one of Solomon's originals. I twisted it onto my finger.
My eyes spied a small, ornate trinket box made of polished ivory and adorned with intricate carvings of eastern sages. I stumbled over, willing a path through my collection. Inside were protection charms—from the Fangshi. I selected a few... dozen, pinning them to my cloak.
On a cluttered shelf, I found several vials of elixir, each glowing with a different hue. I grabbed a swirling silver liquid, and downed it in one gulp. Almost immediately, I felt a surge of enhanced capability, as my blood rushed with the static of power.
Off to my right, my godfather's grimoire lay open on a lectern. I hurried over and began reciting the incantations from its pages, my voice growing louder and more strained with each word. A protective barrier shimmered briefly around me, a supplementary blue that faded into my skin.
I continued my frantic search, finding my adder stone nestled in a velvet-lined box. I slipped it my coat pocket, feeling a rush of strength and clarity.
I brought my herb garden to me, scanning for my desire. I needed Moly. I needed Aglaophotis. I gorged on handfuls of each before turning to the field of shamrock on the edge of my realm. I rested in the druid's hallowed grass, burying myself under heaps of occult novelties, actual relics, and random artifacts.
As I buried myself under the mountain of relics, a sense of impending dread settled in my chest. I stayed there for hundreds of years in othertime but to Earth only weeks.
A soft, almost imperceptible hum began to fill the air. It started as a whisper, growing louder and more insistent. I froze, every nerve on edge. Someone was entering my sanctum. But how? The Aos Sí circle was secure, the nexus guarded. It was impossible.
And yet, the hum transformed into a melodic chant, an ancient tune that sent shivers down my spine. The air shimmered and bent, and before me stood a figure cloaked in shadows. As the figure stepped forward, the shadows peeled away, revealing a woman with an ethereal beauty that seemed out of place in my chaotic realm.
"Liora," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.
She smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Felix," she said, her voice like a soft breeze. "Quite the odd pastime to keep you from writing or calling."
I narrowed my eyes. "Trouble seems to flock to me like water a fish," I muttered, refusing to acknowledge her further.
"Or you find it," she countered, stepping further off of the arrival platform. "What's the plan this time? Drown yourself in relics and hope one works?"
I ignored her comment, focusing on my preparations. "What do you want, Liora?"
She tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "I could ask you the same. What's your endgame here, Felix? Death by lethargy?"
"I have it under control," I snapped, irritation creeping into my voice.
"Sure you do," she said, picking up an ancient amulet and examining it. "Just like in '99?"
I shot her a look, my patience wearing thin. "This is not at all like then. I have a plan."
She raised an eyebrow. "A plan that doesn't include me? A plan that does include sloth?"
"If I wanted you here, I would have called," I insisted, my tone clipped.
"Ouch, words can hurt you know?" she said, placing the amulet back. "What is it this time? Another demon? A rogue spirit?"
"None of your concern," I replied, turning away from her.
"Right," she said, her voice hardening. "Because you've got everything under control. Just like always."
I spun around, my frustration boiling over. "Why are you here, Liora?"
She met my gaze, her expression serious. "Some people worry when they do not hear from their friends, so they decide to reach out themselves."
"I don't need—"
"Help? Friends? No, of course not," she interrupted, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "You never do."
"Exactly," I said, my jaw tightening.
She sighed, a mix of exasperation and concern. "Look, I'm not here to hold your hand, Felix. Just... maybe I can make sure you don't kill yourself. Again."
I stared at her, well passed a comfortable length. "No," I said, my voice low. "Get out."
"I'll do this alone. Its the only way." I added, only audible to myself.
"Not an option," a small smile tugged at her lips. "Either one, you accept me into whatever fold has you buried under five thousand years of magic, or two, I tell your godfather that you are buried under five thousand years of magic in an fey cave."
Rage flared in my chest, hot and blinding. "You bitch," I snarled, my voice wet with anger. "You think reuniting us will be productive? Me and you? Me and him? You are just a third-rate sorcerer with a penchant for demonolgy! And he is a just washed-out celebrity, unrelavent since the Renaissance!"
"Choose or will leave right now for New Orleans."
"Do not threaten me, Liora. Otherwise you will no longer find my hospitality pleasant."
Her expression sharpened, her eyes filled with mixed emotions. "Felix..."
I turned away, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. "I don't need your pity. I don't need a hero. I work alone."
She took a step closer, her voice gentle but firm. "It's not about me playing the hero. It's about making sure you don't get yourself killed. I'm not going to stand by and watch you self-destruct."
"You don't understand," I snapped, my frustration spilling over. "I can't afford any distractions. Not ever. Not now."
"I do understand," she said softly. "Better than you think. But this... this isn't the Felix I know. This is not the man from the library."
Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. She was right; I wasn't myself. I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing.
"If I'm not the man from the library, why are you even here! LEAVE Liora."
She turned and started humming, "Off to see the wizard! The wonderful wiz-"
"Fine," I muttered, the fight draining out of me. "Stay and forget your ideals about trying to fix my life."
Liora nodded, relief evident in her eyes. "No promises."