Strange Awakenings

                “Wizards?”  His question was absurd, and my disbelief must have shown clearly on my face.  When Martin responded it was with a note of exasperation that hadn’t been there before.

                “God above, does no one believe in Magic any longer?  I burst into your bar practically screaming ‘I’m a wizard’ and hurling spells against a demon.  Even with all of that you still can’t wrap your head around the fact of Magic? Yes Wizards, do you truly know naught of wizards?”

                “I… well…uhhh…” I continued to stammer unintelligibly at Martin for a moment before he cut me off with a snort and one sharp and dismissive wave of his hand.

                “Nothing?  Truly you know nothing of the ephemeral?  Are you a priest perhaps? Yogi?  Wiccan? Meditate frequently?”

                “Priest? No… why, what…  Listen, buddy, I have no clue what you are talking about.  Now, let’s get back to why I am not calling the cops right now.”  My nerve had finally returned enough from Martin’s too startling entrance that I was able to assert myself in the conversation.

                “And tell them precisely what?  That two strangers burst into your place of employ and held a magical duel?  At best you’ll be considered ‘addled’ and at worst complicit in the murder and arson that occurred there.  Also, once the police have you in custody I would be hard pressed to maintain the protective wards that are currently preventing Darius from finding you.  Finding and eating you… most likely.”

                “Eating me? Magical Duel?”  My stricken expression was all the answer Martin needed regarding my ignorance of the arcane.

                “Get dressed, and get comfortable… this may take some time.”

                It did.  Take a lot of time that is.  After I got over the initial hump of simply accepting that what he was saying could be true there was still a lot to explain.  The main thing that he got across to me, though, was that although humanity had willfully forgotten the arcane, the Arcane was still around.  Martin was a wizard, close to two hundred years old, and as he explained it one of the last real ‘good guys’ left.  Wizards are a rare breed normally, and in modern society it is a lot easier to use Magic for greed, rage, lust or out of the desire for pure personal power.  Most practitioners developed in secret with no master and were eventually killed by their own ignorance; devoured or enslaved by something other than Human.  Something like Darius.

                Darius was a demon.  A literal Hellfire and Brimstone devil, come to earth to reap a wicked harvest.  Martin didn’t go too incredibly far into their past, but I gathered they had a fair amount of history.  At the time I was not properly impressed by this fact.  Later on down the road, after I’d had a chance to meet up with some of the smaller scale spooks we would deal with, I came to understand.  Surviving even one direct encounter with a demonic force, much less doing so with one’s soul intact, was a major feat.  Surviving the ongoing enmity of a powerful, immortal, and amoral being classed Martin as a top flight wizard, maybe the best alive.

                “This has led me to some very interesting hypothesis regarding you, my young friend.  You, with no magical training as far as you or I know, were able to resist Darius’ mental compulsion and overcome his defensive wards.  Granted, your choice of weapons made his ward less effective, but still… It should have stopped you some distance from him.  Barring that an unprotected mortal that struck Darius through that ward should simply have dropped dead.  You, however, did neither.”  Martin concluded.

                “Alright… So what does that mean?  Like, this Darius, should have swatted me like a fly from what you’re saying.”  My voice trembled with the fear and excitement that had been building inversely to my sinking disbelief.

                “Well, primarily it is a good thing, better than being dead by a significant margin in this wizard’s humble estimation.  As far as the specifics go… I can’t be quite sure without further inquiry.  The strongest possibility is that you are gifted to some degree or another and unwittingly shielded yourself.  Alternatively you might have some sort of friendly elemental or ancestor spirit you’ve attracted to yourself and they chose to intervene.  Honestly, right now I don’t know enough to give you a good answer.  Do you have any family in the nearby vicinity?”

                I was instantly on guard.  Martin seemed friendly enough, but I get more than a bit protective of my family.  Beyond that my head was still spinning with my newly gained introduction to the Arcane.  “Why do you ask?”

                “Two reasons, my young and magically ignorant friend.  The first is that they could still be in some danger.  Darius ripped a handful of your hair out while you were unconscious.  I have shaven your head and burned the trimmings with branches of Ash and Aspen.  It should prove ample protection for yourself from Darius’ attempts to track you.  However… he still might conceivably use the hair to attune to your family, a fate I would most certainly like to spare them.”

                “The second reason is that your bloodline might give me some clue as to the nature of your resistance to Darius’ brutal charms.  Now, time is not of as vital of concern to us in regards to the defense of your family as yourself.  The spells and incantations needed to locate them will take our hell spawned foe some time to prepare… still… Family?”

                “Portland… My Mom and Sister live in Portland.”  I managed to say in the process of scooping the hotel’s phone from its cradle and hastily punching in the number of my Mom’s house.  My blood was pounding hot in my veins.  Throbbing inaudible pulses through my body, sent surging by adrenaline.  When the line clicked over to the answering machine I shot out of bed, pulling on my clothes in a rush.

                “Martin, nobody is picking up, we’ve got to go!”