Seven Devils

by J A Stone

  “Actually,” she gulped. “You’re hired, here,” she tossed a bag of gems across the small room to the couch. “Come to Fey Mansion for your contract,” Eventine turned quick and got the Seven Hells out of there before she did something.

  Oceanport, Denga Temple of the Sea, Council of Elders

  “This Council recognizes British Constance Fey. Lady Fey, you have the Chair,” the old man spoke solemnly.

  “Thank you my Lord,” British gave each of the twelve eye contact. “I hope the proposed documents are complete and meet with your approval—”

  “Lady Fey, we can skip all of the formalities here. Yes, your papers are in order and yes, the bid you made is overwhelmingly sufficient. Our question is simple, will you give us your word that any artifacts found within the mount will be preserved?” That was old man Joffa, the most ancient and shrewd of the twelve.

  “I swear it my Lord,” British bowed low.

  “Very well, granted,” the old man slammed a wooden gavel. “What could we do to stop you anyway?”

  The Council slowly rose to leave but British stood there. That hurt more than a little.

  “This Council is dissolved Lady Fey, Salt Mountain is yours,” Joffa tossed her a mean look.

  “Thank you, we shall earn your respect through service to the Denga and this City.”

  Joffa stared the little woman down for the longest moment until finally the puppy brown eyes broke his angry composure.

  “I know you will Good Knight. Forgive my crabby old ways, the Denga are indeed proud to have you here…”

  Base of Salt Mountain

  “She’s ours everyone, fifteen thousand feet of marble, granite, salt and metamorphic masterpieces,” British faced her friends, clasping Tawnee’s hand.

  Robert John Stone, Danica Warfell, Tom Snow, Iris, Eventine Delacroix, Garrett, Dobra, Howie, Raptor and a handful of loyal staff all gathered around with smiles, hugs and shoulder pats. Nearby, the Spirit of Caelum Fey floated quietly, watching with pride.

  “It will be a lot of work,” British continued, “but I think it will be worth it.”

  “As long as we are together, who cares!” Rob laughed and snatched the Snowman up like a toy, hugging and tossing him down to an awkward stumble. He faced little Iris and opened his massive arms. She shook her head no and Bigfoot Bob came closer with an ear-to-ear grin. “I’m comin’ for ya,” he moved in and the Arenthian reluctantly allowed him to pick her up. “You wanna get tea sometime, or have a beer, ooooor something redder?”

  Iris flushed her hair from the dull grey to obsidian-black and snarled.

  “Or not—good hug,” he set her down quick. She smiled and laughed.

  “Sure big man,” the amazing hair went grey.

  Robert smiled. “Are you joking me?”

  “No—you still creep meh out—but no one else wants meh.”

  Bobby realized she was alone in the crowd and vowed to himself to bring her in.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Listen up!” Fey broke their aside. “We are investigating a triple murder here in town. I know everyone has read the file. Who wants point?” That was a rare offer.

  Oddly, Robert and Iris raised their hands first, another rare offer. British did not have to think at all, her strongest and wildest—couldn’t be better.

  “Bobby will you let her lead, and do what she says?” Warfell interjected.

  “I will Missus Danica.”

  “Done!” British looked to her partner, reading her doubt. She then faced Tawnee, who was shaking her head—no—of course. “Iris can track molecules in the air, honey they got this.”

  Shadoweye still shook the head, then pointed to Dobra and held three fingers aloft.

  “I’m not sending a newbie after a murderer, besides, we will need his muscles up top,” British finalized and Tawnee snorted, turning her back and crossing arms tight beneath her breasts.

  “I see things are getting back to normal,” Warfell sighed. “Lord Fey, will you assist them as you would us?” Danica addressed the Aequitas Caelum Vindictis.

  I shall, as always, the Swordsman’s logic is sound.

  “Thank you Father. Robert? Listen to her and obey without question, unless you get a really bad feeling, then speak up. Iris? He complains a lot, good luck Knights.”

  Oceanport Central Constabulary

  Bigfoot and Iris were as disparate in appearance as two people could possibly be, very much indeed like Danica and British.

  “Oh! Um, where is Captain Warfell?” Inspector Jon Davidson felt the relief, knowing he would not need face the tall intimidator. Then it happened again, Jon’s eyes shot wide.

  “I have to go,” the poor sod scurried away as fast as he could, but Iris smelled it.

  “Okay—that’s nasty—weh should find someone,” she tried to get the attention of one of the dozens of Street Cops, Officers and Inspectors roaming the building tending business.

  Robert reached out and grabbed one as gently as he could. He spun the astonished Deputy Inspector about to face the Grey Arenthian and Iris shot him a glance of appreciation.

  “Knights of Salvos, here to seh the triple homicide bodies?”

  “Uuuuuh, this way?” the man pointed when Bigfoot released him. “Follow me.”

  He led, they followed, eight feet of Giant and five feet of Arenthian, both nodding, smiling and waiving to the passing Officers like idiots lost in a foreign land.

  “Wow,” said Rob when the Coroner removed the shroud.

  Iris carefully studied the splay of appendages, torsos and heads, wondering why they didn’t at least place the right parts where they belonged. She noted the absence of fang or talon marks and the abundance of bruising and heavy ligatures where the vice-clamp hands held the arms and legs before the unwarranted rending. She noted each disembodied head was crushed as though punched in.

  “Cause of death?” she asked needlessly.

  “We surmise head trauma occurred before everything—else. Wrongful death,” the Coroner was a thorough conductor.

  “Why do you guys even say that?” Bigfoot could see it wasn’t a rightful death.

  “It’s an official proclamation,” the Coroner took umbrage. “You know, like a Doctor officially speaking the time of death.”

  “C’mon Rob,” said Iris. “Weh need ta seh the alley again,” she faced her large partner.

  “After you boss lady, thank you dead body man,” Robert extended a hand as large as the Coroner’s head. The good Doctor shook the thumb and smiled.

  “Where are Captain Warfell and Lady Fey?” he asked.

  “They sent us,” Iris replied as they left.

  Salt Mountain, six-thousand feet

  Safe tunnel excavation is an exact science of which Zachariah was a master.

  “No Ma’am, we’ll need to bore around the silver here,” he showed British on his rough schematic of the strata. “Otherwise, is too risky.”

  “Make it so,” said British.

  “Billy!” Zach called out, his partner came forward, removing his shirt, and hefting a diamond tipped pickaxe.

  “Oy, Where?” the brute with the impossible muscles was scanning the rock face near the lowest elevation structure on the mount.

  “There, get em’ boy,” Zach pointed and backed away, motioning the others to do the same. Billy spit on his right palm and began swinging, using alternating strikes, purposefully mistimed to avoid a cadence vibration.

  British, Danica, and Eventine watched in fascination as Billy smashed through huge slabs and shards of rock, pulling and hurling the massive pieces out of his way to get at the fresh underlying deposits.

  “I say goddamn,” said Danica, studying the marble.

  “Made by Gods—loved by Devils,” added Eventine, studying the man like a hungry wolf.

  “How long can he keep this up?” British asked Zachariah, tossing a ‘what did you just say?’ glance to Eventine.

  “Until I make him stop.”

  �
��I say goddamn!” Danica just said that.

  Oceanport Warehouse District Crime Scene

  Below on deck, Iris and Bigfoot were hard at it.

  “The file said the victims were drinking in the bar here,” Iris pointed to the southern wall. There was little to see now. Even the blood had been cleaned from the brick with pressure hoses.

  Bigfoot scratched his chin.

  “No arguments inside?” asked the big man.

  “Nothing like that in the statements.”

  “Excuse me?” a voice came from behind. No hesitation, Robert spun about with Daphne free and beading on a tall, middle-aged man.

  “You are excused, are you a bad guy?” Robert’s aim was steady, his eyes feral. Iris stepped forward with an open hand.

  “Who beh you?” she asked.

  “Name’s Tunstall, I own both of these bars, can I help you folks?”

  “Knights of Salvos, weh are investigating,” the Arenthian replied. “Do ya know anything?”

  “Where’s Warfell and Fey?”

  “THEY SENT US, you heard the woman,” Rob holstered Daphne—keeping eye contact—just like British taught him.

  “That night, there was a fight, a local guy named William Frakes, they call him Billy. He’s a brawler Billy is, strong as the Seven Hells too, works construction.” Seems Mr. Tunstall did know something.

  “Why’d you not tell the Cops?” asked Iris. The bar owner stepped closer to speak in confidence.

  “Billy is a scary man see. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a hard workin’ first class fellow until he starts drinking. Nobody wants to cross him, that’s why nobody said anything.”

  “Where is heh now?”

  “Gone. Word is he left town this morning equifade. I wrote down his address, here,” Mr. Tunstall gave Iris a piece of paper. “It’s right around the corner.”

  “Thank you, Rob?”

  “After you boss lady.”

  Three blocks away, the odd pair of sleuths approached Billy’s door. Iris checked the knob—locked tight.

  “Partner?” she stepped to the side.

  Bigfoot Bob lived up to his nickname, thrusting the impossibly large boot into and through the wood. They entered, crunching over the splintered shards.

  “What a slob,” said Robert.

  “Yeah—neds a broom,” Iris kicked parts of the door to the side with a grin.

  Salt Mountain

  Billy was seventy feet in, when he hit the first open cavity. Eventine was there, Dobra too. They were dragging a quarter-ton slice of granite aside when the hot, stale air shot free following millennia of stillness.

  “Dobra get the boss,” Eventine said and the boy bolted away. She approached Billy and stood at his side. They stared into the blackness. “Are you okay…Billy?” she touched his arm and he turned away from the dark cavity to face her.

  “You are pretty,” he said and Eventine Delacroix fell instantly in lust.

  “Water?” she swallowed dry like an idiot, “what I mean is you should be thirsty from fucking—PICKING! thrusting your big, your big pick? Will you stop me?”

  “Very pretty,” he affirmed, casting glassy blue eyes into her nervous browns.

  “I’m forty,” said the woman like a dolt.

  “I’m for tea too! But I really need water,” Billy couldn’t count—he didn’t care—they both smiled.

  “SHE’S HERE!” Dobra shouted with excitement as he came down the passage. The young man promptly dropped his smile to the floor when he saw Eventine and the tunnel-brute about to kiss.

  “On your own time,” British ordered without a second thought. Delacroix and Billy snapped-to as the boss struck a bioluminescent light and walked between them, tossing the green-stick inside.

  “Okay, wow!” said Eventine with an echo.

  “It sounds deep, marble is good and safe this far in,” the muscleman noted.

  “Good job Billy, we may not have paid you enough,” British replied calmly, gazing into a massive chamber, untouched for thousands of years. “Call for everyone, get the Danes, this is awesome!”

  It was as British quickly surmised, a meeting chamber, replete with a long massive marble table and the deteriorated remnants of twelve wooden chairs. Adorning the smooth walls, they found ancient weaponry, gem-studded shields and fine Dwarven armor. In two chests, they discovered piles of precious jewels and noble metals, enough wealth to build several Fey Mansions—a dozen castles—start your own damned country.

  That was the first chamber.

  Oceanport

  Bigfoot Bob sat next to Iris on the roof of Billy’s apartment building gazing up to a starlit sky, mighty Ana low on the horizon and setting.

  “What-cha thinkin’ Iris?”

  “I just don’t know,” she replied. They were coming up with nothing but a missing construction worker who liked to fight.

  “Wish the Spirit was here,” Robert mused. No chance, it was only the beginning of the deep night. The Aequitas Caelum could not appear for six more hours.

  “Think this guy Billy did it?” he was rambling.

  “Possible,” the diminutive woman with grey hair and eyes sat quietly—thinking—meditating on what little they had learned.

  “You know I bet—”

  “Ssssh!” Iris tossed a finger up. She closed her eyes. Robert noticed her hair darken slowly. He sat there and tried to feel whatever it was—useless. Following a very long uncomfortable moment, Iris turned her face to Robert.

  “It’s another Renth, I can smell him big man,” she said, and then to herself, “why not before?”

  “You said him. A boy like you?”

  “Males are very different from meh,” she answered, growing nervous, black eyes searching the rooftops of the city, moving to the tall thin mountain towering over the city, ascending to the clouds.

  “Weh have trouble partner.”

  “Where?”

  “Up there Rob, watching us right now, already halfway to our Kinfolk,” Iris’ black orbs remained fixed on the spire of Salt Mountain. Robert simply could not see. “How fast can ya run big man?”

  “Pretty damned fast boss,” said the Giant confidently.

  “Good GO!” she bolted for the stairwell, leaving Rob behind. He strolled to the ledge. Three stories isn’t that bad—he jumped, landing with a nice roll, just as the slick Arenthian shot past him on the street.

  “HEY WAIT!”

  Salt Mountain

  Far above, Billy’s job was done. Everyone was gone, eagerly exploring the massive interior complex he opened, using the large dogs and green stick lights. Even Zachariah said he was gonna take a look, assuring Billy with a big fat smile that they were rich before he left to follow the Knights of Salvos into the dark.

  He ate, showered, packed his gear and waited patiently in the topside dormitories for Zack’s return.

  Billy was relaxing on a dorm bunk, when a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway.

  It was her! the babe who liked him. Billy stood slowly as she closed the distance and came into his arms, dropping her clothes on the floor…

  William Frakes never did know when to quit, when enough was enough—until Eventine showed him. He lay there exhausted, worn out by a woman twice his age. That never happened—ever. Billy felt his heart beating pure for the very first time.

  “I love—you Eve,” he panted as the beautiful sex-athlete rose, putting her clothes back on.

  “No,” she sighed, “you do not—just think you do.” Eventine fastened her twin Wakizashi belt.

  “Do you love me?” he asked shyly as a little boy might, afraid of hearing the no.

  Eventine stared at the incredible body she’d just used for her own means. She wanted more. She said the words not understanding why.

  “Yes, from the moment I saw you,” Eventine blushed.

  “Who is that?” her lover was pointing to the door. “Eve?”

  She turned and lost her breath. It was a dark man, with the haggard look of a wild ani
mal, bearing fangs and extending claws. His eyes were bright red and his long hair blue-black.

  “What in the name of?” whispered Eventine as the creature silently regressed into the hallway and disappeared.

  “Would you do anything for me Billy?” she said with her focus still on the threshold, drawing her dual blades.

  “Damn right I will,” he replied, jerking on his pants.

  “Good to hear, now grab that big dick—PICK! and come with me.”

  Below, at the foot of the Salt, Iris waited for Robert. She decided to ascend on the cable-lift instead of the old stairs, bridges and steps hewn into the mountainside. She knew she could beat the lift up, but she’d also be exhausted—unable to fight.

  “Thanks!” Rob was panting from the run across town as he boarded with a groan from the undercarriage.

  “Forgive meh Rob…hold on a wee second,” she replied as a man cantered a Quarterhorse nearby. Iris hopped from the basket and sprinted, taking three bounces before bounding like a wildcat for the rider. She tackled the astonished man, then leaped for the poor horse’s neckline, plunging her incisors deep.

  Bigfoot watched as the rider yelled for her to stop, and then charged her. Without looking or breaking her suction-hold, the Arenthian side-kicked him in the solar plexus, sending the man back to the pavement—out cold.

  She took her fill, broke contact and ran for the cable lift, already motioning Robert to start the pulley motor. He did, and she leaped, vaulting over the edge like a squirrel.

  “You okay partner?” Bobby asked as Iris took her breathing long and deep, gathering the energy now pulsing throughout her body. Rob would never forget the pain and power he felt after drinking Iris’ blood—he could only imagine what it was like to her.

  “I am, I am—you?”