flstandardbreds Act 3, Chapter 34: A Devil’s call
Act 3, Chapter 34: A Devil’s call
Day in the story: 14th January (Wednesday), afternoonElle Erikson“Phillip?” I asked, picking up and rushing through the hallway to the outside of the building.
“Alexandra. It’s good to hear your voice again. Your calls have become exiguous as of late.”
“I am trying to become as independent as I can. It is something you once wished for me, is it not? To be remade in your image,” I replied evenly, matching his tone. There was something about speaking with him that always put me on the defensive. As if any misplaced word could spell my doom.
“All I ever wanted for you is to realize the potential you have and use it fully, as I did in my life. That is what I meant when I called you a masterpiece in the making. I would prefer if we could talk in person, if you would be so kind.”
I took a deep breath. It sounded like a trap, smelled like a trap, and looked like a fucking death row. But on the other hand, I could be somewhat expendable in this body—hopefully—and he had never rushed to hurt me directly.
And to top it all off, he had recently helped me with the explosives I used for Solitary Twin without asking a single question or demanding anything in return. So I owed him. Which, in retrospect, was exactly the kind of debt he would have wanted to impose on me.
“Where are you?” I asked, processing all of this in a fraction of a second, thanks to two additional brains—my own in this body and the one lent by Gertrude. Only Alexa’s original gray matter was at ease, resting as the flesh required.
“At my Finest,” he responded, knowing full well I would expect an ambush, yet not bothering to tell me not to worry.
I summoned the spellbook via the tattoo and, with a flick of will, forced the universe to reconsider my current position.
I arrived in a room different from what I had expected. Renovated again—this time to resemble the one I had known for years rather than the clinical, sterile version it had recently become. Warm woods. Shelves heavy with old tomes worth more than the office The Hoppers were currently using—perhaps more than the building itself. Everything neatly arranged around a mahogany desk, upon which rested only a laptop, a glass, and a bottle of Non Plus Ultra Black Edition rum he loved so much.
He sat behind the desk in a comfortable chair, wearing a white tailored shirt that showcased the musculature beneath. A body he took great care of. His beard was neatly trimmed, like a silver blade ready to strike, with hair to match.
He stood when he noticed me appear, ending the call and placing his phone beside the computer.
“Non Plus Ultra?” he asked, noticing my eyes lingering on the bottle. “Do you remember the meaning?”
“I do. Did you call me here to give me a lesson?” I asked.
“Nothing further beyond,” he said anyway, picking up the bottle with both hands. He seemed more thoughtful than he had a few weeks ago. “The company that makes it knows they are the best in the world, and they advertise as such.”
“Isn’t that just marketing?”
“No, it is not. They are the best, and nothing comes close. It is pride. Are you proud of yourself, Alexandra?”
“No. Not yet. But I am on my way. Are you Phillip?”
“No doubt.”
“Why did you redecorate again?” I asked out of curiosity.
“My temporary lapse of judgment and the evanescence of my sense of style required an epiphany on my part to remedy. And while my decline had been gradual, returning to an understanding of myself was rather instantaneous. I realized, my dear Alexandra, that I was being influenced by a soul within the core—left there by the shadow of a person who no longer needed it. I quelled that voice before it took anything more from me.”
“An eloquent way of saying you murdered him.”
“If he had truly deserved it, he would have fought to protect it with all he had. He misplaced his trust.”
“And now you’ve called me to ask something of me, enticing me to place my own trust in you as well? That’s bad marketing, Phillip.”
He winced at the name.
“Asking you to call me Phillip was a mistake. It does not sit well with me.”
“I’ll think about it. Will you tell me why you called? Was it to reminisce about old times?”
“No. But it is a welcome development,” he said, placing both palms flat on the desk. “Will you sit?”
“I honestly can’t remember the last time you asked me something like that,” I replied, pulling out the chair and sitting down. It must have been the same green chair that had stood here forever before being replaced. It still bore the marks my nails had left when I scratched it during uneasy conversations.
“The scales between us are balanced differently now. I realize that. It requires me to treat you with the respect you have earned,” he said, tugging at his beard. I nodded in acknowledgment. “I am in need of your services, and I am willing to pay you millions for them. You may never need to work again.”
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“Please explain. I will not agree blindly. That part of our agreement remains, Mr. Penrose.”
He bowed his head slightly in response to my courtesy.
“I have been in talks with the United States Guild of Mages. They offered me equipment and expertise in exchange for my money. I needed that to gain power, Alexandra. There is an immense amount of it to be found in the Mirrored City.”
“You have all the money in the world. What power is left for you to gain?” I interrupted.
“Money is a crutch for people without imagination, Alexandra. Real power lies in the influence you hold over others. Do you think today’s billionaires would be listened to without the string of ever-changing numbers attached to their net worth? The house of cards they’ve built might be grand—the largest in the fucking world, even—but it offers no protection from those who can manipulate the true whims of fate with their souls.”
He paused, looking into my eyes, though there was no intent of a resonant gaze behind them. He exhaled and continued.
“I am old—past my prime—despite the effort I put into maintaining myself. I need to cheat my way to the top. I do not have decades left to amass real power.”
“What help can I offer in that pursuit?”
“When I learned about magic and gained the power to buy anything with a price, I spent it on knowledge. In that endeavor, I discovered a secret source of power—something capable of catapulting a mage’s essence and resonance to an entirely different degree.”
“What is it?”
“Old archmages called them nexuses of power. Splinters, usually torn from Ideworld—formed from dead and abandoned Domains that gravitated toward each other in the Aether, creating a new realm. I want to reach the one that lies atop the Mirrored City. Or beneath it, if that better suits your sense of direction.”
I leaned forward. “Wait. You’re telling me that within those Nexuses are fragments of soul cores and artifacts from the Domains that merged into them?”
“Yes. They are like black holes, consuming Domains and increasing in mass. Most consider them too dangerous. But as I said, I am not most—and I am not meager or average. I see power left unclaimed, and I want it.”
“Why are you telling me this? I could become your competition.”
“Because, for all the things I am, I am also practical. I know you possess versatile power—and a hunger to become more. By showing you the path, I can walk in the wake you create… or we can blaze it together. Either way, I win.”
“But I don’t know how to reach that splinter. Do you?”
“I might. That is why I sent my team there. And why, ultimately, I require your help now.” He leaned back in his chair, looking toward the ceiling. “There is a hotel inside the Mirrored City. A recreation of the InterContinental. I intended to claim it. There is an unused gate inside, and it lies close enough to the Nexus’s entrance to serve as a proper base. My mages would operate from there while I searched for a path to the Nexus itself.”
“Your team failed?”
“I appreciate the speed of your thoughts,” he said with a faint smile. “I do not know, Alexandra. What I do know is that they called for help—which is not a good sign.”
“How can they call you from Ideworld?”
“A trick I learned from you. I can alter the value of money—any value. Even the alphabetical value of words printed on the notes. I gave Rei several banknotes embedded with different messages. This morning, one of those links went dead. He destroyed the note. That is his signal.”
“So this is a rescue operation?”
“Yes.”
I did not hesitate. “I will do it.”
“How much time do you need to prepare?”
“A few hours at most,” I replied. “You?”
“The same. Come to my house when you are ready. I will organize the rescue team in the meantime.”
I stood from the chair, the old scratch marks beneath my fingers catching the light for a brief second.
A Nexus. A dead splinter of worlds fused into one. And a man who wanted to cheat his way to godhood—inviting me to join him.
I was no fool. I assumed he would want to remove me from the equation one way or another. But he was also right about walking toward the goal together. For as long as he needed me, I would be in relative safety. And, truth be told, the same could now be said about him.
I didn’t yet know whether I wanted to enter that splinter. But I certainly wanted the option.
“I will go as Gertrude Monkey,” I said. “It’s a safe persona.”
“Whatever works best for you,” he replied. “Is there anything you need from me to help you prepare?”
“How many people are you taking?”
“Around forty.”
“Does that number include Thomas?”
“Mr. Torque will join us, yes. The other soul within my core devalued his abilities, but I know better now. He is as useful to me as he ever was, even without magical powers.”
“Good. Then I want to strike a deal now—before we go on our merry way.”
“Name any sum, and I will oblige.”
“Money is just a crutch for people without imagination,” I replied, quoting him back at himself. “Having all of it has made it worthless to you. I want something you still value to pay me with. I want Thomas Torque released from his obligations to you once this is done. No threats toward anyone he values or loves. And as long as he is not in direct opposition to you, you leave him alone and unharmed—in good faith under our agreement.”
He stroked his beard, considering.
“And you can top it off with about ten million or so, for good measure,” I added.
“Deal,” he said, standing and extending his right hand toward me.
I met it with mine. Our handshake was firm.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“Organizing people at my compound.”
“You already assumed I would agree?”
“Yes,” he said calmly. “But I had a few backup plans as well.”
“It’s always good to have some,” I replied, taking a bow before teleporting out of the room and toward his house.
The immediate area around the estate was quiet and clear of people, but a wave of noise rolled over the wall—voices, metallic clinks, engines idling. I moved quickly, triggering the magical girl transformation and summoning Usagear onto my body. The hood settled over me, the painted eyes upon it opening my perception in every direction at once.
That was how I spotted the guard on the wall a few seconds before he noticed me. He had just begun to turn when I flicked a card toward the wall—high enough to clear it. The moment it sliced past him in a sharp arc, I was already there, appearing next to it mid-flight and dropping down into the courtyard, holding it back in my hand.
I landed among a crowd of people gearing up for war. They were strapping weapons, adjusting vests and checking magazines, loading heavy equipment onto cars, and at the center of it stood Thomas Torque, explaining something to a man in a suit.
“Thomas!” I shouted over the noise, raising both arms in a gesture of surrender.
It worked. Instantly, several pistols and rifles snapped in my direction. Better this way. Faster than pushing through them one by one to ask for a word.
Riskier too, perhaps.
But with Usagear’s sight, I trusted I would see any trigger twitch before a shot could reach me—and I would be gone before the bullet did.
Fortunately, they had good trigger discipline. Aside from a chorus of “Stop right there!” and “Don’t move!” nothing happened. Especially since Torque had heard my call.
“Oh, isn’t it the devil herself calling my name?” he said dryly, waving the men to stand down.