The Blade Mage

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  “I did,” he replied, and motioned toward the bathroom. “Your girlfriend going to be a while? We need to get on the road.”

  “They’re waiting for us now?”

  “Basically,” he said, shrugging. “And if the Pattersons give you an invitation, it doesn’t stay valid for long.”

  Before I could answer, Faith stepped out of the bathroom. The smile on her face faltered for a moment when she saw Stone, but spread again when she looked my way.

  “Great,” Stone replied. “Now both of you are grinning like idiots. Must’ve been good sex.”

  Faith’s eyes went wide, then she fixed me with an accusatory look.

  “Don’t blame me,” I said, motioning toward her panties on the floor. “It’s a bit obvious.”

  Her face reddened as she leaned down and picked them up. As she put her clothes away in her duffel bag, Stone pulled a laptop out of his backpack.

  “I think I might’ve found some basic information about our demons,” he said as he powered his computer on.

  “From where?” I asked, wondering what contacts he might have who’d know about them.

  “Google,” he replied, shrugging. “As you know, the intel is probably shit, but I thought I’d share it just the same.”

  He turned the screen for me to see and I stared at the images page. While many of the images seemed terrifying enough, none of them looked quite like the being I’d encountered. That was the Internet, though. They never did get it quite right.

  Faith stepped close to me to see and I felt my heartbeat speed up a few clicks.

  Stone brought up an article. “Says here the Abasy are supposed to be one-eyed, one-armed, and one-legged. I don’t remember seeing that.”

  “Well, I did cut off a few of his fingers,” I replied. “But he grew them back, so no, I don’t think they got it right. Unless it was like the bastard told me. The Abasy are a species, not one specific kind of demon.”

  “Yeah,” Stone said, scrolling down the page. “Well, you should be thankful, because according to this, the prick should’ve been riding a two-headed dragon.”

  “That doesn’t sound pleasant. What else? Where do the legends of them originate from?”

  “Yukat culture,” Stone said.

  “Yukat?” I replied. “Where the hell is that?”

  “Siberia,” Faith said, still standing beside me. When I gave her a funny look she said, “I told you I like to read.”

  “She’s right,” Stone said, shrugging. “Eastern Siberia. It also says they usually travel in packs and like to hang around graveyards… Oh, and they like to eat people and cause sexual manifestations, whatever the hell that means.”

  “All right,” I said, considering the information. “So, we should count ourselves lucky that we aren’t up against a pack of the bastards, each riding two-headed dragons, eating people, and causing sexual manifestations.”

  “I don’t know,” Stone said, his face deadpan. “Seems like there were some sexual manifestations in this room recently. Maybe it was the Abasy.”

  “Very funny,” I replied, noting Faith’s face had reddened again. “Always classy, Stone.”

  “That’s me,” he replied. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much else here worth reading. Says they live in the underworld, which we already know is bullshit.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “What about the manananggal?”

  “Give me a second,” he replied as he typed the word in. “Thank the Gods for suggestions. I couldn’t figure out how to spell that if my life depended on it.”

  “Are you sure you chose the right one?” I asked as we waited for the page to load. Then as I saw the images, I said, “Yup, that’s definitely her. At least they got the images on this one close.”

  “Yeah,” Stone replied as he clicked on one of the articles. “This particular piece of lore comes to us from the Philippines. Thought of as a kind of vampire-like creature.”

  “I’m kind of glad I didn’t see her,” Faith said, stepping closer to me. “You’re telling me this thing attacked you at the warehouse?”

  “Something like it at least,” I said, shrugging. “A lot of what gets posted online about the supernatural is bullshit.”

  “It says they mostly like to feed on pregnant women,” Stone said, glancing between us. “I hope you two used protection.”

  At that Faith turned around completely, unable to look at either of us.

  “Really, man?” I asked, glaring at him.

  Stone chuckled to himself and said, “Oh, and if you sprinkle salt or garlic on the bottom half of the torso, it can’t join its two halves and will die by morning.”

  “What do you think the chances of that being true are?” I asked.

  Stone shrugged. “I’ll stick to my M4.”

  “It couldn’t hurt to bring some salt, though, right?” Faith asked, finally rejoining the conversation. “Or garlic?”

  I shrugged and glanced back at Stone. “She’s got a point.”

  Stone reached behind his jacket and withdrew his 1911. He popped the clip and set the gun on the table, then removed a single bullet and tossed it to me. “Smell it.”

  “You want him to smell your bullet?” Faith asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll never understand men.”

  I chuckled and held the bullet up to my nose, then looked it over. It looked like a hollow point that had been filled in with a plastic ballistic tip, but I knew better. I held the bullet to Faith’s nose as well.

  “Oh,” she replied, looking it over. “Garlic.”

  “It’s like a Glaser, but with garlic extract,” Stone said. “Made that batch myself.”

  “It’s like a what?” Faith asked.

  I held it up for her to see again and said, “Underneath this plastic piece, there’re little pellets and garlic extract. When the bullet strikes, the pellets break the plastic tip and spread through the body. In this case, they’ll let out garlic extract as well, which is like poison to most vampires.”

  “Exactly,” Stone said, pointing back at the screen. “If we run into our pretty pretty princess here, we’ll see how she likes them.”

  “I still think we should get some salt,” Faith said, shrugging. “It could make the difference.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably not a bad idea.”

  “Whatever,” Stone said, rising from his seat. “Either way, we need to get on the road. We’ve got a scheduled appointment to make.”

  Chapter 21

  We hit a Dollar General on our way out of town and picked up a couple of preloaded salt shakers. Faith also grabbed a container of garlic power, and Stone grabbed a long stick of beef jerky, though I wasn’t sure how it was supposed to help us in a fight. However, he assured me it would, and both of them set their items on the register’s conveyor, then looked to me to pay. Jerks.

  A few minutes later we were back in Stone’s truck and hauling ass out of Branson. We took a bridge over Table Rock Lake, and I thought about what Axel had said about the lake house when I visited him in his cell. Growing up, we’d had some good times there. If I couldn’t save him, I’d do what he’d asked and stay the night there. It was the least I could do.

  Stone navigated his truck through the windy Ozark highway until finally he turned down a dirt road somewhere near the Arkansas line. We didn’t see pavement for another ten minutes, then Stone turned up a path that looked more like a four wheeling trail than a driveway. A patch of tall grass ran up the middle, and large boulders lined both sides of the tire trails. Stone put the truck in four-wheel drive and we bounced our way up.

  “People actually live in a place like this?” Faith asked from the back seat. She’d insisted I sit in the front of with Stone.

  “Your boyfriend does,” Stone replied.

  “My driveway isn’t this bad,” I said. “And I already told Faith I live in a cabin in the woods.”

  “That’s right,” Faith said, coming to my defense. “And where do you live, Stone?”

  �
�Here and there,” he replied. “On the road, mostly.”

  “So, wait,” Faith said. “You’re talking trash on Wyatt’s place, and you don’t even have a home?”

  “Oh, I have one,” he said, chuckling. “I just don’t live there. In my line of work, it’s best to keep moving.”

  “Because you’re scared the Cabal will find you?” Faith asked. Her tone indicated this wasn’t a jab, but an actual question.

  “Or the monsters,” Stone replied, glancing up at her through the rearview. “There’s more than a few creatures of the night who’d like to see me dead. If I hung my hat in the same place every evening, it’d make it a hell of a lot easier for them.”

  “It sounds like a lonely life,” she said, again without malice.

  “Kind of like living in a cabin out in the woods by yourself?” he asked. “Ignoring all your old friends. Ignoring your responsibilities.”

  I realized this was a jab and it was directed at me, but I chose not to answer it. However, Faith responded for me. “We’ve all made mistakes. We’ve all done things we regret. It’s about who we are today that matters, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s right,” Stone said, glancing up at her in the mirror again. He nodded with something like respect.

  “The part about it being a lonely life wasn’t meant as an insult,” Faith said. “I’m sorry if it came out that way. I know what it’s like to be alone, too.”

  “Yeah?” Stone asked, and for just a moment, I caught a glimpse of fire in his eyes. I thought he might say something about Faith having no idea what he’d been through. Or maybe he’d just tell her to shut the hell up. Instead, he glanced back at her again and said, “Well, we’re going to find your little sister, then you won’t be.”

  “Thank you,” Faith said, smiling at him.

  “Let’s just hope we can finally get some answers,” I said with a sigh.

  “We’ll find out momentarily,” Stone said. “If my memory serves me, the compound is just around this next bend.”

  His memory proved true and as we rounded the next corner I saw an old country home sitting among the trees in the distance. To any passerby who might happen up the trail, it appeared abandoned, save for the two old clunker trucks parked in the driveway and an ancient hound lying in the shade.

  “This doesn’t look like a compound,” Faith said, echoing my own thoughts. “This place doesn’t look like it could house more than a few people.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe that’s the point,” Stone replied. “They don’t like outsiders, so mind what you say.”

  “So, leave all my dick jokes in the truck?” I asked. “Shame. I was going to do a whole routine. It involves mouth breathing and sausages. It’s always a hit.”

  “You’re a real comedian, Wyatt,” Stone replied. “But I’m serious. The Pattersons ain’t like most folks.”

  “Do you know what their deal is?” I asked. “I’ve always heard rumors, but no one ever seemed to know for sure.”

  “They’re satyrs,” he replied.

  I was about to ask what the hell a satyr was when Faith leaned forward between us and said, “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly.”

  “That’s so cool,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Okay,” I said, glancing between them. “Someone want to fill in the village idiot on what a satyr is?”

  “Seriously?” they both asked in unison.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, pointing at myself. “Village idiot.”

  “You’re the fucking Blade Mage, for crying out loud,” Stone said, scoffing. “Get your shit together, kid.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “They’re goat people,” Faith said.

  “Goat people?” I asked. “Like…goat people?”

  “Like half man and half goat,” Stone said.

  “Don’t you know anything about Greek Mythology?” Faith asked.

  “Seems familiar,” I said, not wanting to sound like a complete jackass. “Was there one depicted in the Hercules cartoon?” Both of them gave me a whimsical look, and I said, “Come on, I can’t be the only who saw the Hercules cartoon.”

  “At any rate,” Faith said. “I’m so excited I could pee.”

  “Not in my truck seats,” Stone said. “Not unless you want to walk back to town.”

  “Goat people,” I replied. “You know, the more I think about it, I’m not sure if there was one in that cartoon or not. Maybe I’m thinking of something else.”

  “Yeah, well, they don’t like being referred to as goat people,” Stone said as parked his truck alongside the old beaters. “Don’t make any kind of indication that you know they’re goat people. Better yet, maybe don’t do much talking.”

  “Right,” I said, nodding at him. “Because you’re known for being such a diplomat.”

  Stone glanced back at Faith and said, “Maybe we should leave the dick in the truck with the dick jokes.”

  As we started to get out, a young man in overalls rose from a rocking chair on the porch with a double barrel shotgun cradled in his arms.

  Faith and I waited as Stone took the opportunity the sling a bandolier of M4 magazines over one shoulder, a bandolier of 40mm grenades over the other, and finally his M4 with the grenade launcher attachment.

  I leaned in close to him and whispered, “Do you think they’ll let you in with all that hardware?”

  He chuckled but didn’t reply. I took it to mean that he thought they might.

  Stone continued strapping on guns, knives, grenades, and various other odds and ends until he looked like he was ready to start a small war, then finally started toward the porch. Faith and I fell in line behind him.

  She leaned into me and said, “I feel a little undressed now. All I brought was a salt shaker.”

  “Maybe they’ll invite us to a nice dinner,” I replied. “Then you’ll be the one well equipped and Stone will just look ridiculous.”

  “Do you ever stop thinking about food?” she asked, giving me a playful shove.

  “Not really,” I replied. “Well, earlier I wasn’t thinking about it.”

  “Would you two shut up?” Stone said over his shoulder. “Feel like I’m hanging out with a couple of horned up teens.”

  As we approached the porch, I got a closer look at the young man in the overalls. He appeared to be in his early twenties, with a shaggy mop top and burly sideburns. He didn’t have any facial hair, though. More importantly, he didn’t look like a goat.

  He did look nervous, though. Of course, if Shain Stone were strolling toward me with an assault rifle on his back, and all I had to defend myself with was an old double barrel, I’d be a little nervous too.

  “Hail, Stone,” the young man said, then turned toward Faith and me. “Hail, Blade Mage. Hail, human female. I hope we are well met.”

  “Yeah, we’re well met, all right,” Stone said, a sly smile stretching across his features. “How you been, Hamish? Your siblings treating you all right?”

  “The family is well,” Hamish replied. “We’re honored by your visit.”

  “I bet,” Stone replied. “You our escort?”

  The young man nodded. “Paw told me to wait for y’uns. He said you’d be coming.”

  “Well, here we are,” Stone replied. “Lead the way.”

  Hamish hesitated for a moment, looking us each over, then stepped off the porch and said, “Follow me.”

  The only thing that might have given him away as a satyr was the strange gait he walked with. It was like he had a wedgie or something. Had I not known, it might not have been noticeable. Perhaps his height was a little off, but the baggy overall bottoms nearly veiled the strange movements of his legs.

  He led us back around the house and toward an old chicken coup. I wasn’t sure what to expect. The Pattersons were one of those supernatural families somewhat known throughout the Cabal, but were more rumor than anything else. Even to the supernatural community, the idea of this family tucked away up
here in the hills was considered odd. The rumors about inbreeding didn’t help the case. Really, though, my gut told me it had more to do with people just being people, and villainizing others who didn’t act, look, and think like they did.

  The chickens cawed and pecked as we stepped through the ancient coup, through a small doorway, and into a dark storage room. It smelled musty, and the walls were lined with tools, old buckets, and big bags of chicken feed.

  He led us around a corner, then stopped in a particularly dark area and leaned down to pull back an old piece of stained carpet. Beneath it was a small wooden door that appeared to lead into a cellar.

  Faith gave me a skeptical glance, but all I could do to comfort her was shrug like an idiot. I wasn’t completely comfortable following the strange young man down into the cellar, either. My sword and staff were on my back and veiled, and just knowing they were within arm’s reach made me feel better about the whole situation. That said, if banjos started playing, I was getting the fuck out in a hurry.

  Hamish led us down the old stone steps and flipped on a light, revealing an actual cellar lined from wall to wall with shelves full of jarred fruits and vegetables. He moved alongside one shelf and reached past a number of jars. There was a click, then the shelf swung forward on a hinge.

  Beyond was a tunnel lit with dim lights.

  “Welcome to the house,” he said, and headed into the darkness.

  Ahead of us I saw a large metal vault door. As we approached it slid open, and beyond it the Pattersons awaited us in a large open room. They were all dressed similarly to Hamish, but instead of old shotguns, they were equipped with ARs and AKs. One sat down behind an enclosure with his hands on the grips of a Browning heavy machine gun.

  Holy Shit. The Pattersons did live in an underground bunker. Gone were the illusions of an old country home, replaced with state of the art equipment, lighting, and weapons.

  An old man with pointed ears and a gray beard waited for us in the center. Presumably, Old Man Patterson. His sons and daughters stood on either side of him, ready to defend their family and home. Based on the numbers, I greatly hoped it wouldn’t come to that. I also hoped they weren’t all actually his children. There had to be close to thirty of them.