The Dark Heir (SHORTLIST - Open Novella Contest 2019)

A Conventional Death

Miles away Lorred D'Kay smiled, bathing in the glory of his progeny enjoying the death she wrought. He'd been torturing several of his salesmen in a "national conference" which promised to make them more successful. They came ready and willing for the most painful tortures - trust games.

The seal on his prison chipped away and he felt his own powers swell. It was more than half gone now, and he could begin to do some real damage. He looked out on the full house in the conference room before him.

"Excuse me," he said to his enraptured crowd, and he walked outside.

One of his salesmen had stepped outside to have something called a "cigarette." It was an ingenious device for delivering death. Slow and addictive. He felt respect for whoever came up with it - decidedly in service of The Dark Lord. He sized up the salesman and asked for one.

The man happily shared and offered him a light. Lorred D'Kay waved him off and snapped his fingers. The cigarette lit on his command as warmth spread across his back. The convention hall which was hosting his conference had also lit. It filled with flames and screams.

"Oh my Lord!" The salesman beside him exclaimed. "What do we do?" he asked, turning to Lorred for guidance.

"Watch and wait?" he suggested with a grin. "All of the emergency exits have been sealed against escape. Lucky thing you were out here."

"Uhhhh..." said the man, who looked from him to the convention hall, and back once more. He dropped his half-smoked cigarette and ran, shedding his OMEGA SHAVE shirt as went.

Lorred shrugged, picked up the cigarette, and turned to watch the carnage at the exit doors. Several people were crushed to death against them, and even more had been trampled within. Several salesmen banged on the doors for help. Lorred took a drag from both cigarettes at once, tilting his head to watch once reasonable men turn into vicious monsters, taking each other's lives in a bid for their own freedom.

He took a last drag of the cigarettes and surveyed them. Such a small thing to deliver such a deadly product, and without any hint of danger until long after the addiction took hold, completely ingenious. Fire trucks raced past him with sirens screaming and he chuckled - several of the firemen were wearing OMEGA SHAVE shirts underneath their uniforms.

***

Gerald watched Rose and Arien walk in front of him and a hint of a smile briefly twitched his lips. After the incident at the adoption agency, their previous tension seemed to have melted away, and they walked side-by-side in effortless conversation, robes flapping in the wind. Rose glanced back at him. It was nice to have a purpose. He'd done his best to get as far away from his fate as possible, but now realized perhaps accepting it wasn't so bad after all.

He'd performed a nice bit of magic at the agency to get rid of all the bodies. It was wonderful to perform magic out in the open again rather than having to always be hiding. In his early days in this future time, he'd made several blunders which cost him fines (which he couldn't pay) and censure (which he greatly objected to) from the, now secret, Mage Society. It once nearly cost him his life early on, when a village accused him of being a witch (which in this time was a generic term and didn't have a specific sex associated with it) and tried to burn him.

Rose let out a snort at something Arien said and pushed him. What was meant to have been a gentle push hurtled Arien off into the brush in a magnificent fashion. Gerald wondered for a third time whether Rose was growing physically stronger since she used her powers. She seemed unchanged from the night before, but he was fairly certain she couldn't throw a grown (for all intents and purposes) man off the road with one arm last night. Anxiety grew in him and he found himself unintentionally wringing his hands, a nervous habit he thought he'd cured years ago.