Chapter 4: Doing The Job

I remembered that I was holding an athame, a double-edged dagger used by Wicceans to direct energy and make protective circles. The knife is actually never used for cutting flesh. Unless it’s an emergency, of course.

With the little strength left in my arms, I lifted the dagger and buried its blade on the demon’s stomach. That’s no way to kill a demon, but it will hurt them.

The incubus winced. His body scrunched in pain. I took the opportunity to exhale. I kicked his face and ran towards the temple entrance. The mouth of the cave was a couple hundred meters from it. Behind me I could hear the demon scream.

I had forgotten that most demons have three times the speed of humans. Before I could exit the temple, the incubus had materialized in front of me and gave me another strong blow. No, not the pleasant kind of blow.

The demon’s force sent me rolling to the ground. This shithead was really serious about not letting me out with his scepter. Or maybe he was insulted that I didn’t fall into his charms. I pulled myself to my knees and directed my eyes to the incubus. He was moving towards me, eager to make pounce right to the kill. I guess I had to do this the hard way.

Basic hexes can be cast inwardly by a witch of considerable power. These include spells for floating objects, altering shapes, protection, telepathic communication, absorbing energy, dispelling enemies and many others. In the hands of a master, these spells didn’t need incantations. Spells that kill, however, need to be chanted. The impact of the spell depends on the powers of the witch. Sometimes a chant had to be done in a protective circle because it took time for the spell to take effect. In the field, witches used orbs to focus their powers. Suffused, a bright light explodes from the orb. If the recipient of the hex is engulfed, the affliction is bestowed.

I flung my ceramic orb at the demon and began to chant.

“Bend to my darkness, Demon of lust. Flesh to ashes, bone to dust.”

Before the demon could reach me, he froze in mid-haste. Then his entire body contorted into itself and exploded into particles of dust. I shielded my eyes against the spray.

Immediately, though, the columns of the temple started to topple and crash to the floor of the cave. A tremor reverberated inside it. Damn it. I had forgotten that a demon’s life essence is connected to its hiding place. When they are destroyed, their secret dwellings follow soon after.

I scrambled to my feet and started to run for my life. Behind me, the temple was crashing completely. The hollow space that surrounded it was caving in. I left my orb and my athame but held on to the scepter in my hand. Despite all this, I still had to give it to the sorcerer who had hired my thieving services.

The reason my thievery has become so in demand and expensive was that in the event that I failed to deliver (which has never happened), the client has the option of giving me another task. Any task at all, except suicide, mutilation and everything else in that sense.

When I got out of the cave and into the sunlight, I didn’t stop running until the sounds of crumbling earth faded away. When I looked back, thick clouds of dust rose from what was left of the cave. I was catching my breath when my client appeared before me.

“You didn’t tell me the demon was still alive!” I accused.

The sorcerer was of the Hider kind. All of them wear hooded gray cloaks. Nothing can be seen underneath their hoods but the blue gleam of their eyes.

“My apologies,” replied the sorcerer. His voice had the quality of an echo in it, like four voices coming out of his mouth at the same time. “I have doubled the fee for your troubles.”

Weakly, I handed him the scepter. He gave me two pouches of Hider gold.

I could hardly speak. I was steal huffy from the unexpected workout. “You think this is all about money.” I wasn’t asking. “I could have died back there.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Echo-mouth said. I didn’t even know his name. I wanted to ask him how Hiders propagate. I wondered if they had the same body parts as humans underneath their cloaks. The sorcerer disappeared.

Sorcerers consist three races of half-demons. They have the ability to cast alchemical spells. The Hiders is the race that can teleport at will. I envy them. I tried to teleport once. My nose didn’t stop bleeding for days.

Finding the demon’s temple had been tricky. It was an hour’s hike into the forest of Mount Atreverse on a freaking 70-degree incline. It took me two days to register a probable location. I used a magical map to show me any signs of ectoplasmic activity. That’s the best way to start. The bigger the activity, the bigger the odds than an artifact is hidden there. The cave had been the best candidate and I was right. The people who lived near the area actually called it Kweba Maligno, which is the local dialect for “Cave of Evil Spirits”.

Before trailing my way down the mountain and back to town, I sat on a fallen trunk and tended to my wounds. They are going to bruise, I can tell that much. Spells don’t heal wounds. Herbs do, but mugwort didn’t exactly grow in these parts. Not on this terrain.

The past week had been weird. This was the third time someone had asked me to steal a scepter, their operative expression being ‘to recover an artifact’. Well, I wasn’t recovering any artifacts. I was stealing them and killing their respective owners. If I had known their guardians were still in existence, I would’ve planned a different way of taking the objects. That way, I didn’t have to slay demons.

I ached for a shower.

Actually, my throat burned for rum. Dry.