The ankh found its way into his room, hidden in the sock drawer. He brought it out once in a while to examine, but didn’t put it back on.
He did go and read more about the man called Starcrow. It seemed that Starcrow was often paired up with another woman called Black Succubus. While Starcrow seemed to draw on negative energy – according to an expose’ report that he found in the scrapbook – Black Succubus drew on powers from the Netherworld – dark and angry powers from Hell. Black Succubus’ symbol was a black ankh.
Always one to jump to conclusions, and never one to search out the facts, Damon immediately put the following together: His mother was Black Succubus, and his father was Starcrow. His mother died, and Starcrow, his father, stopped stealing in order to take care of him.
Damon didn’t look for proof, but he found it in his father’s room. While going through the closet, he had taken out all his clothes, and when he did, he saw a small indentation in the wall. He pressed his fingers into it, which gave way, and he pulled. A plywood door opened, and there, before him, was the uniform of Starcrow, all the way down to the pointed mask.
He took it out to stare at it. Normally a kid would be excited to hear that his father was a cool thief – but the man didn’t rob from the rich and give to the poor. He robbed from museums, where people would enjoy the art, and he would take that art and sell it, keeping the money for himself. All that trust fund money? Dirty money.
It disgusted Damon just thinking about it.
That night at the kitchen table as he ate alone watching the news, he thought about what he could do. He could take his father’s legacy, give it all back to the museums, but where would that leave him? A clear conscience but out on the street. Maybe Aunt Bess would take him in, but he wouldn’t be free to do what he wanted. And what he wanted mostly was to go after the thieves like his father and mother had been.
He thought long and hard about it over the next week. He went back to his father’s room, opening that closet, looking at that uniform. He even tried on the uniform in the dark. It was tight, but fit.
Damon shook his head as he struggled out of the uniform. He would not be his father. He would use his powers for good. He needed to know more about the ankh.
But the first thing he needed was a kick-ass costume.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even to a mage who couldn’t see auras, Grim felt it before he saw it.
It buffeted against him, like a brisk wind. Grim turned in place as a dark-haired young man walked by him, carrying a wooden box. It was coming from the box. Grim, never one for subtlety, turned and followed the boy. “Hey,” he called.
The young man turned around. The box was black with shadowy tendrils that seemed encased in the boy’s body, drawing…something. “What?”
“What’s in the box?”
“None of your business.” He turned to walk away.
“It’s killing you, you know.”
The boy turned back. “What?”
Grim walked over to him, making a sign with his fingers in the air. This would show him what the aura was.
It went into the boy’s and entwined with it, not killing it, but feeding off each other. Whatever was in the box was pure darkness. It licked out at him, like a snake, but recoiled at Grim’s aura – Grim wasn’t pure dark, as even Grim well knew. The boy himself was darkness too, or at least he projected it. The box fed him power which took power to feed the box. It was a symbiotic relationship.
“What are you going to do with that box?”
“Bring it to the magic store and find out what it is.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Grim. “They’d take it.”
“Why?”
“It’s darkness, and these mages here? They’re all sweetness and light and rainbows. They’ll get freaked out.”
The boy put a hand on his hip. “And you’re not?”
“Not at all.”
The boy went up to Grim. “Then can you tell me what it is?”
“I can tell you that it can’t be taken away from you or you’ll die.”
The boy stopped cold. “I will?”
“Maybe not ‘die-die’, more like lose the power that you’ve got there.”
“I have power?”
“You can’t feel it?”
“I feel – something. Like I can do almost anything.”
Grim smiled. “Mind coming to my shop? I can take a look at that for you, and you and I can get to know each other. What’s your name?”
The boy raised his head and said proudly, “Starcrow. With an ‘e’ at the end.”
“I’m Grimaulkin.” Grim took the boy’s hand. “Now, hold on tight.” Grim teleported them both to the library.