Chapter 13: Assisting With the Spell
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
Coraci, John and another exorcist met in the lobby of the Association’s office building, ready to go. John was relieved that it was neither Liz nor Carolyn. Standing next to Coraci was a brunette in her early thirties, dressed in a smart casual blazer and jeans, with a friendly smile.
Coraci carried the cooler (which contained the blood bags prepared for the day) and introduced his new partner John while walking to the car parked outside the door.
The female exorcist sat in the front passenger seat, while Coraci and John sat in the back. Coraci continued introducing them to each other, “John, this is the exorcist who came to help today. He is the one you’ve been curious about.”
“Huh?” John looked at the brunette in confusion. Also, Coraci just used “he” instead of “she”…
“This is Smith,” Coraci said naturally. “My ex.”
The specter, Mr. Wu Jiu, started the car, backed out of the parking space, and drove onto the road.
It was silent inside the car for nearly two minutes.
“Smith” in the front seat spoke slowly, “No, my name is Anastasia Hazen.” Another nearly thirty seconds of silence, and she again spoke first, “This gentleman, John? If you want to scream, just scream, okay? Are you petrified?”
John’s brain completely stopped working, not knowing for a moment if Coraci was joking or something. “Smith” was indeed one of Coraci’s exes, who reportedly died in a gas explosion, and was the only male of Coraci’s three dead exes.
Coraci shrugged and went on to add, “As I said, my exes didn’t die. Jerry Smith was his real name, but also… he was also once ‘Eileen’ and ‘Claire’.”
“What?!” John stared into the rearview mirror as the brunette winked at him from the mirror.
She and Coraci both laughed. Then she said, “Deville Coraci was married three times, had three spouses die, and has since been known as the ‘contemporary Bluebeard’… Actually, all three exes were me. Understand?”
“No, I don’t understand…” John said honestly.
Coraci told him, “Smith is a shapeshifter. The outer appearance of human gender for him is just different styles of clothing.”
John froze again for a moment and then slowly said, “A shapeshifter has a gender?”
“Of course we do!” Smith said, turning his head back. His current image was completely that of a female human. “Only we often need to shapeshift, so humans cannot easily distinguish our genders. When I was human I was more used to the female form; actually I am male among the shapeshifters.” 1
“That’s… It’s too complicated.” John withdrew his gaze and looked at his hands.
He didn’t want to stare at Smith’s chocolate-brown hair or look at Coraci’s face as he began to think of less-than-healthy images, like how exactly these two had gotten along in their marriage before…
The shapeshifter who identified himself as male, became female and married a human twice, then became male again and married the same person again… Why in the world? John was very curious, but couldn’t bring himself to ask — asking this was too much like the behavior of a tabloid journalist.
Shapeshifter Smith was not at all shy about what happened back then and said, “If you didn’t need my help, I really didn’t want to see Coraci again. Just seeing his eyes makes me uncomfortable all over. I shouldn’t have gotten engaged to him on a whim. Once married, there was no way that I could live with him. Then I accidentally killed myself during one of our missions… Of course I didn’t fully die, so I simply took the opportunity to change my identity.”
“At that time your identity was Eileen,” Coraci added.
“Yeah, and I couldn’t resist having coffee with him again within a few months, but by this time I’d already changed identities and couldn’t change back. So we ‘remarried’, although it was a remarriage for Coraci. I was Claire at the time.”
At this point, Smith paused and turned his head to stare back at John.
“John, you’re bloodkin, right?” he asked. “Do you know what you look like in Coraci’s eyes?”
“Don’t pick on me and my partner.” Coraci said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
“Because of his eyes,” Smith continued, not caring about others, “I found that I couldn’t live with him at all. Just dating was fine, but if we spent a lot of time together… I couldn’t be a real female human, you know what I mean, John? I wasn’t an intellectual beauty in Coraci’ eyes; I am forever ash gray and look like E.T. who has been stretched to six feet tall. Later I had to change my identity again for a mission, this time to a male. I thought it would be better if I was a male too, but in the end… It still didn’t work.”
“You’re the one who said you looked like an elongated E.T. — not me,” Coraci said.
Smith let out a long breath and muttered, “I know exactly what you think…” He was flippant and talkative. John had a vague feeling that it was because he didn’t care about these things anymore so he was able to treat them as jokes.
Smith continued, “Coraci is a charming guy, I like his novels and his family’s specters.” He patted Wu Jiu’s shoulder, and Wu Jiu nodded toward him in greeting. “I once thought that it was a lucky thing for there to be a human who could accept a shapeshifter, so I wanted to be with him. Turns out we just didn’t fit at all.” He turned his head again and looked at John. “Hey, can you imagine, whether I wear smoky makeup and dye my hair red or dress like Hannibal from the NBC series, it makes no difference to Coraci. I’m guessing that in his eyes, your pale and menacing face are completely exposed too.”
“Stop provoking us. Bloodkin don’t look much different from their superficial appearance to me, just slightly more like a corpse,” Coraci said.
John looked at him incredulously with a stricken look on his face.
“Just a ‘slight’ resemblance, not exactly a corpse…” Coraci further explained.
The talkative shapeshifter waved his hand and added, “John, don’t mind this too much. Coraci is a good guy and it’s over for both of us. He’s a little upset about being dumped three times by the same guy, but other than that, I really don’t have anything to do with him now.”
“No, I’m upset that I always face prolonged interrogations by the police,” Coraci said. “Why are you bringing that up with John?”
The corners of Smith’s mouth lifted and he laughed lightly. “Oh, Author Mr. Coraci, you should remember… Shapeshifters are good at something besides mimicry, right?”
Coraci seemed to want to change the subject, so his conversation with the shapeshifter drifted back to this evening’s business. As they talked about spells and incantations, John shifted his sitting position uneasily.
John was uncontrollably flustered.
The shapeshifter’s words reminded him — as he had learned in the Association — that shapeshifters were not only good at changing their forms but also at reading the surface thoughts of others. Smith could always know something about Coraci’s thoughts, and perhaps that was one of the reasons it was so difficult for them to have a long-term relationship. It was very simple to use this ability: they only needed to look at each other to read these thoughts.
Smith had just looked at John a number of times, and John was now all out of sorts. My god, he thought. Just then his mind had been going wild: from imagining the details of Coraci’s marriage, to thinking about what Coraci thought of himself, to speculating repeatedly about whether Coraci was still involved with the shapeshifter, and… He even imagined what Mr. Smith, “dressed like NBC’s Hannibal” and Coraci would look like together.
John leaned his head against the car seat and rubbed his face back and forth, not daring to look at Coraci for a while. However, John felt that something was slightly off. He vividly remembered that Coraci had been sad to the point of tears when talking about the past, but clearly the story of the shapeshifter and him was not that tragic. Was he pretending originally?
John wondered if this doubt was important. He thought that maybe he had repercussions from writing gossipy little stories and was overthinking things.
“Today we’ll directly break Mr. Burton’s spell.”
In the manor’s underground parlor, Coraci and the shapeshifter were busy laying out the spell’s paraphernalia. The headless knight assigned the banshees to give them a hand, while he himself stood by the passage holding his head.
John walked over to comfort him. “Sir, relax. We’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”
“I’m really worried,” said the head. “I’m sure you guys can get him out, can keep him alive, you’re the experts… But what happens next? There’s nothing I can do to help him out of his despair.”
“As long as he’s healthy, all of this will be fine,” John finally found a subject area he understood. “Sir, perhaps you don’t know, the more debilitated a bloodkin’s body is, the simpler his mind is. A dying bloodkin will only remember the desire to eat and the thing that left the deepest impression in his life; he will lose all logic. As soon as he regains his health again, his mind will recover as well. Simply put, the better the body is, the easier it is to communicate.”
“As long as he gets better.” Sir Kimplin’s voice was low and slightly shaky.
Coraci had already prepared the spell casting materials and magic runes. He clapped his hands and came over. “So, let’s get started. John, please coordinate with me. Humans must have bloodkin help when using bloodkin magic. Smith, you are responsible for reciting the incantation.”
Bloodkin magic may seem complicated, but in fact when casting, vampire mages only need to use a very short syllable or even just a look. But if other races wanted to learn and use bloodkin magic, it requires complex spell casting steps. It’s like how birds can flap their wings and take off in flight, but humans need sophisticated scientific inventions to fly.
Ancient human magic and bloodkin magic were not of the same system at all. There were very few people who could master both types of magic.
Shapeshifter Smith smugly waved the printout in his hand. “Know why Coraci had to find me? Because although he knows some bloodkin magic, he can’t pronounce these triggering spells. And I’m a master of language.”
“Burton may only need one word to cast a spell. We’d have to read an essay to undo it.” Coraci shrugged and pulled John into the three-point symmetrical figure on the floor.
“Hold out your hand. Yes, that’s right,” Coraci told John to raise his hands out in front of him, palms facing forward.
Smith began chanting a mantra while Coraci traced something on John’s palm with his fingertips. Coraci grabbed his hands, put his left hand down, palm up, and turned his right wrist, palm down. Then Coraci took out a scalpel… John felt a dizzying sensation as he looked at the sharp, silver blade. The blade cut his wrist and black blood dripped down like a string of beads.
Amazingly, the beads of blood did not fall on the left hand below, but passed through the palm and continued to drip down. The blood that passed through the palm turned bright red and blended drop by drop into the runes on the floor.
The wound on John’s wrist had slowly begun to heal, and the spell casting process was nearly finished.
“Bow your head.” Over the sounds of the spell recitation, Coraci whispered to John.
John complied and bowed his head, thinking that this time he would have to draw something on his face instead. Who knew Coraci would say, “Give me a kiss.”
John completely froze, staring at Coraci without moving. Coraci looked at him seriously and seemed to be urging him on. Smith, who was still reciting the mantra, winked at John and looked like he was about to burst out laughing.
“A kiss on the forehead or face will do, come on!” Coraci reached out to press John’s head.
John panicked and did as he was told, closing his eyes and kissing Coraci on the brow.
Apparently this was to complete the spell. Then Coraci crouched down and made a few gestures over the runes that had received blood. By this time, Smith had finished reciting the spell. Coraci walked toward the doorway leading to the lower level and continued walking into the tunnel. His hands made the air tremble slightly in the darkness. As he recited a syllable, a small cracking sound came from the depths of the basement, like thin ice being stepped on.
“The repulsion spell is lifted,” Coraci said. “Someone bring a flashlight over. I can’t see the stairs.”
John lifted his high beam and followed, although his eyes could see directly in the dark.
Smith also followed behind John, lowered his voice and said, “Is it so embarrassing? You look like you’re suffocating.”
John didn’t answer. But the shapeshifter could read his surface thoughts and he was thinking, This was in front of his wife…
“It’s the ex-wife, thanks.” Smith snickered and elbowed John in the waist.
Coraci suddenly stopped in his tracks. He could already see the inside of the lowermost room. The door was open, and the glow of the high beam behind him illuminated a small area in front of the interior door.
“You guys better come take a look…” Coraci said in a raised voice. “Mr. Burton is missing.”
From The Unthreatening Creature Protection Association’s Guide to Unscientific Monsters:
Shapeshifters
Shapeshifters are an ancient humanoid species, older than Forest Spirits. Their transformation abilities are extremely versatile, allowing them to change into most living creatures. They cannot become inanimate objects, and extremely massive beings are also beyond their scope. For example, Smith can transform into a Quetzalcoatlus, though the version he creates is slightly smaller than the real creature.
Abilities:
- Shapeshifters can read surface thoughts — the immediate, conscious thoughts of a being. For example, a student planning to cheat, a man lying to his lover, an enemy feeling fear, or a passerby fantasizing about someone on the street. They cannot access deep thoughts or intentions. If a killer plans an assassination but is at that moment focused on his cheeseburger, the shapeshifter only perceives thoughts about the cheeseburger. The well-trained can resist the mind-reading.
- Shapeshifters have lifespans of several centuries. The shortest-lived reach roughly 200 years, while the longest-lived may approach 500 years, though this is rare.
Gender and Transformation:
Shapeshifters have male and female genders like humans. They can also choose to adopt another gender or even an intersex appearance.
- A male shapeshifter who transforms into a female appearance gains only female visual and vocal traits, not reproductive functions (no menstruation, cannot bear children).
- A female shapeshifter who transforms into a male appearance gains male visual traits but cannot impregnate others; she cannot become pregnant while presenting as male. However, if she was already pregnant before transforming, the pregnancy continues, provided she remembers to return to her female form before giving birth. Female shapeshifters naturally have no menstruation (they ovulate without bleeding), so these differences are subtle.
Shapeshifters can reproduce with humans. Children may be fully human or degraded shapeshifters, with humans being more common. Degraded shapeshifters have human-like appearances and lifespans, and their transformation is limited to within their own species (e.g., a white girl can become a black athlete, but cannot become a bear or Quetzalcóatl).
Appearance and Physiology:
The original form of a shapeshifter resembles an elongated E.T., with slightly smaller eyes. Their ancestors integrated deeply into human society long ago, so contemporary shapeshifters rarely revert to this original form.
- Strength, speed, and other physical traits are slightly above human levels but not dramatically so.
- When injured, shapeshifters can transform to reduce harm or increase resilience, buying time for treatment — but they cannot transform into an entirely uninjured being.
- Shapeshifters cannot generate clothing while transforming. They must first take a form and then put on suitable clothing. However, they can replicate specific hair, hairstyles, tattoos, piercings, and similar traits.
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