“Shut up,” Vicki said.
“That’s when you learned the girls at the lot were protected. Knowing it was too risky to pluck from their ranks again, you set your sights on easier targets—innocent young women you scouted out during your social work rounds.”
“Shut up!” she screamed.
“Maybe somewhere along the line you decided you’d amassed enough riches. But Gorr wasn’t ready to stop, was he? He’d developed a taste for the sacrifices, each one making him hungrier for the next. He threatened your life on the next full moon, and the show went on.”
“Make him shut up!” Vicki screamed at Gorr, giving him a two-handed shove from behind.
Gorr plodded forward. I cut one way, then the other, looking for an opening, but the zombie god kept himself between me and the idol that animated him. I backpedaled. If he seized me, it would be over. No one would know she was the perp, not even James. By the time my partner came looking for me, Allison and I would be dead, Gorr would have returned to his realm, and Vicki would have had time to concoct a story, one James might not be able to see through. She would pin it on her brother, paint herself as the victim. While her brother was being processed, she would split town with the idol and bracelets.
I couldn’t let that happen.
“Vigore!” I called, thrusting my sword forward.
But instead of directing the force at Gorr or Vicki, I hooked it around Allison’s ankle and dragged her from behind the altar. Even that simple invocation was draining, but it had the desired effect. Gorr halted his advance toward me and turned his head toward his offering, which was sliding away. I sensed the hunger churning inside him. He changed course, stalking toward Allison.
“Hey, come back here!” Vicki cried.
Her right hand was still clamping the idol to her chest. The other was stretched toward Gorr, trying to command him. I didn’t have the power to pull the idol free, not from this distance. And I wouldn’t be able to cross the chamber on foot before Gorr retrieved Allison and returned to protect Vicki.
Metal rang against stone. I looked over to see the bracelet that had been making its way across the floor arrive at the base of the shrine’s cross. It jittered excitedly beneath its twin.
And then there’s Option C, I thought.
Shaping a force invocation, I released it. The bracelet sprang from the floor and shot onto Vicki’s outstretched hand. Gotcha!
She cried out as the energy clamped her wrist and began squirming up her arm.
Gorr stopped advancing on Allison and spun toward Vicki. A hungry moan seeped from his lips.
“No,” Vicki said, trying desperately to pry the bracelet off herself as she backed away. “I’m not the tribute. She’s the tribute. I-I’m your master. I command you to protect me.”
Gorr’s posture sagged as he stopped in front of her.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now I want you to—”
Gorr seized her around the waist and lifted her toward his mouth.
“No!” she shouted, kicking her legs. “Release me!”
Gorr’s bloated lips parted, ropes of saliva stretching between his teeth.
“No! No! No!” Vicki shrieked. “God dammit, nooo!”
I cringed, unable to look. But I couldn’t block out the crunching and gnawing or Vicki’s death cries. When at last I peeked, Gorr was stumbling drunkenly, tearing his victim’s remains apart in ecstatic spasms. I was going to need counseling, but first I needed to finish this.
When Sten Klausen had failed to deliver a sacrifice to Gorr more than a hundred years ago, the zombie god had strangled the life from him. Without a male mortal binding him to our plane, Gorr had returned to the underworld. But in the present case, Gorr was bound to Elmer, not Vicki. He would persist here as long as Elmer did—or the idol. My eyes searched the floor until I spotted the wooden figure half buried in gore.
“Vigore!” I called, snagging it with a weak force invocation.
The idol kicked and then began skidding toward me. Seeing what was happening, Gorr dropped Vicki’s remains and ran until he was gaining on the idol. I dashed toward the idol from the other direction, digging into the pockets of my flapping coat to locate the vial I would need to torch the wooden figure.
I reached the idol a second before Gorr. Like a runner in a shuttle race, I planted my front leg, grasped the blood-soaked idol, and pushed myself into a sprint in the other direction. If James had managed to locate some explosives, we would replay the last escape, only this time we’d salt and burn the idol, destroying Gorr, and then come back for Allison.
I was almost clear of the killing chamber when Gorr’s fingers hooked the back of my coat. I tried to shed it, even if that meant losing my salt and dragon sand, but Gorr’s other hand was already around me, pinning an arm to my side and crushing the air from my lungs. Grunting, I curled the fingers of my free hand around the idol and tried to snap it against my chest, but the wood was too dense.
“Respingere,” I grunted.
Power flashed from the coin pendant around my neck, but it didn’t affect Gorr. His lips parted as he lifted me, releasing the stink of a mass grave. Between his rotting teeth, I could see shreds of Vicki’s designer jacket.
I kicked desperately, managing to plant a foot against Gorr’s throat and the other below his nose. I wasn’t going to end up like Vicki. Wasn’t going to allow Allison to be next. Wasn’t going to let this monstrosity roam free.
Gorr moaned and knocked my leg down with his other hand. With my final reserves, I redoubled my efforts to snap the idol. I could feel my breastbone bruising, but the damned wood would not give.
Someone whistled. “Everson, the idol!”
I squinted over to where James had entered the chamber. He clapped twice and showed me his hands. With a grunt, I shot-putted the idol toward him. He bent low to catch it and then waved it overhead.
“Hey, Smelly! Look what I’ve got!”
With a groan, Gorr closed his mouth and dropped me. I landed hard, my body one gigantic throb, but I understood James’s plan. While he danced back from Gorr, I struggled to my feet, uncapped the vial of dragon sand in one coat pocket and dug out a small handful of salt from another. The instant before Gorr grabbed him, James slid the idol toward me.
“Smoke that bitch!” James yelled.
With a foot, I trapped the idol and dumped the salt and dragon sand over it.
Gorr wheeled toward me and charged. I had just enough time to jump back and shout, “Fuoco!”
The dragon sand ignited with a dark red burst that swallowed the idol. Gorr arrived over it and tried to stomp it out as his own body erupted into a flurry of blue fire. He staggered back and slapped at the spreading flames. They turned orange, then a fierce red, climbing up into his tangled hair. The milky cauls bubbled and dripped from his eyes. When he tried to moan, fire jetted from his throat, choking off the sound. His insides were burning now.
James limped to my side, a hand bracing the right side of his ribs.
Safely back, we watched Gorr’s form stiffen to a charcoal-like blackness. At last, he toppled backwards, still flickering, and burst against the cavern floor, just a larger version of the idol’s ashes at my feet.
James clapped my shoulder as the last of the cavern’s dark energy dissipated. “So that’s what happens when you kill a god, huh?”
“Damned straight,” I said, releasing my breath. “And guess who was behind him?” I filled James in quickly as we crossed the chamber to check on Allison, who was starting to come to.
“Vicki,” James repeated, shaking his head. “And just this morning I’d been thinking I might want her number. Oh, hey,” he whispered, placing a hand on my chest. “Mind if I do the hero thing solo?”
I glanced from Allison to him. “Why not both of us?”
“No offense, but you’re not much to look at right now.”
“I’m not much to look at? Have you seen your face lately?”
“I imagine it’s as bad a
s it feels, but yours looks like a baboon’s ass that’s been kicked really hard.”
Despite everything, the absurd image made me snuff out a laugh that killed my broken nose.
James gave me a companionable nudge. “You can play hero next time.”
I narrowed my swollen eyes at him, but what could I say? My partner’s timing had saved my life, not to mention helping destroy a god and close a dangerous portal to the nether realms.
I relented. “Go get her, cowboy.”
17
After taking James’s and my accounts, speaking with Elmer, and performing a thorough search of Vicki’s records and property, Marge and the Grimstone County Sheriff’s Department wrapped up their investigation that week.
Vicki’s late mother had spent her final years researching the family’s genealogy. She was the one who had discovered the idol and bracelets in a box of her husband’s family’s old things. The box also contained a small leather-bound journal in which Sten Klausen detailed the rites he’d used to call Gorr, and how, as a result, he’d started paying down his debts.
Vicki’s mother had concluded in her notes about Sten Klausen that the man was “batshit crazy.” She hadn’t believed any of it. When she died, though, those notes went to Vicki.
I had been right about Vicki’s finances. With her compulsive spending habits, she’d amassed a sizeable debt. About a quarter million dollars’ worth. Yeah. Those surgeries weren’t cheap.
When shady collectors began pounding on the door, Vicki might have remembered her mother mentioning a crazy great-great-grandfather who claimed to have made sacrifices to a god in exchange for gold. At that point, Vicki would have tried anything. And she had what she needed: the idol, the bracelets, the instructions, and access to the old shrine.
She’d made an arrangement with a buyer for the gold, which, due to high demand, was selling at a premium. Within five months, Vicki’s debts were paid, plus interest. It appeared she did try to quit, but as Sten Klausen learned the hard way, once Gorr got going, he didn’t like to stop.
On a related note, Taffy eventually told Marge that he’d purchased Sten’s claim at the 1902 auction after seeing what the man had been pulling from his mine. He’d been mystified when, after two years and an extensive operation, the dwarves had produced diddlysquat from the same claim. Of course, they hadn’t had a Norse god of wealth to lean on.
In Vicki’s case, she found Gorr another sacrifice just in time, sparing herself Sten’s fate. Five murders became six and then seven. More and more gold fell into her blood-stained lap. In the last few months, she had been scrambling to spread her money across a variety of accounts to avoid suspicion.
She wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.
As for the victims, their remains were exhumed from the mine to receive proper burials, including the two women who had disappeared during Sten’s time, their disappearances no longer a mystery.
With the case solved and the god destroyed, there had been nothing left for James and me to do but clean the bracelets and pack them in salt for delivery to our order. Naturally, we received commendations from the Grimstone County Sheriff’s Department for our crack work.
Sort of…
“Man, this is for the birds,” James complained. Straightening from his mop, he squinted at the swath of tar we’d smeared over half the sheriff department’s rooftop. As punishment for disobeying her orders, not to mention riling up the dwarves, Marge had sentenced us to a long weekend of manual labor.
“Oh, a little non-magical work never killed anyone,” I said.
“No, but these god-awful fumes might. Feels like they’re sticking to my lungs.”
“Then invoke a filter. Hey, you missed a spot over there.”
“Where?”
I showed him with a jutted chin. Grumbling, James slapped some tar over it.
“You know we’re up here because of you, don’t you?” he said.
“Yeah, well, at least I get into the kind of trouble I can get back out of.”
“You referring to the werewolves?”
There had been no word from Santana since the night James stabbed him. By all accounts he’d disappeared, meaning he was either out in the desert, his bones being picked over by carrion birds, or he’d gone into hiding until he healed. I had a nasty feeling it was the second. To be safe, James and I had spent the last few nights strengthening the trailer’s defensive wards.
“And the witch,” I reminded him. “Madam Helga isn’t going to forget that favor you owe her.”
“Even though we killed the dude that grabbed her girl?”
“Nope.”
“That’s messed up, man. Well, the dwarves are all on you.”
I couldn’t argue with him there. Dwarves were famous for holding grudges. We pushed our black mops around, the tar’s fumes rising past us while the afternoon sun beat down on our bare backs.
“While you were meeting with the insurance agent about your trailer this morning,” I said, “I gave my report to the Order.”
James looked over at me. “And…?”
“And I told them what happened.”
“Everything?” he asked nervously.
I nodded. “Of course, I described the werewolf attacks as unprovoked,” I added with a grin.
James’s shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, bro.”
“Hey, you kept up your end of the deal: You took the case seriously. You got us the lead on the bracelet, which was huge. And there’s no way I would have been able to stop Gorr if you hadn’t been there. More likely, I’d still be down in that mine—in pieces. Anyway, I told all of that to the Order. They sounded pleased.” I stopped to lean on my mop. “Look, I wasn’t too excited about coming out here and playing mentor when I probably need as much mentoring as anyone. But we actually made a pretty competent team.”
“Aw, man, you’re making me misty eyed.”
“Which is good,” I went on, “because the Order said I could be sent out here again. I hope that doesn’t crimp your style.”
“Just so long as we don’t have to tar any more rooftops.”
“I’ll try to be better.”
He smirked. “Then so will I, Prof. Mop-shake on it?”
James held out his dripping mop. I laughed and tapped it with the end of mine. “Oh, I almost forgot,” I said. “The Order’s going to reimburse you for the damage to your trailer and Jeep, also for your lost firearms.”
He broke into a huge smile. “Now that’s gonna make me cry for real.”
“Thought you might like that.”
“Sh-sheriff says you can c-come down now!” a voice called up.
James and I walked to the edge of the roof and peered down at Elmer’s upturned face. With the idol destroyed, the bonding spell had released him, and Elmer had responded well to my healing magic. Within days he was asking about going back to work. Though his sister had stuck him in the lot for selfish reasons, it turned out Elmer enjoyed the employment.
Marge set him up with a couple odd jobs around town, including lawn maintenance for the sheriff’s department. And since there were no protocols for seizing money obtained through a god, Vicky’s accounts were transferred to a fund for Elmer, which allowed him to stay in his house and paid for a fulltime caregiver. Given his devotion to protecting women, something told me the victims would have been okay with that.
“Thanks, big man,” James called down, giving him a thumb’s up.
Elmer removed his cupped hand from his brow and returned the gesture enthusiastically before hustling off.
“Well,” I said, grabbing my shirt from the top of an unopened tar bucket, “guess I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Oh, hey, would you mind too much taking a cab to the airport?” James asked.
“You can’t drive me in your rental?”
“I’ve got another date with Allison.”
“You’re ditching your partner?”
“Hey, I’d ditch Merlin himself for the right woman.
”
“Fair enough. I guess. So, it sounds like she’s doing all right?”
“She’s awesome,” James said, smiling a little too broadly.
“I don’t want to know what that means, do I?”
“No, you don’t, Prof.”
I shook my head. Laughing, James clapped my shoulders and held the ladder for me to climb down.
Available Now!
Demon Moon
(Prof Croft, Book 1)
Now part of a 5-book set, from Prof Croft’s origins to his first case with James Wesson:
Prof Croft Box Set (Books 0 - 4)
Author’s Note
Croft & Wesson is a spinoff of my popular Prof Croft series.
It was written as a standalone, but if you’re new to the world and want to read more, start with the Prof Croft Box Set (Books 0 - 4).
The thick tome takes you from Everson Croft’s wizard origins in the prequel novella Book of Souls to his first collaboration with fellow spell-slinger James Wesson in Death Mage.
Can we expect more Croft & Wesson adventures in Grimstone County? Without a doubt. I’m dying to know what Helga’s errand will be for James, not to mention what became of the werewolf Santiago.
And whenever I put these two wizards together, interesting things seem to happen.
I want to extend my special thanks to Matt Abraham for organizing the Eight in the Chamber box set in which this story originally appeared as Croft and Wesson; to Deranged Doctor Design for another stellar cover design; to Myra Shelley for her editing; and to Sharlene Magnarella for final proofing. Naturally, any errors or inelegance that remain are this author’s alone.
Grimstone: A Croft and Wesson Adventure Page 13