God I Really Hate Magic-S

First PersonPOV

As someone born of magic my blunt hatred of it made no sense. You would think that I would grow a curtain appreciation of it, but no. In fact it was largely part of my heritage that I hated magic. I saw first hand how it ended lives, but it had just saved mine. I wasted no time, easily gliding my feet down the smooth stone. I had never run the way I did then, not even through the academy, before taking a moment to think and breathe. I had counted the turns and steps Don had taken, he turned right from the cell then about half a mile of walking before his steps seemed to echo more, like if he were in a hallway. If there was any change I would have to quit running for once in my goddamn life and just breathe. I turn around towards the cell and look down at the unconscious man and broken splitters of chair. Sooner or later he would wake up, I would rather it be later but depending on his heritage it could be any number of seconds. I had busted the lock, broken the keys inside them, and thrown it across the hallway. With no other option I clasp my hands around the cell wall and the door swinging it shut with a large creak sound. I pull all of my remaining energy towards my palms as they begin to glow, bright flames emerging from them melting the metal together in an indestructible bond.

The cell block was large, around 12 down on each side about the size of your basic bedroom. Each intrigued him in its own way. Some had glass walls with just white padding, others like his had been, some full of thousands of needles that made me shiver as I didnt even want to know their uses. The key was to pace myself, keep a steady speed well conserving energy. I hated running, with a passion, more than anything. Well except magic. Bare feet often scraped the floors causing lines of fresh red blood drawn. Moans and screams greeted my passing as different figures slammed against whatever door. I jumped once or twice, just quickening my pace. My natural drive to help them was replaced with the need to survive and my need to find her. Light faded in and out of darkness then was replaced by my natural orange glow. I had been called glowstick before although it wasn't nearly as bright as one. I ran for what felt like forever. My journey came to a quick end with a single large metal door, much like ones that restaurants would have for their frozen food. It had a classic long handle that had a swirl pattern engraved into the center of it with one space for a key and a deadbolt lock. I looked over my shoulder and stood listening. After a moment of hearing no commotion I continued clasping both hands around the handle and melting it into molten lava that dripped to the ground. I positioned my shoulders and rammed full force into the door knocking it clean off its hinges.

Making my way into the room I found a small rounded space with wall to wall computers sprawled out over a desk. A small sticky note with a code and password written on it was on the bottom right of the center computer. I used it quickly typing the info, locking the door right after. I scrolled through a couple of the cell's tracing it back to my own. It was long empty, no trace of life to be found. Shit. The room appeared to be some sort of make shift security room with some cameras showing lower parts of some sort of motel. People came and went through the front doors without a thought or care to the world beneath their feet. There was only one camera aiming to the front out onto a busy street way, cars buzzing by with fuzzed delay. I used the mouse briefly to check where each camera was located, jumping from area to area, looking for any way out, looking for my escape. Blueprints were thrown with no possible care across the table showing a vent system connecting the different floors all the way to the hotel. It was idiotic movie scenario, but also my only chance to get out, to get home, to get to her. Sure I was quite skinny but it would be a tight fit even for me. Finding some way to go upwards as the shaft inclined to the hotel lobby would be hard, hard but not impossible. I scanned the rest of the table chairs and the small area, which slightly reminded me of a high school cafeteria because of how the floor tiles were done. A wicked smile crossed my face. Sitting on a red cushioned chair were my gun, and my badge. No sign of shoes, for now my feet would just be bare, but a climb through vents bare feet would aid the escape, providing a grip.

Even without my shoes the fear of a tracker sniffing out my location was strong. The task would be easy for any hound, regardless of age. Quickly searching for a more stable chair then the red rolling one, I had found a small metal one stashed in the corner collecting dust. I hoped the lift would be just enough to pull my body through the vents. Should they magically find their way through my seal a worker would notice the out of place chair in the middle of the floor, but not the red one. Fuck. Slightly fearing for my safety I rolled the chair directly under the vent and braced my body as I stood on it. The chair shifted and rolled, nearly falling out from under me. It barely held my weight, I could hear black plastic crack as I shifted for a better position. I moved the chair so it looked more natural and less in the way. I put a finger over each vent and pushed the metals into nothing but scrap metal, the vent not totally disconnecting just flinging open on one side staying on the hinges with the other. My head pounded with each extended usage, my supernatural blood becoming more potent. Pushing past the migraine I braced my arms on the ledge and used any strength I could spare to pull myself upwards, knees banging against the ledge causing extra pain. A movement and commotion outside of the hallway pushed adrenaline through my body, with my foot I kicked the chair out of the way as far as I could before recalling it into the vents and sealing the door with my fire.

A familiar voice lifts through the room as white lights flood it. I back out of view from the vent against the wall as the voice gets closer to it, echoing as it hits the metal room. He was pissed and an army of voices followed. From what I could tell they were all men. They dispersed going around each corner of the surveillance room.

"Fuck!" the first voice shouted with a slight growl.

I put a hand over my mouth holding in each labored breath. As the man spoke I could feel his blade enter my stomach over and over again, each scar and cut he left as they twitched and ached. I wanted more than anything to jump down and slam my ass into his face. I used one arm to brace my entire body, the other to hold my mouth as some noise threatened to come outwards. I was left handed, I used the left to brace my body right to hold my mouth. My left hand twitches and aches as I felt a need to just let it collapse. I cautiously positioned myself so that I could see black eyes, but he could not see me, a task which was not easy, and doing so without any noise made it harder. He stood almost directly under the vent, just off to the side with his brows pushed so far in his face I could see that detail from here. A large muscular man, much like the gorgon but with more pinched shoulders stood in front of him. The man's voice was deeper than black eye's and had a softer tone to it.

"He's not here boss."

"He's been here, unless he found the exit."

"I thought you enchanted that fucker."

Black eyes rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Listen here you dot, I don't enchant anything. I'm not a mage, that is the job of a mage not of a blood demon."

The larger man, slightly embarrassed, takes two steps back to where he was just out of view.

"How do you know he is here?"

"Where else do you think he went?"

"Maybe he never left, aren't there some of you who can go invisible?"

The question seemed genuine but ridiculous all the same, invisibility was a fickle thing. It was more like a cameleon shifting to match your enviorment perfectly blending in, not going fully invisible to the point where hands could pass through your body.

"Not his breed Jack."

"Oh, he's different from you?"

"Just like how there are different colors of skin there are different types of supernaturals."

"Oh."

Jack looks slightly upward towards the vent and smiles when black eyes look down back onto his phone which had been non-stop ringing and buzzing like crazy. Jack seemed human unlike the gorgon from earlier he seemed like he was just learning of the bloodlines and rich history regarding the Order of Supernaturals, or just the Order and their prowlesses. Sometimes it was easier to employ humans has henchmen, they were easier to buy out, to control. That's all the order cared about, controll.

"Hey boss, you want me to check the vents?"

I pushed my body back as far as I could go before hitting a solid wall, the sudden question breaking my train of thought as I slid soundlessley across the metal flooring.

A sigh. "No, he couldn't get into the system if he tried, besides if he did he's stuck on this level, he's got nowhere to go."

"We could get the trackers?"

"He's smart, he's a cop, he will turn himself in if he knows what is good for him."

"You think he will boss?"

"He doesn't know where the girl is, he will kill himself to find her."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know men like him, men with attachments."

"Attachments?"

"Yeah, connections people love."

"And that's bad?"

"For something like him, yes."

"Why?"

"It's not natural."

"How come?"

"Because they die, everyone dies, humans die. He will live several long and tiresome lives drifting through several centuries, it will take several for him to realize love isn't worth the pain, the heartbreak. Blood demons are lucky, all we do is possess some poor bastard who doesn't realize what God they are praying to. We don't need to live, although most of us were born and not created. Most have chosen to become this, this thing. Selling our souls and all that nonsense fighting for your place in the world, fighting to stay alive, to be."

I could not see Jack's face, but I have the feeling that he didn't quite understand the very lengthy explanation. I knew little of Blood Demons, it was something that my mother never brushed over during my childhood studies. She hated them, hated their existence, sure some were created at the birthing of our world, but he was right, most were made. Most had been humans themselves at some point in time and found themselves something of a sorcerer or magician, praying to what they thought was God for their magic, but instead the devil was always the one to greet him. There was never proof of a devil, no Supernatural, even the ones as old as the breaking of the world, ever remembered one, but still humans were fascinated with the idea of Good and Bad. Truthfully it was a lot to process and a lot to remember alot to take in one sitting, most learned in schooling or by parents as a child, most were edged into this world, not thrown into it. It was unusual to see a Blood Demon care so much to teach a henchmen and not order them around like animals. Demon blood ran in most Supernaturals, some more prominent than others, I was an exception to that. My kind had pure untainted blood, blood that was only activated after our first death. I sat there lost in thought waiting for what seemed like hours before the noise had depleted and the figures had left, darkness engulfing the room.

I could continue my paths down the vents, risking freezing, burning, or just getting lost. Vent systems often connected several floors, rooms, and buildings in city structures. Turning around could be dangerous, if they were aligned with a mage she would sense it and place wards around the cellblock. Deciding turning was best I hung over the vent perring down into the dark room, nothing but the glare of computer screens to light it. After waiting for another eternity or what felt like one I push my hands against the sharp metal and pull. Feeling the strain of exhaustion was hard as pulling became difficult, reaching the power would be impossible soon. Light flooded from my palms as brilliant fire melted the locks clean off pushing them into nothing but a puddle of molten lava. My glow illuminated the silver desk as the scars pushed more of the fire through like a river. Dropping down I made quick turns servicing the room looking left and right before scanning each screen. Most were aimed at several angles towards the cell block showing different Supernaturals with different "gifts' ' and different levels of tiredness or exhaustion. There was one who I assumed was dead, a mage, she looked and caught my eye as she smiled the same crooked grin the Blood Demon had shared. She laughed, a cold icy laugh. With a croak in her voice she spoke, keeping a gaze set on the cameras. She pulled herself upwards slightly tugging at the large silver chains that encased her hands, the black symbols glowing blue as she partially faded into smoke.

I watched her, eyes wide as her sharp voice sent a knife down my already torn back. I pushed my shoulders, straightening them as the building became dark and quiet. As she spoke it seemed like it was directed right towards me, her icy eyes never looking away with each word she never broke eye contact with the camera, with me. Each word shot me more and more down as the prophecy was hidden behind riddles.

Long ignite the flame that carries a bird

Across all lands her wails heard

fate carry even the immortal to death

To clip wings and kill fire of all things

The end comes near

A final death

Killed by fear.

There was no telling if she spoke directly to me or not, but as soon as the riddle was over she pushed herself back to the ground and into a slumber like she had been that way the entire time; and had never spoken at all. For a moment I stood in silence as the poem read itself over and over in my head. I turned as a sweet voice caught my attention once more, one I could have sworn that I knew from somewhere. My hand was on the handle which had quickly been replaced when my name caught my attention as she spoke it.

"Spruce Randall, son of fire, save me."

"Ah fuck." I muttered standing there to debate my next course of action .

If I let loose one prisoner I would have to free them all, which would be chaos. I didn't know half of what the other cellmates were or how long they had been there or even how much damage they would inflict on the outside world. I also knew just as well that that chaos would be just the tool I needed to escape. I knew they would be tagged and marked the second the Order had first placed them in the prison block, it would also give me a chance to properly question the mage. I doubted he was still in California. I half hoped I was still in the United States, if I were I could use my status to gain access to a precinct and resources, enough to find Aryiea. It would provide a place to question the mage, although most of the Order had at least one or two cops stationed in each precinct they would be found quickly. No, I needed to contact Aryiea's sister in law, if she didn't already know, and get her help. I turned my head once more back to the many computer screens showing a couple dozen prisoners, all ages and sizes. I could have sworn he saw a child locked in chains. Magical wards weren't easily broken, but they required a dead man's hold, a kill switch. Don had keys to each cell, but his had been opened magically after he had molded the locks. For all I knew the entire cell block could be just an illusion meant to keep them confused. I ran my arm down the scarred R. No illusion could do that. There had to be a paper or object binding the wards to each cell. I began to rummage through each cabinet melting the locks if needed in search of the one item.

The door handle began to twist and turn unlocking. Panic pushed through me as I failed to reach the open vents and would need to fight my way out. I look around for anything that could and would be used as a weapon, finding nothing big enough. I take the red padded chair and lift it over my head. Backing behind where the door would be open I brace myself. Don peered his head through the doorway seeming to be alone and paid me no mind just turning around and closing the door behind him and locking it. His handsome eyes pushed their way into mine as dirt and sweat mixed on his face turning into a black mud. His face was blank as he just stood towering over me. His skin was slightly scaled like a snake, the light turned on gave way to more of his hidden features. His ears had a small point to them like an elf's. He didn't speak, nor did I, his eyes just rested on the chair above my head. Quickly he came forward with one hand he held me down and the other he used to take the chair from me and put it back into its place. He then held my wrist and shoulder at the same time. I wasn't used to this sort of handling since I was normally the taller one in all of my relationships. With his body he pushed me against the wall. My heart beat faster as I could feel myself getting hard, the natural reaction didn't seem to phase Don at all as he moved his hand from my shoulder to sharp waistline. Behind him I could see the mage steering as she prepared herself for an escape. Several of the others seemed to sense it too as they moved to centers and away from walls or doors.

"I'm dead aren't I?" I asked quietly, voice hoarse and slightly afraid.

Don was a Gorgon and could have killed me instantly, but hadn't yet.

"What are you doing?"

The question took me by surprise at first since I had yet to hear Don speak and his voice failed to match his body. It was light and young, not childlike, more of his age, not in late 40's like I had almost expected him to be.

"What am I doing?" I asked, making sure I had heard him right, emphasizing the word I.

"I let you escape, risked my own life, for what?"

As he spoke his head came closer to mine to where our lips nearly touched. Don's left hand went from my waist to ass as his right remained firm in grasping my wrist.

"I want to free them, I need a distraction." I said quietly, not sure why I was telling Don my plan.

I had failed to realize my eyes had drifted to the mage who looked up at me with a smile.

"I heard her."

My attention turned back to Don.

"What?"

"What she said, that one, she's not a mage, she's an Oracle."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I owe a life debt."

"To who?"

"You're father."

Don, not letting me go, pushed our bodies towards the desk noses touched as he clicked a button. Alarms flashed and the lights turned off, the screens flickered as they showed the captured supernaturals escaping, the mage nowhere to be seen. Footsteps bounded down the hallway with shouting and sounds of guns and electricity. Don lifted my entire body with ease onto the desk as the hand on my wrist held my head. Our lips touched in a brief kiss lasting no more than a manner of seconds before appearing in a shroud of smoke beside us stood the mage.

"Come now no time for that, not yet."

She put a hand on Don and a hand on me before the door burst open in front of us 4 armed men in black stood, the leader aiming a gun directly at me. Before we had disappeared the gun fired, bullet flying directly in my gut. My body held a mix of emotions as Don's large hand held the outside of my pants were my cock stood, then pain from the bullet with a sharp burn. I had been shot before only in armor and never bear, I had been shot before in my dreams, in my nightmares. This time it was real. I didn't care where they took me, as long as it wasn't here. As long as I could find Aryiea.