He was getting impatient. It was the last leg and he had nothing better else to do. The onboard entertainment’s picks did not hold anything interesting. Then again, most things called entertainment nowadays didn’t hold his interest. He found them almost always superficial and a little on the pandering side.
But this was the last leg and he was going to land soon. Unlike most countries, he visited this one regularly. He did not have a choice, he had to come back every time. This time however, he was early. There were so many things he needed to know. So many things he needed to ask. This time, he hoped he would get answers.
There was not a need to ask before. If he was being honest, there wasn’t even such a question before. There was just him, his abilities, and the man who trained him. The man he called Tata, or uncle. The man who helped him get revenge all those decades ago. The man who, at times, almost seemed like his personal warden. The only one he knew who was more powerful than him. Until recently.
For the thousandth time since he began the journey, he reexamined the details about the curious incidents again.
Fucking’ Burkburnett, he thought.
What he thought was only going to be a clean trip turned into something even more than a promising harvest. So many weird happenings, new encounters, new skills, new possibilities, and new questions.
He had met demons now, that changed things. Somehow, after everything that has happened, the demons were not the most concerning thing he encountered in that city.
Do I really only have about seven years to live?
He chuckled at the question. Just several nights ago, he was willing to put his life on the line just to get a taste, to get a feel for the power the demons held. But it was the veteran that weirded him out the most.
One, the veteran saw his anchors. Two, the veterans was first to make him aware that he could be hurt using his anchors. And three, he no longer thought the veteran’s refusal to take the woman’s money was an act to make himself seem like a genuine, honest person. He was sure that the face of the woman he saw on the paper, the same one who died because she drove into a pole, was the same woman the veteran had refused to take money from. And that veteran had given him seven years. First he will die in the head, the man said, then the body.
The hell does that even mean? Someone shoots me in the head?
He turned his thoughts to the demons. They can be seen when they wanted to be seen. When they didn’t want to be seen, he can only see them when he had Vein Sight on but that also gave away his position or presence as they can also see his anchors. He had no doubt they can see him without his anchors but he wondered if they recognized his power, his abilities, if they only saw him. If he didn’t have his anchors out, what do they see?
It brought his mind back to the veteran. The veteran, if he gave him that much leeway, knew he was past his time. Was it also true for the demons? Was there anyone else out there who could see him as the veteran did?
All the interactions he had with these beings called to attention something he did not know was possible. In a way, it also called to attention something he could do but never thought to do. There was no need for it, so it never came up. The beings made it clear – there was more to his ability than he previously thought. After all these years, he thought he had reached his peak, that there was nothing else to achieve. Clearly, he was wrong.
Whenever he swarmed an area with his anchors, or flooded it with a certain emotion, his mentor, the only other more power person he knew until recently, had always been able to dismiss them. It was something like a negation. Emotions would just fizzle out, his anchors would just disappear. But it never hurt him, nor did he feel anything else.
The beings did the opposite thing. Not only did they see his anchors and interact with them, but they also made sure he understood that it could be used to hurt him. The case with the veteran was clear. When he flicked the anchors, he felt it. The dark creature was the same as his mentor in the beginning – it could dismiss his anchors, although it did it in another way.
The interaction with the wiry figures made him think that they were just grunts. They were still stronger than him but they could only talk to him by touching his anchors. The dark, tall creature and the bendy, snakelike figure was another thing. They could talk directly to him, to his head, without difficulty.
If it weren’t for his experience with such, he would have thought he was going crazy. The voices in his head definitely felt different, it was not like his own thoughts that strayed, they were different, and jarring.
Their ability to cover distances in a blink of an eye was another thing that fascinated him. The dark creature demonstrated it the first night, the leader of the wiry figures did the same, together with its minions.
Did the muscular demon know too?
That was what baffled him the most. He had thought about it over and over in the ensuing days – the fact that it seemed the demons, or at least the last ones, knew not only what he was capable of, what he can do, but also what he needed and why he was doing it.
And it gave him what he wanted. He had not felt that fulfilled since the time he got his abilities. It took an inordinate amount of time to harvest that much from emanations, from even a group of the most imaginative, creative, and broken people. That demon gave it to him in seconds.
It made him question if he was, in truth, not as unique as his mentor led him to believe. Was the kind of ability he had, the end result at least, a common resource? A supernatural currency of sorts?
He let his mind wander and take in this new perspective as he straightened up and give his legs a light stretch. The announcement came over the PA. It told of their approach, the local time, the weather and reminders of what to do once they disembarked.
Tata, you old hermit, you have a lot of explaining to do, he thought as he felt the bump as the plane’s wheels hit the runway.
He followed the crowd and had an easier time maneuvering between them as he only had a backpack with him. The familiar feel of the place started to hit him, started to come back to him as he made his way to a small countered manned by four people behind glass panes.
“Mabuhay! Passport please.” Said a young woman who looked like she was half his age. In reality, she was a quarter his age. At the most. “Welcome home po sir.” The woman finished with a smile.
“Salamat.” He answered.
Home. Ha! You have no idea.