Wrath Of The Wraith

When life spits in your face, spit back!

Wrath Of The Wraith

I staggered into the kitchen where Alex, as usual, had turned on the light instead of putting up the blinds. I flicked off the light bulb as the room went dark. Alex sighed in defeat, then strode to the window to raise the blinds — he thought he'd just get the usual scolding again today, but this time he didn't.

"Leave the blinds alone," I said.

Alex looked at me in surprise. Rolo chose this moment to enter the kitchen. His emeralds almost glowed in the dark as he watched me. He knew I knew. I closed the door behind me and pulled out an empty chair at the table. Alex followed my lead and Rolo also sat down.

"They're watching the house," I announced, then glanced toward the kid, "Did you know about this?"

Rolo sighed deeply. "I just assumed. I can sense their presence to some extent."

"What are you talking about?" the wolf asked irritably.

He was fed up with always being the only one who knew nothing.

"There are wraiths in the mirrors, watching us. I have no idea how they know he's here, but they're looking for Rolo," I explained, "I don't know if they can see through any reflective surfaces, so I told you to leave the blinds closed. Nothing reflects in the dark."

"What?!" the wolf asked. "In the mirrors?!"

Well, he got the gist of it.

"We can't delay, we have to start the plan," I declared. "We have a much better chance if we can at least choose the time and place to fight than if we are attacked because they accidentally spot Rolo."

"You don't have to worry, they won't spot me," said the kid.

"Safety is the priority," I replied, "At least we have to hide while the plan is being discussed."

He nodded in agreement.

"So, as a decoy, is it enough to stand in front of a mirror?", I asked, and he nodded immediately.

"I don't know how he managed to do it...' Rolo added tensely, "But he seems to be able to control the Wraith."

"Well, that's bad," I sighed.

"We'll have to think of a way to defend ourselves," Alex said, and the kid and I were surprised that he was capable of a really sensible thought, "Maybe he'll count on the trap."

We nodded.

"I have a book with some simpler spells in it that even I might be able to do," the kid said.

"Okay," I replied.

"Where did you get such a book?" the wolf frowned.

The kid looked with his sly cat eyes at him and answered, almost proudly. "I stole it."

"But there's still one small snag," I reminded the others, "Where and when do we set the trap?"

"Tonight would be good,' suggested Rolo, "The new moon is a good time for magic. And for a place..." he thought for a moment, "How about the abandoned key house in the forest? It's close by, yet far enough away that we don't get others involved."

"Okay," I agreed and stood up. "Rolo, you go find the books and stuff you'll need for the preparation! Alex, you get a medium-sized mirror. Make sure you wrap it in some material so that no small part of it is exposed!"

They nodded.

"What are you doing?" the wolf said.

"I'm going to survey the area," I replied, "I'll meet you in the key house in an hour.

(...)

It was almost eight o'clock by the time we had made the preparations for the ceremony. First of all, there was minimal sweeping to be done so that Rolo could draw all sorts of crescendos on the parquet floor.

He made a huge circle with white chalk, drew polygons in it, and also scribbled short words on the vertices — it was like a magic circle to summon the demons of hell. The few black candles in the corners only added to the effect for me — they provided the light.

I picked up the book, which the boy had only glanced at a few times. I turned it for a while and tried to read it, but I couldn't. How the hell does it work?!

"What language is this written in?", I asked Rolo, "I don't understand."

"Mirror writing, Rolo explained, "If you put a mirror over the lines, you can read it from the picture. Provided you know Latin."

I pulled my lips away. My knowledge of Latin was exhausted in one phrase: canis merda — but even that I only used when I wanted to swear in a very intellectual way.

"And how do you read it without a mirror?", I asked.

"I've had time to get the hang of it," he shrugged, "I can write steadily now, although it was harder to learn."

"Uh-uh," I was not that interested. "How long will it take you to finish?"

"A few minutes," he answered and continued to work on the near-perfect magic circle, which he said would surely trap his brother.

Rolo assumed that it was supposed to paralyze and immobilize him. Then we'll just have to call in the Necromancer to take care of the rest. Even though he said that I had a feeling it wouldn't be that simple.

As a final step in preparing the ritual, we set the mirror in the middle of the circle and propped it up with bricks to give it a perfect view of the kid standing opposite.

I glanced at Rolo, who involuntarily swallowed and nodded slowly. Alex tore the black material off the mirror. Nothing happened for a moment, then chaos broke out.

The candles went out, I was knocked off my feet by a gust of wind, and the next second I was aware of, I smelled a puff of smoke. I looked up and watched with widened eyes the tongues of flame were licking the support beams of the roof structure.

The next scent that came to my mind was the smell of blood. My own blood. Pain zigzagged through my hand, and it was only then that I noticed that a large piece of silvered glass was embedded in my hand. The mirror had exploded into a million shards during the summoning.

I heard a low, cruel laugh, and a dark figure straightened up in the magic circle.

The boy looked incredibly like Rolo, like the image of his twenty-year-old self. He was tall and slender, which I could see perfectly well even in spite of his thin cloak. He gave me a cursory glance, but then his eyes returned to Rolo's figure. The kid was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, his right hand on his left shoulder — he must have been injured by the gust of wind or the shards.

"My foolish brother," his brother said absently, "did you really think that this would be able to stop me?"

I trembled. He was surrounded by an aura as dark and ominous as that which Gironde Mehisto had.

He chuckled a few times as he erased a few lines with his shoe.

"How did you get out?" spat Rolo, "I saw with my own eyes how the Wraiths dragged you along."

The young man's face hardened.

"Oh, yes. It was quite unpleasant. Tell me, can you imagine what it feels like to have your body torn to atoms?" he spread his arms wide, "I became a Wraith, but I kept my consciousness and slowly brought them under control. After that, it wasn't so hard, I just waited for someone to open the gate and let me out."

A cruel smile spread across his lips. "Time passes a little slower in the Mirrorworld than it does here."

The young man started towards the boy. "It's time to return the favour."

I jumped to my feet, ready to fight even the devil when I heard a growl from the back of my throat. A huge golden-brown wolf sank its fangs into the enemy's arm. His opponent was surprised by the sudden attack and fell to the ground.

"Alex?" I was surprised.

He looked up at me, but only for a split second. I recognized the golden eyes immediately.

The fire crackled and the roof gave way. I immediately understood what Alex was planning, so I moved quickly to get the kid. I put him on my shoulder and ran out with him, just in time, because the house was collapsing.

"Where's the card?", I muttered, watching the burning ruins.

Rolo took the card out with trembling hands and tore it in half. Nothing happened.

"Damn!" I cursed as a small explosion threw a flaming beam towards us.

I pulled Rolo away, who was shaking like a leaf. A figure stood upright among the flames, laughing maniacally.

"We're going to die..." Rolo muttered brokenly.

"Fucking hell!", there are times when we have nothing else to say.

Alex attacked again, but the man was expecting it and rewarded him with a punch. The wolf howled and slammed into a nearby tree.

I wanted to move, but I knew that if I rushed to Alex's aid, the enemy would kill Rolo in an instant. The next moment, the necromancer was in front of me, and without looking at me, he knocked me out of his way. He wanted Rolo.

Alex got up, and although he limped to his feet, he almost immediately rose in front of Rolo to defend him. The boy looked up at the beautiful, noble animal, trembling. Alex was much larger than the average wolf. He had long, glossy fur and huge, snow-white fangs, which he showed off to his enemies — yet when the young man took a step towards him, he took a step back.

Instincts are heightened in shifters when they transform, and those instincts told Alex to run. Only his willpower was keeping him there, we all knew that. We all felt it. We all felt the terrible cold creeping up our spines, we all felt the terror that was taking over every cell in our bodies.

The dark, smoky substance swirling around the young man was the very essence of death that every living thing instinctively dreads.

The huge wolf took another step back, but the man stopped in front of him.

 "And now," said Dorián Vincze, "it's time for you both to take an eternal journey into the world of mirrors."

The puddle in front of them froze, the ice reflecting their terrified figures perfectly. Rolo could see his own broken face, his features contorted with fear, his terrified gaze. He could feel the paralyzing cold of tiny fingers exploiting the warmth of his skin. He could not move, so he could not resist. He glanced towards the wolf. It was no different with him, he could only whimper softly.

Then the fingers let go. In thought, I acknowledged that Rolo was right, these arms were really quite uncomfortable. I stepped into the puddle of ice, and the spell was broken. The grin faded from my opponent's lips.

"I thought a punch like that would at least break your neck," he remarked, disappointed.

"It'll take a bit more than that," I replied.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Shaytan," I introduced myself, then pointed to my friends, "And these are my famiglia. Could you please leave them alone?"

"Unfortunately, that is not feasible," he grinned.

"I thought so," I said, and then addressed the rest to my companions. "Show him that he cannot bring you to your knees!"

Alex was the first to jump to his feet, then nudged Rolo with his nose. Slowly, painfully slowly, the boy rose to his feet.

"I'll finish you first," my opponent declared, and put his hand on my neck.

I smiled, which surprised him. "What are you smiling at?"

I took a deep breath to scream. "GIRONDE MEHISTO, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, SHOW YOUR FACE, BEFORE I SMASH IT!

The next moment, my opponent had to jump backward unless he wanted to be freed from one of his hands by the giant scythe. Some of my black locks landed on the ground.

"Whoopsy!" commented Gironde.

"When this is over, I'll kill you for sure," I sent him a murderous glance, which the Necromancer merely chuckled at.

Then he quickly went after his opponent. The black smoke billowing around the bodies of the two necromancers clashed, and though the ethereal magic seemed as light as a feather, I felt the wild vibration of air against my skin as they met.

Gironde's movement was swift yet graceful as if he were playing, yet the scythe inflicted so many wounds on his enemy's body I could almost not count. The Necromancer did look like death on a tarot card.

The blade of the black scythe he wielded in his hand had circular holes of varying sizes in it, perhaps for decoration. His long red hair fluttered behind him like a cloak, following his every move. When one of his attacks hit its mark, his smile widened a little — his face showed that he was particularly enjoying this seemingly one-sided fight. Although his opponent tried a few attacks, the Necromancer parried each one without a problem.

I gazed in amazement at Gironde Mehisto, who indeed seemed to have been born with that scythe in his hand — wielding it as naturally as if it had been an extension of his arm. At that moment I was really happy that I was not the one standing in front of him.

Gironde's magic seemed to have overcome the other necromancer's black essence without a problem, and soon it was completely consumed. The battle was soon decided, and as Dorián Vincze was about to flee, turning his back for a moment on the devil's favourite angel, Giro cut him down.

His body fell to the ground and the Necromancer turned him over onto his back with the end of his scythe. His opponent breathed heavily, a pained grimace spread across his face — he was barely alive.

 "Any last wishes?" asked the Necromancer, amused.

"Die, you wretch!" the young man thundered and then coughed up blood.

Gironde laughed mirthlessly. I knew what was coming, so I covered Rolo's eyes with one hand. He did not protest.

"I, Gironde Mehisto, the first of this name, lord and master of a thousand dead, hereby accuse you, Dorián Vincze," he stated, "of breaking all three rules of the necromancers, of taking possession of a body with whom you had no contract, of failing to preserve the balance that is so sacred to us, and of attempting to change Fate for your own selfish ends. Your punishment: death."

I watched as Gironde slashed his scythe into his chest and at the same time into the amulet around the young man's neck. Blood splattered everywhere and the familiar metallic scent filled my nostrils.

At that moment I seriously thought that Gironde Mehisto was one of the demons of hell. I was so done with everything that I finally gave up trying to knock out every last tooth of the Necromancer.

When he stepped away from the body, it was no longer Dorián Vincze lying there, but an unknown boy who didn't even resemble him — surely that must have been the original appearance of the body he had possessed.

Gironde walked over to me, and I merely scrutinized him with piercing eyes.

"If you're worried about your hair..." he said.

"Why didn't you come straight away?!", I interrupted him, "We could have died!"

"But you are alive," he replied, grinning.

I felt like wiping that grin off his face with a brick.

"Screw you," I growled softly.

Giro didn't want to deal with me anymore. He was serious, which surprised me. He glanced down at Rolo's figure. I had already let him go, but his eyes still looked glassy, broken — as if he were not really conscious.

"Take him home and give him a cup of tea," said the Necromancer, "Hopefully he'll be better by tomorrow."

Then he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it encouragingly (?).

"And you could also use a cup of tea," he added.

Only then did I notice that my hand was shaking terribly. I clicked my tongue and turned my head away in protest.

"Shaytan," he said, and I slowly looked back at him, "I am grateful for your help."

"Just go," I slapped his hand away. "And stop touching me! It irritates me."

He grunted joyfully, waved, and Gironde Mehisto disappeared into the early morning mist that was slowly settling over the forest.