Warlock

A Deal with a Warlock

What on Heaven, Earth and Hell was wrong with him? Loch bounced a ball against the wall and caught the rebound. This one he had bought only a few hours ago while filling up with gas. He still needed to fix the situation with people calling him in to the police, since going everywhere with a scarf and sunglasses covering his face was annoying. Outdoors it made sense, but indoors it felt foolish.

What was wrong was that he had lost his logical mind. He had been saved from answering the big question once again when the Keepers showed up, yet he had decided to answer it anyway. Befriending an Other who was still a member of their society made sense since it allowed him to keep tabs on the current events of that world. Befriending an Other to the extent that he just had, on the other hand, made no sense whatsoever. Maybe he just needed someone to laugh at in order to fend off boredom during his own investigations. Yes, that made sense.

Loch stood and peered through the curtains at the road below. The lycanthrope cop still watched his building, though he switched with a vampire every six hours. They both constantly fell asleep, but their presence still bothered him. At least he had the connections to get rid of the real cops.

He headed to the dial phone by the door to make a call, then remembered the electronic one in his pocket. The electronic one was probably quicker. He dialed the number and waited. "Hello. Do me a favor and call off the search for Loch Pholos. Both police and citizen searches... yes... thank you." He disconnected before the other side could ask any more questions. That was one situation handled. Now he needed to figure out how to get rid of the fake cop without revealing his lack of humanity. They still had shadows around their car that made them invisible to the human eye.

Someone cleared their throat in his empty apartment, and it was not him. Loch slowly turned around. "Hello, dear." She had bat wings longer than her arm span. Other warlocks with bat wings were rare, let alone bat wings as large as hers. He was not completely sure she was a warlock, however, for her skin was covered in rotting scales that appeared to be the color of mold. He sniffed the air, but to his fortune the scales did not smell like they were rotting.

"Good morning." He shut the curtain and walked back to the couch. It was a new one that he had purchased from some website, so its cushions were actually capable of supporting weight. As he sat on the couch, she was forced to move so that she was facing him once again. He was not going to let her manipulate him in his own home, whatever she was.

"I've come here to apologize." She left him ample time to ask what she was apologizing for, but he simply stared disinterestedly at her bat wings. Only warlocks and draconem had wings, and most of the time they were vestigial. Hers were large enough that they could possibly work if she stretched them out, though. "I sent one of my clan's demons after you believing that you were human. I now realize that you are a warlock, and that is one of the few species which I still hold respect for. You are like me; you have demon blood rushing through your veins. Mine is killing me, while yours makes you stronger. Most importantly, of all of the warlocks you are not one of the servile majority." She liked to talk about herself, though her reference to warlocks as a different species than her own indicated she was not as alike to him as she would like to think. He decided she must be a draconem-demon mix, rather than the human-demon mix that created warlocks. Draconem were honest creatures, while humans were not, and so spawn of draconem and demons did not often survive.

"Apology accepted. Now, unless you plan on helping me get rid of that lycanthrope without proving to them that I'm not human, I'd like to get back to my own thoughts." That solved the mystery of who was responsible for the killings, and her mixed species explained why she had an ability that no other warlock had. He was not too jealous of her ability to stop time. He would have liked the ability to jump forward and backward in time, to be honest, but he found himself far more excited by modern technology after a long wait than if he had jumped forward to experience it.

She walked past him to peer out the window. "So they don't know you're a warlock, either? Fascinating. You are quite rebellious for your breed. I won't help you with your problem, unless..." She tried to lure him into the conversation once again, but he had over four thousand years of patience. "I would like you to heal me. To take away my pain. I was observing you when you healed the burns from the demon, and I saw you when you healed all of the wounds besides the one on your face." She stepped forward and ran a finger along the deep cut on his cheek, noting his flinch. He should not have done anything. Now she knew personal space was the best method of torture. "So, darling, what do you say?" She sat beside him on the couch, far too close.

He couldn't take it. Loch stood and walked to the other side of the room. If she was going to manipulate him, so be it. He was not going to be that close to her just to satisfy his ego. "I can't heal you. The demon blood within you is trying to kill you, but it looks like you cannot die. I can take away the pain, but your scales will still rot. I can also make you completely draconem, if that is what your other half is, or completely demon. You cannot exist in your current state without conflict between your halves."

Unfortunately, she chose to stand once again and approach him. "Oh, sweetheart. I would never lower myself to the level of a mere draconem, or worse, a demon. They can't do what I can do. They can't stop time – neither can you – and they can't cast their minds around the world and observe people at their weakest. Admittedly, I should have observed you longer before sending a demon after you so that I would have been aware of your species, but I still have that power and so much more. I'm willing to live with this rotting shell. Take away my pain, and I will send a demon to kill anyone who comes to spy on you."

Kill them? He felt that taking such an obvious route to regain his privacy would not help him in the long run. It would also hint at his true species, even if he was not the one behind the killings. Loch took a step closer to the disgusting creature and smiled. "How about I take away your pain, and you owe me one? The lycanthrope isn't too much of a problem for me."

Owing a warlock, especially a powerful one, was a notoriously bad idea. Loch had known many warlocks in the past that disguised themselves as genies simply to create such debts and twist the wishes of their debtors. The unfortunate creature was in pain, however, and clearly wanted to get rid of it as quickly as possible. "Deal. Make it go away, sweetie. Now." Loch shook her hand, sealing the deal. Before he released his grip, he transferred her pain in parts to the various members of the High Demon clan. Her mercenaries would be somewhat crippled, but she would be able to think straight. In the long run, she was still just as capable of accomplishing whatever it was she hoped to do.

She took a step back and took a deep breath. A grin spread across her lips, but her teeth were just as rotten as the rest of her. "Oh, this is marvelous. This is what it feels like to be free... Thank you. Thank you. No worries, darling, I will keep your secret safe from the Others."

Loch took several steps back, shaking a few scales from his hand. "Mhm. You can leave now. What was your name again?" He did not need her name to confirm her debt to him, but it would make things a lot easier.

"Vivian Estrada. I already know yours." She was telling the truth. Vivian was a popular name for adults in the 1950s, so he knew she could not be too old. She was definitely too young to know about the dangers of making deals with ancients. "Farewell my dear. I hope to see your lovely face again." The rotting hand traced his chin before she stepped out the door and began the perilous descent down his broken staircase. She could not transport, then. That was always good news. He could not transport either, hence the car, though he had always dreamed of being able to. Two of his relics made it possible, but it required placing one of the relics in the place he wanted to teleport to. He kept one in his apartment, and one in the car.

Loch returned his gaze to the car waiting on the street below. He was rarely home nowadays, anyway. It was not worth doing anything about. With the police and the citizens off his back, he could return to volunteering at the soup kitchen and gathering information about the new Hancock organization. If they became too advanced, they would be able to tell that he was a warlock despite his lack of obvious visual cues. He could have to become involved before that happened in order to keep his peaceful existence separate from the Others.

A sweep of his hand removed all of the rotten scales and other unwanted particles from the small apartment, and he returned to the couch. He had to think.