The sound of a phone ringing wakes me up.

Groaning, I start to stand up. That's when I see the two big, fleshy pillows I was laying my head on and forget all about the ringing phone.

I lookup, embarassed, checking to se if Synthia has noticed.

She was wide awake, watching me--or more specifically, the silk pajama trousers I borrowed from the mansion--with a glazed look, breathing loud.

It has happened again. Although, this time I swear it's more morning wood than breasts that makes my blood flow down.

"Look, Synthia, I can explain. I-"

She crawls towards me, navigating the bed sheets.

"There is nothing to explain," she said, biting her lucious, red lips. "I see how your sight gravitates towards my breasts, how you ravage my body with your eyes."

"No, I-"

She puts a soft finger on my lips, that small contact enough to send a shiver down my spine.

"You are just like Nicholas," she cooed. "So needy, so wanton--liable to fool around with no-good women, if I don't take care of your needs." Her minty breath, warm against my neck. "But, don't worry, mom will do better this time; I will make you forget about others, so you don't end up like your father."

She latches on the side of my neck, giving me wet, sucking kisses, her hand trailing towards my waistband. And, a moan, unbidden, escapes my mouth.

Synthia throws her body weight on me and we both collapse to the bed. Her experienced hands removing the clothing while she crashes her mouth into mine, tongues dancing, piercing making itself felt.

When all of our lower clothes are off, she frees my mouth, a thick trail of saliva still connecting us, falling and wetting my chest. And, grabs my member with one hand, simultaneously raising her hips.

For a moment, her warm pussy juice drips piece by piece into my granite-hard dick. My breath hitches. And, then, she lowers herself fast, taking me all in one go.

The pleasure makes me blank out for a split second. But, then we do it again, and again, and again.

We fuck fervently; I push my hips into her from bellow, slamming it as hard as I can. Synthia, in her bliss, scratches me with her long nails, in my chest, scalp, arms, leaving red rashes.

This continues for a while, but when I move to change my position, hoping to rail her from behind, she shakes her head.

"No, Jesse. I like being on top..." she said. "In control."

That's fine too. I smile at her reassuringly and hold her hand.

Her eyes water and she wipes at them with the wrist of one hand. Then, she gives me a sudden and fierce hug.

We continue to tenderly make love for hours, cuddling after. Up until the point were her stomach rumbles.

We both laugh at this and make our way to the kitchen. And there, I find out Synthia is terrible at cooking. She burnt a pair of eggs black. Who messes up eggs?!

"Man, you burned them worse than the wood men," I quipped, grinning at her.

"Huh?! What about you?! Algaeee Jaiiiil!" she mimes, her voice raised to a whiny high pitch, her hand extended dramatically.

"That's not how I sound!" I complain, slapping her butt playfully.

She gives me a pretend glare, but unlike yesterday, her eyes are not icy with anger, but warm and kind.

In the end, I take over cooking, making some chicken and mac and cheese. We don't have vegetables unfortunately and going out of the house to get some is...not a good idea, to put it lightly.

We make the table and sit down to eat in front of each other.

I am bringing a forkful of food to my mouth when I hear Synthia sigh, her expression turning serious.

"Jesse, I know yesterday was stressful and the last thing, I--your mother-- want is to make you dive back into that again. But, we should start sooner rather than later.

"You have a lot of knowledge to catch up on. Unfortunately, the way things are set up in this family is for the heir to start from scratch, having to figure things out by themselves. There are many heirs and the weak and incompetent are culled. The resulting ones are stronger, they keep finding solutions without help."

"Alright, so what should I do?" I ask.

"You are going to have to access the library at the basement. Only you, the heir, can enter," she replies. "But, don't read the instructions that our predecessors left us; they are spelled in some manner and will send you to a place called The Abyss...it is a bad place, for lack of a better word. Cecily came out traumatized, wouldn't say much--only that it is hell."

"Wait, so what books should I start with?"

"If I recall correctly, Cecily started with Essentials, then Famulus. But, the third book, Implementum, she lost when we were out of the manor, running away. Hmm..."

She falls silent, thinking for a few seconds.

"You know what, forget about Famulus for now. Finish Essentials, awaken yourself, and then read Shamanism: The Little Gods, help me make some new weapons.

We finish eating and then she shows me the way to the library. We pass many rooms, a few halls, and go down a flight of marble stairs.

We stop in front of a wall. She points me to a brick and tells me to go straight towards it. Oldest trick in the book: invisible wall. I don't even flinch as I go through.

I emerge to the strangest library I have ever seen and will ever see.

Bare lightbulbs, turn on, some flicker on and off. They dangle, cables exposed, from the black stone ceiling. The stones of the wall are all a shiny, reflective, black. Some of them are primal and uneven, others impossibly smooth.

Black water with a faint green tint were the light hits it drips from the ceiling, flowing down the walls and into the metal, wooden, and stone shelfs that hold countless books. The strange water soaks into some books, from others shies away. Drains are set in the floor, drinking the seemingly endless supply of water.

I take it all in and not for the first time think about how out of my depth I am.

That is when I notice a table that looks to be made out of obsidian. The surface smooth and glassy. The sides, on the other hand, are jagged and sharp. A old and regal leather chair lies in front of it.

I sit down and feel the jeans I changed to getting wet, water seeping in unpleasantly.

On the table, a number of books are scattered about. I picked them one by one, reading the cover.

Lost and Bound: Bogeymen.

Essentials

Classifying Others: Fiends and Darker Beings

Famulus: The Familiar Bond. The cover of this one is made of black fur, has two emerald gemstones and a red one serving as eyes and nose, and a tail coming out the back.

Plumbing Darkest Depths.

Dark Somnambulism. The cover is iridescent, a profusion of colors.

Demesnes: A Place of One’s Own.

Shamanism: The Little Gods

I pick up Essentials up and open the cover. The pages are wet, in patches, but the ink hasn't run.

It seems to be a beginner's guide for practitioners.

All of the most foolish and brutish Others have been captured, slain, consumed, driven off, or tricked away. Recognize all Others for what they are, and know that they, by a process of elimination two thousand and six hundred years in the making, are cunning by nature, they are slave to those who are, or they were made to be cunning to better serve in their duties. Wit is the greatest defense and the sharpest weapon, on battlefields such as these.

Most of the old ones have been bound by the eponymous seal of Suleiman bin Daoud, a formal acknowledgement on the part of an Other, that they will not interfere with mankind without excuse and follow certain rules, such as not lying or attack innocents wantonly. In exchange, they receive a token or symbol that offers a form of protection against practitioners. Over time the seal has gained a power of its own and might even physically change the Other.

The workings of Solomon let humanity defend itself, bringing about the modern age where humans are more than mere prey and formed the basis of the modern system of Awakening, concomitantly setting forth the system of Innocence.

For one to Awaken, a ritual must be completed. It will further open ones eyes to the practice and from that point and render you unable to lie. By pledging to make your word inviolable, forces in this world will start listening. Routine, ritual, and expectation have formed the grooves and determined how best to communicate with those forces. Diagrams, symbols, knowing who and what to appeal to. Many, many things become possible. If your word is inviolable.

Be warned, these steps open the door to becoming Other and should you lie, you may well forfeit your power for a time. Should you break a promise or an oath, you will find yourself forsworn, stripped of every protection, even those afforded to even the common, innocents that decorate this Earth.

There are forms of this ritual where old words are recited in ones language and in Suleiman’s. Others old traditions are conducted. It might change from family to family, but at the heart of it, however, lies an invitation. For you to join the world of Others, and for them to cooperate with you in interacting with the world of man.

This leads into the next subject: Innocence. An innocent is a human who is unaware of the supernatural side of our world. Innocence has become inextricably linked with the universe and thus karma. If one introduces an innocent to the existence of the supernatural, then they become responsible for them; if this individual is harmed then it will result in bad karma.

One should take care not to incur excessive amounts of bad karma or the machinery that operates in the background of the universe will turn against you. Funds, treasured belongings, friendships, love, they are all harder to find and easier to lose. Enemies, danger, chaos, and disruption find you more readily. In looser terms, all Others, spirits and practitioners get the sense, innate or otherwise, that they can and should work against your interests. Things start to fall apart, and the pieces fall down in the least convenient arragements.

It will not be done in a obvious manner and might not be immediately noticeable to those in the dark of how things work, because it would raise suspicion and disrupt the smooth operation of things if every coin you flipped turned up with the unwanted side, if every corner held an enemy. It is a measure set in place to preserve the order, the status quo, sufficient for the innocents who stumble on ways to give themselves bad karma.

In cases where the debt continues to accumulate, or it reaches a size that one person can’t pay off, it is usually passed down the line. The sins of the father are visited upon the son. Sometimes; however, dynasties or individuals who are tenacious enough or sequestered, manage to keep pilling the debt ever higher and survive despite their ill fortunes. And, that is when the serious problems start presenting themselves, enemies at every corner, the universe fighting just as hard as you are trying to go against it.

Bad karma can be turned into good karma, which will work in ones favor instead of against. The possibility for slow growth exists. Regaining an even or positive Balance by fits and starts, small oaths and large ones, through Right (not to be confused with ones regional ideas of morality), maintaining and keeping to a code. The Universe will periodically seek to re-establish balance, and the practitioner, succeed or fail, will find a portion of the debt spent to bring this about. Bigger oaths and restoring balance to reality can counteract the karmic weight that burdens the practitioner. However, a lifetime of good karma can be obliterated in a few moments with one bad decision.

The book is dense with details and examples and many hours later, my eyes strain as if I had used them to run a marathon. After the introduction it delved into a glossary of terms and ideas. Details on practices, broad strokes, and the commonalities between them. The power of patterns, including the rule of three. Examples of many awakening rituals. Sample practices. How ghosts and spirits are common starting branches of practice due to ease of use. Common pitfalls and traps. Different ways of paying prices, such as blood, sacrifice, favors, etc. Negative binding and positive bindings--the list is endless.

Eventually, I get to a marked page that describes an Awakening ritual. I reason that it must have been left my predecessors and opt for it.

It says to wet the floor with the water from above and then draw a circle, measuring it out so that there were five circles at set distances around the circle, the line running through the middle of each before I carefully erased it with more black water. One symbol in each little circle, drawn with some grey, putty substance that I found floating by the deep circular pool at the center of the room.

Another circle, larger than the last, around the entire thing, with six circles at set intervals. And then a third, bounding the others. Seven circles.

Essentials said I need some bowls, crystals, myrrh, oil, spice, holly, and iron. The issue is that they are not in the desk or shelfs. Where are they?

I look around the room, looking at the shelves, the floor, the-

In the pool some bowls and six leather bags float at the top, moving gently as if they were spat out recently.

More than a little creeped out, I place the bowls with each element in each of the innermost circles.

For the next circle I need other items. And, sure enough, they are there in the pool.

I place a broken dagger, an hourglass with black sand, a horrid dreamcatcher that would give you nightmares instead of chasing them away, a old coin I can not identify, and a small skull with meat and hair still clinging to it, which I grab with the sleeves of my t-shirt, on their respective places.

For the last circle, I place the molasses, milk, and vegetable matter that was burned into ash, honey, meat, and alcohol into one bowl. Synthia placed these items on the doorway at some point in the ritual.

For another bowl, I had to remove my piercing and place it there. Leaving me with one bowl, perhaps the most important, in which I have to place something personal to me.

What can I put here? I wasn't able to bring much so I don't have a wealth of choices.

I pace around the library, head down, thinking about what is personal enough, what the implications and hidden meanings of each object mean.

Ultimately, the lockpicks end up looking like the best fit. They represent my bonds with my friends, my willingness to learn. They symbolize the opening of doors, even those others don't want you to. An item oft seen badly in society, frequently used for bad purposes, but with the potential for good. They represent freedom, the will to go outside the rules to pursue what you want.

I put it down in the last bowl, completing the diagram.

For the next part I took stripped out of my clothes and sat in the center of the circle.

I checked the book for direction on what to do next.

A wall of text to recite. There were four translations for each line, one with baffling symbols, one in a foreign language I couldn’t place, one spelled out phonetically, and another with the English translation. I began reading the English ones out loud, awkwardly.

I began to pick up the pace and momentum, words ringing loud and powerful.

The circle started to move, the bowls sliding across the floor, the diagram moving beneath them. Putting another bowl in front of me. I didn't let the surprise break my stride.

Same for the next line.

Again, the circle moved before me. The space outside the circle seemed to darken, lightbulbs dimming and flickering more violently, as my focus on the inside of the circle deepened.

I was in the zone. My eyes passed over the phonetic guide, but my peripheral vision caught the English words transcribed below, and the meaning became clearer. Not the entire meaning, but the big words, the emphasis.

These were the details, the fundamentals of the world.

The bowl of spice slid from its position in front of me, but it slid down and to the right, as if it were sinking into the floor. I didn't look, still chanting, putting my lungs into it.

The broken dagger slid into place.

There were no words in the book to recite. I could have sworn they’d been there before. A pregnant silence loomed.

“Decline,” I said, if only to inject something into the heavy silence.

The circle moved, giving me a wave of relief, and placing the hourglass in front of me.

“Time,”

The horrible dreamcatcher.

“Nightmares,” I said.

The circle moved. The meaty skull. Smaller than a human one should look like.

"Ruin,"

The coin, an old one, one of the first, before people started putting images or words on them.

"Treasure,"

The dark piercing.

"Danger,"

Then the personal token.

At that moment it felt more important, more meaningful.

“To anything that is listening,” I declared. "I have to say, I didn’t choose this. The door of my old life was closed for me by someone, someones, Others. I’m doing this to survive, to not be another name in a grave, long forgotten and meaningless. I'm doing it to open new paths, new doors for my life. I'm doing it for the friends who supported me and helped me go further in life, so their actions aren't meaningless. But, above all, I am doing this for freedom, to escape this horrible situation."

The circle passed on, carrying the lockpicks forward, more like it was going down a spiral staircase I sat in the middle of, than around in a loop. I couldn’t even see the stone floor and drains, now. Only the lines and bowls.

The circle stood and bowl stood beside me. The food.

I looked down at the book, and I started into the phonetic pronunciations again.

The circle carried the bowl.

I kept reading. More words. I could pick up the English more easily, now.

My word is bound and binding. I ask you respect it as such.

My actions are my own, but have an equal amount of weight.

So I pledge.

The line shifted, until the white line was no longer encircling me, but in front of me, one straight black line in a sea of darkness with a faint green tint.

The line moved towards me, passing directly beneath me, between my legs and butt. A quick glance behind me showed me that it wasn’t carrying on.

More lines appeared. From the other circles that had disappeared, from other directions.

A line coursed forth from high above and caught me in the shoulder.

This place was surreal; I wasn’t sure if there was a ground beneath me to catch me. I wasn't sitting on solid earth.

The lines were larger, more meaningful, and I could see further. I could see the circles attached to each line, like planets in orbit around things I couldn’t make out. A system all around me, that I was now a part of.

I was there, but not fully alive, my body only there because my sense of self required it.

I opened my eyes, and I came back into my body.

Chalk lines crossed the floor, the circles still evenly spaced around them, but they had expanded, moved further from me in all directions. The lines now intersected at points, and the spaces between bowls were much as larger than they had been before.

I don't feel any different. Did it fail? Did I do s-

Green light comes out of my bandaged injuries.

Wondering what else changed, I move towards the pool to check myself out further.

My blonde hair shines like sunlight, moving even without wind. My hazel eyes, emit a dim, brown light.

Now that I look around, other things are catching my attention. A profusion of wires is coming out of my chest in a myriad of directions. A few wires are golden, others steel, or rusty; most, however, were barbed wire.

It is all too much and as I focus on more and more of the details around me and the details inside those details, I worry I'll go off the deep end and lose my normal sight forever--like some of the examples in the book.

I try to calm down and try one of the many techniques listed in Essentials to shut of the 'sight'. I attempt the easiest and close my eyes for a short moment.

When I open them again, everything is normal.

I give a sigh of relief and wipe the sweat in my brow.

Now, that I have awakened, I pickup Shaminism: The Little Gods and exit out the doorway to reconvene with Synthia. I see her waiting for me at the foot of the stairs out of the basement.

"Synthia!" I bubbled. "It was crazy! The circles all moved and the pool spat out these things and then I could see all these lines and details!"

She smiles at me, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

"Mhm, yer a practitioner, Jesse!" she exclaimed. "Gosh, Cecily used to drive me nuts with those movies. I don't know why she grew up so fast and mean; she used to be so cute when she was young."

Her smile freezes.

"Ceci...ly?" she ponders. "Who is that? I-what-no...No! No, no, no-"

I hug her tight and rub her back.

"It's okay, Synthia! We were going to enchant the weapons, remember?" I said, my tone soft.

"I, yes, the, uh, weapons, yes," she replies, slowly coming back to normal. "Yes, let's go to the armory to pick which ones we want."

We start walking up the stairs, talking about which weapons we think are best , but for some reason she stops abruptly.

"Jesse, you don't have your piercing on," she said. "That is a crucial part of your identity as heir, without it you can not practice well. Please go get it. I'll wait for you here."

A little embarrassed, I run back down and search for the hidden entrance, running my hand along the wall. All these bricks look the same to me.

The library is just how I left it--strange and horrible.

I place the piercing in my tongue--I'm still not used to it--and pick up the lockpicks, placing them in one of my jean's pockets.

I run back up, reaching Synthia. And, we both head to the armory.

Weapons of every kind lie in shelves, display cases, chests. Guns, knifes, swords, axes, anything you can think of.

I look at them with my sight but none of them are magical, except the weapons we brought with us to the mansion. Why? Why do we have all these books, all this money, but no magical weapons?

I really want to ask Synthia for the answer, but I am afraid she will have another...episode. Besides, it is not like it will change anything--knowing won't make the weapons appear out of thin air.

Choosing which weapon to pick is hard. I've gone from having two choices, the sea axe and gun, which are lying in a table at the center of the room, to having too many.

I consider them carefully, making sure to think through the meanings they might each have--how they fit in the world. In the mean time I also read through the Shamanism book.

It begins stating: “Seven [spirits] live in a grain of rice.” Spirits infuse everything, representing the material, immaterial and abstract forces that play into a given thing being what it is."

It is an interesting book. It turns out that Shamans are interaction-heavy, quasi-religious in execution. They don't worship gods, however, but directly tap into and communicate with the 'little gods' or the spirits that drive things. At their most basic level, they can bid the spirit of a tree to emerge in a manifest form and have conversations with it, or ask it to do something.

It is a common practice, with a lot of individual exchanges and interactions, and links of varying sorts to all other practices. Most practitioners will pick up a bit of shamanism, and a shaman can do a bit of everything, if they can make the appropriate deals or payments to spirits. However, the currency of a given type of spirit may change.

Most shamans, especially those who settle in an area, are going to want to trade their way up the ladder. Smaller spirits will be driven by bigger and more powerful ones. And, they, in turn, will be driven by even larger ones, and so on.

Things that help on the smaller level are having pre-arranged payments to spirits, or having spirits bottled or otherwise contained in vessels for use, limited up until they break. Its' an interaction-heavy school of practice, so most of the time we're going to need to have conversations or negotiate the price to get more complicated things to happen. With drawing of symbols and pre-arranged gestures it's pre-negotiated and the effects are generally smaller.

Shamans can visit something called the spirit world, but this seems to be hard and requires that arrangements be pre-established or the backlash can be hard. In areas with shrines or other token nods to the spirit in question, the spirit world version seems to be more pleasant and easier to be in. In areas without, it can get pretty bad, such as as wading through a knee-deep tide of rodents, or through maze-like corridors with steam and polluted exhaust spraying inconsistently through pipes, to reach the place where the mother rat is consorting with the human spirit, where prosperity is locked in mortal combat with destitution.

Once I am done reading, I put the book down on the table next to the sea axe and my gun. I give the weapons around the room one last look, considering.

In the end, I move towards a display case that holds a beautiful, golden tinted sword. Fancy engravings decorate the blade and a big, glimmering sapphire is encrusted into the center of the guard.

"Alright, Synthia," I said. "I think we can start if you are ready."

"I'm ready," she answers. On one hand she has a rapier and on the other a short, vicious shotgun. "I am thinking the rapier with sharpness and the shotgun with stability, durability, and heat. What about you?"

I pick up the sword and weigh it tentatively.

"Runes for sharpness, durability, and electricity seem the best to me," I answer.

"Hmm, I don't think durability is something you should worry about; you can always pick up a new one if it breaks," she said, shrugging. "Additionally, less is always best, at least in terms of strength. The reason I didn't give you more clips for the gun on the car was because we didn't have any. We had only the one clip so that every bullet would count--it makes it more important in the eyes of world, makes you more appear stronger and confident to the spirits.

"The same principle applies to the enchantments. I only picked on for my rapier. Knowing this, do you still want to go with the three enchantments?"

I have this feeling--this instinct--that is telling me that this is the way to go. Besides, it can't be that bad, considering that she has three in the shotgun.

We began the ritual, laying our weapons on the table, talking all the while about what price to pay. Synthia moved to a small fridge on the back of the room, opening it and taking some tupperwares filled with food.

Elaborate magical circles were drawn with a symbol in the center for each type of spirit we are trying to commune with. Tasty looking food placed on top.

Taking a queue from the book, I said "Hear, spirits that govern over sharpness, durability, stability, heat, and lightning. We offer this food as a token of worship, a taste of what is to come should our deal be successful."

Nothing appeared, no great spirit entity. But, after a few seconds, the food was all gone--magicked out of existence.

I continue.

"Spirits of durability, in exchange for protecting our weapons and making them withstand strong blows, I, the Scaurgez heir, offer you the sturdiest shield in my armory. Spirits of sharpness, allow our blades to better cut the protections of our enemies and we will give you a sharp weapon. For stability, we will work on brining more stability to the world, in the form of fixing this mansion. For heat, we will offer ten percent of my home's warmth for three days. Lastly, for electricity, ten percent of the energy running through the mansion for three days will be the reward."

To sweeten the deal, I finish with my closing salvo, "So long as we are pleased with the enchantments, we will continue to offer tokens of worship based on how good a job is done."

Silence. But, with my sight, I do see a metal cable forming between each spirit and their respective weapon.

Synthia goes to pick up her shotgun and rapier. Then towards some wooden dummies in the left area of the armory.

Her rapier's slash cuts one like butter, the top half slowly sliding down.

"It worked," she said, smiling. "Good job, Jesse. I'm proud of you!"

"Thanks, Synthia," I reply, moving to her left, squaring up with the next-most dummie. "But, it was a team effort."

I don't see any electricity coming out of the luxurious sword, making me start wondering what we could have done wrong in the ritual. Was it that line? Or the measurements?

Just to check, I decide to give the dummie a test slash. Similarly to her weapon, the blade goes through without a hitch. But, when the slash is done, I notice a few electric sparks coming out randomly.

We finish up. She gives me a new magazine for the gun and a holster. She insists that I wear it now, so that I always have one weapon in hand.

"Look, Jesse," she begins, her expression reminiscent, helping me fasten the holster to my waist. "I know this might seem a like your mother fretting over you, with Others not being able to enter the house yesterday. But, some of the previous heirs were killed inside. The house might not show it but it was practically demolished in a few large scale breaches and reconstructed back up by a neutral party in the interest of preserving innocence."

I don't think, ever in my life, I have heard a more unpleasant fact. All of the safety, all of the hope I managed to accrue with

"Yes, I don't think we need to worry to much about one coming in soon, because they are still gathering back their power from the last big hit. But, it doesn't hurt to be cautious and-"

The house phone interrupts her, the same ringtone from the morning, ringing through the house from all the devices placed throughout the large mansion.

Somewhat weary, I move towards the nearest phone. My mouth dry, I lick my lips and place the phone on my ear.

I stay silent, waiting for them to make the first move.

"Hello? Helloooo," said Sarah, her voice making me sigh with relief.

"Hello yourself," I respond. "How ha-"

"Oh shit, oh shit, Jesse! Where are you?! I was so worried about you! Your apartment was trashed, door open! Neighbors said there were gunshots! Are you okay! Where are you! Do you need help?!"

For a moment, I was about to tell her everything, words bubbling out of my mouth. But, then I remember Essentials, how one becomes responsible for queuing people into magic. I am about to tell her I'm fine, a reflex response, when it hits me that I am not fine--and that it would be a lie.

"I, uh, some stuff happened," I answer. "It is kind off difficult to explain, really. So-"

"Come on, Jesse! You can't be real!" she snapped, voice hurt. "Is that really all you are gonna say to your girlfriend who has been worried about you, looking for this phone number desperately? Some stuff happened."

"This is hard for me too, believe me," I said. "But I am involved in some dangerous stuff. I almost died. You could say that I am worried if I tell you or the guys, you will get hurt or worse."

There is a pause, a moment of shock on the line. Then her voice takes on a sad and pitying tone.

"Just...just what did you get involved in, Jes? I don't care about the consequences, just don't leave me in the dark, okay?"

I sigh, stress making the air feel as if its tearing my airway.

"My family is involved in some dangerous stuff. Remember the inheritance? The previous heirs have died and I could be next." I answer. "Lie low, alright? People or things may come for you. Watch everything and read a guide on google on how to hide. Tell the other guys too, will you?"

"No! Jesse! You can't do this to me! You need to-"

I hang up, putting the phone down. I feel positively drained.

"Who was that?" asks Synthia, watching me with curiosity.

"Someone worried. You know how friends can be," I retort, choosing my words carefully. I will tell Synthia about my girlfriend when all of this madness is done. This is the last thing she needs now.

She nods. "Friends are good. My mother used to say you could never have too many of them."

Its already the afternoon and we are both hungry. We end up deciding to have a late lunch and make our way to the kitchen.

As I cook some meat and rice, Synthia approaches me with a wavering manner.

"I've been thinking about leaving to take care of some of our enemies," she proffered. "You really do need a copy of Implementum. This is one of the most important books for practitioners. Whoever I attack is bound to have one, so it will be like hitting two birds with one stone."

"Uh, I guess. Will you be okay?" I questioned, more than a little worried that Synthia, a pillar of protection I held to will be leaving. "When will you come back?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," she said in a soothing voice, smiling reassuringly as if I was a little kid scared of the dark. "I will be back tomorrow most likely. Take this time to study Famulus as well as other books on Others."

"What else..." she puts a finger on her luscious, red lips, pondering. "Ah! Don't open the door to strangers, little J! If anyone comes to the door, be it police or anyone else, do not go with them. We have many enemies that will try to trick you to walk out. I hear that is how they got the first."

I ask her a question that has been floating in my mind for a while. "Why, though? Why do we have all these enemies, all these monsters coming after us?"

The smile on her face falters.

"Are you sure you want to know?" she asked, looking me in the eyes in a serious manner. "It is...not a pleasant answer. It will make you feel worse about what we are doing."

Knowledge is power, I've always believed. I need to know.

"I don't mind," I said. "Whatever it is, I have to know so I can inform my decisions."

"Okay, but I need you to promise me you won't stop trying to survive, no matter what I say."

What could she ever say that would make me want to die? Life is worth living.

"I promise, Synthia." I said, at the cost of being forsworn, of potentially having my spirits ripped to shreds, of losing any chance of an afterlife. "I don't plan on dying and will do my best to survive, no matter what."

This mollifies her, the tension in her shoulders diffusing.

"Alright, so here it goes"--she clears her throat--"In order to understand our current predicament; however, you must know our family's history.

"I was told by the previous heir, Cecily, that in the past our family was impoverished. At some point three-hundred years ago, our ancestors started involving themselves with the practice. However, All things have a price, and it is impossible to become rich or powerful without paying a price. For this reason, among others, practitioners rarely ascend to any great status. But our predecessors tried and they accrued a tremendous karmic debt. They pushed and fought against their fate, and, just like a rubber band the world pushed back.

"Things got so bad, that they decided to broker a deal with The Abyss--servitude forever in exchange for protection against the throng of enemies crying for our blood."

She wavers, biting her lip, wondering if she should tell me the next part. But, she relents and continues.

"As I mentioned before, Jesse, this "Abyss" is not a good place; Cecily, who had a deeply ingrained fear of insects, was stung, defiled, by a swarm of what she described as 'horrible bugs the size of cats'. And as a reminder of the whole ordeal--a sick parting gift--it gave her compound eyes and black, chitinous arms.

"The Abyss wants to expand, to swallow the whole world into suffering and change, and us to help it do so. Do you understand now, Jesse? All of our enemies want to kill us, to eradicate us one by one to the last, so that we will stop helping The Abyss grow."

I almost regret asking for the information now. The more I know, the worse my situation appears. The information is proving difficult to digest, so I let it sit for a few moments in the stomach that is my mind.

Looking for a ray of hope, I ask her "Is there some way we can stop working for The Abyss, make peace?"

She shakes her head sadly.

"No, the moment you try to go against The Abyss, it will retaliate dooming you to a fate worth than death. This is your life now, Jesse. To work for The Abyss and keep living, no matter the cost."

I had to ask

We start having lunch when I'm done cooking, Synthia talking all the while about trifling things. But, I'm silent. The will to speak, the will to do anything but feel sorry for myself gone along with whatever dreams I had for the future.

She notices my bad mood and falls silent as well, giving me a pitying look.

Eventually, she can not postpone her departure any longer, stating that the Others are bound to come back and continue their psychological warfare in a few hours.

She grabs her weapons and puts her leather jacket on. We then walk to the doorway together.

Synthia gives me a bear hug, kissing me in the lips, smearing me with lipstick.

As I stand there, wiping it off with my sleeve, she opens the door and walks out into the fading light of a red afternoon.

After closing and locking the door, I decide to head towards the library. There has to be a book there with the knowledge to escape this curse. After all, Synthia was not the heir and did not have access to the trove of magical knowledge.

I find the brick and walk inside, lightbulbs flickering on.

I'll read Famulus: The Familiar Bond first, since Synthia recommended I do-

There in the middle of the circular pool, lies a copy of Implementum.