The Six Crystals 2: A little big problem

The night had just started. So, I changed my usual rout, and I headed for Zion’s suburbs. A dangerous way, trust me… Probable, the first time when somebody looked at Zion, he (or she) would was amazed by its cold, silent and high wonderful beauty. You can imagine: high crystal skyscrapers, log bright-lit roads and highways going through the buildings, sparkling blue and white dots decking the horizon with the most grateful modern city skyline…

So awesome…

… and so terrifying.

Because everything changes when you go up into the slum quarters. I still remember the depressing scenes like the ones I had seen yesterday. Human people dying in the damp dark corners, lying without clothes or food, even without life, on the street sidewalks… Everything and everywhere you looked was decaying, ruining, becoming ashes and dust. That was the end of everything.

‘Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust’, said someone in the past. And what fucking good right he was…

I knew that parking my car there was probably a really bad idea, so I found a place in a piece of open ground where I could hide the Mercedes SLK. It would be safe… for a while, I hoped.

I lefts the car, and I started walking into the stinking dark street. Even if I walked with my eyes stared at the ground, listening to the sound of my black-belted boots against the puddles and my leather black rain coat zippers creaking and jingling in the silence, I could notice all eyes on me and whispers going with me and my thoughts. I was not afraid, because, even if there were so many people, I still felt the weight of my sword at my back, and my throwing knifes tied to my legs with belts. I was a murderer, a killer, the Hand of Death, people called me. A few undernourished strays couldn’t defeat me fighting.

Anyway they weren’t my most important care at that moment. Not they, but the knowing like ‘Adonais’. Rebels without laws, the owners of that territory: the slums.

Not wizard, not angel, not demon; an Adonai is the mixing between a Repudiate and one, two, even all of them. But this last case was extremely rare. The usual case is a Repudiate who has taken a wizard’s soul, or a demon’s soul. A 3-mixed-souls Adonai probably was the last thing you would see in your life.

The Adonais always began being Repudiates: they were born from a couple of angels, they were sons and daughters of Lust. One white winged, white haired, with pale skin and red eyes, they were the stigma of their parents and their race. That’s why they had not a place to belong to, nobody to trust. And nowhere to live with their inherited shame.

They hated us. All of us: humans, demons, angels… Even animals and plants! Years and centuries had come and gone, and their hate had grown up. They had succumbed to Envy and Hate. And they discovered a new power within them. The power to absorb other beings’ spirits, with or without their will. When a Repudiate takes a powerful he becomes an Adonai. A new wing arises in his back, and both start to dye red and blue. The eyes change into unnatural turquoise, and they can invoke destructive elemental spirits and powers. If three of them agree, they could destroy Zion just by wishing it.

Can you understand now why I was worried and I prayed not to came across an Adonai in my way?

Well, one way or another, I was lucky that night, and I didn’t see any of them. I kept walking with my hands in my pockets and my face a bit hidden in the collar of my coat. I went ahead for ten minutes, and then I turned left twice. I arrived at my destination: Morgan’s ramshackle store.

I came in without knocking at the door, because I knew it wasn’t necessary. The inside was really untidy, and the shelves were probably begging for a feather duster. All the old shop was lit by fluorescent which caused an incessant buzzing. The stuffy air got into my lungs like lead, and I couldn’t avoid to cough twice. If you had asked me then what Morgan sold in his shop, probably I couldn’t have answered your question. From useless parts of rotting bodies, to all types of weapons and bullets, and, of course, magical self-inventions. If you needed something, without doubts, Morgan would have it.

“I was waiting for you.” I heard his scraped voice, scratching the silence. “And you are punctual, as always, my old friend.”

“That’s part of my job” I smiled, looking for him. “However, I must ask you who I am really talking to tonight.”

“With your friend Morgan, lucky you…” His figure appeared between the shadows like a bad horror film derisory phantom. “What have you done wrong now, Geasser? Nothing so bad, I can guess, if your lord has given you another chance…”

A medium height man was looking at me, through the bangs of disheveled dark blond hair. He wore an old light brown coat, black jeans and shoes, and a white shirt. The set was really slovenly. His face was darkened by a stubble, framing two mad eyes, as if they were going to go out of their basins. That was I used to call a ‘peculiar’ man. In that case, a ‘peculiar’ wizard whose most powerful weapon was information itself. That was the most expensive article to buy in his shop.

In addition, Morgan had another ‘peculiar’ detail. He had two personalities. Of course, he was absolutely mad, and he was hardly convinced that he had a demon’s soul inside him. For me, it was only the paranoia of his schizophrenic mind.

“How do you know that?” I asked calmly, outlining a thin smile in my lips. I could imagine his answer.

“Because you are alive, and most important: one pieced.” Morgan tilted his head, looking at me with those unnatural big eyes, smiling, showing me a dirty teeth line. “What do you want, my dear assassin? A new sword, maybe? You should throw a glance at my new poisoned knifes collection, I think you will enjoy it…”

“Nice try, Morgan. But you already know what I’m looking for now, don’t you?” I stopped him, sighting slowly.

“I do. I always do, that’s part of my job…” I hated when he paraphrased me… “You always come here looking for the same thing. And you know the rule, Geasser. In-ter-curse.” He said, moving his finger at the compass of his words.

“What do you want?” I asked, direct to the point, crossing my arms.

He looked at me, with a mixture of being upset, disappointed and incredible surprised.

“What do I want?... What do I want, you said?!” He put a hand on his forehead, and started laughing noisily and absolutely mad… “Oh, please! My poor fool angel, that’s the trick, the cheat and the fun of the question!” Morgan walked a few steps, coming closer. “You must guess what I want, and give me that. And then, maybe, I will give you what you want… Oh, look! I made a pun on words again!”

My hands rushed towards him, and I took his troath in my hand, lifting him a few spans of the ground.

“I have no time for games, Morgan.” I hissed, fixing my ice eyes on his ones. “I need answers, and I need them right now. I think you already know that my lord is not turned to patience.”

Morgan started laughing again, really amused by some stupid joke that I couldn’t guess.

“Are you gonna kill me, Geasser?” he asked me, like a challenge.

“Keep trying me, and you will discover it, my friend.” I warned him, drawing an evil mask in my face.

“I don’t think so.” He said, with convinced eyes.

I waited a few seconds. Finally, understanding the he was right, I put him on the ground again, setting him free of my grip.

“See?” he smiled again, not so funny now, caressing his neck with one hand, looking at me without blinking. “You still need me, because I’m useful to you. I’m not afraid of you and your threats, Geasser. Keep this in mind: violence doesn’t work with me.”

“I can swear it…” I whispered, angry.

“Well… if you haven’t got anything interesting for me, then you can go away, find it, and come here again.” He turned back, and started to walk to the back store. “And I advise you to find it quickly, Astaroth is not… How did you say? Oh, yes, not turned to patience…” Even if he had disappeared from my sight, I could hear his laughter again.

I went out of the shop, frustrated, pressing the lips and frowning with displeasure. I walked back, following the same way that I had made some minutes before, trying desperately to find something in my mind, even a blurry idea of what the Hell could wake Morgan’s interest.

I arrived at the open ground where I had left the car, and, sure enough, I could see that my precious had disappeared, leaving a track of pieces in the place where I had parked it…

Shit…

(Unfinished story)