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Mature story contains dark themes involving graphic violence and taboo topics that may contain triggers for sensitive readers. Please do not read further if this bothers you.

Rich Boy: Inheritance - 3. Chapter 3


We are posting all three chapters as people aware they exist. This story will very likely never be completed.

Registration with the Mage’s Council of the Valley of the Sun is mandatory if you are hearing this message.

The message kept repeating over and over again, and Corey tried to block it out the way the woman, Linda, had showed him. It became faint, almost impossible to hear, but it was still there. That was when the short man with the jet black hair stepped in front of him, looking eye to eye with him.

“Jesus, you look like a little kid!” The man said, and his voice held just enough obvious humor to keep Corey from running. How had the man gotten past the metal scanners? He remembered seeing signs that only ticketed passengers could go past that point. Thanks to those signs he thought he’d have at least a little time free before whoever was going to take him to that ‘school’ could catch him.

“Who are you?” Corey asked harshly.

“Brandon Meyers and you are Corey Pinter.” The man said with a sigh. “I’m the poor S.O.B. that’s stuck picking your ass up and taking you to Clairville.”

“You don’t have to sound so excited to meet me.” Corey didn’t want to admit it, but the way everyone seemed to think he was a burden was getting to him. It reminded him of how his mother treated him and made him wish he’d never given in to the temptation Kenny posed.

“Look, you were caught with a whole bunch of prescription pills you apparently stole from your drug-dealing mother, your school records show you have grades that are just barely enough to pass from one grade to another.” Brandon Meyers told him in a sharp voice as he turned and began to walk away. Corey had to hustle after him, quite well aware he had no luggage, not even a carry-on bag to worry about. “On top of all that, you’ve come late into puberty and your powers, and someone’s going to have to do a deep scan on you in order to find out why and all the people I trust to do it clean aren’t here.”

“Who made you my guardian?” Corey asked angrily as they headed down the long hallway that would lead to the exit. He could see the shimmer of heat outside on the pavement, and it made him shudder. God, how he hated the heat!

“The fucking government did, kid.” Brandon’s voice sounded so much like that Linda woman that Corey almost laughed. “The school is officially shut down over the summer, but we’ve got a few kids in the same situation as you.”

“What does that mean?” Corey demanded to know. He had a sinking feeling that he’d just gone from a bad situation to something worse.

“Kids who don’t have a home to go to during school breaks.” Brandon shrugged as he spoke and stepped onto one of the moving walkways. Corey had never seen one before, and he stumbled as he stepped onto it. The man grabbed his arm just long enough to steady him and then let him go. Although brief, the contact was enough that he felt the man’s worry and knew it was focused somewhere else than on him. “Some of them don’t have family alive, some got in trouble with the law and can’t go home, and some of the kids don’t want to go home. Watch your step here.”

“Sounds like a bunch of outcasts,” Corey stated and then laughed as Mr. Meyers tripped at the end of the sliding walkway. He caught his balance easily though and just shook his head before leading the way towards the exit.

“Which means you’re going to fit in, right?” Brandon Myer’s smug tone irritated Corey, and he tried to come back with something smart but couldn’t think of anything. When the man stopped walking and turned to him, Corey looked up and was surprised at the look of sympathy on the man’s face. “I get it, okay? You’ve had a fucked-up life. I was in high school not too long ago, and I remember how mean kids can be. The thing is, everyone you’re going to meet and live with from now on has a background not that different than yours. Many of them have had it worse than you. Have you ever been raped?”

“No!” Corey said immediately, and it was the truth.

“Have you ever had someone carve their initials into your back with a whip?” Brandon asked.

“You’re kidding.” Corey felt his eyes going wide and his body starting to shiver. ‘That’s fucking sick.”

“There are a lot of sick things in this world, Corey,” Myers said in a voice that somehow felt more caring than he’d ever imagined feeling from a person. “You’ve just entered a world full of walking nightmares that is in the middle of a war against very real demons. In the next few hours, you’re going to find that dwarves exist, as do elves and trolls and orcs and just about every other creature you’ve ever read about.”

“I don’t read those kinds of books.” Corey dismissed readily. Truth was they always bored him. “The movies are kind of cool, though.”

“Yeah, well get ready to walk inside a movie for real then.” Brandon sighed as he spoke and started walking again. “The message I got said you don’t have any luggage.”

“I got kicked out and didn’t even have a change of clothes on me.” Corey went for the sympathy play and found it didn’t really work.

“Yeah, well, Sapha is just going to love dressing you,” Brandon smirked. “Don’t expect any shopping trips for clothes. The Mistress of the House takes great pride in dressing everyone in the household, and until we find a family that matches your temperament, you’ll be staying in the Keep.”

“Matches my temperament?” Corey asked in confusion. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, here’s a brief history lesson on the dwarves.” Brandon Myers said in a slightly exasperated voice. Corey could see him reaching into his pocket, and he guessed the man was sending another call to voicemail. He’d seen the man do it twice so far during their conversation and that gave him some idea that this man at least was talking to him over whoever kept calling. “They’ve taken in stray humans for centuries now, especially kids. It’s part of their cultural heritage to help the young. With all this experience as a culture, they’ve developed certain policies. When a new foundling is taken in, they house them in the local Lord’s keep for a month. During that month, they study the foundling and let the foundling get to know prospective parents until they find the best match for the kid and for the parents involved. It’s considered an honor to take in foundlings.”

“I’m not a foundling.” Corey protested, although it sounded fairly decent to him. Summer was just starting, and he would have months without school.

“Yes you are, now stop arguing.” Brandon Myers told him as they got into an elevator. The man didn’t speak again although he took out his phone, one of the newest iPhone models, and began tapping out messages. He didn’t even look up as the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Corey just followed him, silent as the man tapped out several messages while walking through the garage.

Even in the garage, the heat hit Corey like a wall, and he found he was already dreading a summer in this heat. He was sweating in his t-shirt and jeans, wishing he’d at least been wearing shorts when his mother kicked him out and stopped as he saw the group of motorcycles surrounding a small BMW sports car. All of the riders were wearing dark leather pants and motorcycle jackets in various colors. The riders were all young; some of them closer to his age than Mr. Myer’s age. They all looked mean as well.

“Hey, Tom.” Brandon Myers said as they reached the group of men and Corey’s mouth dropped as an older rider stepped up to Brandon and kissed him on the lips. Was everyone in this place a queer?

“This the kid?” The man called Tom asked with a shake of his head in Corey’s direction.

“Yeah, and that bitch was right about his potential.” Brandon Myers stated, pissing off Corey by acting like Corey wasn’t standing right there. “Get over it, Corey.”

“Huh?” Corey asked.

“Your barriers are full of holes, kid, and you’re leaking like a sieve,” Myers told him, and Corey frowned. “I got that irritation loud and clear.”

“You’re a mage?” Corey asked bluntly. “These guys are all mages?”

“No, they aren’t all mages.” Brandon Myers answered. “I’m what’s called a Channel, which means that I’m basically very weak using magic myself but can give a mage a lot of power. Get in the car, and we’ll get going. It’s a damn good day for a ride, and I had to bring the damn car for you instead of my bike.”

“Get ready to move out,” Tom said as he walked back to his bike. The riders began to put their helmets on and started up their bikes.

The garage shook as he got into the little sports car, worth more money than any other car he’d been inside. Myers put the phone into a dock and music began to blare out of speakers all around him. He vaguely recognized the heavy beat as something from Linkin Park and wondered about a guy that dressed in expensive suits, drove expensive cars and had the leader of a motorcycle gang as a boyfriend.

When the car began to move, he could see the hand signal Myers gave to the motorcycle gang and watched the way the motorcycles moved around the car in a pattern that seemed impossible inside the confines of the garage and the twisting ramp that took them downwards. By the time they stopped at the toll booth, and the man handed over a credit card and a stack of tickets, telling the man he was paying for all of the bikes, Corey was feeling overwhelmed.

“They’re good,” Corey stated as the riders began their pattern again once they were on the highway.

“Some of them have been riding for more than ten years like this.” Brandon Myers sounded happy talking about them. “The MR ride protection for us when we have to come down into the valley and are paid mostly by the Mage’s Council to ride patrol throughout the entire Valley.”

“Why is that?” Corey asked. “You said something about a war?”

“Demons are trying to get a foothold on this world,” Myers answered. “Yes, demons are as real as your powers. You have come to terms with the fact that your powers exist, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Corey felt uncomfortable about that topic. It wasn’t easy to deny he could hear voices and the Social Worker had given him some pill before his flight that had dulled his ability to hear other voices, although it had worn off by the time the plane landed.

“Well, demons exist as well and while they don’t live on this world, they have mages that can summon them and have even taken over mages to make sure they can come into the world any time they want.” The man continued to explain. Corey looked over and gasped when he saw they were approaching a hundred miles per hour.

“Don’t you worry about getting pulled over?” Corey interrupted the man’s talk about demons. To be honest, he didn’t want to know any more about them.

“No.” Brandon Myers must have sensed Corey didn’t want to hear about demons anymore. The music paused as a call came in, and this time the man answered it.

“What is it, Dechaun?” Brandon Myers sounded peeved.

“Did you pick up the kid already?” The caller sounded unusually cheerful.

“Yes, and he’s sitting in the car listening,” Brandon warned the man on the phone.

“Kid, treat this guy good,” Dechaun stated. “He’s the boss man’s right-hand man, and you don’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Please tell me you called for more than this?” Brandon Myers interrupted him as Corey just looked at Brandon, trying to figure out what all that meant.

“Yeah, but I thought I’d get the fun stuff out of the way first,” Dechaun stated, and his voice took a grim tone. “The religious nuts are up to something. There’s a group of them on the quad. If you take a look, you’ll see something similar on a lot of other campuses across the country.”

“Ah hell, I’ve got to get the kid settled, and I’m still an hour out from Clairville.” Brandon Myers cursed, and Corey tried to shrink down in the seat a little while bristling at the way everyone called him ‘kid.’ “Do me a favor, call Unger and Dakota and get them on compiling a brief for me. We’ll get that to the boss, and he can decide if we react at all.”

“Already on it, little boss,” Dechaun stated and then hung up.

“I swear that kid is going to get it one day,” Myers stated and then looked over at Corey with a half-smile. The two seconds of his eyes being off the road at over a hundred miles per hour made Corey extremely nervous and almost missed what the man was saying. “Still, he’s grown into a fine young man ever since we first met him.”

“Am I supposed to say something here?” Corey asked after the man had remained silent for a few minutes. The man chuckled and smiled.

“I’ve turned into an old man before my time.” Brandon Myers moaned just as the music was again interrupted by another incoming call. He cursed when he saw who the caller was and looked over at Corey again. “Look, kid, anything you’re about to hear, you keep your mouth shut about, got it? If you don’t, you’re going to find some powerful mages holding you down and putting blocks up in your mind to keep you from yapping.”

“They can do that?” Corey felt fear spike through him, fear worse than what he’d felt when his mother kicked him out.

“They can do worse than that.” Brandon Meyers replied before he pushed the button on his phone. “I’ve got the kid in the car with me, and you’re on the speakers, but go ahead.”

“We’re getting calls about protests similar to what Dechaun reported.” A woman’s voice came over the speakers. “Stacy’s not answering her phone.”

“They’re in closed session for another two hours,” Brandon answered her unspoken question. Corey tried to understand what was going on but soon lost track. It was like being thrown into the deep end of the pool, a whole world he never knew existed, and he wasn’t just talking about the magic stuff. Being honest with himself as he looked out the window of the car, he knew he had known there was something more to the world, something like magic.

No, what was freaking him out was that this guy whose car was now slowing down below a hundred miles per hour as they left behind Phoenix and the road turned into a two-lane highway going up the side of a mountain was sitting and talking about meetings with Congress and protests going on around the country. Only they weren’t really protests. Something said it was important, although he didn’t really know all that much more than they knew.

The call with some woman named Elizabeth ended, and Brandon shot him a warning look while going around a corner that had signs saying forty miles per hour while they were still going over eighty. As soon as they were around the corner, he was making an outgoing call to someone called “Dakota” and talking about deploying “Rapid Action Teams” to various cities. There was also discussion about finding someone who could go get this Worthington guy out of a meeting in Congress.

Watching the weaving of the motorcycle riders kept him far more interested than the conversation going on in the car. It was amazing how they weaved in and out around the car, passing slower-moving cars all as a group. The skill necessary for this seemed almost impossible, but they were doing it and making it look easy. When you watched them with their jackets of various colors, it became beautiful, like a show that few people ever got to see.

“We’re pulling up at the turnoff now.” Brandon Meyers was speaking in a louder voice that grabbed Corey’s attention. He turned away from watching the purple-jacketed motorcycle rider weaving in and out with the gold-jacketed rider and looked at the older man.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Corey swore as they pulled onto what looked like a gravel road. He knew gravel like that would ruin a fancy car like this one.

“It’s illusion for those that don’t know we’re here.” The man answered as he turned onto the road. As soon as they were fully on the road it shimmered and turned into a paved four-lane road bigger than the highway they’d just left.

“Oh man, that must freak people out!” Corey laughed and then felt his throat catch as what looked like a medieval village became visible, complete with a high stone wall, guard towers, and a shining metal gate. Off to the left, he could see another road that led to what looked like four big helipads, and he gulped when he saw two of those weird Army planes with moving wings sitting there. “Holy shit.”

“Just wait.” Brandon Myers told him as he pulled around the line of cars and trucks waiting to get in through the gates. Short men could be seen inspecting each vehicle at the gate, but they waved through the motorcycles and the car.

“Who are all those people?” Corey asked as they drove into the village itself and he almost missed the first sight of the castle that rose up from the middle.

“Mage families mostly, delivery drivers, and a few tourists.” Came the answer from a distracted man as he drove slowly over cobblestone streets that still managed to provide a smooth ride. “The delivery drivers occasionally speak about things or bring their families up here to see all the freaks. That’s what most of them believe that we’re a town full of circus freaks all living together where we won’t be bothered by regular people.”

“That sucks,” Corey said and then paused as his eyes bugged out. There was something walking by, at least nine feet tall with huge muscles and it was a dark green color!

“That’s a troll if you’re wondering.” Mr. Myers sounded amused as they turned down another street and began pulling up in front of the castle. “This is where we get out.”

“Oh, wow.” Corey murmured to himself as he got his first look at one of those short people who was coming up to take the keys to the car. The man’s beard reached past his ample belly, and it was hard to put any other name to the dark-skinned creature other than ‘dwarf.’ “They’re real.”

“As real as you or me.” He was told as the man took him by the elbow and guided him towards the main doors, two large wooden doors big enough for a troll to walk through. They paused right at the entrance, and Corey was turned to look at the older man directly. “When we go inside, you’re going to feel tingling over your skin. It’s what we call a ward to prevent anyone who has been demon-touched from getting inside undetected. Don’t worry, and whatever you do, don’t resist the tingling feeling. Let it wash over you and walk through it, understand?”

“Not really, but I get the walk through it part,” Corey stated, nervously.

“Once we’re inside, I’m going to hand you off to Sapha.” The man told him and gave him a warning look. “You zoned out in the car, but I’ve got a lot of business that I need to take care of, and Sapha will be better able to get you situated. Until we get you settled into a more permanent home, this is going to be your house. There are a lot of restricted areas. If a guard tells you to turn back, do what they say, okay?”

“Why are there…” Corey started to ask but shut up at the warning look he got. Then he just nodded instead.

“Okay, let’s introduce you to Sapha.” The man told him as they walked towards the door. Like he’d been warned, his skin started to tingle as soon as he reached the doorway, and he had to work to push through it at first, especially when the tingling seemed to get in his mind. Soon enough though he was standing in the entrance of a grand foyer with marble floors, polished wood that gleamed, and what looked like more gold than he’d ever seen before, right in the middle stood the shortest woman he’d ever seen, and he could swear there was hair on her face.

Corey realized that everything he’d been told hadn’t really prepared him for this, and did his best to not pass out as he was introduced to the woman who was going to control his fate for the near future.


Worthington did his best to remain calm, and it was only the presence of Stacy beside him that kept him from cutting loose angrily.

“Everyone’s eyes are on you right now, Worthie.” Stacy’s voice in his right ear was reassuring, and Worthington gathered in his anger, squelching it tightly. The hearing room they occupied was the same one used for Intelligence briefings and was too warm for all the bodies that filled it. His uncle’s presence on his left side left him ready to commit murder, but he didn’t dare in front of all these people.

“I am afraid that despite his best intentions, my nephew was just too naïve and young to handle the responsibilities that were thrust upon him.” David Michael Sinclair stated in a voice better suited for sermonizing than testifying. “As the bible tells us, it is with age that wisdom comes.”

“But aren’t you a follower of the Dark Path?” The Senior Senator from the State of California asked in a tone that indicated she was not at all inclined to like Worthington’s uncle. It was odd how looking at the man when they had first entered the room had been like facing his father. Worthington found he was reacting to that feeling as much as to the wrongs his uncle had done over the year.

“I fear, Senator, that this Path business is truly another one of those grand concepts the young and the gullible fall prey to in our days of hiding.” David Sinclair spoke with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is our purpose in faith, in life that determines the value of our abilities. Some come from God himself, while others are gifted by that ancient enemy of righteousness to do his bidding.”

“Amen!” One of the older male Senators spoke out of turn, and Worthington had to suppress the urge to say something derogatory to the man who wanted to be President.

“We have heard a different story, Reverend.” The same older Senator stated as he took over the questioning.

“Objection, Mr. Chairman.” The California Senator spoke sternly. “I have not used up the remainder of my time, and I do not yield to the Gentleman from Tennessee.”

“I think it is time you shut up, woman, and listen to your betters.” The direct, frank words made Worthington blink as gasps filled the room. There were no cameras here, no recording devices and the stenographer had obviously stopped typing as soon as the man spoke.

“The Chair recognizes the gentleman from Tennessee.” The weasel-like man that was the chair stated, albeit with a sickly expression.

“Now, Reverend, why don’t you explain to us the truth of how you came to possess these powers?” The Senator stated.

“I will have no part of this sham,” Stacy said as she stood up and held her hands cupped before her. “I am of the Light.”

“The witness will be seated!” The Chair spoke more authoritatively as he banged his gavel, but stopped when a ball of pure white light formed in her hands, casting away all the shadows in the room. This wasn’t just a ball of light, but of pure Light itself.

“I am of the Light,” Stacy repeated her earlier phrase. “Through the Earth, the bedrock of our world, I do serve the Light, and lay down my life for the protection of this world and those who reside therein. I am of the Light.”

“I am Gray,” Worthington stated as he also stood up, seeing where Stacy was going. The old bastard Senator was frowning, and trying to blink away from the Light, as was many of his fellow Senators. More stared at the Light though, as if drawn to it by their own innate goodness. One little corner of his mind noted that party affiliation was not the deciding factor in the differences. As he spoke, the ball of Gray filled in his hands, its mixture of Light and Dark plain to see. In the presence of the Light, it was less demanding, but it showed the balance those who followed the Gray sought to maintain as part of the path. “We stand between the Darkness and the Light. The best of both we use in the service of all, seeking always the balance that maintains the world.”

“Magic is not to be used!” The Senator from Tennessee shouted as he stood up suddenly. Worthington turned to look at his uncle, who was visible sweating. The Dark did not like one of its members to not declare himself when faced with declarations of the other two paths.

“One Senator is not to silence another!” The California Senator retorted just as loudly from across the horseshoe-shaped table.

“What is the matter, Uncle?” Worthington leaned over and stage whispered to his Uncle.

“You are a fool, nephew.” His uncle hissed at him. “You should have come to me all those years ago. Together we would have…”

“Worthington!” Stacy hissed on his other side, and Worthington glared at her before following her gaze to the young man behind them who had just entered the room. He was a normal human, a young man who worked for one of the Senators but he nervously approached Worthington with a note in his hand. For his part, Worthington frowned before stepping away. As he moved his hands, the globe of Gray stayed rooted where it was, flickering Light and Dark at random intervals into the room.

“Sir, this came for you and was marked Urgent.” The young man said as he handed Worthington the note. The two Senators were still yelling at each other while their fellow Senators tried to tear their eyes away from the two globes of power to watch the spectacle of their fellow Senators yelling at each other. When he read the note, Worthington cursed, heading to the airlock that led outside the room.

His cell phone was in its box, and he cursed as he waited for it to power up. Eighty-three emails, ninety-six text messages, and a few dozen missed calls were all ignored as he told it to immediately call Brandon.

“What the hell is going on?” Worthington nearly shouted into the phone as Brandon answered.

“If these people were mages I’d call it a summoning,” Brandon answered, succinctly. Years together had made them both able to read each other perfectly, even over the phone and several thousand miles away. “It now looks like they have human sacrifices even, only they’re calling them martyrs.”

“Stop them, all of them,” Worthington growled. “Casualties don’t matter; whatever they are doing, it’s tied to what’s happening here. I know it. Stop them while I get back in there and take care of my Uncle, the law be damned.”

“You sure about that?” Brandon asked cautiously. Worthington sighed and leaned on his years of battle experience. Every instinct screamed that this was all part of some grand plan and needed to be stopped.

“Kill every damn one of those worshippers in every city you can reach,” Worthington growled into the phone before shoving it at the Congressional Police Officer who was staring at him. The man’s hand reached towards the pistol at his belt, and a stun bolt blasted him back against the wall. Worthington turned in time to see the lock of the airlock into the secure room seal remotely. He sighed and raised his hands.

Tendrils of power reached out from his hands, reaching around the edges of the airlock. When he had a secure hold on it, he stepped aside and pulled, sending the whole structure flying backward, down the hallway and into the team of police heading his way. He turned back towards the hearing room and froze at the tableau that had frozen.

“You always have been too slow, nephew.” His Uncle said as he pulled the knife from Stacy’s side. Her rich, red blood dripped onto the floor, and Worthington felt rage building deep inside him.

“Fuck you!” Stacy’s curse made Worthington blink and drew his Uncle’s gaze back to the woman just in time for the blast of light that hit him from her extended hand. He went flying into the far wall, sinking down unconscious. Worthington turned to run as the vortex sprang into being from where his Aunt’s blood splattered onto the ground.

He was too late though, as the magic of his Uncle’s final spell, fueled not only by thousands of supporters all over the nation but by sacrifices as well, overtook him and froze him where he stood.

Copyright © 2019 dkstories; All Rights Reserved.
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This was a great chapter, albeit a very short story, it’s too bad that it’s not going to continue. The last part of the chapter was when Worthington is hit by the final spell of his uncle. I think the demonstrators were set up by his uncle who was trying to get Worthington to come back to the dark path. 

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such a shame this is has come to an end, but must respect your decision DK. Though if you get bored you could ........

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On 8/18/2019 at 6:38 PM, derek said:

such a shame this is has come to an end, but must respect your decision DK. Though if you get bored you could ........

To the best of my knowledge; since DK stopped writing after all the issues with people complaining, he never wrote again.  Trebs and I talked about it a few times, but he did not believe he ever would write again.  After Trebs passed away, I never had contact with DK again...  Truly miss his talent.  Has anyone spoken to or had written communication from him since Trebs passed away?

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sorry to hear about the death of one of the authors. It really is too good of a story to have it abandoned. Perhaps somewhere down the line they'd allow someone else to take it up and try and do it justice? Edge Talent... Also seems a bitter pill to take if someone has the amount of talent it takes to write these stories, it isn't using it. Many of us only would dream of talent like that.

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