Legacy First Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3 of the Legacy Series Read online

  Not exactly a vacation spot.

  And if all that failed, there was Mephisto. Gil's familiar was a hunter. If unleashed, he could track whatever disturbance there was and, depending on his mood, he would either kill and then rip the body apart, or vice-versa. Honestly, I would prefer being shot and burned by the ninja wizards.

  "Yeah. But it does raise the question," I said. "How did they get out? I mean, I grew up there and even I doubt even I could have made it out. The only way those monsters could have escaped is with a map and a tour guide."

  "Agreed," said the cat. "By the way, what's up with you? You're all jumpy and stuff."

  "What?"

  Amaymon flicked his tail in annoyance. "Dude, I'm a demon, and despite being in the same room as two angels, I wasn't the one lashing out."

  "I didn't lash out."

  "Okay, you had a hissy fit, whatever you wanna call it," he said dismissively. "Just tell me what happened at the school that got you all grouchy."

  So, I told him. I gave him every single detail, including the mutated lizardman that poked an extra hole in me.

  "Yeah, that sounds just about right," he said. "What you described sounds a lot like a forced mutation. Someone got hold of a pack of lizardmen and played around with their genetics. Question is, why?"

  I shrugged.

  "Erik, who do the police call when something weird happens in this town?"

  "Me," I replied.

  "Exactly," he said. "What if whoever this was has a bone to pick with you?"

  "Huh?"

  "Think about it. Is there any reason why a bunch of monsters would attack a school?" His eyes poured into mine. "They didn't kill the kids and never touched the officers. They were waiting for someone to enter the school, and the only person in this town crazy enough to do so is you. That whole thing was a setup."

  “But if someone's got beef with me, why not just come at me directly?"

  "Erik, you're nearly immortal. You heal instantly and your magical capacity rivals that of hardcore demons. Whoever it was didn't want a clean fight."

  I felt the headache come back. "So, what do I do now?"

  Amaymon chuckled. "What you always do. Rub people the wrong way and hope you don't bite the big one."

  "Great," I muttered.

  "You know, I could always help out," he said hopefully. "Especially if I had some power."

  Amaymon's demon power is sealed inside a ruby pendant I wear around my neck at all times. If I put it on his collar and give him back his power, Amaymon could go back to his former badass self. He was handy in a pinch, but there was a huge chance he would destroy everything else in the process.

  The guy just loved chaos and destruction.

  "Not yet," I said. "I'll call you if I need backup."

  Amaymon hissed. "Man, sometimes you can be a real-"

  I raised an eyebrow at him challengingly.

  “Mew," he finished.

  I reached down and scratched his chin. "Clean up in here will you, kitty cat?"

  "You know I hate that nickname," he replied as he purred.

  I stood up and put on my coat and equipment. Time to go back to work.

  "Don't burn the place down, okay?" I called to the cat.

  "No promises."

  Chapter 5

  "What. Did you. Do?"

  Bobby glared at me from behind the counter and looked at the remnants of my guns with something close to tears.

  "Nothing," I replied, doing my best to avoid eye contact with him.

  The wizened old blacksmith put his hands on his hips and looked just like a headmaster berating a student. "You were up to your mumbo-jumbo thing, weren't you?"

  Well, at least he didn't call it voodoo this time. I suppose that was an improvement from the rest of the idiots around here.

  "It's called work, Bobby." His look didn't change. "Okay yeah," I finally said in surrender. "The mumbo-jumbo."

  The old man shook his head in disapproval. "That's the last time I give you new guns. From now on you get the bootlegs."

  "That's what you said last time."

  "And I damn well mean it this time, boy."

  Bobby was a genius with guns. He could take an inch of rusting iron and two ounces of copper and whip up a fully functional machine gun. He was a true artist and those guys always got too attached to their work. And I didn't score any points by coming in nearly twice a month, dumping the scraps of old guns and asking for replacements.

  Bobby gave me one last look of disapproval and went over to his workbench. "Here's your new piece."

  He placed a flintlock on the bench. It had been refurbished with modern parts and had a box magazine locked in place in front of the trigger guard.

  I blinked twice at Bobby. "Seriously?"

  Bobby nodded.

  "What the hell is that thing?" My voice was more high-pitched than usual.

  Bobby cocked an eyebrow. "It's a heavily modified flintlock. This thing right here is the sturdiest gun in the whole store. It's custom-built for durability, so you can use it for whatever it is you do. That box mag takes shotgun rounds, so unless you're going up against an elephant, you're fine."

  I cocked an eyebrow at the weapon.

  "It's all I got left, boy. Take it or leave it," Bobby said in his headmaster voice again.

  I snatched up the gun. "Thanks, Bobby," I said sincerely, before heading out.

  ***

  For a giant, monstrous demon that possesses and deforms animals, the Behemoth was damn hard to find.

  I had spent an entire afternoon going from one animal shelter to another, but still no sign of the demon. I mean seriously, how hard could it be to find a couple of monsters that looked like they came right out of Jumanji?

  I was just about to give up and head home. Maybe I could resume the hunt tomorrow, right after I found a suitable holster for the flintlock. The chunky gun hung inside the waistband of my trousers, making me look like an extra from Pirates of the Caribbean.

  I kept fidgeting with it, trying to somehow find a comfortable position when I walked past the park and caught sight of a sign that read zoo. I was supposed to check that place out but kept putting it off. I tended to avoid places with kids everywhere and tired out parents glaring at them.

  Ah screw it, I thought after a pause.

  I walked in, ignoring all the looks, and bought a ticket. I may have even flirted with the receptionist.

  Five minutes later I was walking down the animal exhibits alone.

  And there it was.

  The elephant exhibit was a late entry to the zoo. It was the largest exhibit and farthest from the entrance. Strangely enough it wasn't the most popular exhibit and only a few people were around. Maybe it was the thirty minute walk from the reception to the elephant place.

  At the very back of the herd, completely on its own, was the possessed monster.

  It was twice the size of a regular elephant and way too bizarre.

  Its body slumped downwards like a mammoth's and its legs were not the usual trunk-shaped paws, but rather lupine legs with thick, obsidian claws. Its ears were thick black sails that waved to and fro, while reindeer horns branched outwards where the tusks on a normal elephant should be. The thick enamel forked outwards like a tree, creating an entire bush of sharp spikes around the monster's face. Its trunk was muscular and stocky, and instead of nostrils a pair of leaf-shaped blades emerged, promising a whole new world of pain.

  The entire monster was covered in long fur that was darker than black.

  It aimed a bloodshot red eye at me and I felt my knees buckling slightly.

  "Holy crap."

  My quip triggered a chain reaction.

  The Behemoth reared on two legs and let out a bellow, sending everyone but me running out of the exhibit. I reached for the gun and pointed it at the monster.

  Well, Bobby did say it could kill anything up to an elephant. Let's see if the new toy was up to the challenge.

  A scream emanated througho
ut the now-empty exhibit. A kid was clutching a stuffed giraffe and began trembling as he and the monster made eye contact.

  Chapter 6

  My plan was simple: yell as loud as possible so the giant Behemoth-possessed elephant would attack me, instead of the helpless little boy.

  Very heroic, right?

  But then the plan actually worked and the monster turned its attention towards me. My screams were not part of the plan. From then onwards it was all improvisation, or as I call it, the don't-get-yourself-killed plan.

  Which sounded easy enough until the Behemoth swiped its trunk at me.

  I heard the blades whistle by, missing my hairline by a breeze. Instead, they met the gravel and left a pair of very deep grooves.

  Years of fighting monsters had its advantages. My body reacted and I fired at its exposed neck. The gun buckled in my hand. The creature roared but seemed otherwise unaffected. The trunk swung again, this time closer to the mark. I ducked under the scything blades, barely avoiding being beheaded.

  Suddenly, it charged.

  Those white tusks it had on each side jutted at me. I crouched into a roll and caught the impact on my side. The momentum of the blow sent me flying into a wall. I felt ribs break, and my breathing became heavy and very painful.

  Almost immediately, my magic began healing my wounds. I felt the familiar trickle of heat as bones were set back in place. These weren't light wounds. It would take some time until I fully healed—time which I did not have.

  The Behemoth turned its gaze once more towards the kid.

  Time to call the cavalry. Which sadly, in my case, was the cat.

  Slowly, I reached inside my shirt and touched the ruby pendant I always wore. It served as a link between Amaymon and myself, between master and familiar.

  "Amaymon, get over here, now," I growled through clenched teeth. Healing magic was all well and good, but it still hurt like hell.

  A patch of air in front of me cracked with static and distorted. Amaymon popped from it, flicking his tail in annoyance.

  "So, I guess you found the Behemoth," he quipped.

  "Save the kid," I rasped.

  Amaymon turned his head in the boy's direction and back. "No."

  A flash of pain went through me and I felt the last of the broken ribs mending. "What do you mean, no? That's an order," I growled.

  "Erik, I'm your familiar, not your butler. You do something for me and I do something for you. That's how this works." Amaymon's intense yellow eyes bore a challenge.

  I stood up and looked around for my gun. It had disappeared during my brief moment as a crash test dummy.

  "So, what's in it for me?" he asked. "And I suggest you decide quickly. That thing looks like it’s about to pounce at any second."

  "Fine. What do you want?" I asked exasperatedly.

  The Behemoth's shadow loomed over the boy. I could smell urine in the air.

  "Two belly rubs a day for the next week and an extra-large jumbo box of cookies," Amaymon replied.

  I looked at him incredulously.

  "I'm a cat, Erik. There are only so many ways you can please me."

  "Fine, whatever, you got a deal. Now, go!"

  The cat had already vanished.

  The Behemoth's colossal body concealed the boy and I couldn't see anything. I heard another loud roar and the monster turned abruptly. There was no blood or signs of violence. Amaymon had gotten to the boy just in time.

  Sword in hand, I rushed at the beast. A streak of azure energy arced towards one leg. The Behemoth was sent toppling forwards, the ground shaking under the massive weight.

  One of its claws swiped at me, but I easily evaded it. My magic encased Djinn's blade, elongating it. With the demon on the ground, I began hacking and slashing at it, and took advantage of the monster's momentary disadvantage. But all I could do was slash through the black fur—the Behemoth's skin was too thick for even my sword to slice through.

  It swung its trunk at me and luckily caught me with just muscle and not the blades. As I rolled away like a rag doll, something hard bumped in my back. Instinctively, my hand went to feel around and the gun I'd lost earlier was back in my possession.

  The Behemoth closed the distance and tried a different approach—squash the puny wizard. It raised a paw the size of a garbage can and stomped on me. I raised Djinn and put all my magic there. The Behemoth's paw pressed against the blade.

  This was a losing battle—the damn thing was ten times my size.

  I shifted my body so I could point my gun at its underbelly. The flintlock roared twice. Thick, black chunks flew off the Behemoth, causing it to rear back in agony.

  Fear is as good a motivator as any. Emotion fuels intention, which in turn fuels magic. So, in my near hysterical state, I swung the blade again. A giant crescent-shaped beam of energy shot towards the beast and sent it flying.

  I followed its trajectory, batting away trunk and tusks, until I found the beast's mouth. It was similar to an elephant's but with a row of teeth the size of my head. I jammed the gun inside its mouth and squeezed the trigger.

  If I couldn't beat it from the outside, then I had to attack it from the inside.

  Magic encased the shotgun shell as it tore through its throat and neck, but the Behemoth still trashed around, very much alive.

  I channeled more magic into the gun and fired again. There was a small explosion of angry red light as a magically enhanced bullet tore the beast open from the inside. I pulled both my arm and weapon out of its mouth and leapt away.

  The Behemoth fell on its side, finally dead.

  I slumped on the ground, breathing heavily. I felt my heart pounding in my ears but a burst blood vessel was the least of my worries. There was a moment of hysteria as I sat on my ass watching a hulking monster carcass slowly melt down into opaque ectoplasm. It felt very much like the story of David and Goliath, except I had a gun not a slingshot.

  Much more western.

  Amaymon appeared at my side. "Mission accomplished?"

  "Yeah."

  "You got any plans for that ectoplasm?" he asked.

  Ectoplasm was to monsters what blood was to humans. A wizard could get very creative with the correct ectoplasm and enough connections. It was a very common ingredient in most textbook spells and rituals. Most shops had the cheap stuff; selling a Behemoth's ectoplasm was like selling a Rolls Royce to a car dealer.

  I hadn't really thought about it. I was too busy trying to avoid getting cut or stomped or eaten by a giant mutated elephant. So, all I could offer Amaymon was a shrug.

  Cats can't roll their eyes but Amaymon got damn close. "Turn me human and gimme the gun," he said.

  "Why?"

  "Because that's high-grade stuff right there," he replied. "If I infuse that ectoplasm into your gun, it'll become a channel. A proper magical channel."

  "Can you do that?"

  I knew it was possible, but the magic had been long lost. The druids had been the last ones to possess that knowledge, but most of their teachings were long gone. My sister might have something in her library, but reading about something and actually knowing how to do it were two very different things.

  Amaymon scoffed at me. "Oh, ye of little faith."

  I took off my ruby pendant and attached it to his collar. Amaymon may not be the most trustworthy of familiars, but he did know his way around magic. Besides, I didn't have anything to lose.

  I felt him call upon his old powers and his form shimmered. In his place was a stocky teenage boy wearing a black tank top, black cargo pants and a black beanie. His eyes were the only feature which remained the same, still cat-like and full of promises of chaos and destruction.

  "No funny business," I warned as I handed him the gun.

  He smiled, exposing a set of serrated, shark-like teeth. The weapon twirled around his finger as he approached the puddle of disappearing ectoplasm. He stuck a finger in and tasted the gooey stuff.

  "Oh, yeah," he said approvingly. When in human form
, Amaymon adopted an urban accent. I don't know why, but it annoyed a lot of people.

  That might be the answer, right there.

  "That hit the spot," he said.

  “Just get on with it," I said.

  Usually a wizard would require the magical equivalent of a butterfly net to interact with something purely ethereal, but not Amaymon. The demon extended one clawed hand and scooped up the ectoplasm like ice cream. He stuffed it into the gun savagely, like a kid putting sand in a bucket. After a while, he raked in the last handful and stuffed it into his mouth.

  "Done," he said, tossing my gun back at me.

  It felt lighter, yet at the same time more solid.

  "I stuffed all I could in it," continued my familiar. "Couldn't fit all of it, but that gun should be able to take whatever punishment you put it through."

  "Cool. Thanks," I said holstering my weapons. "Guess this makes me even with my sister."

  Amaymon's eyebrow shot up. "I think she still owes you one, bro."

  "Nah. Remember that time," I said scratching my forehead, "with the vampires-"

  “Oh, right," he interjected.

  "-and the whole camera incident-"

  "Dude, they put your ass on MySpace."

  "Yeah, and she covered for me," I said. "So, now it makes us even."

  Amaymon was about to retort with something, but the wailing of police sirens cut him off.

  "Cops," he muttered. "We better hustle."

  "That was fast."

  Amaymon gave me a sly smile. "I may have left the kid at the nearest police station."

  "Sometimes I think your existence is just to torment me."

  "It's not my only reason to exist, but it does take up most of my time," he replied. With a flick of his wrist, he ripped at the air and a portal shimmered. "But I guess I'm both the creation and the solution of all your problems."

  I made a face at the portal. "I hate those things," I complained. Traveling through portals made me sick to my stomach.

  Amaymon smiled even wider. It made him look like the Cheshire Cat. Or the Joker.

  "Two minutes 'til we're ass deep in cops," he said.

  "How is it you gotta blackmail me to help out a kid and now you're all helpful?" I asked.