The Black Diamond and the Mark from the Source

By T-Pot .

The Potent Four begin their junior year at Word University still reeling from their encounter with Evelindrith, but there’s no rest for the Wickons! The boys’ powers start to uncontrollably swap, causing much consternation amongst the group. A tricky fellow shows up on their doorstep to deliver a dose of bad news: The exorcism of the demon caused a fracture in the very nature of magic itself that only they can fix! Can they trust this mysterious new player? While this is going on, Omar begins to distance himself from the brotherhood. What—or who—is behind this new direction? And will the Potent Four be able to overcome the mounting complications in their lives to heal the rift in magic using each other’s powers? It’s a supernatural switcheroo with only the world at stake!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664199620

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Traverse

A tiny flicker of light peered through the darkness, growing ever brighter as the two men advanced along the corridor. Rats scurried away from the unwanted intrusion. Cobwebs cast their shadows on the rocky walls. Two sets of footsteps, in lockstep with each other, were the only sounds that made their presence known.

How much farther do we have to go? Omar impatiently inquired. The palm of his hand was holding aloft the flame that gave them some semblance of light, turning his arm into a torch. After what seemed like an hour of walking, however, his arm was growing weary.

Why?

My arm’s getting tired, Omar replied.

Fine. Take a break. I’ll just use the light on my phone, his companion, Damon, answered.

Omar paused ever so briefly before saying, Huh. Why didn’t I ever think of that?

The doorway should be about five minutes up ahead, Damon stated.

The pair eventually reached the end of the underground tunnel they were walking. They came up to a craggy door embedded into a surprisingly smooth wall. At either end of the wall were two torches made of wood and stone growing from the ground.

Set the torches alight, Damon ordered.

Omar walked to the torch to his left and extended his arm toward it. A brilliant stream of fire shot forth from his hand and lit the torch aflame. He then walked over to the torch on the other side of the room and did the same to it. Once both torches were lit, Omar rejoined Damon in the center. You know, when you said that we were goin’ to Hawaii, this is not what I had in mind.

What did you have in mind? Nice sandy beaches? Damon inquired knowingly.

Omar shrugged. That . . . maybe a luau . . . some hot hula girls. Definitely not a crusty tunnel where I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.

Damon smiled. There’ll be plenty of time for that after we’re finished with our business here.

I just don’t know why we had to rush out here right now.

This door only appears for one day every five years, Damon said. This was our only opportunity.

"And it just had to be today," Omar lamented.

What’s wrong with today? Got a hot date? Damon joked.

Actually, I did, Omar replied. I was gonna take Naomi to the Italian Festival.

Quizzically, Damon asked, What’s that?

St. Anthony’s hosts a week-long festival around this time every year back in Pottington. It’s basically a carnival. It started on Sunday, Omar explained.

Oh. Well then, you’ve still got a few days.

Naomi might have to do some evening shifts at her job this weekend, and the festival only happens during the evening. I dunno. We’ll see.

Damon said, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but this is of the utmost importance.

What’s behind this door, anyway? Omar asked, turning his attention back to the wall.

A sarcophagus, Damon answered.

A sarcophagus? That wasn’t what Omar was expecting. And what’s in the sarcophagus?

A gateway.

Puzzled, Omar repeated, A gateway? Inside of a sarcophagus?

That’s right.

Where does the gateway lead to?

That I don’t know exactly.

Then why did we go through all this?

Damon said, Even though I don’t know where the gateway leads, I believe that there is something on the other side that could be important to me.

Damon’s statement lingered in the thick, dusty air. Care to elaborate? Omar asked.

No, Damon said simply.

Omar shook his head. All right. I knew what I was gettin’ into when I agreed to this gig. So what’s next?

Damon laid out, The first step was to alight the torches in a mystical fashion. That was one of the reasons why I needed you. The next step is to open the door. Damon took off his satchel and laid it on the ground. He ruffled through it and took out an athame.

What’s that for? Omar asked hesitantly.

Only the blood of a wickon can open the lock on the door. And the blood must be fresh and free flowing, Damon explained.

Omar rolled his eyes. Blood magic.

That’s right. Damon walked over to Omar. Omar held out his hands. Damon cut a slit along each of Omar’s palms. Just place your hands on the door and push.

Just push?

Just push, Damon confirmed.

Omar walked up to the door and did as he was told. Once Omar applied the pressure, a crack spread up the middle of the door, turning it into a set of double doors. With dust flying about, the doors then slowly opened, moving of their own volition. Once the doors were fully open, they revealed a small chamber with snakes of green light slithering along the walls. In the middle of the chamber sat a large stone sarcophagus.

Do me a favor, Damon said. Try to walk into the chamber.

Try? What’s that supposed to mean?

Just walk into the chamber. I want to test a theory, Damon said.

Omar took a breath, not knowing what would happen when he attempted to walk through the door. When he reached the threshold, he felt like he bumped into a wall, something preventing him from entering the chamber. What’s this?

Damon said, I feared as much. The texts say that no natural magic can cross the threshold. I was hoping that meant just spells and potions and such. Seems as if that includes wickon blood as well. It’s needed to open the doors but can’t enter. Ingenious, he muttered.

How do you even know all this? Omar wondered.

Damon gave him a pointed look. I get around. Damon walked into the threshold. He slowly made his way around the sarcophagus, tracing his hand along the tomb as he walked. Omar examined his professor carefully as he did so, noting the intense look in his eyes. Omar thought it was almost . . . desirous.

Okay. Well, open it, Omar said from just outside the chamber.

I can’t. Only a very specific ritual can do that, and I don’t have all the items necessary to do so yet, Damon said.

Well, if you can’t open it, then what was the point of coming here?

Still eyeing the sarcophagus, Damon replied, We’re going to take it with us.

What? How? That thing looks way too heavy to move.

With magic.

But I thought you said magic can’t cross the threshold? How’re we gonna use magic to get that thing out of there?

Damon corrected him. "I said that natural magic couldn’t cross the threshold. You won’t be using that."

Omar understood what Damon was truly saying. Voodoo.

Exactly, Damon confirmed. I brought the compendium. It’s in bag. Get it, please.

Omar reached into the satchel and pulled out the book. The now-familiar book stared up at him. Which spell am I looking for?

Search for a way to reduce the size of something, Damon said.

Omar raised the book to his chin and instructed, A spell that shrinks something. He waited a few moments before opening the book to see what it came up with. After reading the entry that appeared in the book, he nodded. Seems simple enough. He extended his hand toward the sarcophagus. Tahis romar abem. An ornately patterned hieroglyph appeared in the air in front of the palm of his hand. Omar slowly closed his hand, balling it into a fist. As his hand closed, the sarcophagus shrunk in size. Damon nodded approvingly once the sarcophagus was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

Damon reached down and picked up the sarcophagus. He left the chamber and rejoined Omar, placing the sarcophagus into his bag. Mission accomplished.

This was a lot of trouble for that thing. It better be worth it, Omar said.

It is. You’ll see in due time. Let’s go.

*****

Naomi slammed the car door shut once Alonna had finished retrieving the bags from the back of the car. The two women rejoiced as they entered the apartment building, shopping bags in hand. It was only the middle of June, but it felt like Delaware was already in the dog days of August. The air-conditioned building felt like a gulp of cool water one took while traversing a desert.

That feels so good! Alonna said.

What a time for my air-conditioning to break, huh? Both my apartment air-conditioning and car? That’s a little . . . odd, Naomi said, agreeing with her.

Well, at least the mall was nice and cool, so that’s something, Alonna said as they walked to Naomi’s apartment.

It was just a way to cool off. You can only use fans for so long, Naomi said.

Have you told the landlord?

He’ll fix it on Monday. I got lucky. For the past few days, I’ve been working, so I haven’t been in the house during the day as much. I got off today and tomorrow, though.

Think about it this way, Alonna said as Naomi opened the door to her apartment. We got some nice shoes out of your suffering.

They entered the warm apartment and dropped their bags. Girl, I got some nice shoes! You got a pair of damn sneakers! Naomi said amusingly.

They’re nice sneakers, Alonna protested.

That ain’t saying much.

Alonna said, It’s enough.

Naomi smirked. Well, I don’t mean to kick you out, but you should go soon.

Before Alonna could question her on it, there was a knock on the door. Who’s that?

Naomi answered, Just my boyfriend, probably.

Alonna watched as her friend went to answer her door. Standing on the other side of it was a rather tall young man. He was wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt, exposing his athletically built physique. He had dreadlocks that were dyed red at the ends. They were pulled back in a ponytail, which reached down to his shoulders. Despite the wry smile on his face, she sensed something rather off-putting about him.

You caught me just as I got back, Naomi said.

You mean you got back here just in time, Omar countered.

Hey! I’m the one with the car, so my schedule is the right schedule, said Naomi.

Omar chuckled. Sure. Naomi ushered Omar inside. Why’s it so hot in here? I mean, it don’t bother me none, but still . . .

My air is broke, Naomi answered.

Ah.

Naomi moved to introduce her two guests. This is Alonna. Alonna, this is Omar.

Hey.

Hello. How you doin’?

Fine, said Alonna. So this is why you wanted me to leave, she said to Naomi.

Yeah. We’re headed to the Italian Festival. You wanna come?

Alonna saw an exasperated look come across Omar’s face, but he attempted to hide it. I don’t want to interrupt.

No, we don’t mind, do we? Naomi said to Omar.

Through gritted teeth, Omar said, Not at all.

Alonna replied, There’s a reason why a bike doesn’t have three wheels.

A trike does, Naomi said.

Just as well, I think I’ll still pass. I got stuff I gotta do, anyway.

Naomi said, Okay. Thanks for coming with me to the mall.

No problem. Alonna walked past the couple on the way out the door. It was nice meeting you.

Omar said, You too. Take it easy. Alonna nodded as she walked out the door.

Let me go freshen up real quick, and then we can go, Naomi said as she disappeared into her room. She reemerged a few minutes later. All ready.

They left the apartment and entered the hallway. So was that one of your friends? Omar asked.

Alonna? Yeah. I met her a couple months ago. She lives in an apartment downstairs.

Oh, okay. What did y’all buy? I saw some bags.

Just some shoes. They walked out the building and toward her car.

You need to wake up early for work tomorrow? Omar asked.

No, I’m off. Why?

Just planning my night after the festival.

What did you have in mind?

Omar slyly shrugged. Thought you might wanna, you know, come back to my place for the night.

Naomi smiled knowingly. Oh, you did, did you?

Yeah. I mean, I’m the only one there right now. Matt’s with his family on vacation, Derek’s visitin’ your parents in Chicago, and Tre’s TBD.

Aw. Is Omar feeling just a bit lonely in the big ol’ house by himself? Naomi teased.

Omar said, I’d love for you to keep me company.

And what would we do?

I got something in mind.

I bet you do.

So how about it?

Naomi appeared to give the notion some thought before saying, You do have air-conditioning.

That I do.

We’ll see where the night takes us. Now, let’s go. I wanna get a good parking spot.

*****

Sergio fitfully tossed to and fro in the bed. His sheets had long ago been tossed to the side. Despite the cool air of the dorm room blanketing the area, Sergio’s hair clung to his head. The sweat permeating his person reached from head to toe, grasping his pajama top and bottom. He was in the throes of another lucid dream, the type of which he had been having sporadically for a while now.

Sergio spun around in a circle, taking in his surroundings. All he saw were trees as far as the eye could see. The sky was blood orange above. There was nary a sound to be heard. He could have sworn he could hear his heartbeat in his chest. He wanted out. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he needed to get out.

Sergio heard a howl pierce the stillness. AAAAAOOOOOOO! The sound sent his soul running. He was afraid, but it wasn’t just a personal fear. It was a fear that you get when someone you care about is in trouble. His heart dropped. Who else was here? He had to find them and get out!

Sergio quickly stumbled through the endless trees, both to find anyone else present and escape the source of the howl. His breathing quickened. Snap! What was that? He spun his head. Nothing. He kept moving, his pace increased. Another howl. That one sounded as if it were ahead of him! Sergio made a left and headed in that direction instead.

He saw something lying on the ground ahead of him. His breath caught in his throat when he saw what it was. Was that . . . his uncle? Sergio ran up to him. It was! What he saw sent him into a panic. His uncle was lying there—dead! There were slashes all over his body, and his heart looked as if it had been ripped from his chest.

Sergio was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw a trail of blood leading from the corpse. Sergio swallowed his anguish and soldiered on, following the trail. It led him to another corpse. This one was of one of his longest childhood friends! Not him too! Another trail of blood, another body of someone close to him brutalized with its heart ripped out. His parents. His grandparents. His coach. The last body belonged to Omar.

It was too much to bear. Sergio dropped to his knees next to Omar’s bloodied and broken form. His head dropped as tears began to fall. When he raised it, a pair of red eyes glared back at him from afar. They were in the head of a silver and black wolf. That must have been the creature that did that to all those people! The wolf looked familiar. It looked like the same wolf that had been in a few of his prior dreams, stalking him, chasing him. The wolf let out one last triumphant howl.

Sergio emerged from his dream, panting heavily. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Ripping off his now-drenched shirt, he sighed as the cool air met his warm, damp skin. He looked over at his clock: three fifty-six. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, Sergio pulled out his laptop and decided to see what he could stream.

*****

Where are we on our way off to now? Omar asked the driver.

A place where you can train in the use of your powers, Damon answered as he continued to traverse the streets.

Which is?

An abandoned warehouse on Fifty-Fourth.

Omar nodded. You think I need training? Omar asked thoughtfully.

Yes.

I think I’m pretty good, Omar said. He tossed a flame in between his hands for good measure.

Would you put that out before you blow the car up and us along with it! Damon admonished. Omar frowned before snuffing the flame. And you are very good with your powers, but not good enough for what I need you to do.

Which is? Omar asked again.

Damon replied, You need to be better in combat. I need for you to be a better fighter than you are.

Fighter? Omar repeated. What, you need me to beat somebody up? he chuckled half jokingly.

Unexpectedly, Damon replied, Actually, I need you to beat up a couple of somebodies.

People I need my powers for? Who are they?

There’s a tournament that I need you to enter and win. A combat tournament called The Contest of Prizes.

What’s it, like a fight club?

Something like that.

And I would be allowed to use my powers?

Damon explained, It’s a combat tournament for mystical beings. Spells and outside weapons aren’t allowed in the tournament, but natural abilities are.

"Like Mortal Kombat," Omar stated.

"Like Mortal Kombat," Damon confirmed good-naturedly.

Why don’t you enter it?

Damon snorted. All types of monsters enter this thing. Without the use of my potions, I’m just a man. I wouldn’t stand a chance.

Damon pulled up to a decrepit, abandoned warehouse. The windows were either blown out or boarded up. It didn’t look like a place that was all that inviting. I’m guessin’ that it’s called The Contest of Prizes ’cuz the winner gets a prize? Omar said as they exited the car and walked toward a door.

You’re as smart as you look, Mr. Brutton, Damon said. The tournament is held every other year. The last man standing gets a prize, normally some type of rare magical object. This year, it’s a wand called Moondragoon.

"Hol’ up! You just say a wand?" Omar asked, taken aback as Damon opened the door and entered. As was expected, it was very dark.

I didn’t stutter, Damon said, only slightly annoyed. He pulled a few things from his bag, potion ingredients of some sort. After mixing them, the potion began to glow with a bright luminescence. He poured the potion into large jars and set them in the corners of the room they were in. They acted as lightbulbs, lighting the place.

What do you need a wand for?

To cast a spell.

Why you need a wand for that when I could just do it for you?

One, because the spell I need cast is beyond your capacity to cast, and two, this is a very special, rare, and powerful wand, and the spell requires this specific wand.

What’s so special about this thing? Omar asked.

Damon explained, Wands are some of the most valued mystical objects around because they allow non-wickons to cast spells. Most wands only allow the most rudimentary of spells to be cast, and they wear out over time. Moondragoon is different in that it’s the most powerful wand in existence. It doesn’t wear out, and the user, in theory, would be able to cast any level of spell.

Yeah, that do sound pretty special, Omar said.

That’s why I need you to get it, at any cost, Damon said.

Omar nodded. Okay. When and where is this tournament?

It begins in a couple months in a little town just past the state line in Maryland.

Good, that means I got some time to get into fightin’ shape, Omar said, shadowboxing a bit.

You’ll need it. This tournament is dangerous. You win and advance by yield or death. Due to the coveted nature of the prizes, many choose to fight to the death. You need to be prepared for anything and anyone unless you want to join its body count.

Omar walked toward the center of the room. Not an option. He lit his fists on fire. I’m ready when you are.

*****

The sun was baking the sidewalk as Sergio and Omar walked along the outdoor mall. The shops and boutiques were bustling with activity on the warm mid-July day. The Market Street Mall had everything. There were shoe stores. Clothing stores were a staple. Antique shops, restaurants, a bookstore, toy store, electronics shops, and even a furniture store were all located on the mall. Cars drove down Market Street, taking stock of the shops along with the customers. The two boys had just emerged from a video game store.

What you wanna hit up next? Sergio asked.

I’m kinda hungry, Omar answered. Let’s get somethin’ to eat before headin’ back to the crib. I wanna kick ya ass in—

You ain’t kickin’ my ass in nothin’, Sergio said, cutting Omar off. Where you wanna eat?

Omar looked around. He saw a hot dog stand across the street. Hot dog?

Sergio shook his head. I need a place to sit down that’s nice and air-conditioned. Get out this heat.

Is it that bad?

You ain’t hot? Sergio asked, surprised. The temperatures for the day were touching the mid-nineties.

Nah, not really.

I’m sweatin’ bullets over here, and we just left the store! How you look so cool? Sergio asked, surprised at Omar’s nonchalance at the heat.

My body generates fire. It’s built to take the heat, Omar replied.

Sergio said, Oh yeah. That must come in handy on days like this.

Yup. Omar looked for somewhere else to eat and spotted a nice-looking restaurant on the upcoming corner. How about that one? he asked, pointing to it.

Mediterranean? Me like, Sergio said.

As the two of them were about to enter the establishment, Sergio could have sworn he felt someone staring at him. It was as if a pair of eyes were boring into his back. He turned around to look but saw no one eyeing him in particular, just patrons passing by or conversing on their own. Sergio shook off the feeling and walked through the doors with Omar.

After a ten-minute wait, the two of them were seated at a table. After their waitress introduced herself and took their orders for drinks, she left to retrieve them. Sergio soon got that feeling again, that feeling that somebody was watching him. He swiveled his head back and forth, trying to find the source of that feeling.

Whatchu lookin’ for? Omar asked.

Nothing. It just feels like somebody’s watching me, Sergio answered.

Why would anybody be watchin’ you in here? You ever been in here?

Nope.

Well then, you probably good, Omar said.

The waitress returned with their drinks and took their order. While waiting for the food to arrive, Sergio and Omar engaged in small talk. The feeling of being watched didn’t subside, and Sergio couldn’t shake it. He looked around to check. To his right, he saw an older woman staring intently at him from across the room. When they ever so briefly locked eyes, she gave him a smile. Alarmed, Sergio turned away and looked at Omar.

There’s a woman eyeballin’ me! he urged.

What? Where?

Across the room to your left, Sergio said, slightly nodding in that direction.

Omar glanced over there. I don’t see nobody.

Sergio looked back over and saw that the woman was nowhere to be found! She was right there, I swear!

Whatever, dawg. I think the heat got you seein’ things. Forget about it. Here comes our food, Omar said, dismissing him as the waitress was walking toward them, their food in tow.

Sergio shook his head. Maybe Omar was right. They thanked the waitress for their food and dug in.

*****

Damon snaked his way through the crowded marketplace, Omar trailing behind. Xanders Bazaar was the largest marketplace for mystical objects in the Western Hemisphere. All manner of witch, warlock, and monster were present, selling their wares. The smell of exotic foods wafted in the air, mingling with other not-so-pleasant smells. Darting from station to station, customers could be seen bartering with the salespeople. Omar eyed the scene with both wariness and curiosity.

I didn’t even know places like this existed, Omar said.

It likes it like that, said Damon.

How is it that mortals ain’t never discovered this place? It’s open air.

The bazaar is concealed with enchantments, Damon answered.

Omar nodded in understanding. So what are we looking for now?

"Not what, Damon corrected. Who."

We lookin’ for somebody? In this place? Omar asked.

Damon said, Not really looking since I know where his booth is. It’s near the end of the bazaar. The two continued to walk. How are things going at the house?

What do you mean?

With your brothers, Damon clarified.

Omar wrinkled his nose at Damon’s description of Tre’Vell, Omar, and Matthias as brothers; but he guessed the moniker wasn’t far from accurate. The mystical bond they shared as a part of a warlock diamond—not just any diamond but the Potent Four, the most powerful diamond in recorded history—made them like brothers. It was even closer than that, in some respects.

Fine, I guess. With everything that me and you got goin’ on, I don’t know why you just don’t let me move in with you. You got the space, and it’d be easier than havin’ to always go to your house, Omar said.

It’s important that you maintain and even strengthen your connection with the eleforce, and to do that, you must maintain your bond with them. Just because you’re learning how to grow beyond them doesn’t mean you should just throw that away, Damon advised. Besides, moving in with me could create suspicion about what we are doing and we don’t need that.

If you say so, Omar agreed.

All right. We’re approaching the booth. Harpor drives a hard bargain, so I’m going to need you to follow my lead.

Who is this guy?

Harpor is a collector of rare antiques. He has something that I’ve been trying to acquire for ages, but he always declines my proposals. He says my offers aren’t rare and powerful enough. This time, I have something that I don’t think he’ll be able to refuse.

What’s that?

You, Damon answered simply.

Damon reached the booth and went in, moving aside the long colorful dangling cloth that covered the entry. Omar followed. Inside were all types of books, objects, and trinkets. Omar was amazed. He even saw a phoenix resting in a cage that was perched in a corner.

Damon, a man screeched in a deceptively high-pitched voice, back again, I see.

Omar got a good look at the man. He had long shaggy hair that partially hid a pair of pointy ears. In his mouth were a set of enlarged fangs that slightly jutted out of his lips. His eyes were piercing, their auburn irises seeming to be in constant rotation. One thing was clear: this was no man.

As you knew I would be, Damon said.

You just don’t know when to give up, do you?

When there’s something I truly want? I do not.

Harpor glanced at Omar. Who’s your young protégé?

Omar, Omar said, speaking up for himself.

Harpor. And what type of creature are you, exactly?

A warlock.

Harpor nodded before returning his attention to Damon. What’s he? Your bodyguard?

Why? Do you think I need one? Damon inquired.

Harpor left the question hanging. There was so much unspoken history behind the gesture. So what have you brought me today, hmm? Show it to me so I can reject it, like I’ve rejected all your other offers.

Damon sat his satchel on the ground. I think you’ll be pleased with this one. It’d be a great addition to your collection. Damon rummaged through and pulled out a talisman. A Jana Manara.

Harpor grasped the talisman in his hands and examined the craftsmanship. A jinn beacon. Tempting but not enough for what you seek. I’d love to purchase it off you, however.

I don’t need your money, Harpor. I need that plant, said Damon.

Harpor handed him back the talisman. Then you’re going to have to do better than that. If that’s all you have, then you might as well leave.

Damon sighed. No. I’ve got something else. Something even you can’t refuse.

Harpor raised his eyebrows, intrigued. Which is?

Damon smirked. Him, he said, nodding toward Omar. That threw Omar for a loop. Was Damon really attempting to exchange him for some plant? Or I should say a pint of his blood.

Why would I want the blood of a warlock? That’s hardly rare enough for my dragonia.

Because he isn’t just any warlock . . . he’s a Potent One, Damon revealed.

Omar could see Harpor’s eyes practically light up. A Potent One? You lie!

Check for yourself, Damon said.

Omar bravely stood his ground as Harpor advanced on him. Once he stood in front of Omar, he noticed the warlock clenching his fists, tensing up. Relax. This won’t hurt. Harpor’s eyes then began to really glow. They flitted back and forth, drinking in his body before they soon returned to their normal state.

Amazing! Truly amazing!

I thought you’d be pleased, Damon said.

You should have led with this.

The Potent One was my ace-in-the-hole. Why play my biggest card when there was a chance a lesser one would work?

Wherever did you find it? Harpor wondered, circling Omar like a predator sizing up its prey.

That’s unimportant. The most important thing is that I have him, Damon said.

I’ll take the whole thing in exchange for my dragonia, Harpor greedily stated.

Omar, already offended at how they were discussing him as if he were an object, exclaimed, Nigga, you must be out yo’ damn mind!

Harpor sent a warning frown toward him. Damon stepped in before the situation could deteriorate. What he means to say is that you know that would be an unfair exchange, Harpor. A pint of his blood is my final offer, which is more than fair.

Harpor stared at Damon before relenting. I accept as you knew I would.

Damon pulled out a small jar and a knife from his bag. He went over to Omar, who held out his arm. Using the knife, Damon cut Omar’s wrist. The blood poured into the jar. Once it was filled, he handed Omar a cloth to wrap around his bleeding wrist and handed the jar to Harpor. Harpor went over to the only wall that had a window and retrieved a strange potted plant. It had the body of a small cactus with leaves that were orange, violet, and pink sprouting forth from the arms.

One dragonia, as we agreed.

Damon grabbed the plant and turned to leave. It was a pleasure doing business with you, you stubborn old fool.

Harpor smiled at the slight. Hey, who are you calling old, old friend?

Damon returned the smile before nodding his goodbye. He and Omar left the booth. Well, that was demeaning, Omar said. All that for a fuckin’ plant!

It wasn’t that bad. I think we made out quite well.

You practically auctioned me off!

Don’t be overdramatic. I knew he wouldn’t overplay his hand and risk losing even the opportunity for a small bit of your blood. You saw that it didn’t take much to convince him to take just the blood. Even that was too valuable to him.

Why?

It’s just so rare. There are only four of you ever at one time, and there could be centuries until another batch of you shows up. It’s possible that your blood contains some type of special mystical properties as well. I’m not certain. I haven’t exactly had the chance to test it, now have I?

You could now.

Damon shook his head. I have no need. Let’s go home before somebody realizes what I have and gives us any trouble.

CHAPTER 2

Training

Matthias curiously walked across the room toward the door, carefully avoiding the frolicking children along the way. One thing that he learned right away was that Rosebud, the community center at which he was continuing to volunteer, was much busier than normal during the summer. The kids were not only more numerous but also more boisterous. It took a lot more to keep up with them during the hotter months, especially now that he was volunteering every day of the week. Mrs. Welch, the center coordinator, told one of the children to ask him to come to her office.

Matthias saw the elder lady busy talking to somebody on her phone. He decided to wait just outside her office to give her some privacy. She acknowledged him with a kindly furtive glance of her eyes and continued her conversation. She was soon done and hung up the phone. She ushered him into her workspace.

Hi, Mrs. Welch, Matthias said, sitting down in the available chair opposite her.

Hey, Matt! How you doin’? she greeted.

Fine. Layla took a group of kids to the park, and Brendan’s got some kids watching a movie.

Great. Wonderful. Sounds like y’all have everything under control, she complimented.

As much as you can with them, anyway, Matthias said.

I hear you, she agreed. I know how much of a handful they can be, especially with how many of them there are.

Matthias nodded. Well, you let me know at the beginning of the summer that there’d be more, so forewarned is forearmed I guess.

Mrs. Welch smiled. That’s what I like about you, Matt. You’re always so composed. You keep so calm. I don’t think I’ve seen you lose your temper even once, which is a first. By this point, everybody has broken at least once. That, or quit.

Well . . . I try.

You succeed. She leaned back in her chair. Anyway, what I called you in for was to discuss your continued presence here at the center, she broached.

Matthias furrowed his brow. That sounded ominous. I’m not sure I understand.

As you know, we don’t have much money.

And I don’t cost you any seeing as how I’m a volunteer, Matthias lightly protested.

Oh, I know, and we greatly appreciate that, dearie! Mrs. Welch said. We are grateful at all the time that you’ve put in here over the past year. We are particularly grateful that you chose to increase your hours here during the summer camp. It’s saved us money in having to hire somebody. I know you didn’t have to do that, especially with what happened to your girlfriend.

At the mention of Rhonda, Matthias’s eyes grew downcast. You heard about that, huh?

People talk. When I heard about what happened, I just . . . couldn’t imagine, she sympathized. You must have been a mess! It would have been completely understandable for you to take some time for yourself. You were done your school obligation, as it were. But you not only didn’t step away, you increased your commitment to us. That’s special.

Matthias took a big sigh. Honestly, I think that stepping away wouldn’t have done much for me. Being here around the kids has probably kept me busy, distracted.

I’m sure. Still, something about the situation just don’t sit right wit’ me, Mrs. Welch said.

Matthias’s eyes grew wide. Please don’t fire me! I know you think you’d be helping me, but you won’t be! I don’t need the time off, I swear!

Well, technically you don’t work for us, so I can’t fire you. Even if I could, why in heavens would I do that? Did you just hear all the gushing about you I just did? No, Matt, I want to hire you.

Hire?

Yes. We want to pay you, she revealed.

Really? I thought you couldn’t afford it?

That’s what I was on the phone for. I was talking to some people about how I felt. They agreed, and we were able to move some things around the budget and scrounge up enough money to pay you. At least for the rest of the summer. I can’t make any promises past that.

Matthias was floored. He hadn’t had a paying job before. You don’t have to do that, Mrs. Welch. Really, I consider being here a privilege.

And it’s that attitude that we want to reward.

But—

Nope! You either take the money, honey, or getcha buns on up outta here! she jokingly stated.

Well, how could I say no to that? I thank you for your generosity, Mrs. Welch.

And I yours, dearie.

*****

I’m gonna miss this, Derek said as his mom placed the plate in front of him. On it was a delicious-looking, scrumptious-smelling omelet.

I’m not, his mother, Valerie, said as she did the same with her husband, also at the table for breakfast.

Oh, come on! Don’t say you don’t miss cooking for me, Derek protested.

I don’t. I got used to not having to feed a teenage boy. Do you realize how much you eat?

Derek countered with In that case, it’s a good thing I’m not a teenager no more.

Valerie just shot him a look before beginning to eat her food. Stephen, Derek’s father, said, You could’ve fooled us.

Hey, I think I’ve matured a lot in the past few years.

How so?

Well, for one thing, I don’t depend on you guys as much. Ain’t that the reason why you moved out here in the first place?

Stephen said, That was a work thing. It had nothing to do with you.

That ain’t what you told me, Derek said.

You misinterpreted.

I’m sure.

Valerie asked, What else, Derek?

Derek put his fork down and contemplated the question. I take responsibility for my actions more than I used to. I’m not as impulsive.

Valerie smiled. That’s not the picture your sister painted.

Derek rolled his eyes. Naomi isn’t the greatest source.

I don’t know, his mom said. I find her to be the best source.

What’s she been tellin’ y’all about me?

Valerie just smiled, knowing that’d get a rise out of him. She knew her son all too well as a mother should. Stephen chimed in with If you so responsible, tell me why you spent so much time out here with us. Shouldn’t you be back home with your boys?

Derek asked, Why?

With everything that’s happened the past two years, don’t you think you should be on-hand in case somethin’ goes down?

It ain’t like I left for good. It’s only been two months, and I go back tomorrow, Derek said.

Stephen said, A lot can happen in two months.

All the more reason to take advantage of any downtime I got. Besides, Tre and Matt left for a while too.

What about Omar?

Nah, he ain’t go nowhere as far as I know. Of course, I don’t know what he’s been doin’ since I been here.

Valerie asked, How’s Matt doing?

He went with his family somewhere. To get away, I guess.

Valerie shook her head sympathetically. Poor thing. When your dad told me what happened, I just— She let the sentence hang.

Stephen took a swig of his orange juice before stating, Sad scene.

Wasn’t there anything you boys could do? Valerie inquired.

Derek answered, We did everything we could. Once she got possessed, there was no way to save her. We were lucky to make it out alive ourselves.

Valerie nodded. And for that, I’m grateful. I couldn’t survive losing another one.

The three of them grew silent, each of them contemplating the deceased brother and son that they were robbed of the pleasure of watching grow up. Which is why I was so mad when I learned you did that dumbass ritual, Stephen said to Derek.

I got the lecture before, Dad. I already told you my perspective. Let’s not do a rehash.

Wanting to stop the oncoming argument, Valerie said, Just promise me that you’ll always be careful.

Derek looked at his mother. Of course. A thought popped into his head. Can I ask you somethin’, Mom?

What?

How was it like to be with Dad back then? Back when he had his t-k.

Valerie looked over to her husband. Well, at first, it was exciting. He could do things that I’d never seen before. But eventually, I gotta admit it grew worrisome. I knew he had a calling, but the element of danger seemed less and less worth it. It was to the point where I was glad when he lost it, but it just moved over to you, and I was scared you’d eventually follow in his footsteps. I was so relieved when you didn’t inherit the t-k. The ’porting and the telepathy I thought I could handle since they were less offensive. Didn’t do a lot of good, though, did it?

Did you ever feel vulnerable?

How so?

Bein’ a normal person and dating a warlock? Especially one like Dad who was puttin’ in so much work? Derek asked. His dad wrinkled his nose at Derek’s description of his vigilante days.

Valerie took a breath. Yeah sure. I was more afraid for his safety than mine, but that came up occasionally. No more so than dating a cop would, I imagine.

Stephen finally spoke up, "What’s