Aemric hadn’t been idle; he’d continued to look for a good apartment, guided Tiria through some minor odd job the Red Scale had her do, watched over Norvash – and corrected a few of his hobbies forcibly – and called his own family to let them know he was dropping out, though he ‘felt like he needed some space for a while.’ They were understanding, but definitely disappointed. Aemric’s older brother, in particular, offered up a spot on his dorm’s floor, but, well, that was unnecessary trouble. Kendric was in that magic department, after all.

  So, Aemric had funds for about two months, if he lived on pasta, skipped dessert, and didn’t spend much on games and television… maybe one month if he didn’t tighten the purse-strings too much. After that, if he didn’t have any other options, he’d have to go home to the other side of town, but again, drawing attention to his folks seemed like a bad idea.

  He needed cash, or some way to get around without it. With this, there were a few options. Going homeless was technically one. Trying to rely on the Red Scale was a very dangerous but possible option – if he asked them to store the ‘conduit’ someplace, they might get ideas. Even if they played nice, he’d definitely be on their radar forever, and so would his family. Rejected. Getting a job was the normal route, and he was already on that path, applying to work at all kinds of typical places. No results yet.

  Going to Sal Tudi was… maybe a better option. Norvash was the dictator of an entire country, and with a few pulled strings it was possible to get a place to stay for one suspicious non-mage who happened to periodically burst a shitload of magic. And, he didn’t seem like an outright-bad guy, just hedonistic and maybe selfish. Aemric (and the general public) hadn’t caught him ordering any broken kneecaps lately, whereas a short bit of research into the Red Scale revealed that yes, they were indeed a proper criminal organization.

  Aemric shelved that for if he didn’t get a job. He’d prefer to stick things out on his own, since he didn’t have a clear enough picture and didn’t want to open up extra weaknesses.

  He sat up from his bed. It was more comfortable now that he’d tipped the cleaning staff to prioritize his room a little. This hotel was horribly-understaffed; they kept the costs down to get that low price. Regardless, no more time for a break, he needed to get back to his laptop and check his emails.

  Aemric stopped once he sat down in his chair, and images raced through his mind. Flashes of future events, he was sure, and prophetic sentences that appeared as words on a page inside his head. Dates, times, places, things.

  Where these came from, he didn’t question just yet.

  The first Dream was of Norvash. There was no particular order needed, but he had less time to prepare for this one.

  The President stopped scrubbing himself and sat still in the bath tub. “Your life is going to be in danger two days from now, just before midnight. You need guards closer to your house. Ones with some magical training. Ideally, two or more inside of it, too. Someone with powers beyond normal magic is coming.”

  “Ajelda’s cold tits, you could at least give me a break when I bathe!” Norvash promptly complained, looking around and then throwing the sponge at a wall in frustration.

  “I could, but I’m already here and it’s easier this way. Just get some guards, and maybe keep a gun on you or something on that day, too. Your enemy can control minds, like I can but without leaving you anything. The thing that’s coming after you is much worse than me, though.”

  “Hard to imagine, you-”

  Aemric sighed. Well, at least the water had been bubbly. He prayed that he wouldn’t accidentally land on Tiria doing the same thing; sure, she wouldn’t know unless he let her, but it would be a breach of privacy.

  Not that Aemric wouldn’t appreciate what he saw. He totally would, he only had so many joys in life with how little time he had now. He’d just feel guilty doing so.

  Two hours later – just to be sure, as magic took a while to dissipate – Aemric’s view was once again of Tiria. She was eating dinner, quietly, with her father. The silence was deafening, even though there were still the sounds of plates, forks, and chewing. Aemric didn’t envy her nowadays, no. He considered interrupting, pulling her out of that weird space, but he decided to wait. The food, at least, looked good, unlike what he was eating these days.

  Shortly after the maid came in and took their plates, Aemric took control. He had Tiria look directly to her father from across the table, something neither of them had done during the whole dinner. “Conduit here. I have a mission for the Red Scale. In three days, an unknown gang is going to summon a demon. Their gathering will be in the storeroom of a Tony’s pizzeria on 8th Street, just before midnight.” Saying that sounded kind of ridiculous, but the truth was the truth. “There will be around twenty of them, and they will have guns. Their success or failure will affect not only my purposes, but yours.”

  Mr. Fensott was surprised; he’d seen Tiria controlled before, but it had definitely been in a more expected situation before. “A demon?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what they wanted to do with it. What exactly it’s capable of, I don’t know; I saw only the summoning. It was near-invisible, though.”

  “I’ll alert the Master.”

  Aemric returned to his own room, then, and periodically checked in to see if anyone seemed to need anything. Both sides did occasionally bring him questions, but it was nothing important. They were taking the matter pretty seriously; Norvash, of course, had resources to spare and there was little harm in putting a few more guards around his home for a while, but the Red Scale’s seriousness was a surprise. It was probably because the opposing gang in question was almost certainly those Dogs of Eight; 8th Street was their home, after all.

  Aemric did wonder how he’d gotten the information he did, though. And, hell, where the Dogs had gotten their hands on some demonic summoning ritual… That had never been a field of magic before, not that he knew of.

  Norvash had a particular way of preparing for an impending attempt on his life. Guns in every room, in little fingerprint-locked safes, and an entire pump-action shotgun on the couch next to him. The man himself, meanwhile, had a mixed drink in his hand and was ‘busy’ watching some crime drama show. ‘Work hard, play hard,’ or something. Aemric popped in and out, waiting for the moment where things started going wrong.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The first thing was a gunshot from outside. Three, actually, in very quick succession. Norvash instantly turned off the TV and grabbed for his shotgun. “Well, fuck. You here, asshole kid?”

  Aemric resented that comment, but had no choice but to let it slide. “I’m here. I can’t see very far and can’t control you as well as you can, so most of this is on you. Be careful. Try hiding somewhere.”

  “Don’t have to tell me twice.” The president promptly went for his secure room; it was attached to his bedroom, not far away.

  Two of his guards met him on the way. They wore black suits and carried service revolvers at the ready. They formed up protectively around the president. “No word on what it is, sir. We’ll get you to the safehouse. The other teams are investigating.”

  “Good.”

  They moved on, constantly wary of everything around them. The two men went ahead, and shut off lights and closed curtains ahead of Norvash as they went, in case a sniper was involved. Aemric knew that was unlikely, but maybe it would help anyway. They got to the bedroom door, and then there was another series of shots, this time from inside the building. Both of the guards turned to there, and the one in the lead nodded to the other before opening the door and checking the room. The other man stood outside, waiting with his gun up, while Norvash continued to retreat.

  There was a series of shots just in the hallway, then. Norvash quickly got to the safehouse door, and squatted down to put in his code; his remaining guard looked to the door, his gun raised. A man from one of the other teams was there: Aemric had seen this one around, and he was in the same suit and wielding the same model of gun as the others. Norvash’s bodyguard opened his mouth to speak, but the man in the doorway pointed his gun at him and opened fire. Three more shots.

  Norvash turned around, then, and scrambled to get his shotgun up even before Aemric could get around to the command. The traitor was quicker, and put his revolver’s sights directly on the president’s head, and pulled the trigger… but the hammer clicked, and nothing happened. Six rounds had been fired: the revolver was out. Norvash didn’t hesitate, and pulled the trigger on his shotgun. Nothing. He was surprised for a moment, as was Aemric, but then he remembered to pump it.

  Then, the man in front of him dropped on the spot. The entry wound was immediately evident, sure, and so was how the traitor fell to the ground heavily, but the splatter of blood on the other end was a totally different thing. Norvash was very impressed; after a moment, he went, “Whoo!” and pumped his shotgun again; it was a satisfying feeling, apparently.

  Then, a black-haired woman appeared from the bedroom doorway, and dashed towards the president. Only a pair of glowing gold eyes and a whip-like tail really marked her as anything other than a normal human; it was nothing special, really. The exotic dress she wore was more of a tell; it was made of some kind of leather, and was one continuous strip that wrapped over her body again and again until it covered everything it needed to several times over and formed some kind of pattern that really seemed to mean something.

  Norvash put his gun back to use, but not only was the intruder inhumanly fast to the extent of getting within the barrel’s reach of him before he could react, but the shotgun didn’t even fire when he pulled the trigger anyway. The previous spent shell hadn’t ejected, and was stuck in the way; Norvash hadn’t operated the gun properly.

  The woman grabbed him by the neck, lifted him up as easily as a puppy, and kissed him on the forehead.

  Everything went black.

  That was a killing blow? Aemric wondered, when he returned to the Dream at its beginning. Apparently, it had been, or at least it had some effect capable of kicking out Aemric’s control. Either one was scary. No weapons, alarming speed, great strength, and just a kiss was enough to win. That woman had to be a demon, or some kind of strange magician. Some people could boost their own physical capabilities with magic, so it was possible.

  No matter. Again. Aemric had plenty of time to prepare for this one, so he was already in the park. He could re-do this one until he was satisfied with the result.

  “One of the other teams might have a traitor… look out.” Norvash warned the two guards who met up with him the hallway this time. “Don’t tell anyone else where I am.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  In silence, the guards brought him towards the saferoom again, but their lack of radio presence didn’t seem to help any. The traitor arrived at the same time as before, but with prior warning, Norvash’s guard managed to trade some fire. The traitor was heavily injured after killing the other man, and Norvash already had his shotgun ready for this exact occasion. The president pumped his gun afterwards, and once again let out a cheer upon killing the man. This time, there was no stovepiped shell, both because of entropy itself and because Aemric had forced Norvash to practice cycling the shotgun instead of watching television. Trusting that that hedonist had any kind of experience with a gun had been a mistake.

  Aemric then took control, knowing Norvash wasn’t going to react fast enough. He leveled the shotgun at the doorway, and then… nobody entered. From that overhead camera, though, Aemric saw a hand appear behind Norvash from thin air and grasp the president’s shoulder. A command had him move away and start to turn the gun… but that woman was faster. She fully emerged from the nothingness, and it all went about the same as before.

  The enemy had a lot of powers previously unknown to Aemric, apparently. Teleporting and predicting movements, or maybe sensing danger, or foresight? The last one would be the most dangerous… What if that demon could just see through walls? That, Aemric could work with.

  He’d paid attention to some other details last time. Norvash got up, silently, and took his shotgun with him. There was leeway; this could be tested. He went outside, just before the first spattering of fire, and approached where Aemric knew that would happen. The president hid behind a bush just behind them to watch.

  The two guards stationed there were just watching and waiting, as normal. Neither of them were the previously-known traitor. They were posted to look over one side of the estate’s outer grounds, and should have had a clear view of everything. Of course, that didn’t help much when a woman in red appeared behind them and kissed one of them on the neck. She reached over to peck the other one, but he started to move before she could catch him – no, she couldn’t see the future. The one she had kissed was alive, though, and he immediately raised his lever-action rifle to pump two rounds into his companion without any hesitation.

  The demoness looked at him with annoyance and slapped the gun, apparently displeased with her stealth being broken. Her mind control method was different from the Dreaming: it looked like some kind of weird magic triggered by the kiss rather than an actual pre-prepared traitor. Although, why did the guard do something she didn’t expect? Was it so imperfect?

  Aemric decided to check the next thing. Norvash raised his shotgun at the demoness, a shell already loaded. The demoness’s face snapped on to the president with an expression of surprise, and she put her arms in front of her head as if to shield herself while she moved for cover. No teleporting? Did it take extra time? Some kind of cooldown? Still, she had been facing away, and had still known to defend herself the moment a gun was pointed at her. Danger-sense, presumably.

  One shotgun blast later, though, Aemric discovered something else for certain: she was durable as hell. That dress was torn to shreds and her arms and chest were bloodied, but the demoness was very much alive and kicking. She made it to cover just fine, and a moment later her new servant opened fire on Norvash, unloading his lever-action into the bush until it was done. Aemric offered an apology in his heart to Norvash: this was the first time the president had died under his influence, presumably, since those kisses didn’t seem to be lethal.

  That was very informative, Aemric decided. He took a look around himself in the park again to confirm nobody was too nearby, and then hopped back in.

  There was an obvious way to do this.

  The two guards were standing at their post, keeping their eyes forward and alert. One scratched his leg with his other foot, and then scratched his neck for a while. The other remained quite stoic, and scanned around… nothing, just darkness, the empty garden around the building, and the outdoor lighting giving them a little bit of visibility.

  Unbeknownst to both of them, an entity appeared behind them with dangerous intent.

  Unbeknownst to her, there was a shotgun pointed directly at the spot where she materialized.