"It's remarkably impressive what you've done," Galloway continued, motioning for Archie to follow him. Archie swallowed hard, feeling a nervous lump forming in his throat, taking one last look at the Arquus de Vice before following the older man.
"Better men than you have tried to claim this grimoire as their own, yet somehow, only you've accomplished such a feat," Galloway explained while walking. He was joined by a small owl that swooped down from the rafters of the store, letting out a small 'hoot' before coming to rest on his shoulder. A sudden growl from beside Archie alerted him to the Grim's reappearance as the black dog moved ahead of him, its hackles raised, maintaining a blockade between the younger man and the storekeeper.
"How long has he been with you?" Galloway asked, turning around before pointing towards the black dog.
"As long as I can remember," Archie replied, somewhat less surprised that this Galloway character of all people could see the wolf-dog. Galloway looked from the Grim, back to Archie before raising his finger and thumb to his bare chin and scratching it thoughtfully.
"I-uh," Archie stammered, trying to string together the words he wanted to say, "I used to be.. er- still am... afraid of him; everyone convinced me I was uh, seeing things. There used to be these pills..." His voice trailed off, the memory of perpetual nausea washing over as a chalky taste filled his mouth.
"They used to force me to take them. These pills, pills to help block out the black dog, pills to forget, I guess. At least, that's what they did. I don't really remember much of my childhood before I was ten, let alone specifics."
"You must know your birthday? What day were you born?" The older man continued to inquire, his eyes staring intently at the bagherst while the darkly coloured canine returned the intrusive gaze with a piercing glare of its own. Archie was caught off guard by the question; his head hurt as he tried to remember. A memory tried to push through the fog; he could see a highchair tray in front of him, smell of a cake, the faint glow of a candle.
Rhythmic chants echoed in his ears before a loud shout silenced them, immediately followed by a blinding flash as brilliant blue and electric green filled the room. The air suddenly felt hot, and the acrid smell of something burning turned his nostrils up — a familiar sense, nearly identical to the one from the night before.
A splitting ache suddenly shot through his skull before the faint memory was devoured by what appeared to be the spittle-covered gaping maw of the Grim. He stumbled backwards, catching himself on the counter. It wasn't often that people asked personal details about his life before adoption, let alone his early childhood before St. Dymphna's.
Beads of sweat formed on Archie's forehead before he hastily wiped his sleeve against his brow. He tried to still his beating heart, realizing that Galloway was still waiting on an answer.
"I don't actually know my birthday." He shuffled his feet against the wooden floor, eyes wandering away from Galloway, towards the nearest window. "It was kind of lost when I was put in the foster system; St. Dymphna's was never given a record of it, nor of my parents." Archie continued, his volume falling as he spoke. Clearing his throat, he turned his face back towards Galloway.
"My parents, uh, the adoptive ones, always celebrated my adoption day."
A growl from the Grim interrupted anything further from Archie. Galloway turned rapidly on his heels, hands tightly gripping his cane, before he firmly tapped it against the floor and raised his right hand in the direction of the black dog.
"Enough, Marrok!" Galloway shouted. To Archie's surprise, the beast's hackles lowered as the dog bowed his head towards Galloway. Archie turned his head back towards the older man, watching as a small smile crossed the silver-haired man's face before he muttered slightly beneath his breath.
"How fascinating." Galloway continued to smile, reaching under the counter before producing the Grimoire and placing it atop, facing towards Archie.
"Is that his name?" Archie asked, his eyes moving from the black dog back to Galloway and then back to the bagherst again.
"I believe so," Galloway replied, "It is you, isn't it, Marrok?" He asked the familiar, who replied with a quick bark and a wag of his tail. Galloway nodded before turning his full attention back to the other man.
"Where'd you train?" He asked, watching as Archie's eyes immediately fixated on the Grimoire. The younger man's hands suddenly became unsure of where to keep themselves as Archie tucked and untucked them into his pockets, curling his hands into fists before reopening them, before finally settling on holding them behind his back while he answered Galloway's question.
"Uh, Calder City University?" Archie answered hesitantly, unsure why Galloway was now interested in his education.
"No, where did you study the arcane?" The other man replied flatly, his voice dropped to a monotone, clearly annoyed by Archie's answer.
"I haven't, I uh, didn't." Archie replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't even believe in magic before last night."
"Mag'ik." Galloway interjected, correcting Archie's pronunciation.
"Magic." Archie repeated. Galloway shook his head again.
"Mag'ik." He stressed.
"Majic?" The young lawyer offered.
"Close enough," Galloway waved his hand dismissively, done with the lesson in phonetics. "You expect me to believe that you opened the Grimoire with no training?"
"That is what happened." The younger man stated matter-of-factly. Galloway clicked his tongue behind his teeth, pacing back and forth behind the counter as he massaged his cleanly shaven chin between his index finger and thumb.
"Then you need my help even more than I thought." He finally said, Archie's hands itching to open the pages of the Grimoire again. "While I'm afraid I don't quite believe your story, you're certainly convincing in your naivety, and if genuine, you have no idea the danger you're in." Galloway cautioned the younger man.
"The Grimoire before you is a highly sought-after tome amongst mages like yourself. It contains the knowledge and teachings of Emyrs. One of the forefathers of mag'ik, along with the teachers of Zechariah Auber, the Master of new mag'ik." Deaglán monitored Archie's face, dissatisfied with the blank expression with which the boy stared back at him. Arche could tell he was looking for some form of recognition, but the names and terms, well, Galloway may as well have been speaking another language.
"You may know of Emyrs by another name." Galloway paused.
"Merlin."
A loud growl erupted from Marrok's throat as Galloway dared utter the word, Merlin. Archie looked to the black dog and back to Galloway, wondering what sort of sick, practical joke he had found himself drawn into. Superpowers he could get behind, but familiars and magic, magic created by Merlin of all people. It was too much.
"So," Archie chose his next words carefully. "Is that somehow Excalibur?" He asked, pointing to the wand hung above the counter.
"No," Galloway replied, shaking his head. "The less you know about that, the better. As for Caledfwlch, you're not ready for that." He added.
"In fact, I can see the disbelief written all over your face. You've stumbled into a world that you're not ready to open your mind to. For reasons I shall pretend to understand, you've been paired with a familiar nearly as old as mag'ik itself and chosen by the Grimoire of two of the most powerful warlocks ever to walk the mortal plane. Until you're ready to open your mind, I can help you no further." Galloway snapped, pushing the leather-bound book towards Archie.
"The grimoire has accepted your blood as payment; it is now bound to you. I can no longer keep it here." Reluctantly removing a hand from Auber's tome, Galloway raised a ring-laden finger in warning. "I'd suggest making that tome a tad more travel-sized to avoid attention; you're already going to receive far more than you've bargained for."
Trepidiously placing his hands on the book. Archie felt the power surge through him again, a feeling he had sought his entire life, filling his body as he took the book in his hands. His mind raced at everything Galloway had stated. How could he open his mind? Let alone, how was he supposed to make the tome travel-sized?
As if to answer, the book started to glow before suddenly disappearing. In its place, a cellphone appeared in Archie's palm, prompting Galloway to click his tongue behind his teeth again. He looked to Marrok, the familiar, exchanging a knowing look with the older wizard.
"Your raw talent is terrifying, Mr. Harwick," He said finally, "Imagine what you could accomplish if you were to open your mind and train that arcane talent. As a Warlock, you'd want for nothing."
It was as though Galloway was saying exactly what Archie wanted to hear, but he couldn't bring himself to believe the man. Tucking the new phone into his pocket, Archie extended a hand.
"Look, uh thank you, I think, but I just need some time to think. This is a lot." He replied as Galloway shook his hand.
"When you're ready, I'll be here." Galloway nodded, "But, I won't be the only one who offers, and be warned, others will want to turn you into a weapon."
"I'll try to keep that in mind," Archie replied before turning and exiting the shop. He motioned for Marrok to follow, the black dog falling into pace beside him before the pair found themselves once again on the sidewalk of Milk Street. Exhaling heavily, Archie looked up at the sky.
Clouds formed overhead, threatening rain as he cursed his lack of an umbrella.
Pulling the grimoire-turned-phone from his pocket, Archie tightly wrapped his hand around it while it hummed in his palm. His grip tightened on the device, its power once again flowing through his veins, filling Archie with a feeling like he was suddenly invincible.
Change was definitely coming. The world had better be ready. Archie had already experienced the Grimoire's power once, and that was with only a quick look in its pages. Tonight, he'd have a chance to properly sit down with the book and scroll through its arcane knowledge.
But first, he had to go home.
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