Belle, Book and Candle: A Fantasy Novel by Nick Pollotta

by Nick Pollotta

“Use a hammer. Cold iron, if one is available. If not ... high-grade steel will do in a pinch. Still got the Lady?”

  “Bet your buns.”

  “Groovy. She’ll do fine. Anything else?”

  “No. Thanks, Tex. Love you!”

  “Ditto, Contessa. Later!”

  “Soul Jars,” Colt snorted, shifting the shotgun on his shoulder. “Maybe Dominic is a tad bit smarter than we give him credit for.”

  “Hopefully, so are we,” Rissa said, her heart wildly pounding as she raised the revolver high, then brought it swiftly down.

  The ceramic monkey shattered into a million tiny pieces under the gentle blow, the pieces breaking apart into dust, the dust becoming smoke, the smoke then turning into fog that began to swirl around faster and faster, rapidly forming a miniature whirlwind that expanded in size until it filled the bedroom.

  Covering their faces, Rissa and Colt started to move away when the whirlwind abruptly vanished in a deafening thunderclap—leaving behind an elderly woman dressed in a demure black dress and painfully clutching her lower back.

  “Gordon-Bennett, what a tight fit!” Lady Henrietta Harmond groaned, trying to straighten upright. “I felt like a hogshead stuffed into a demijohn!”

  “Grammy!” Rissa yelled, rushing over to hug the elderly woman.

  “Clarissa?” Lady Harmond gasped in delight. “Oh, I should have known you would find us, dear heart.”

  Rissa’s reply was muffled into the ruffled blouse.

  Gently, Lady Harmond stroked the hair of the weeping woman. “Hush now, no tears. The danger is far from over. I don’t know what this place is, but we must leave immediately before—” She stopped talking at the sight of Colt.

  “Hello!” he said, waving politely.

  “Why ... ah ... Mr. Coltier,” Lady Harmond stammered, pushing Rissa away. “How nice it is to see ... we were only ... ah ... that is ... rehearsing a play! We were only—”

  “Vampires, rings, Dominic, magic,” Colt interrupted. “Salt, ice cubes, workshop.”

  Slowly, Lady Harmond smiled. “Then you know everything?”

  “Pretty much, ma’am.”

  She smiled at the courtesy, displaying heretofore unknown dimples. “And I suppose that I have you to thank for this dissemination?” Lady Harmond asked, glancing sideways.

  “Grandmother, Emile is my fiancé,” Rissa said, going over to place an arm about his waist.

  Crossing her arms, Lady Harmond scowled. “Is he indeed?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well now, Mr. Coltier ...”

  “Please, call me Colt.”

  “Good heavens, how socially inappropriate!” Lady Harmond said, oddly sounding exactly like her oil portrait. “But of course I will, dear boy. However, it is still essential that we leave before ...” She paused at the sight of the other two statues.

  “R—Richard?” Lady Harmond whispered, advancing a step.

  The No-Speak monkey trembled in response, but then so did the No-See statue.

  Dismissing the attempted chicanery with a snort, Lady Harmond grabbed the No-Speak monkey and smashed it onto the steel floor.

  The earlier scene of transformation repeated itself, and as the last wisps of smoke faded away there stood a tall, powerful man in ratty sneakers, jogging shorts, and an Atlanta Falcons T-shirt.

  “Bloody hell!” Colonel Harmond groaned, stiffly rising to his full height. “I have never been so goddamn uncomfortable in my whole bleeding life!”

  “Please dear, mind your language,” Lady Harmond said, rushing closer to briefly kiss the man.

  “Etta, my love,” the colonel murmured, hugging her close and breathing in her perfume as if recharging his soul.

  Scooping her bodily off the floor, Colonel Harmond passionately kissed his wife. She ardently responded, and just for a moment, the two ancient lovers were alone in the world, everything else briefly forgotten in the dulcet heaven of the long-denied embrace.

  “Tight shorts!” Rissa shouted, quickly turning away. “Very tight running shorts, Grandpa!”

  Thoroughly embarrassed, the colonel quickly set down his wife and stepped behind her.

  “Sorry, dear heart, but we haven’t seen each other in quite a while,” he chuckled, then raised an eyebrow in the exact same way that Rissa did when surprised. “Good lord, how very tall you are, Clarissa! Exactly how long have I been gone?”

  “If I understand correctly,” Colt said, pointing at each of the grandparents in turn, “two months, and one year.”

  “That sounds about right,” Lady Harmond said, slightly wiggling her hips while glancing over a shoulder.

  “Stop that!” Colonel Harmond muttered, taking her by the shoulders. “And whatever are you doing here, Mr. Coltier?”

  “He’s with me,” Rissa stated, taking Colt’s hand.

  “I see,” the colonel said slowly, his tone cooling. “Is this serious, or are you two just canoodling?”

  “Engaged, sir,” Colt declared proudly. “Hopefully with your permission. But if not, we still are.”

  The colonel lowered his head like a bull about to charge. “Really, young man?”

  “Consider it carved in stone.”

  “And if I disapprove?”

  “Then you don’t get an invitation to the wedding.”

  Silently Rissa and her grandmother exchanged nervous looks but said nothing. They each knew better than to get in the way of the masculine ritual. Not even the men involved actually knew what it was about most of the time.

  “Well, in that case, Mr. Coltier,” Colonel Harmond growled, his dragonbone ring flaring brightly as he stuck out a hand, “welcome to the family, son!”

  “Thank you, sir!” Colt said as they shook.

  “Okay, now that’s settled,” Rissa interrupted. “Just to let you know, this is Dominic’s bedroom, and he may return at any moment.”

  “His bedroom!” Lady Harmond gasped, glancing around the tiny room. “Does that mean ...”

  “Is this his home?” Colonel Harmond demanded. “Answer me, is it?”

  Colt nodded. “Yes.”

  “Lair,” Rissa corrected.

  “Oddsbodkins, girl, never mind the bloody semantics,” the colonel snarled. “Take us to his workshop!” With a sweeping gesture, his jogging outfit was replaced with a nineteenth-century British military uniform, complete with riding boots, holstered revolver, and a tasseled sword.

  “But all of his rings are gone,” Rissa stated.

  “That doesn’t matter,” stated Lady Harmond, reaching into a sleeve to pull out a switchblade knife. “We must destroy everything inside of it immediately.”

  “There is much more than simply rings in my own workshop,” said the colonel, striding from the room. “I own a host of magical weapons. Be assured that his is the same!”

  “And we better be sure that he doesn’t get his hands on them,” stated Lady Harmond. “So that we can kill the pox-ridden son-of-a-whore once and for all!”

  They tried before, and failed? “Trust me, we’re halfway there,” Rissa stated proudly, trailing after them. “We ... disposed of his protegée, so he’s all alone now.”

  A moment later Colt came out of the bedroom, slinging the duffel bag across his back.

  “My dear girl,” Colonel Harmond snarled, going around the sunken fireplace, “Dominic is never unarmed, and never alone!”

  “Perhaps you two should leave,” stated Lady Harmond, using the switchblade to indicate the front door. “Let us handle this.”

  “Going with,” Rissa declared bluntly.

  “End of discussion,” Colt added, brandishing the shotgun.

  The colonel opened his mouth to speak, then glanced at his wife.

  “Remind you of anybody?” Lady Harmond grinned.

  “Four against one, eh?” Colonel Harmond muttered, rubbing the scar on his chin. “That’s decent odds, even against Dominic. Fine, we all go.”

  “If it helps any,” Rissa added, “I have one of h
is rings.”

  In a blur of motion, both of her grandparents dove upon the surprised woman. While Lady Harmond wrestled the ring from her grasp, Colonel Harmond snatched a poker from the fireplace. His wife tossed it over, and the colonel placed it on the brickwork and smashed the ring into pieces.

  “At his command that could have exploded with enough force to send us all into the great unknown,” Colonel Harmond panted, tossing the bent poker into the fireplace. Glowing red hot, it landed with a loud clatter.

  “That was close,” Lady Harmond added, turning toward the hallway. “Almost too close.”

  “You have no idea, witch!” Dominic bellowed, stepping out of the kitchen. Flanked by a pair of stone gargoyles, the man was carrying an M16 assault rifle, every finger lined with several golden rings.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Instantly everybody wearing a ring gestured and multiple lightning bolts crackled across the living room.

  Diving to the side, Colt came up with the shotgun blasting. The assault rifle was torn from Dominic’s grip, and one of the gargoyles exploded into sparkling glitter from the hammering barrage of rock salt. While Colt quickly reloaded, the remaining three gargoyles exchanged meaningful glances and launched straight upward, crashing through the roof.

  “Cowards!” Dominic bellowed, clawing at them with his left hand, all nine of the golden rings incandescent with power.

  Sliced apart into ghastly chunks, the creatures tumbled back down into the living room to juicily smack onto the plush carpeting before crumbling into blackened ash.

  Snapping the breech shut, Colt started to aim at Dominic again, but it was difficult to see him clearly anymore. By now the very air seemed to boil from the rampaging energy unleashed by the five combatants.

  Wild and insane images writhed inside the roiling technicolor tidal wave—giant hands, stabbing daggers, gnashing teeth, snipping scissors, spears of light, hammers of darkness, sparkling flame, glittering ice, and a strange green confetti that melted the floor wherever it happened to randomly land.

  Changing tactics, Colt turned to dash down the hallway. Reaching the door to the workshop, he pulled out the homemade dynamite bomb, lit the fuse, and tossed it inside. Slamming the door shut, he sprinted away but only got a few yards before a deafening explosion rocked the entire warehouse. The brick walls cracked, the lights went out, windows shattered, water pipes burst, the chimney collapsed, and Dominic staggered backward to hit the wall gasping for air.

  “Filthy bastard!” he screeched, and reached toward the man with both clawed hands.

  Quickly Rissa stepped in front of Colt, while her grandparents joined hands and a shimmering ball of iridescent force appeared around her. However, Dominic changed targets at the very last second, and wiggled his fingers at the recessed wine rack.

  Instantly hundreds of the bottles burst, spraying out a hellstorm of broken glass. Slashed to ribbons, Colt fell bleeding from a dozen ghastly wounds.

  “Wait!” Rissa shouted desperately, raising both hands in surrender. “Let him live, and so can you!”

  That startling offer gave everybody pause.

  “Are you mad, child?” Lady Harmond asked, arching both eyebrows.

  “Never!” Colonel Harmond hissed, his fangs appearing. “The thief must die, here and now!”

  Waving his hands to try and cool down his rings, Dominic said nothing, but his eyes narrowed in thought.

  Sprawled on the tattered carpeting, Colt was laboring to breathe, his twitching fingers feebly trying to staunch the steady flow of blood.

  “Let him live, and you live,” Rissa repeated with a sob on her voice. “That’s the deal! My word of honor.”

  A long moment passed, then another.

  “No deal,” Dominic chuckled, and slapped his hands together. “Save him if you can!”

  Across the room, Colt howled as he became engulfed in a maelstrom of black flames, his clothing vanishing as the ethereal fire burned through his flesh and down into his very bones, altering the man, visibly changing every fiber in his body into something else ...

  At the horrifying sight, Rissa desperately cast a Healing spell, but it rebounded from Colt to hit Dominic. Snarling in rage, Colonel Harmond tried the same spell, and then Lady Harmond, all of them with similar results.

  Looking as if he had just come home from a long vacation in the Bahamas, a fit and well-rested Dominic began throwing renewed spells that forced Rissa and the grandparents steadily backward.

  On the floor, Colt began to convulse.

  Swiftly praying to whomever might be listening, Rissa yanked off a ring and whipped it toward the open bedroom door. It musically ricocheted off the steel and hit the floor to lazily roll out of sight.

  Detonate! Rissa mentally commanded with every fiber of her being. Detonate, right now!

  Immediately a powerful blast boomed inside the steel room, closely followed by a low inhuman growl.

  “What have you done?” Lady Harmond gasped, as pieces of the ceiling broke off to sprinkle down everywhere.

  A roiling cloud of green smoke billowed out of the dark bedroom, and moving inside it was a monstrous form, something neither man nor beast.

  “Run, child! We’ll try to hold it off!” admonished the colonel, going alongside his wife.

  Lumbering into view came the freed demon. A living nightmare, the thing was a horrid mixture of human and spider, the misshapen body so enormous that it was barely able to squeeze out the doorway. Dozens of different-sized eyes dotted its furry skin, braided horns swept back from its ridged face, and it had two mouths. One of them was full of sharp fangs, while the other was a rubbery obscenity with a fat pulsating tongue lolling out between the flapping lips.

  “Master, save me!” Rissa shouted, dropping to the floor and bowing before Dominic.

  Starting toward the woman, the demon paused in obvious confusion to now look directly at Dominic, and it hissed in recognition.

  “You!” it screamed, and charged with every leg flashing.

  Dashing for the nearest wall, Dominic was only able to phase halfway through when a white gob smacked into his back, and the cursing man was dragged back into the living room by a thick strand of spider silk coming out of the rubbery mouth.

  His every ring blazing, Dominic wildly slashed and clawed at the demon, struggling to avoid the serrated mandibles.

  Uncaring about the result of the clash, Rissa pelted across the living room toward Colt. The blood had ceased to trickle from his wounds and his eyes were closed. The sight filled her with such dread that Rissa thought her heart might literally break as she desperately began casting spell after spell at the pale man laying motionless on the dirty floor ...

  The demon snipped off one of Dominic’s hands, but he instantly grew it back. Dominic froze one of the mouths solid, and a hairy leg cracked him across the back, sending him sprawling.

  Seizing the opportunity, Lady Harmond jerked a hand toward the shotgun, and it tumbled through the air to smack into her palm. Aiming from the hip, she triggered both barrels.

  The double spray of rock salt hammered both Dominic and the demon, doing scant damage to either. Then a dozen of his rings cracked apart to sprinkle onto the littered floor.

  “Fool, you’ve killed us all!” Dominic wailed in terror, struggling to hold off the mandibles of the salivating demon.

  “Not quite,” Colonel Harmond stated, pulling off his own ring and whispering a word of Power. Obediently the ring streaked away to lance directly into the open mouth of the monster and down its throbbing gullet.

  Spreading her arms wide, Lady Harmond desperately cast a huge Dome over her family a split second before the disappearing dragonbone ring cut loose.

  The entire universe seemed to shatter, the allotropic blast was so powerful, and for an indeterminately long period of time, there was only a swirling reddish haze hotter than the banked fires of lower Hell, and a loud ringing silence ...

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Slowly
coming awake, Rissa lay still for a very long time listening to the rhythmic beating of her heart.

  Every inch of her hurt, and apparently she had experienced a major nosebleed. All of which was consistent with being just a tad too close to an explosion. But she was still alive. Alive!

  Painfully raising her head, Rissa looked across the room and saw both of her grandparents sprawled on the littered floor. Thankfully, their chests were rising and falling. A few yards beyond them a large chunk of the building was gone. Exactly where Dominic and the demon had been standing.

  Wiping her face on a sleeve, Rissa almost smiled. Dominic and the Demon. That sounds like the worst kids’ book ever written!

  Just then a low groan sounded. Recognizing the voice, Rissa rolled onto her stomach to crawl over busted bricks, chunks of ceiling tiles, and hairy slabs of meat. A yard away, Colt was sprawled on a small swatch of undamaged carpeting, sans debris of any kind. Obviously the Dome had done its job! At least for him.

  Unfortunately, Rissa did not recall him being this bad before. She could actually see his bones, and there was a stench coming off the man that no living thing should ever emit. Yet Colt was now feebly twitching and moaning. Which meant that either Colt was still alive or becoming a zombie.

  That ghastly idea sent a sharp stab of clarity into her mind, and Rissa rose to kneel alongside the man and tenderly hold one of his disfigured hands. His skin felt cold, so very cold. She gave it a reassuring squeeze. Incredibly, there came a weak response. That gave her hope. Lochinvar is still in there fighting!

  “Heal,” Rissa whispered, touching his hand. “Heal!”

  Her entire body throbbed with ethereal power as every remaining ring she had brightly glowed, and electricity seemed to crackle over the man, but nothing else happened.

  “I’m sorry, dear heart,” Lady Harmond said, limping closer. “But Colt has been cursed.”

  Cursed. Rissa knew the word should have frightened her, or made her angry, or something. But she was just numb inside, too damn tired to feel anything. “Can we reverse it?”

  “Not with Dominic dead.”

  “There must be something we can try!” Rissa begged, tears flowing down both cheeks as desperation surged out of the exhaustion and threatened to swallow her whole.