Phantom; Blessed by the devil, Cursed by the gods

Chapter 10 Origins

Sal had been surprised by the introduction, there was no way this man was his uncle, he looked nothing like what Sal remembered of his father's face or his mother's, also, he was white, very clearly white, unless either of Sal's parents had been adopted, this man—Peter— was not related to him in any way.

"I don't have an uncle" Sal said finally.

Peter smiled in understanding, his face beautifully scarred with laugh lines.

"Of course, your parents never mentioned me, did they?" said Peter, raw hurt seeping through his voice despite the smile on his face.

"They may have, I'm not sure, my time with them was…short" said Sal.

Peter looked thoughtfullly at Sal and then placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, strangely Sal welcomed the gesture, the only person that had touched Sal like that had been Boulder, in those rare, fleeting moments when he was actually kind and fatherly.

"Come with me Salome" said Peter.

Sal followed, he was suddenly tired, tired of being wary and alert and paranoid and afraid all the time, he just wanted someone who would listen as he talked, someone who would answer his questions with absolute honesty, someone who could shed some light on his everyday darkness.

Peter guided Sal down the hallway until they reached a door of bright red and he pushed it open.

They walked into a room that resembled an office, though business-like it looked comfortable and normal.

Everything was red, from the walls lined with tapestries of roses and stories, to the sofa stationed close to the window and the table that gleamed as though it had been polished. Sal's eyes scanned the room with curiosity, the shelves held books and potions of different colours, behind the desk and chair at one end of the office, there were awards and trophies from various hunts; the ivory tusk of a mammoth shedim, the sharp fang of a fallen vampire, a wand of obsidian from an exiled mage, treasures left behind after the death of each Shaded being, and in the middle of it all there was a double bladed axe, it's edges sharp and shining, it's handle bound by leather, the entirety of the weapon gleaming with magical aura.

"Nathuel" Peter said, he strolled to the armchair and sat down, his hand gestured to the sofa opposite him for Sal to seat.

Sal moved away from the axe and sat down on the sofa that faced Peter, it's cushions were indeed as soft as they'd looked.

"You named your axe?" Sal asked.

Peter nodded and leaned in to pour a cup of tea, the brown liquid poured into the cup like a fountain as he talked.

"Yes, all Shemer must name their weapons, naming a weapon connects it to the one who wields it, we do it so that our weapons are never lost to us, we simply call them and they will answer, other hunters do it as well" said Peter.

Sal remembered how Casmir had reached out for his dagger and how it had flown into his grasp in an instant.

"Shemer, I've heard of them, who are you people?"

Peter dropped the teapot and took his teacup and saucer in his hands, he took a gentle sip and returned the pot to it's saucer.

"The name "Shemer" is hebrew" started Peter, he leaned back on the sofa like someone who had done this a million times but would continue to love doing it for years to come, "it means “guardian”, it was a name given to us by the Greek gods themselves, we are the protectors of the two worlds separated by the Shade, we keep the peace between the Shaded and the mortal, the natural and the unnatural, we protect the helpless, defend the weak, preserve the good and eliminate evil whether of mortal or magical origin, we are all that stands between progress and oblivion"