Note: The below short story hasn’t been professionally edited. It’s just a fun story I wrote.
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Ever thought a favor might cost more than you bargained for? Denis certainly didn’t.
The Spellcaster’s Favor
Denis squeezed his legs against the steel, steadying himself on the ladder. “I’m calling in that favor you owe me,” the woman had said, offering a chunk of cash to go with the job. He hated jobs like this—the mother’s favor came with too many zeroes and a whiff of desperation. “Just retrieve my son.”
He rubbed the window with his palm to clear the dirt. The boy slept comfortably beneath thick blankets, innocent and unaware. It would be so easy to smother him.
With a quick spell, Denis muffled the sound of the glass cutter cutting a circle large enough to reach through. Warm air greeted his hand as he shoved it through the window and released the latch. The window glided up without even a creak, as new windows shouldn’t. As he heaved himself through the too-small window, a sharp sting bit into his belly. He pushed through, teeth gritted, letting the splinter tear his skin. No time to stop. Not if he wanted to get this right.
He recited the smother spell she’d given him, a simple whisper to drift the boy deeper into sleep. “I don’t kill people, Ma’am. Not anymore.” That’s what he’d said to her, but the spell made him wonder. The words were like ash on his tongue, thick and heavy, and he forced them into the dark air between him and the sleeping boy, feeling the chill settle like frost on his skin. He waited for the boy to drift even deeper into sleep. Instead, the boy’s eyes popped open—not groggy or confused, but alert and knowing. That’s creepy. A side effect? Denis waited for the boy’s eyes to close. When the boy sat up and his large steely eyes locked onto Denis, he knew it was going to be a long night.
Had he used the wrong spell? He had double-checked the spell before arriving. Maybe he mispronounced one of the words? She’d given him the damn spell and told him it would put the kid to sleep to make it easier. There was no easy now.
The boy’s eyes watered and his hands shook as he raised a finger to point at Denis, his mouth opening wide, preparing himself to sound an alarm.
Denis shook his head. “No. No, don’t do that.” He tried the spell again, but it seemed to wake him up rather than put him to sleep.
The boy’s scream cut through the silence, and before Denis could react, he bolted down the hallway. Denis froze as panic surged through him. This wasn’t in the plan. The ladder was still his best option to escape. He slapped it in frustration, then heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. They’d be on him soon. He slid down the ladder like a firefighter and ran to the backyard, where he could hide in the bushes and think.
The front door flew open like a sorcerer had cast a spell with enough gusto to rip it from its hinges. Denis didn’t stick around to see who came out. He sprinted to the bushes, knowing they’d chase him if they’d seen him. His belly itched where the splinter had been and he realized he’d probably left a piece in his skin he’d have to get out later.
He dropped to the ground and waited. The smell of lilacs from the trees provided a calming effect, making him sleepy.
“He can’t be far,” someone shouted. “The charm should kick in soon.” Footsteps crashed through the bush, not ten feet from him, and continued away from the house. Denis crept up to the back door, barely daring to make a sound, and stepped inside. The boy couldn’t be far.
Click. The sound of a pistol’s hammer drawing back. The boy pointed the pistol at him, shaking so badly Denis wondered if he’d hit him even if he wasn’t prepared with another spell. “I’m here to get you out.”
“I know what you are, spellcaster. You kill people,” the boy said, like he knew exactly what Denis was—like someone had prepared the boy for his spells. Denis felt goosebumps crawl up his neck. “These bullets will pass your barriers. Don’t you move.”
Denis held his hands out, careful not to spook the boy, who gripped the pistol with both shaking hands. “Your mother sent me,” he whispered. He felt the sharp sting from the splinter, as if the shard wiggled in his belly. “I’m not here to hurt you, alright?” He had to time his next spell very carefully. Moment of truth. He had seconds before someone returned to check on the boy.
The boy hesitated, then lowered the pistol. “You know my mom?”
Denis lunged at the boy and cast the spell for the third time. The spell did nothing. The boy raised the pistol, but not quick enough. Denis tackled him. The pistol flew across the room.
The voices outside were getting closer. He was out of time. They’d kill him slowly if they found him. “I don’t have the proof you need. She sent me to get you out of here.”
“Why would she do that? She put me here.”
He stumbled out the door dragging the boy behind him. Denis’s legs felt heavy as the itch on his belly worsened and he dropped to his knees. What was supposed to be a quick in and out had turned disastrous.
“She knew the spell wouldn’t work for you,” the boy whispered, his tone amused and vengeful as he watched Denis struggle against the paralysis. That’s why she sent me. Denis’s pulse slowed, cold dread seeping through his limbs like poison. The splinter wasn’t wood at all, but a shard of binding crystal. Amateur mistake. He’d crawled right into her trap—played his part in whatever game she was running.
As he sank to the ground, muscles seizing, Denis felt the crystal burrow deeper into his skin, anchoring him in place. She’d baited him, knowing he’d never see it coming. His head rested against the lilacs, soft like pillows. They’d seen other bodies—his was just the latest.
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