Boy Sorceress Pt. 03

Once my map was complete, I zeroed in on her pussy, using my mouth at first, but soon graduating to fingering her as well. My other hand kept stroking the right spots and she was soon undulating on the bed, gasping out my fake name as I drove her higher and higher. She came with a scream and I let off her pussy. I ran my fingertips over her ribs, feeling her shudders through them. I watched her flushed face and felt a strange kind of warmth and pride at making her cum.

Her eyes opened and focused on me. She lifted a hand and unclenched her index finger to point. "Vibe."

I smiled and nodded. I got the vibe out of the bedside drawer and switched it on. I made her cum several times, working the device in and out of her, while my mouth and other hand toured the erogenous map of her body I had just created.

At one point, she started crying as she came and I eased off, taking the vibe out of her and turning it off. I thought that I might have overdone it, but she surged up at me, without so much as wiping her eyes, and pinned me to the bed. It was my turn.

She had me begging for release in minutes. She didn't make me wait long before she granted it. Repeatedly. I drifted off for a while there, afloat on a shuddering cloud of ecstasy. When I came down, she was kissing my sweaty face.

Kissing and fondling after an orgasm is so fucking cool. My skin was so sensitive, even the lightest of touches resonated throughout my body. I wasn't up for more orgasms, but this kind of touching was the perfect ending to a perfect wakeup.

I whimpered when she left the bed to go to the bathroom. I stretched out on the bed and groaned as I worked out the kinks the fucking had put in my muscles. With the perfect wakeup out of the way, it was time to face the day. I padded over to her TV and turned it on, hoping to hear about the arrest of The Thirteen and the end of my waking nightmare.

It turned out that the nightmare was just beginning.

The news reported that the FBI got an anonymous tip about me, came to my parents' house and found them murdered. I dropped the remote and sank to my knees in front of the screen. The news cycle was flooded with my photo. My actual photo, as Kevin Parker Hewitt. The captions were quite clear. I was the "Riverside Ravager" and I was at large, armed and considered extremely dangerous after killing fifteen people. Aside from being blamed for the thirteen murders of three days ago, the news also pinned my parents' deaths on me.

To say I was in shock would be an understatement.

Dakota found me almost catatonic on her floor. She dragged me to the kitchen and put a warm beverage in front of me. She tried to commiserate over the fact that I had been taking a creative writing class with a mass murderer and so on, but I could hardly hear her. Her voice seemed like it was coming to me from a great distance. Nothing felt real anymore.

I spent a big chunk of the morning just sitting there like a log. It wasn't until Dakota said that she was going to counter the evil done in Riverside that I stirred. She sounded so confident when she said it, I actually hoped she might have some magic of her own.

"How?" I asked, finally meeting her concerned eyes.

"There is a way," she said. "I'm going to plant some purifying plants near the places where that monster had spilled blood. They'll leech the evil out of those places' auras."

"Oh," was all I could say to that. Dakota didn't know shit about anything. I felt so alone. The only one that knew anything was the mysterious Mentor. I needed to contact him at once. I needed to know if sending in the FBI had gotten my parents killed.

Dakota prattled on about a plant nursery and blessing seeds and whatever other nonsense she dealt in. I tuned her out, wallowing in my guilt and misery. When she put an omelet in front of me, I asked her if I could use her computer.

She said, "Yes, of course!" She hugged me and apologized for leaving me up here, saying she had to go.

"Dakota," I called after her. She stopped and turned around, happy to see me active. "Don't go to Riverside and try to plant shit after dark. They're organizing some kind of militia to patrol the streets. I don't want to see you get burned at the stake, or something."

"See? This is the exact kind of reactionary aggression that must be leeched from that town. I really need to make those places bloom, so people could understand that violence and bloodshed can't be the answer to anything." She was wearing a big, dorky smile on her face and I just didn't know how to respond. She blew me a kiss and left.

I remained in my seat, unable to face the music. What was the point, really? At length, I slid the omelet aside and got up to walk across the loft to her computer. I created an e-mail account and contacted Mentor. A chat was quickly initiated.

Mentor: And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave. I'm so sorry for your loss. Please, accept my sincere condolences. You must not blame yourself! Sending in the FBI was a good idea, but nothing could have saved your parents. The Thirteen killed them before you even made the call.

I stared at the words for a while, trying to process them. It seemed so childish that this Mentor would try and offer such blatantly false comforts to me when there were actual monsters around. I needed to be able to rely on every word he sent me. I needed to know he was giving me the raw truth, without any sugar-coating.

I typed up a biting response before remembering I was supposed to respond with a verse of the national anthem. I couldn't remember the first damn thing about it, so I had to look it up online. It seemed oddly appropriate. I had ended yesterday with hope in my heart and dawn revealed my metaphorical banner had been swallowed by the muck.

Asker: What so proudly we held at the twilight's last gleaming. Do not fucking lie to me like that! My actions led to my parents' deaths.

Mentor: No, they didn't. I would never lie to you. You're the world's only hope in stopping these animals. Everything I tell you, you can take to the bank. I promise.

I didn't believe him one bit. I had signed my parents' death warrants and the deed was already done. Their blood was on my hands, just as much as it was on the hands of The Thirteen. All my fears had come to life and some new ones, as well. I was so tired of being scared. The police were looking for me. Everyone considered me a monster, now.

I couldn't bear to think of how everyone that had ever met me must have reacted to seeing my face on the news. I knew that the media would soon unearth dozens of people who would stand in front of the cameras to recount every humiliation I had ever endured. The whole world would spend some time trying to figure out which of those things had been the one that sent me over the edge. As if any of that mattered.

I was empty inside. The only thing I had left was a smoldering desire for vengeance. It was slowly growing into a conflagration.

A big, new block of text drew my eye to the screen. Mentor had typed up a lot of platitudes that were meant to comfort me. I gave them a cursory glance. I squeezed my fists and took a minute to breathe through the anger. I didn't need, nor want, his platitudes, I needed his info on the bad guys.

Asker: Tell me more about The Thirteen.

Mentor: I haven't been able to find out much more about them. There are definitely three general magicians among them. Two guys and one girl.

Asker: Names.

Mentor: I don't know their names yet.

Asker: Then give me their descriptions!

Once I had those three descriptions, I could recall the night of the sacrifice. The two that had flown off without flames, or metal rods, were magicians. So was one of the guys that had been carried off by the corpses. Why he hadn't flown with the other two, I had no idea.

Asker: How did they manage to set me up as their fall guy?

Mentor: I honestly don't know. One minute, the FBI was gung-ho on finding multiple perpetrators, the next they were focused on just you.

My fists tightened again as my breathing accelerated. I forced my lungs to work slower.

Asker: That dog won't hunt. You want me to fight these asshats, you give me information!

Mentor: I'm telling you everything I know.

Asker: Not good enough! Find out more! I expect a full report tomorrow.

I ended the chat before he could reply. I was struck with the thought of needing to go to the morgue to formally identify the bodies of my parents. Of course I couldn't do that. The FBI would arrest me on the spot. Provided that The Thirteen didn't ambush and kill me in front of the morgue.

I sat there and stared at the brick wall behind the computer screen. I couldn't stop my imagination from conjuring up various ways in which my parents had been killed. Gruesome images played in my mind's eye.

I growled in irritation after a particularly nasty one and shook my head. I needed to occupy my mind before I went nuts. I desperately needed to be doing something. Anything. I only had one idea in my head; killing The Thirteen. I'd need to find out everything there was to know about them before I tried to do anything. I immersed myself into the task.

What Mentor couldn't find out about these shits, I was going to just have to figure out on my own. My only lead were the names on the receipt from last night and I was going to follow it. I used The Onion Router to cover my tracks as I looked up the names. My first stop was the easiest hack online, the DMV.

There were many people by those names, but I knew their pre-transformation faces, so I quickly identified which Daniel Sturbridge, Lisa Tuttle, James Horton and Susan Hamilton I was looking for. I used every search engine, database and social media platform to find any connection between the four of them. I found that the only thing they had in common was moving to Springfield during the last four months. Hamilton had come from New York, Tuttle from San Diego, Horton from some tiny backwater in Montana and Sturbridge had lived all over Kansas and Oklahoma before coming here.

How did they ever meet in the first place? I cross-referenced their social groups, work histories and every address they had ever lived at. I found absolutely no overlap and no faces I recognized from the clearing. I made the ink on the receipt move around to depict each name's listed home address. I was going to swing by those and see if I could bluejack the occupants' cellphones. A wiretap seemed like the only thing that would get me anywhere.

I erased the browser history for today. I got dressed and left a note for Dakota, saying I needed to clear my head and would be back later. I took the gun out of my pocket and considered it. It was heavy. It felt solid in my grasp. What had I thought about last night? Thirteen counts of murder in plain view of the public? That sounded like a good idea. I'd just need more ammo. I'd find someplace to buy more. I replaced the gun in my pocket, called for a cab and left by the brown door in the back.

Kurt's Hyundai was right where I had left it. I mean, why wouldn't it be? Kurt was only a gun-toting, rapist fuck. A side effect of the universe's master plan to stick its fist up my ass was making sure no asshat I ever came across suffered in any way. Just to make my misery stand out more. I briefly considered setting the car on fire, but I was heading out to spy on the evil people. I had no time, or inclination, for distractions. The cab pulled up and I got in.

A quick stop at an electronics store netted me a new smartphone. I hopped onto an unencrypted wi-fi network and downloaded a few programs. I quickly configured them properly on my phone. I had learned quite a few tricks during my year of college and I hoped that they would come in handy today. My hacking savvy didn't come from any of the teachers. It came from the friends I had made there.

Sturbridge lived in an apartment on the third floor of a brownstone walk-up, located near the center of Springfield. I walked there from my wi-fi spot in ten minutes. I put my ear to his door and imagined the noises coming from inside it being amplified on my side. I heard only silence. He wasn't at home. I easily imagined the bolts sliding open and gained entry to his apartment. The place was cramped. It had one bedroom and the kitchen and bathroom were both covered in grime. Empty takeout boxes were spilling out of the trash basket. A half-eaten pizza was still in its box on the stove.

I discreetly rifled through his stuff, but found no clue as to where he was, who the rest of The Thirteen were, or their plans. Standing in his dirty home, I found it hard to believe that he had ever read a book without pictures in it, let alone that he jointly owned a secret book of power, like Mentor had claimed.

I left everything pretty much where it had been and locked the door behind me. With Sturbridge's place a bust, I needed to go to the next name on the list. My stomach rumbled. I could do with some food, first. Across the street from Sturbridge's place and two buildings over, there was a cafe. I went there and took a table by the window that would allow me to watch Sturbridge's building. I nursed a hot beverage and munched on every kind of pastry they offered.

I was busy contemplating which of the names to try next, when I heard a beautiful noise.

A bright red Ferrari 458 pulled up in front of Sturbridge's building and my eye sought it automatically. It was quite a sight. When I saw Sturbridge get out of the passenger side, I jumped out of my seat. The Ferrari drove off, flooding the street with a delightful engine noise. I watched Sturbridge enter his building. He didn't seem to have a care in the world.

I didn't know if he was there to stay, or just change his clothes, or anything. It didn't matter. I just needed to get close enough to bluejack his phone. Then, I'd finally have some information.

I checked my reflection in the front door and paused to stuff my long, blond hair into my blue, knit cap. I ran across the street and went inside the building. I stopped at the bottom of the staircase, willing all ambient noise to be amplified right outside my ears. I could hear nothing for a few moments and I almost started to panic. I should be able to hear his footsteps on the staircase. Where was he?

I heard a door open two stories up and nearly jumped out of my skin. It was that loud. I dialed down the amplification of sound. I still clearly heard a woman's voice say, "Dan! Where have you been?! The FBI was here! They were asking about you."

"What did they want?" Sturbridge asked, sounding disinterested.

"I don't know. They didn't say. They left this card with me and said to tell you to call them. They were very insistent. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Not that I know of," Sturbridge said, offhandedly.

"Well...aren't you going to take the card and call them?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Cause I don't wanna," he said, dismissively. I could tell that his voice was moving away from her, climbing higher, but I still couldn't hear his footfalls.

"Dan, I don't think you should make light of this. It's the FBI!"

Sturbridge just grunted in response.

"What will you do?" the woman asked.

"Whatever the fuck I want." I heard the metallic jingle of keys. He unlocked his door and went in. He slammed his door shut.

"Damn it, Dan," the woman whispered into her chin, "why do you have to be so hot?" She sighed heavily and went back inside her own apartment.

I stopped the sound amplification and rushed up the stairs. When I got to his door, I took my phone out of my coat pocket. Before I could start the bluejack procedure, the door burst open. I flinched and looked up. The weretiger was standing there; a pent up mass of white and tawny fur, dominated by two glaring, amber eyes. He had stepped back to pull his door open, but his long arm was already striking out to rip me to shreds.

I didn't have time to think. My body amplified the flinch into an evasive maneuver by pure reflex. A flood of adrenaline exploded through my veins as my mind reverted to the night of the sacrifice and my desperate flight from the werewolf. My present predicament fused with that one in less time than it took for the sinuous limb to close half the distance to my head. I let out a shriek of surprise. I couldn't hear my shriek, despite feeling the air rush out of my lungs.

I didn't manage to step out of the way of the sweeping claw, but it missed me as the weretiger faltered. He screwed his eyes shut and his ears flattened against his skull. A deep, feral growl came from his lips as they drew back to reveal his huge canines.

The air finished exiting my lungs and I drew a big breath as I jumped backwards over the railing. I barely had the time to imagine gravity lessening before I was at ground level. I landed slowly enough to tuck into a roll. As soon as I was upright again, I was treated to the incredible sight of Sturbridge landing lithely right where I had landed. He used nothing but his elongated, powerful limbs to absorb the shock of the three story fall.

I drew another big breath and let out a high-frequency shriek, hoping it would be loud enough to damage his ears. Despite the silence, his ears flattened again and his eyes squinted at me with rage. He remained crouched and I could see tiny dots of light reflect off his extended claws as he buried them into the floor for better purchase.

We were both frozen in place. I was standing just out of the reach of his claws, paralyzed with fear and still bewildered by the sudden attack. He was crouched and growling in pain as he tried to fight the noise that was reeking havoc on his ears and brain. His growls grew louder and the tinge of pain was unmistakable in them. Hearing them finally made me break out of my adrenaline-fueled survival mode and I walked backwards, taking care to keep my breathing short and my screams long. He retracted his claws and put both front paws atop his feline head.

Over his agonized growls, I heard doors open above us. People stepped out onto the landings and looked down. I could hear exclamations of shock as they witnessed a humanoid tiger crouching in their building's lobby, growling like it was on fire. I had hoped they would dispel his transformation and leave him incapacitated, but they dashed back inside their apartments and slammed the doors behind themselves. Since the weretiger was still before me, I surmised they were too few.

I noticed some red trickling out of one of his ears and made for the door. If he went deaf from my screams, even for a moment, I was fucked. Once outside, I ran back towards the cafe. There were almost two dozen people there and I needed their eyes. I needed them to dispel and incapacitate Sturbridge. I ran as fast as Ashley's legs could carry me, not even bothering to look back. There were some cars in the street, but they were zipping by way too fast. I passed a few pedestrians and nearly screamed at them to get away. They wouldn't be enough.

I ran into the cafe and desperately gulped air as I pressed myself against the wall. My limbs were shaking and threatening to deposit me on the cold floor at any moment. I commanded my lungs to draw deep, slow breaths, but they panted on their own, ignoring me.

The patrons weren't ignoring me and I sensed two dozen eyes on me. I felt so glad. I was safe from magic.

They're not above using mundane means of murder.

Mentor's line about them popped up in my mind and I spun around, fearing seeing Sturbridge running this way in human form, toting a shotgun. Thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen. I stepped closer to the glass and looked down the street. He soon stepped out of his front door. He was fully dressed, but had no visible weapon in his hands. He looked up and down the street for me.