Heir of the Immortals Resurrection
chapter 2
Dust and dirt shot up from the floor as Herald allowed his black duffel bag to fall onto the grey moth-eaten carpet of the Foxhole Hotel.
Mary looked around her, her Brown eyes sweeping over the cracked plaster of the walls, yellowed by years of exposure to nicotine. She moved forward, wincing as a cockroach crunched under her heel. Stopping before one of the double beds, she flicked her fingers, telekinetic force slammed into the mattress creating a dent that did not disappear.
Slowly, she turned her head to stare at Herald, "Why here?" She asked tucking her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket.
Kneeling, Herald unzipped his duffel bag, "This place was cheap…"
"I can see that," Mary muttered.
"I paid for the entire month for $500." reaching into his bag, he pulled out a Golden ring about the size of his palm with runes etched into its surface. Sitting it on the ground, small wires with hoops on the end shot out. The edges of the hoops connected, forming a larger runic circle.
Reaching forward, Herald plucked a piece of carpet from the floor and set it in one of the circles before rising to his feet. Stopping before the wall, he scanned it for a moment, before pulling a rare piece of white plaster free.
Stopping before the bed, he shook his head, "Too damaged to use."
"What are you doing?"
Ignoring her, Herald made his way over to his bag. Dropping to his knees, he reached inside pulling out a small black case. With a flick of his thumb, the lid popped open.
Curious and a little miffed at being ignored, Mary moved closer. Inside the box was an assortment of odds and ends, springs, string, chips of wood, and bits of cloth.
Rising to a crouch, Herald moved around the circle placing wood, a spring, and a bit of cloth in the remaining circles of his device. After placing his box back into his duffel bag, he moved his palm over the large ring covered in runes.
Rainbow-colored energy flowed from his hand and into the ring. The runes carved into the ring flared with multicolored light before traveling down the wire. Each circle lit up like a star growing brighter by the second. In less than a minute the light filled the room, forcing both of them to close their eyes.
As the light faded, Mary's eyes widened.
The walls were a pristine eggshell color, no longer covered in nicotine or cracks. Light grey carpet sank under the weight of her feet. Dark green comforters covered the bed.
Approaching the beds again, she pressed down, feeling the springs fight against the pressure this time. Removing her hand, the springs returned to their original position.
She turned to Herald, her eyes wide, her Auburn ponytail swishing back and forth as she shook her head in amazement, "How?"
Herald pointed to the center ring as the wiring hoops recoiled back into it, "Magic, the same way I changed the dirt into chains when we first met. However, because of what I experienced in the past I don't like using it. Plus, I find that rituals and runes are a more stable form of magic."
Mary drew back at the sphere of black grime hovering in the center of the ring. 'So, the people that hurt him were magical.' "What is that?" She pointed to the black ball.
All the dirt and grime accumulated in this room over the years. Using sympathetic magic, and the materials you saw I was able to repair the room."
Moving to her left, Mary sat down opposite the bed she had tested, "You know this is going to be obvious when we leave, right?"
Flicking his fingers towards the black ball. It burst into flames, Herald curled his fingers and caught the corresponding ashes in a small trashcan. Grabbing the handles of his duffel bag, he rose to his feet, "I doubt they're going to complain."
Throwing his duffel bag onto the bed, he removed a file. Flipping it open, he handed it to Mary.
Flipping the file open, Mary eyed the picture of a broad-shouldered green-eyed blonde paperclip to the inside.
"Our target's name is John Gideon."
Holding up a finger, Mary began flipping through the file. "According to this, he was born on a little European island called Zandia to its queen Zand Gordon. His father was Calvin Brodrick," she raised an eyebrow, "both had Geokinesis, interesting."
Lowering the file, she stared into Herald's eyes, "Is this right?"
Taking his trench coat off,Herald laid it across the bed and stretched his arms. His muscles tightened against his black T-shirt. Placing his hands on the knees of his black jeans, he squatted down, "if it's within the file it's all true, trust me."
"It says here, his mother killed his father in a ritual to increase her Geokinetic powers. Over the next decade or so, he was forced to kill people in a ritual that would increase his mother's power. He continued doing this until he overheard his mother planning to kill him, since he had Geokinesis, to increase her power even further."
Closing the file, she laid it on the bed beside her.
Straightening and taking a step backHerald sat down on the bed.
"How do you know this?"
"Your brain stores all your memories even those you can't consciously recall."
Mary's eyes widened, "You've been reading his mind telepathically. It's the only way you could know so much about his past."
"Yes."
"Did his mother really kill his father in front of him?"
"Yes."
She shook her head, "And I thought I had a rough childhood."
Herald leaned forward placing his hand on her knee, "You did, what your father did to you was unforgivable."
Mary shook her head, "It says in the file he's killing people to increase his Geokinetic powers. Do you know how he's doing that?"
"He's using a modified ritual of what his mother had him perform as a child."
"Magic can be wonderful," she gestured around her, "but it also seems dangerous."
"Magic itself is not dangerous, it's the people using it you have to watch out for." Standing to his feet, Herald slipped on his trench coat and threw up his hood. His red eyes glowed beneath it, "Are you ready to go?"
Despite the horrors of what she had just read and heard. Excitement appeared in Mary's eyes as she took his hand and rose to her feet, "Before we go, I have one question?"
One of the red eyes beneath the hood rose slightly.
"What was that thing you use to clean the room?"
"I call it the restorer."
Mary pulled him towards the door, "It doesn't really roll off the tongue."
"I'll let you name the next one."
"Really?"
–XX –
John Gideon sat on a wooden bench in the London underground, the toe of his white tennis shoe tapping on the cheap rectangular white tiles that covered the platform. His green eyes flicked back and forth as he watched the people move around him like ants.
His blonde hair moved in the wind from the train as it passed, metal screeching on metal echoing through the open space as a voice blared from speakers overhead.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, the wood of the bench creaking as his weight shifted from it. His eyes locked on a woman with long Auburn hair as he moved forward. The stone dagger hidden in the sleeve of his grey sweatshirt slid into his hand. His heartbeat increased with each step; his hand tightened around the handle of his blade.
This was what he lived for, the thrill of the hunt, the feeling of his blade sliding into his victim's bodies. The rush of power as their life faded. He frowned as people moved in front of him, blocking him from his prey.
The smell of sweat and different kinds of perfumes filled his nose in the press of bodies. His hand twitched as he fought the urge to start swinging his blade, but no, he couldn't do that. One person a month, always random, always at a different train or tube station.
Finally, he made his way through the press of bodies, his footsteps echoing as he stepped onto the middle of the train. He looked around for his target, only to freeze.
The train was empty, well-worn padded seats lined either side of the car. Bars equally spaced throughout the car partially blocked his vision. Handles swung back and forth as the motion of all the departed passengers dispersed.
He moved forward. His footsteps quick as the need to kill became stronger. Reaching the end of the car, he reached for the handle of the door that separated the cars only to find it locked.
With a snarl, he turned around, finding his prey standing behind him. She waved at him, mischief shining in her Brown eyes. In a flash, he moved forward, the stone dagger drawn back to strike.
A clang echoed through the car as a short blade appeared in the woman's hand metal grinding against stone as they fought for dominance.
Gideon's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blade, "You were expecting me! How? Who are you?"
The woman didn't answer. She slammed a foot into his stomach sending him stumbling back. While he was off-balance, she twisted, bringing her blade around in a strike at his throat.
In a stroke of luck, Gideon swayed as he regained his balance, the blade missing him by inches.
Sweat ran down his face as he stared at the woman before him. This was a new experience; he had never been hunted before. His heart hammered in his chest and a feeling long forgotten travel down his spine.
Fear, he was feeling fear. His hand tightened around his dagger, and his lips twisted into a snarl. This bitch made him feel fear, no one makes him feel fear, never again.
With a roar, he charged forward spittle flying from his mouth. He only made it two steps before he froze.
Another figure shimmered into existence two feet back from the woman. Most of his features were hidden, but a dark blue hand was raised and red eyes shone from beneath the hood of a leather trench coat.
"I think that is enough Mary," the figure shook his head, "I honestly expected more."
The Auburn haired woman lowered her sword, "I know what you mean, I don't think he's used to people fighting back," she glanced back at the hooded man, "It's pathetic really."
John Gordon strained to move against the force holding him. They were making fun of him, no one made fun of him, people feared him, and he would show them why. Reaching out with his Geokinetic powers, the tunnel began to shake.
He laughed internally as dust fell outside the windows.
Suddenly, another power swept through the tunnel fighting back against his own. Movement brought him back to reality, breaking his attempt to bring down the tunnel. He watched the hooded man stagger backward, his left hand shooting out to grab the back of a seat to steady himself.
Mary glanced back at him, "Are you alright?"
The hooded figure straightened, "I'm fine, it's just been a while since I had a Geokinetic fight," he turned towards her slightly, "but at least we know my replication field works."
He turned back to Gideon, "Now end this, I found some disturbing information in our friend's mind and if we're going to stop it, we need to move quickly."
Mary pouted, tugging at the lower corner of her leather jacket, "Oh, but we don't get to play that often."
"If this information is right, then you will get to play a lot more."
Mary's eyes brightened, but a sigh exploded past her lips, "Fine." She stepped forward, her sword swinging back and forth in her left hand. As she drew closer, her body twitched.
Gordon's eyes widened as he watched white paint ooze from the skin on the right side of her face before solidifying into a white mask. Her lips became a dark red as they stretched into a wide smile.
"You've been a bad man," she said in a voice that sounded like multiple women speaking at once, she moved forward, still swinging her sword as flames danced down its edge, "and we're going to make you pay."
Herald turned away, concentrating on making sure everyone was deaf to the screams that echoed through the car. After what seemed like an incredibly long time, Herald turned back to Mary, his nose wrinkling at the smell of cooked meat that wafted through the car.
The white paint on the right side of her face flaked away taking the blood that covered the mask with it. She lowered her glowing orange blade as it faded back to its normal color.
"I told you that's not good for the blade, you're going to lose it."
She moved forward, a sway in her hips, "Then you'll just have to buy me a new one, after all, you broke my second one." She ran a hand down his face. "So," she leaned forward, their lips just inches apart. She drew back, a wicked smile on her face. "What did you find in his mind," she gestured to the corpse sprawled out on the floor, steam still rising from multiple slash marks.
"Tease," Herald mumbled only for her smile to widen.
Clearing his throat, Herald shook his head, "somehow that sicko had information of a human trafficking ring going on in the states." He turned and began walking away.
Mary moved up beside him, "Are you sure? That doesn't seem like the type of thing that guy would've been into. He liked the hunt too much."
"Apparently, like-minded people have a network of sorts."
"Then we should be dismantling the network."
"We could, but that would take months, and we could do something about the human trafficking now."
"I didn't think you were the type for instant gratification."
Herald's eyes narrowed.
Ignoring him, Mary slipped her arm through his, "So, how are we getting to the states? It's been a while since I've been back home."