Chapter 92: The Real Game

Noah and Brayden headed down the path and into the mansion. Their steps echoed ominously through the tall-ceilinged rooms and Noah fought the urge to glance around like a complete moron.

It was possibly the richest place he’d ever set foot in. Just the rug beneath his dirty shoes alone felt like it cost more than his entire year’s salary as a Rank 1 Professor. Beautiful statues sat on pedestals along the walkway, interspaced between doors all along the walls.

The carpet led up to a large stairwell that went both up and down and distant music came from above them. Noah’s ears instantly perked up. It sounded vaguely classical, but with a bossier twist. It had been so long since he’d heard actual music that –

“Vermil,” Brayden snapped. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Noah asked, blinking.

“I asked if you’re ready,” Brayden said. “You know how Father is.”

No, I don’t.

“Not really,” Noah admitted. “But do I have a choice?”

Brayden grimaced. “Just fill him in. He’s possibly even more paranoid than you are, but I know he’ll listen to you. He always has. If it’ll help, call for me. I doubt he’s going to suddenly start caring about what I’ve got to say now, but you never know.”

“You’ve already helped a lot,” Noah said after a moment, craning his neck back to make eye contact with Brayden. “I would have been in a good bit of trouble without you. In case I haven’t said it before – thank you.”

Brayden grunted. “Don’t make it weird. Just go down and talk to him already. And get that look off your face. I made sure that everyone else got a nice room to lounge around in. They’re going to be living it up while we actually put the work in.”

“Thanks,” Noah said. “He’s just waiting down the stairs, then?”

“Like he always is,” Brayden said, shaking his head. “Stop stalling. Go.”

Whelp. Here we go, I suppose. Time to go back to lesson number 1.

Noah headed over to the stairwell, still straining his ears to listen in on the music above, then reluctantly started to head down. The stairs wound around in circles, bringing him deeper into the mansion until the music was a distant memory.

They set him off in a thin hallway. It was dimly lit by two lanterns that housed flickering purple flames within them on either side, and a row of doors ran up to a larger one at the end of the hall.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where Father was probably waiting. Noah steeled himself and walked down the hallway.

I wish some of these doors were open. I want to see what they’ve got down here. Who puts their super-special office in a basement anyway? Is his mom running the house? Maybe she got fed up with seeing him and banished him to the basement.

Noah arrived before the large door. He pursed his lips, then raised a hand and rapped against it. The knocks echoed through the silence. Then, slowly, the door ground open entirely on its own.

Dramatic. Let me guess, he’s going to have a cat in his lap and some overpriced wine on the table? Probably a giant chair for himself as well. Can’t go wrong with those.

Noah stepped inside, bracing himself for the worst.

Instead, he found a plainly decorated office. A nice but undecorated wooden desk sat in the center of the room, beside several bookshelves full of an assortment of small items. There was a small, cushioned chair set up for visitors to use before the table.

Across from it sat a man that didn’t look a day over forty. His face was tanned from the sun and his clothes weren’t much nicer than what Noah wore. If Noah had run into the man on the street, he would have assumed he was just headed to work. And yet, despite his appearance, something about Father set his hair on end.

The man he sat in a chair identical to the one across from him. As Noah stared, a tiny black puff of fur poked its head over the table. It was nearly a perfect sphere, with two glistening yellow eyes.

Well, at least I got the bit about a cat right.

“Vermil,” the man said, his tone even and measured. “Please, sit down. It has been longer than I expected. What has caused the delay, and do you return with good news?”

The door ground shut behind Noah, sealing off the escape. Noah approached the table, but he didn’t take a seat. He leaned his arms on the back of the chair.

“Is it safe to speak here?”

Father’s eyes wrinkled in amusement and he interlaced his fingers on top of the desk. “Oh, Vermil. From prying eyes and ears, there is no safer place in this mansion. We are alone. Completely and utterly alone.”

A flicker of light danced from Father’s fingers. It arced into the floor and streamers of energy raced along the floor and up the walls, lighting up dozens of sharp, jagged lines. They covered every single surface, interweaving in a tapestry of magic.

He’s got the entire room Imbued. Holy shit.

“I’ve added extra protections since you were last here,” Father said, raising his hand and letting the light fade away. “Of course, that isn’t all I’ve added. But some must be kept close to heart. A surprise is not a surprise if you share it.”

“Of course. I couldn’t agree more.”

“Then tell me,” Father said, a flicker of impatience dancing in his eyes. “Were you successful?”

There are two ways I can take this. I can keep pretending to be Vermil and convince Father that everything is as it was. I could pretend I’ve got amnesia from summoning the Demon, but it’s still Vermil kicking around and fully in control, with the demon bound within him. I’d keep tiptoeing around and trying to get him to answer questions without him even realizing he’s doing it.

But, if he’s anywhere near as paranoid as Vermil supposedly was… no. That won’t work. He’ll catch on that something is off. I need to take a completely different approach to this, one where I’m not on the backpedal.

The smile fell off of Noah’s face. “What do you think?”

Father tilted his head to the side with a frown, and Noah realized what it was that had been throwing him off. It was his eyes. They didn’t match any of his expressions. Even though his face changed around them, Father’s eyes were dead and empty. Two hollow pools, unresponsive to the world and full of nothing but contempt.

“You dare challenge me?”

“Dare?” Noah asked, his voice cold. “You sent your son to call on me. He came begging for my help. The price was paid in the blood of your lineage. You are the one who dares.”

Father stared silently at Noah. Noah matched his stare.

“Where is Vermil?” Father asked, his face completely unchanged.

Time to make a bet. I don’t think you ever gave a shit about Vermil. You were using him as a tool to summon a demon. No father that cared for their son would do that. And, just from a look into your eyes, I don’t think you care about anyone other than yourself.

“He is dead,” Noah replied flatly. “You killed him, but the attempt drew my attention. I wasn’t planning to follow up at first, I admit. I didn’t care. But I’ve grown bored. I killed the pathetic monkey in the forest for sport, but it didn’t put up the challenge I sought. I trust that you have accounted for this. I would be terribly unhappy to find that you brought me all the way here without any sort of plan.”

Father rose from his desk, but Noah didn’t budge. He just watched the man as he stepped around the desk and approached him. As he moved, a ripple of magic traveled throughout his clothes. They were Imbued, just like the rest of the room.

“How can I trust you?” Father asked. “You have admitted that there are no constraints on you. The summoning failed. My son is dead, and you puppet his body.”

“Trust? You?” Noah burst into laughter. “What a concept. A man such as you does not know the meaning of the word. What need do the strong have for trust? Our power is

our trust. I came here because I was interested in the type of man that send me his son as sacrifice. Why would I care if you trust me?”

“An uncontrolled weapon can harm its wielder just as easily as their target,” Father said, taking a step back and swallowing heavily. “Stay away from me. If you make any aggressive moves, I–”

“Control is an illusion,” Noah said. “Come, now. Drop the act, Father. You were prepared for this. I pose you no risk in this room. Why pretend? Speak to me as an equal, or I will determine that you are prey.”

Father closed his open mouth, pressing his lips together. The fear vanished from his face as if it had never been there.

“Very well, demon. You are correct. You cannot hurt me here. If you knew this, then why did you come?”

“I did not lie. I am interested,” Noah replied with a shrug. “You spent such effort to find me. It would have been rude not to visit.”

“And how do I know that you do not simply seek my head? I should purge you on the spot.”

Noah burst into laughter. “Please, feel free. I don’t care about this body. Your son was too weak to contain my power. I have hundreds of clones that I have split my strength between. Killing this form is no more trimming my hair.”

“Show me,” Father said.

Noah smirked. “Why? You are still operating under the illusion that I have come to do your bidding. Your son failed. He did not bind me to his will. His body is mine to do with as I please. If you wish for my aid, you must treat with me yourself.”

“Only a fool treats with demons.”

“And a wise man has someone else do it for him,” Noah said with a wide grin. “A wiser man would have chosen someone outside of his family, though. How much damage do you think I could do if I decide you’ve wasted my time? How many bodies would I be willing to cut in exchange for a break in the tedium?”

To Noah’s surprise, Father smiled. He turned his back on Noah, reaching into his bookshelf and pulling out a bottle of wine. Father set it on the desk, then pulled two crystal glasses out from a shelf within it.

“Enough posturing,” Father said, pouring the wine into the glasses. “There is another man that treats with demons.”

“And what would he be?”

“One with the strength to meet with them on equal terms,” Father replied, pushing one of the glasses over to Noah. “My son did not fail. He was a gift.”

Noah picked the glass up and studied it. “A poor one.”

“The runes were not to your liking?”

“He attempted to bind me. He failed.”

“Surely you would have expected as much. It would have been an insult to your power had we not attempted it,” Father said, taking a slow sip from his glass. “It is your turn to cease the games. You came here to speak with me. Let us both drop the pretenses and do just that. Sit.”

Noah pulled the chair out and sat down across from Father. He took the glass, raising it to his lips and taking a slow sip.

Now we both push to see how much the other one knows and what we can get from each other. I can’t show the slightest sign of weakness or he might realize that I’m not actually a demon.

The real game begins here.