Hard Spell ocu-1

by Justin Gustainis

  The Reverends Ferris and Crane, still wearing their elegant gray suits, stood thirty feet away, next to the open doors of a big black Caddy. Crane held the shotgun barrel pointed right at Karl and me, and we were so close together, I knew one blast would nail us both. The nasty smile was back on Crane's schoolboy face. The Reverend Ferris was smiling, too, and it wasn't hard to guess why.

  "How good to see you both again, Detectives," he said. "Reverend Crane had started to wonder if you were ever going to join us out here, but I reminded him that the Lord provides those who serve Him with what they need, all in due time. And here you are."

  "We have unfinished business," Crane said. I guess he felt he should contribute something besides firepower.

  "Indeed we do." Ferris looked as happy as a little boy with a new kitten – a kitten he planned to tor ture to death, as soon as he could get it alone. "The sergeant has some questions to answer for us. And do you know, Detective Renfer, I believe I smell the taint of witchcraft on you, too. I'm afraid you'll have to come along with us, as well."

  I thought about the surveillance cameras trained on the parking lot. Although always recording, they weren't monitored regularly. It would be hours before anybody inside the building learned that we had been abducted by the two witchfinders. By then, of course, it would be too late. For everybody.

  Ferris's smile faded, to be replaced by a solemn look, the kind you associate with a hanging judge. His voice was all business as he said, "All right then: one at a time, you will bend forward slowly, and deposit that junk you're carrying on the ground. You won't be needing it, I'm sure. Detective Renfer first. Now."

  Karl bent over and gently laid down his share of what we'd taken from the SWAT weapons room. But I saw that as he straightened up, he managed to take a half step away from me. The reverends apparently didn't notice.

  "Very good," Ferris said. "Now you, Sergeant Markowski. Slowly."

  As I finished putting my stuff on the cracked asphalt, I managed to emulate Karl with a sneaky half step in the other direction.

  One thing I knew for certain: we were not getting into the Caddy with these two righteous sadists. What would happen to Karl and me would be bad enough. But if nobody stopped Sligo, and his spell was successful…

  Karl and I would have to make our stand here, win or lose. And the next thing we needed to do was get more distance between us. I took another slow half-step to my right.

  "Stand still!" Crane barked. "Don't move!"

  "I'm sorry, Reverend," I said. "I didn't mean to be disobedient, but you didn't say anything about standing in place, before."

  As I spoke, I saw Karl move a little further to his left. The shotgun barrel shifted in his direction, and I took the opportunity to slide my feet a little more to the right. Crane turned the gun back on me.

  "I said don't move, damn you!" While Crane yelled at me, I saw, from the corner of my eye, the additional step that Karl got in.

  " Stay still, or I'll shoot you right here! " Crane said, hysteria rising in his voice.

  "I would do what Reverend Crane says," Ferris said sternly. "Taking you for questioning is our ideal outcome, but if we must leave your corpses here, that is acceptable, as well. Sinners must pay for their sins, one way or another."

  Karl and I had gained what we wanted. We were now too far apart for a single blast from that shotgun to get us both. One of us would live to put three or four rounds into Crain's chest before he could rack another round into the firing chamber. And since Ferris appeared unarmed…

  "What makes you so certain that we're sinners, Reverend?" I asked. "Isn't there something about letting he who is without sin cast the first stone?"

  I didn't dare look toward Karl now, but I was sure he'd taken advantage of the couple of seconds their attention was on me to push his jacket back a bit on one side, making for quicker access to his holstered weapon.

  "Yeah, Reverend, are you guys that pure yourselves?" Karl said loudly, and when they looked his way, I moved my right forearm back slowly, taking the suit jacket with it. The fabric was almost clear of the holster now.

  The clock was ticking towards midnight, and we had exactly zero time to waste with these clowns. At least one of us had to get to Lake Scranton, and fast.

  Might as well thre dice, and see whose number came up.

  I was tensing my gun arm as Ferris snapped, "I have no intention of debating theology with the likes of you." He produced two pairs of handcuffs. "Now, you are going to-"

  There was movement in the air behind them, something so fast I couldn't tell what it was. Then a shadow appeared directly behind Crane, a black form that reached out and grasped Crane's jaw in one hand, his head in the other, and twisted, hard. Crane was dead before he even knew he was dying.

  The shadow blurred again, flowing over the roof of the Cadillac and the dark figure became Vollman, in front of Ferris now, grasping his throat with one hand, lifting the witchfinder off his feet, seemingly without effort…

  " Vollman! " I managed to yell. " Don't! "

  The words were barely out of my mouth as Vollman shook Ferris hard, once, the way a terrier shakes a rat – and with similar results. I didn't hear Ferris's neck break, but I saw the way his head lolled before Vollman dropped the limp form to the ground.

  Vollman quickly walked over to us and said, "I received your message, and came here as quickly as I could. Fortunate that I did not arrive a minute later – I need both of you alive tonight."

  Karl was unlocking the trunk of the Plymouth. I stood there, torn by more conflicting impulses than I've ever had to deal with at the same time.

  If you want to imagine one of those internal dialogues that people in the movies sometimes have – you know, with an angel perched on one shoulder and a devil on the other – mine would have gone something like this:

  Angel: You've just seen Vollman commit murder. Maybe not with Crane, but Ferris was unarmed. That's murder – arrest him!

  Devil: Vollman just saved your life – either yours or Karl's. You were about to throw the dice, remember? You knew that either you or Karl was gonna catch that shotgun load right in the chest. And Ferris might even have had a piece under his coat. If he'd gone for it, one of you would have had to kill him, anyway.

  Angel: It doesn't matter – the law's the law. Besides, Vollman's a vampire, an evil creature of the night. He doesn't deserve a break.

  Devil: Aren't you getting ready to risk your life at least partly to save a vampire you think is in danger, who happens to be your daughter – the daughter who's a vampire because of you?

  Angel: Be pragmatic. Remember the surveillance cameras! They've recorded what Vollman just did – and that you were there, and saw it. If you don't arrest Vollman, you'll be charged as an accessory to murder, you and Karl both.

  Devil: They only check the video if something's reported as happening in the parking lot. If nothing's reported in seventy-two hours or so, they wipe the memory and reuse the hard drive space.

  Angel: Well, when somebody finds those two bodies, don't you think that would count as "something happened"?

  Devil: So, make sure the bodies aren't found. Vollman can probably help you there.

  Angel: Do that, and you're making a deal with the devil, Stanley.

  Devil: Wouldn't be the first time, Stan. And besides, you need this particular devil on your side, tonight, up at the dam. And the clock is ticking, dude, toward midnight and the End of the World as We Know It.

  Angel: It's not really that bad.

  Devil: It's fucking bad enough!

  All this took place in maybe three seconds. Standing there, n, you never know the convoluted mental process that led to me telling Vollman, "Those bodies are going to be a problem, if they're found."

  Vollman thought for a moment. "Very well – I will attend to it. Finish loading your equipment – and hurry!"

  Karl and I put the SWAT stuff into the trunk as fast as we could. We closed the trunk lid and turned to find Vollman st
anding there. "The bodies are in the trunk of their vehicle. I have left the keys in the ignition. One of my people will move it before dawn, and those two fools will not be seen again. Satisfied?"

  I wanted to ask Vollman how one of his "people" was going to get in to what was supposed to be a secure parking area. The witchfinders probably had a pass from the mayor's office, but… what came out of my mouth instead was, "Fine. Get in."

  Lake Scranton is at the southern edge of the city, just off Route 307. Seen from the air, it resembles a bat with its wings spread wide. It's an artificial lake, created by diverting a tributary of the Lackawanna River, then building a dam to hold the water in. The distance around the perimeter is something like three and a half miles and the dam, with the pump house on top, is at the lower edge of the bat's left wing.

  You'd think the pump house would be dead center on the dam. But it actually sits about two hundred feet from the northern end, with another couple of thousand feet of dam beyond it until you reach the other shore. The stone and cement platform it's built on is perpendicular to the top of the dam, so the little building appears to be sitting on top of the water.

  If you were interested, for some reason, in launching an attack on the pump house, you could come in either on the short side, with two hundred feet of concrete dam to cross, or the long side, which is about ten times the distance. If you were a team of Navy SEALs, you'd probably come in by water, climb to the top of the dam with ropes and grappling hooks, and catch everybody in the pump house by complete surprise.

  I could have used me a team of Navy SEALs, right about then.

  One thing that I didn't need any commandos to teach me: you plan for the enemy's capabilities, not his intentions – because you can sometimes figure out the first, but never be sure about the second.

  As we followed the short stretch of Route 307 that would take us to the dam, I asked Vollman, "What kind of spells is he likely to have prepared? Any idea?"

  Despite what you see in the movies, wizards and witches can't just wave their hands and make magic happen. It looks that way sometimes, but in fact any hand waving or magic words are used to activate pre-prepared spells. And those take some time, effort, and skill to get ready.

  It's kind of like using a gun: you have to load it to make it dangerous. And although you have your choice of ammunition, the piece will hold only so many bullets, and you can only carry so much ammo with you.

  "Impossible to know," Vollman said from the back seat. "He is so sure of his own invincibility, that he may have prepared nothing at all, on the assumption that he will face no opposition tonight."

  "But we can't count on that,"

  "No," Vollman said, "of course not. I only mention it as a possibility."

  Enemy capabilities: unknown. Terrific.

  We were approaching the exit that would take us to the access roads for the dam. "Does it matter which side we go in on?" I asked Vollman. "The short end or the long end?"

  "The faster our final approach, the less chance of detection," he said. "I see no advantage to the long way."

  "Sit is, then."

  I turned off the lights as we followed the narrow access road that led to the dam. No point in begging to be noticed. Anyway the full moon, shining down through the scattered wispy clouds, gave all the light I needed.

  It was a beautiful night. I wondered how many of us would survive it.

  "Vollman," I said, "can you scry the place before we go in – find out the layout, so we know what to expect?"

  He didn't respond right away, and I glanced over my shoulder in time to see him shake his head slowly. "I can do so," he said, "but as soon as I commence, Richard will sense the presence of magic close at hand. He will then be alerted to our whereabouts."

  Karl turned in his seat and looked back at Vollman. "If you don't scry, or use some other kind of magic, is he gonna know we're coming, anyway?"

  "Ordinarily, I would say 'yes.' Wizards are very sensitive to the presence of potential enemies. But tonight he is giving so much of his attention and energy to the ritual, he may be too preoccupied."

  " May," Karl said sourly.

  " May is the most accurate assessment possible under these circumstances," Vollman said. "I regret that I cannot offer you certainty, Detective. For all our sakes."

  There was silence as I braked the Plymouth to a slow halt about fifty feet from the chain link fence and gate that guarded this end of the dam.

  Then Vollman said, "But one thing that I can do is to counter any magic he uses against you, allowing both of you the freedom to disrupt the ritual and, if necessary, effect the rescue of Miss Markowski."

  "Well, that's a relief," Karl said, with no sarcasm at all.

  "It might be best," Vollman said, "if I were to remain out of sight for as long as possible. I can counter his spells from outside that little building as well as I could from within it."

  "So you can stop his magic," I said. "Can he stop yours?"

  "That depends on whose is the stronger."

  "And that's you, right?" Karl said.

  "As they say in those awful television programs I sometimes find myself watching, There is one way to find out."

  Karl and I had each taken from the SWAT armory a pump shotgun, a selection of ammunition, and several of the "Splash-bang" grenades we'd seen the team use at Jamieson Longworth's place. We hurriedly loaded the shotguns, making our best guess as to what we would need in there.

  "Double-ought buckshot for the door," I said. I once saw a guy use some to make a very large hole in a brick wall.

  Karl rummaged through the boxes of shotgun ammo. "Zap the lock? Like the SWAT guys did?"

  "The door's probably made of iron," I said. "We take the hinges. It's more certain."

  Karl looked at Vollman. "Can't you take the door down for us, with magic?"

  "I could," Vollman said. "But since you have the means on hand yourselves, it is perhaps best that I conserve my energies."

  That was Vollman's fancy way of saying "Save my strength." It didn't exactly inspire confidence.

  The shotguns held five shells apiece. "For the rest, load whatever you want," I said. "We don't know what we'll be dealing with in there. And don't assume you'll get the chance to reload, because you probably won't."

  I loaded two shells filled with blessed silver pellets, then one of garlic-soaked rock salt, then another double-ought buck, and one more silver for luck. I didn't pay attention towhat Karl picked.

  Once we reached the chain link fence at the dam's entrance, I saw that the gate was secured with a chain and a big Yale padlock. Maybe Sligo had come in the long way; or it could be he just floated over it.

  A shotgun blast would take care of the lock, but I didn't want to announce that we were here until I had to. I looked at Vollman and said, barely above a whisper, "Can you…?"

  The old vampire nodded, took hold of the lock, and said something under his breath. It sprang open, and I watched him remove and toss it aside. I was sure glad he was willing to expend the energy.

  The three of us began the short walk along the top of the dam to the pump house. Ahead, I could see light coming from behind the two windows, brightly illuminating the cracks of the tightly closed shutters.

  I kept waiting for all hell to break loose, although I had no idea what form it might take – alarms, devil bats, automatic weapons fire – who knew what kind of shit Sligo might have prepared?

  With every step I heard from my guts, which were caring on an ongoing monologue with my conscious mind. This is a bad idea, Stan. We could die here, Stan. Get us out of here, Stan – before it's too late.

  I kept putting one foot in front of the other. Call me brave, optimistic, or stupid. I was leaning toward the third explanation, myself.

  Nothing happened. I didn't know if Sligo was indifferent or careless, but for most of the short walk all we heard was the chuckling of water in the dam and a few night birds in the trees behind us.

  Then inside the p
ump house a woman started screaming, and suddenly I was running.

  Karl was only a couple of steps behind me when I reached the door. As I'd figured, it was steel. I tried the knob, in case Sligo was really confident, but it seemed he'd at least locked the door.

  I backed up as far as I could, looked at Karl and pointed at the lower hinge. Then I said, "On three," and took careful aim at the upper one. Inside, the screaming continued.

  Part of my brain was wondering if I was going to get a face full of ricocheted buckshot as I said, " One, two- "

  The two shots melded into one big boom. The hinge I'd fired at was in pieces, and a quick glance showed me that Karl's was, too. The metal itself had buckled around the impact areas.

  I grabbed the edge of the door where it was protruding and yanked, hard as I could. That pulled it loose from the frame a little. Then Karl got a grip further down, and together we tore that thing free and slammed it to the concrete at our feet with a clang that I could feel more than hear, since I was temporarily deaf from the shotgun blasts.

  As soon as the door came down I became almost blind, as well as deaf. My God, it was bright in there, and my eyes were still adjusted to the semi-dark of outside. But if I stayed put, I was a dead man, so I dived at an angle where I hoped the doorway was, rolled, and came up on one knee – which hurt a lot more than it used to. I felt more than saw Karl do something similar in the other direction.

  If Sligo threw any magic at us in the next few seconds, we'd never know it until too late. But either Vollman was on top of his game, or Sligo wasn't, since nothing came our way as my eyes adjusted. Now I could see that the glaring light came from at least a dozen glowing globes hanging from the ceiling, supplemented by several portable spotlights whose glare bounced off the walls and ceiling every which way. Sligo must have installed all of this; I was pretty sure it wasn't part of the original pump house blueprintally c›

  I didn't take time to gawk around, but your eyes can take in a lot of information really fast, especially if you're as keyed up as I was. As I scanned the room in search of something to kill, I was dimly aware that the usual spellcasting paraphernalia was all over the place: incense burners, gongs of different sizes, tall candles in metal holders, the whole nine yards. But the real show was up front.