Filum Maleficarum, Chapter 3

The whole world spun, rang, and rumbled. Gabriel was fairly certain that his right shoulder was dislocated and that a few of his ribs were fractured. He couldn’t feel his legs, but his eyes were fixed on them, and they appeared to still be capable of movement. Temporary damage to his ability to perceive his own body, perhaps, likely brought on by head trauma of some kind? That seemed likely. It was also one of the worst possibilities. Tsk, he’d detonated the bomb too early; he was too close. And, it seemed as though he’d terribly underestimated just how powerful the resulting explosion would be; maybe, he should’ve experimented with a bit of Astrolite before grabbing several hundred pounds of the stuff and rigging them into a bomb. Briefly, he hoped Miss Jean was still alive.

Blood.

He tasted copper in his mouth.

Grunting, Gabriel reached up and touched his lips. Warm. Yep, that was definitely blood. It was also streaming from his nose and probably his ears.

Shit. This was bad.

Gabriel glanced around him. A lot of his surroundings were rubble, a jumble of broken and shattered rocks, glass, and metal. Groaning, he pushed himself up to his legs and wobbled on his feet, only barely steadying himself against a nearby wall, cracked and ruined by the explosion. He shook his head. The path ahead was clear. Shapes were blurry. His senses had not fully awakened yet. At the very least, the dulled sense of pain was helping him ignore his shattered ribs and dislocated shoulder; the latter of the two, at least, he could deal with immediately. Without hesitation, or any thought at all, Gabriel slammed his shoulder into the wall and popped it back into place. The pain was immense, but dulled as it was, he didn’t scream or react.

Gabriel breathed in. “Shit.”

The absence of pain was rarely ever a good sign.

He lumbered forward, holding on to the wall next to him to prop himself up with each step. He needed to move. He needed to escape. Gabriel coughed up more blood and fell to a knee. It’d be embarrassing if he died now, because that meant his own bomb killed him and that was just a stupid way to go if he was being honest. If he survived this, then he was never touching Astrolite ever again. Or, at the very least, he was lowering the dosage by a lot. Well, that’s a very big if. His organs were probably failing. And he was losing sensation on most of his limbs.

Alright, technically, the Astrolite Bomb worked as intended. It just worked a little toowell. At the very least, that explosion should’ve been large and powerful enough to take out all the invaders and possibly disorient or vaporize anyone else who might’ve been close enough.

Gabriel breathed in and forced himself up; succeeded, but only barely. His sense of hearing returned first, mostly in the firm of ringing, faint screams, and the cracking and breaking of rubble.

The sensation of pain slowly returned, like phantom flames all over his body. That was a good sign; it meant there was enough left of him to feel pain. Despite everything, Gabriel grinned; maybe, he might just live through his blunder, after all. Breathing in, he reached into his coat and pulled out the 9mm pistol. He couldn’t see clearly, but, even through blurred vision, Gabriel could easily spot and make out the shape of men and shoot them, even when the pistol in his grip seemed to divide into three or four at times due to his dwindling vision.

Much easier said than done; recognizing the general shape of people was one thing, but actively discerning which one was a threat and which one wasn’t was the part that worried him. Gabriel wasn’t opposed to killing civilians if it came down to it, but he’d rather avoid doing such a thing; his record was pretty clean, after all.

“Well, isn’t this a sorry sight.” A familiar voice reverberated, appearing out of nowhere. “You went and blew yourself up, huh?”

There was a man in black ahead of him – tall. Beyond the man himself, however, was the faint feeling of somethingin the air, an unseen force, much like the one he held inside him, the one that churned and bubbled at his center whenever he made use of Motion. Thread Energy, was it? Yeah, that was it – magic. He’d nearly forgotten about that. Though his sight was blurry, Gabriel was fairly certain he knew who this was. He fell to a knee, blood streaming from his mouth and nose. Shit. Blood loss was not what he needed at the moment. “Ishimura Blake... what are you... doing here? I didn’t call you.”

Just as the word left his lips, Blake’s calling card fluttered out of his coat and fell to the floor. The man knelt before him. Gabriel knew he was just grinning. “You didn’t, but you would’ve. And now, I’m here and I’d like to offer you a deal. This is perfect, since you don’t exactly have much of a choice.”

Gabriel coughed up blood. Not good. “What do you want?”

“The way I see it, you have maybe 24 hours before you die of blood loss and probably organ failure.” Blake said, smugly. Still, Gabriel couldn’t deny it. The shockwave from the blast had damaged his bones and internal organs, even his brain was probably messed up. Surprisingly, Blake’s estimate was far greater than his own; 24 hours was a long time. “That’s if you can get out of here alive. Based on your skills, I’d give you a solid 30% chance of making it out of this building and entering the mall; that was your plan, right? There’s no way you’re disappearing into any crowd as you are now, kiddo.So, I’m going to makeyou an offer, instead.”

He did not like those odds. “Ugh... fine. Go ahead and tell me.”

“Be my student,” Blake’s tone shifted. He sounded strangely sincere as he spoke. “I’ll teach you about the world beyond the mundane. You will know things that even the bloody CIA is clueless about. You’ll become a Thread Sorcerer and wield – I hate to say this – magic. I’ll heal you, of course; it’ll be like none of this happened.Isn’t that so much better than living life on the run? You’re always looking over your shoulder, never settling anywhere, not having any friends. But, I guess, if you say no, you’re going to die anyway.”

“Heal me? With magic?”

“Yep!” Blake’s grin was actually perceptible now, white teeth showing through the blur in his vision.

“Shit,” Gabriel coughed up more blood. He didn’t want to die. And he also did not want to take his 30% chance. Even then, what would he do if he somehow made it to the mall? He’d stick out like a sore thumb with all his injuries. The assassins would easily find him and kill him. As much as he hated to admit it, Blake was right; he didn’t have much of a choice. It was either this or die. “Fine. I accept.”

“Heh, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Blake reached out. Gabriel felt the man’s hand over his head, followed by a flood of unnatural and uncomfortable warmth. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt, but it’s going to feel really weird.”

“Do it,” Gabriel breathed in and waited. True to Blake’s words, a flood of power surged through his head, into his spine, and finally all across his body in an instant, like a stream of liquid fire through his veins, bones, flesh, and sinew. The pains and aches all over his body disappeared in an instant as though the flood of energy had erased it all completely. His eyes widened as every single one of his senses returned in what must’ve been the blink of an eye. Blake withdrew his hand as Gabriel pushed himself up, eyes still wide. Blake gave him a shit-eating grin – more annoying than the usual.“Was that the work of Thread Energy?”

“It was!” Blake was almost giddy. He then struck a strange pose that was befitting of super models on television or on the covers of magazines. What a weird man. “That’ll be the first trick I’m going to teach you; it’s something very few sorcerers even know about. I came up with it myself.”

Gabriel nodded and sighed. He then glanced ahead and behind him – no sign of enemies just yet. He was pretty certain the lot of them were still reeling from the explosion – those who survived it, at least, and those who were far away, like the snipers. “There’s still a bunch of people who want me dead. Are we to just leave them?”

He didn’t know where the rest of them were, but if the snipers were any indication, then the enemy was expending quite a large sum of money to get rid of him, which meant it was entirely possible that he might, quite literally, be up against a small army of some sort, hundreds of armed mercenaries. It’d take a coalition of numerous syndicates to come up with enough money to convince the local government, including the police, to turn a blind eye to all the chaos that was surely coming.

I honestly wasn’t sure how that worked, given that everyone had a smartphone, but that wasn’t exactly my concern.

Blake shrugged. Three men in black military garb appeared behind him, each one carrying a high-powered assault rifle of some sort, heavily armed and armored. The swiftness of their response meant they were already here, waiting for him. Tsk. That was... unexpected; just how long have they known? The mercenaries opened fire, but their bullets... disappeared before ever reaching us. “Do you want to kill them? You’re my student now; I’ll help you.”

“I’d appreciate that, I guess.” Gabriel said, raising his pistol and taking aim.

Blake raised a hand, his teeth shimmering like pearls as he grinned even wider. “It’s done. They’re already dead.”

Gabriel blinked. “Wha-?”

True enough, all three men dropped to the ground, blood covering the interior of their helmets, visible through their visors. Gabriel turned his attention to Blake, his mind racing at how the man managed to kill them without even lifting a single finger. Oh, he wanted to learn how to do that. As if sensing his thoughts, Blake struck another pose. “There are several more outside, but I’ve taken care of them too. The guys who hired them are also dead. You’re welcome. Think of this as a signing up bonus.”

Gabriel nodded. “Alright... I admit it, magic is amazing. When do I learn to kill people as you did?”

“As I did? You can’t; that was a function of my Innate Ability.” Blake answered plainly. “But, can you do something similar using a very complex array of spells that you’ll have to painstakingly design? Yes, you can. But that part’s up to you.”

Fair enough.

“What now?” Gabriel asked, holstering the 9mm back into the holster in his coat. He was already in this; he owned Blake that much, at least. And he couldn’t exactly deny the fact that he was more than a little curious about all this – about himself. “Do I get to pick up a few personal things before we go to sorcerer school or some such?”

“Yeah, sure,” Blake shrugged. “Cebu, right? You have a safe house there.”

How or why the man before him was able to figure that out, Gabriel didn’t bother asking; the answer was probably magic. Otherwise, there was no feasible way he could’ve figured that out, considering Gabriel himself had only ever been to that safe house twice: the first time had been to check if the space was up to par and the second time had been to take a few weapons. The latter instance happened almost two years ago. The safe house, which was little more than a glorified armory, held the back up debit and credit cards, which were linked to his bank account, containing all the money he’d ever earned, amounting to several millions of dollars; he only needed the cards and nothing else.

“Yes,” Gabriel nodded. “I have to fetch two items from that place. Otherwise... well... am I allowed to bring guns into sorcerer school?”

Blake looked pensive for a moment. “There’s no rule against it, really, but – unless you’re bringing a nuke – firearms are generally useless against the stuff we’re up against, against the beings you’ll be trained to kill. But, if it makes you feel better, you can bring as many guns and explosives as you want. Doesn’t really matter.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. Guns didn’t work against the things he’d be training to kill, which left only one option: Thread Energy or Magic. The beings he’d be hunting or fighting could not be hurt, injured, or killed by human weapons. That said, didn’t Motion, his Innate Ability, work through projectiles? Bullets counted projectiles did they not? That meant they’d be coated in some amount of Thread Energy at the least, right? That was something to ponder. Regardless, he’d always have his safe house; stopping by to pick up a few guns shouldn’t be too hard once he confirmed if Motion worked on bullets. In the end, Gabriel could only nod. “That’s good to know... I guess.”

“Is there anything else here you’d still like to pick up before we go?” Blake asked, turning and leaning against the nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“No, I actually didn’t own a lot of things.” He had plenty of money, but Gabriel didn’t do much with it. And what little he did own was already vaporized by the earlier explosion. He did collect books, though, a lot of them, old books; he liked the smell of them and the verbosity of the authors. It was like reading poetry, almost. They were probably little more than ashes by now. Oh well, a PDF of every book he’d ever collected was sure to exist on the internet; so, it wasn’t too great a loss. “We should leave. I doubt the local police and the firemen can keep their heads turned away for too long, no matter how big the bribe was.”

“So, it’s off to Cebu, then?” Blake asked.

Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. I have cash stashes all over the city; if I can get to one of them, getting a plane ticket shouldn’t be difficult.”

“No need,” Blake grinned and snapped his fingers. The world shifted for a moment, the colors and shapes of every single thing around him warping and distorting into a chaotic and tangled mess, before just as quickly stabilizing into a semblance of order. Gabriel’s head spun and he fell to a knee, eyes wide. The nausea disappeared quickly, however, and he found that he was looking right at a very familiar white house. The lawn was still well-maintained, it seemed, and the grasses and plants were well taken care of by the gardener he’d hired and forgotten about. The sound of distant crashing waves filled his ears, accompanied by the faint briny scent of the ocean.

“This is....” Gabriel muttered as he stood up. His mouth widened. Did they just teleport? “This is my safe house. How... did we get here?”

“The ‘how’ is going to bore you to death if I explained it outright, but the gist of it is that my Innate Ability is very... flexible; it lets me do a lot of things.” Blake grinned as he glanced around. Gabriel had no neighbors. He bought this house and lot specifically for its relative isolation. There was a small village nearby, further down the beach, about two kilometers away, a rundown subdivision with a few hundred houses. It was honestly surprising that this house hadn’t been ransacked. Of course, the prospecting thieves would find little of value in the living room or in any of the rooms, really. His stash was hidden downstairs, a secret room that only Gabriel himself knew how to access “Nice place you got. I honestly wasn’t expecting a beach house; you didn’t seem like the type for one.”

“I’m not the type for anything, I think,” Gabriel shrugged as he approached the front door. It had no need for a physical key. Instead, there was a biometric scanner there that scanned his right hand. The locks retracted with a soft, metallic hiss, and the door simply swung open inward. Gabriel walked in. It was still morning, but the interior was dark; he liked it that way. The windows were all tinted to a near-black; he could still see the exterior from inside, but those who were outside wouldn’t see anything within the house. He clapped his hands and the lights turned on, dim and faint – soft on the eyes. He turned to Blake. “Come in. Make yourself at home. There should still be distilled water in the fridge. And a few canned stuff I haven’t touched in years; do you care for some spam?”

“Sure, I’ll cook em up for you – nothing much to do here anyway. You got an airfryer?” Blake shrugged as he walked in, his shoes removed and left outside. He’d also taken his glasses of, revealing strange and vibrant emerald eyes – or was it jade? No, the color of Blake’s eyes seemed to shift constantly, changing from one shade of green to another; was that why he wore glasses all the time?

Gabriel shrugged and nodded, before turning and pointing to the kitchen. “Yeah, there’s one over there. The spam’s in the fridge.”

“Ayt.” Blake walked into the kitchen with such familiarity and ease that, for a moment, it was almost as though he owned the place. Gabriel shook his head and turned to the steps that led to the basement, before walking down. The basement itself was sparse, dimly illuminated by a single light bulb; there wasn’t much to keep here, given that Gabriel almost never visited. Still, there were numerous piles of wooden boxes, stacked over each other haphazardly. They held nothing of value and weighed down by stones. The boxes were only there to divert attention from the secret entrance of his armory, which really wasn’t anywhere close to the boxes.

The entrance lay in the leftmost corner, and upon that corner was a flaw, bearing the appearance of a crack that was so small it was almost imperceptible. Gabriel reached out and pressed his thumb against the crack, before pushing. The walls of the basement unraveled before him, sliding down into the floor, revealing rack after rack of weapons—assault rifles, snipers, knives, swords, and an assortment of gadgets he rarely touched, such as night vision goggles and thermal cameras. Additional lights came on, illuminating the armory proper; there were enough weapons here to arm a small militia. However, he wasn’t here for any deathly tools. Nestled among the boxes of ammunition was a wallet, small and inconspicuous. Gabriel reached out, grabbed the wallet, and opened it, smiling at the two cards held inside, alongside a folded-up piece of paper—old and wrinkled, his birth certificate, which he’d taken from the orphanage’s storage room on the day he walked out and never returned.