Battle Mage Chapter 1.1

A Chapter by Daniel Rodriguez

Things go bump in the night.

Astral projection is a hell of a thing. It is a technique he only acquired just recently. He enjoyed playing with it, wondering if the old wives tale was ever true, that if you left your body, a spirit beast my gobble up your soul and your body would be nothing but a walking corpse. He took it as akin to swimming in the ocean and being eaten by a shark, but those sharks never came.

He knew this mansion like the back of his hand; mole, scar, and a missing cuticle of where he used to chew back when he was an idiot. He knew the floor plan and that the house sitters were guards who carried guns.

She was a famous celebrity and under this waning moon, she would die tonight. She would be a sacrifice to his new power. There was the risk of her husband being home, that thought should scare him. So should the guns the guards carry. He remembered what fear was like, but not anymore. He wanted to become a god and how fitting that to do so, he would kill someone who was worshipped as a false idol.

Now he was here, the actual him, not a ghost, he could be harmed if he allowed himself to be. The gated community closed its doors three hours ago, a car came in two hours ago, and fifteen minutes ago, two cars left, they were contemplating a party no doubt figuring from the loud atmosphere of the groups inside the vehicles.

Instead he chose to wait till the proper hour. The sound of the clock urged him forward but somehow he felt that if he was early, overly anticipating when the proper time to move was, it would be the same as being late. Of all te things he could do with the world around him, he wished controlling time was one of them.

“I cry for you….” He began to sing to himself. He hummed Frankie Vallie’s response of “Don’t go baby.” “Now cry for me…”

A car was coming and he saw the bright light envelope him. He shut his eyes instantly and hoped that it had worked.

Sure enough he heard the car break, and he heard voices.

“I could have sworn someone was there.”

He held his eyes shut, but it was their confusion that let him know that he was safe.

“I don’t see anyone.”

“He couldn’t have just vanished…I mean it is like… I mean…”

The other voice chimed in, “You are drunk, it was probably a cat, you know the Stevens’ love their cats.” The first voice seemed to okay this response, and the sound of the guard welcoming them to the gated community was then picked up.

“Welcome back, how was the club?”

The first voice, “I almost got her this time, I almost, but. I mean…”

The younger of the two spoke, “She threw a drink into his face. She almost filed a restraining order.”

The gate was opening, and the car started to move away. He cursed himself for such a foolish mistake. He did have a back up plan or story to say if he was caught, but what he really wanted to focus on, was the aspect of getting in and out with not a single witness…

It was time.

His eyes opened up and a surge of energy went into them. It was as if a voice had told him on the authority of the heavens. Yes, it was time. The gate was starting to close, and this was the perfect moment.

He focused his energy, he focused on the currents moving to and fro around him. He harnessed this and in his will, the gate stopped moving. The mini telivison the guard was forced to watch and the radio next to the station he called his office, and the light, all these things instantly stopped their function. The static residue left him options to throw extra distracting noises to the guard.

The guard, like the stooge he was, turned around and walked to the office, and then tried to move the gate forcefully, it would not budge. The sounds of strange noises made him completely turn to the window to look inside and there, he left himself wide open.

It would have been easy to kill the guard, and he would have enjoyed doing so, but for the ritual to work the set sacrifice had to be enough. So, he ran as fast as he could and slammed his arm, wrist, and elbow into the proper position and squeezed as hard as he could on the guards next until he felt him slip into the land of dreams. He then lifted the guard, opened the window, made a once over to see that no one could watch him, and slumped him inside.

As that night went on, this strange figure ran across the neighborhood, never once making a sound, his black cloak blending him into the dark night. The two guards protecting the home were taken out with ease and then he crept along to the roof and into the attic, the house alarm was mysteriously not online as this occurred.

Inside a dog waited for him, but it froze in terror. The man laughed, “Good dog.”

He walked along the lines, of photos, of herself, of her and her husband, and of her and her family. Ah! Egotism, he thought to himself. Pictures of France, of course there are pictures of France. Pictures of the beach, big boats, and some strange photo that instantly grabbed his attention.

It was a picture of a boy, judging from the hair style and light degradation in the color, he would guess this picture was of ten-twenty years ago. He had a scar on his lip, and his nose was clearly broken at some point in time. A voice called to him from the photograph.

“I promise I will protect you.” It was her voice, the celebrity. Why did this memory speak? The rest of the house was quiet, almost a void. There was no soul, or that what he would consider one to be in this house, so why could he hear this one picture? Something bigger was at work, maybe, it was destiny, he was drawn to this house and this picture was the proof.

That must be it. He witnessed a miracle of magic, a sign from above that he was on the right path.

Then another feeling overcame him. Anger, fear, hate. The eyes of the boy were watching him, almost daring him in defiance to try and enact his vision. The man turned to the photo, forgetting his role as the home invader with a mission. He spat on the picture and the aura began to fade instantly.

He turned down the hall when he was almost certain he could understand the phrase being spoken to him, “You will be sorry.”

Step, step, his feet were making noise! No, something was wrong. He had become human, he could hear his hair pulsate with his heartbeat and he found himself sweating and itching. He ignored his human weakness and walked through the master door as if it was unlocked.

Inside the room, as she awoke to a clatter, a mysterious figure was in front of her.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” She generically screamed.

“You must die, so that I may become more powerful.”

Then as the stranger finished this sentence, a series of different bladed weapons came from the inside of his cloak and began circling him, as if by magic. He told her to pick one, the weapon that would kill her but she refused.

So he grabbed a jagged blade with a sharp curved tip and stated, “this would suffice.”

The husband, some famous something or rather, a lesser light, woke up instantly. Before he could ask what was going on, the strange man threw the blade through is head and he went down, much to her screams.

A shockwave sent the glass ceiling fan crashing down. As there was glass everywhere, she looked at the damage. Instantly, all the glass came at her like darts and pinned her body to the wall.

She coughed and she spit, trying to breath as her arms and legs were keeping her torso stuck.

“Don’t worry, the long and boring part is what I have to do with all your blood after I kill you. But still, a ritual is a ritual for these reasons.”

A giant blade, went right through her, ending her time on this planet. She let out a posthumous scream.

He could feel the darkness of this massacre loom in the room. He breathed it in. Now to seal it within himself, to complete the third ritual this month. He began to set himself to work.

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