Chapter 1: Chapter 1
As I lean at my kitchen counter, staring down a bottle of Bull's Blood Wine, a magic fluctuation hit. I sensed my wards shivering and dying, leaving my apartment stripped of its defenses.
In the room next door, the TV flared into life, unnaturally loud in the silence of the night.
'A strong one this time, huh? Not that there is anything worth watching, bet it's another urgent bulletin.' I thought to myself.
The bottle lost the bet.
"Urgent bulleting!" William, the news presenter, announced.
"The Ministry of Health advises all citizens that any attempt at summoning or other similar activities resulting in the appearance of supernaturally powerful beings can be hazardous to all citizens and yourself."
"No shit, Sherlock," I told the bottle.
"The Prosecutor General authorized the local forces to subdue any of such activities with all due force."
While William spoke, I started to make myself an egg sandwich.
'Who are they kidding? No one could hope to stop every summoning. It took a fully-qualified wizard to detect a ritual in progress. At the same time, it only required a half-literate asshole to attempt one. Before you know it, some greek goddess was wreaking havoc downtown, and the skies were red and raining pests while the Army was screaming for more ammo. These were dangerous times. But then in safer times, I'd be jobless. The safe technological world had little use for a mercenary like me.'
When people had trouble of a magical kind, the kind that cops couldn't or wouldn't handle, they called the Guild. If the job happened to be of my rank and fall into my location, the Guild called me. My last quest had taken a toll on me.
I had to fight off the Kraken, which was no easy job. It was my first and last time fighting it, at least without some full-body protection, maybe with a level four containment suit to boot, since crawling in the sewer isn't healthy these days.
While I finished scrambling the eggs for my sandwich, an icy wave of fear and disgust hit me.
I could feel the noxious odor of undeath, I could feel my stomach acid coating the root of my tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste.
Something evil was inside my apartment.
Turning off the stove, I hit the mute button on the remote control that was near me. On the screen, the Prosecutor General joined William talking about all the problems that probably won't be solved without humankind's annihilation. Idiocy is in our blood.
I took the knife that I was going to use to cut the ham and put it in my lap while I sat very still in a stool in my counter.
Preparing. Listening. Waiting.
No sound was made. While waiting, a drop of water formed on the sweaty surface of the wine bottle and slid down its glistening side.
Something crawled in the ceiling into the kitchen. I pretended not to see it. It stopped to the right of me slightly behind, so I didn't need to act very hard.
The intruder hesitated, then he turned, and anchored itself in the ceiling corner. It sat there, holding itself to the paneling by enormous pearly white talons, still and silent like a gargoyle in full sunlight.
'An Intelligent one then. Probably being commanded,' I thought.
I sipped from the bottle and set it so I could see the creature's reflection. And there was none. Didn't need to think very hard, surely it's your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
The vampire raised its right hand. Its talons sliced the empty air, back and forth, like curved blades. It turned its head doglike and studied me with eyes luminescent with a particular kind of madness, born of bestial bloodthirst and free of any thought or restraint.
In a single motion, I turned around and hurled the knife. The black silvery blade sliced cleanly into the creature's throat.
The vampire froze. Its claws stopped moving, the creature seeming paralyzed.
Thick blood purple in color swelled around the blade and slowly slid down the vampire's neck, staining itself and dripping on the floor. The creature was nude and hairless, and it didn't carry a single ounce of fat on its frame. Its skin stretched so tight over its tendons and muscles that it should have already snapped.
The vampire's features changed, morphing itself into a different face. It opened its maw, displaying it's twin fangs.
"That was extremely inconsiderate, Corben," Inna's voice said from the vampire's throat. "Now, I have to feed him."
"It's a reflex. Hear the doorbell, go get pizza. See an undead, throw a knife. Same thing, really."
"Silverware, If it were a novice piloting, it would've escaped."
"You know me. I love a loose vampire."
The vampire's face moved as if the Master controlling it tried to squint.
"What are you drinking?" Inna asked.
"Bull's Blood"
"You can afford better."
"I don't want better. I like Bull's Blood. And I do prefer doing my business by phone, and not at all with the likes of you."
"I'm not offering a job, Corben. This is merely a social visit."
I stared at the vampire, wishing It was Inna's throat that I sliced. It would feel divine cutting into her flesh. Unfortunately, she sat in an armored room many miles away.
"You enjoy screwing with me, don't you, Inna?"
"Oh, how I wish you would accept it."
'Not even in your dreams' "What is it you want? Make it quick, Inna. My wine is getting warm."
"I was just wondering," Inna said with dry neutrality particular only to him, "when was the last time you saw your father?"
"I have no father," I replied, annoyed.
"Pardon me, your guardian?"
The nonchalance in her voice sent tiny shivers down my spine. "Why?"
"No reason. As always, a pleasure."
In a single powerful jump, the vampire launched itself from the wall and flew through the doorway, escaping through an open window I was pretty sure was closed earlier.
"The bitch even took my knife with it."
Swearing under my breath, I leaned again on the counter and reached for the phone dialing the Order of Merciful Aid. No creature could breach my wards when the magic is working. Inna had no way of knowing when the magic would fluctuate, so she must have been watching my apartment for a long time, waiting for my defenses to fail. I drank the rest of the bottle.
'Dammit, that meant a vamp had been hiding someplace close when I came home last night, and I didn't see or feel it. How reassuring.' While I was admonishing myself, my call got through.
A stern male voice delivered a practiced blurb, "Chapter of the Order, how may I help you?"
"I'd like to speak to Angelo Graham."
"Your name?" A faint note of anxiety pulsed through his voice.
"I won't give you my name," I said. "I wish to speak to the paladin."
A paused issued and some faint sound of paces followed by a female voice, "Please, sir, identify yourself."
'They are stalling, probably trying to trace the call since tech is back, what the fuck is going on?'
"No," I said firmly. "On your charter, article five, fourth paragraph down it reads:
`Any citizen has the right to seek the counsel of a paladin without fear of retribution or need for identification.'
As a citizen, I must insist that you direct me to the paladin now or specify the time he can be reached."
"The paladin is dead," the voice said.
Time stopped, I skidded through its stillness, frightened and shaken.
"How did it happen?" My voice was forcedly calm.
"He was killed while doing his duty."
"Who did it?" 'I will kill the mother fucker.'
"His death is still under investigation. If I could just get your name ..."
I pushed the disconnect button and put the phone back in its place. I looked at the empty couch across from me. A month ago, Angelo had sat there, stirring his tea. His spoon had made small circles. For a moment, I actually thought I could see him there, while the memory played in my mind.
Angelo was looking at me, mournful. "Please, Corben. Suspend your dislike of my person for a few minutes and listen to what I have to say."
"I don't dislike you. I hate you."
He nodded, wearing that very clergy patient expression that drove anyone mad. "Of course. I didn't intend to simplify your feelings. I merely wish us to concentrate on what I have to say. Could you please listen?"
I sat on a stool and crossed my arms. "I am listening."
He reached inside pocket and produced a rolled-up scroll. He placed it on the table and unrolled it slowly, holding it open with the tips of his fingers.
"This is the elite invitation from the Order."
I laughed. "That's it. I am done."
"Allow me to finish speaking," he said. He didn't tell me that I was behaving as a child would. He didn't even look angry.
"Alright," I said.
"Next month, you'll turn twenty-five. While the age in itself means very little, in terms of readmission into the Order, it carries a heavyweight. It will be much harder to gain entrance once you turn twenty-five. Not impossible. Just harder."
"I know," I said. "They have sent me some brochures."
'It's harder to manipulate people once they've aged,' I thought.
He let go of the scroll and reclined on his back, lacing his fingers. It remained open even though every law of physics dictated that it should snap back into a roll. Physics sometimes does not apply to Angelo or magic.
"You're aware of the age penalties then."
It wasn't a question, but I took the time to answer it anyway. "Yes."
He sighed. It was a tiny movement, only noticeable to those who knew him well for a long time. While waiting, I could tell by the way he changed his posture, that he had guessed at my decision.
"I wish you would reconsider your decision," Angelo said.
'Never in this life again,' "I don't think so." For a moment, I could see the reluctance and frustration in his eyes.
We both understood what was left unsaid: the Order promised training, safety, and protection, and that to someone of my lineage was paramount.
"Can I ask why?" he said.
"It's not for me, Angelo."
For Angelo, the Order was a place of power, refuge, and security. Its members committed themselves to the tenants of the Order ultimately.
They serve it with such zealous dedication that the organization itself that it seemed an entity in itself, thinking, rationalizing, and incredibly powerful. Angelo embraced it, and it nurtured him while I fought it and almost lost.
"Every second I spent there, I felt as if there was less of me," I said. "It was like I was Dwindling, so I had to get out. I won't be going back to that."
Angelo looked at me, his eyes terribly sad.
Some time passed, and a lot was left unsaid.
"Angelo, If you'll excuse me," I said.
He blinked, startled by the formality in my tone, and then rose. "Of course. Thank you for the coffee."
I accompanied him to the lobby. The outside had already turned dark, and the bright light of the moon was showering the trees with silver. By the porch, I watched Angelo descend the three concrete steps into the yard.
"Angelo?"
"Yes?" He turned. His magic protected about him like a mantle.
'Thank you' "Nothing." I closed the door.
That was my last memory of him, poised against the moonlight and clothed in his magic.
"Dammit." Pure rage and hate are going through my veins.
I hold myself, wanting to cry, but the tears would not come. My muscles are pulsing with rage, ready to kill something. My last link to my family severed. Nobody was left. I didn't know my mother, had no father, and now no Angelo. I clenched my teeth, wishing for action, and went to pack.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
540991
540991 Hello,
This is my first novel and also English is not my native language.
I'm trying to set the background of a game I'm making, and while doing so, why not write a back-story for some characters and the World?
This is set after some kind of apocalypse (You guys will learn of it after some chapters) and before the game begins.
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