Angels and the Bad Man

by M. K. Gibson

  I fired, killing the two standing their ground, then blasting in the area where the third dove for cover.

  “Vera!” I yelled. “If you put your head out I swear to God I’ll shoot it off!”

  “Salem,” TJ cried from behind me.

  The boy was even paler.

  “TJ, come on kid, stay with me. Look at me. LOOK AT ME! Keep your eyes open, stay awake!”

  The kid’s eyes were fluttering. “Save . . . my . . . daddy.”

  “NO! No you don’t, kid. You don’t get to stow away and go on a freaking adventure with me only to clock out early. You get your ass back here!”

  I didn’t save us from being melted into liquid manure only to have this little trouble-making, stowaway, pain-in-my-ass, bedless boy die. I needed a first-aid kit or something. I put my hands onto the wounds as best I could, applying direct pressure to stop some of the bleeding. I looked around for anything that resembled a med-kit.

  But even if I found something, I couldn’t let go or else the bleeding would start again. Damn it.

  TJ gasped and his eyes went wide and glassy.

  No . . . NO!

  “No, no, NO!” I felt for a pulse and found nothing. I immediately started with chest compressions. I did a few rescue breaths and back to the compressions.

  Before the world went to Hell, I was CRP certified. I even took the course to become an instructor. You want to know a dirty little secret?

  It doesn’t work.

  Eight percent.

  That’s it.

  With properly administered CPR, you have about an eight percent chance of saving a life. If you had an AED, the little box that charged up and auto-shocked the heart, it brought your chances up to about eleven percent.

  Not like the movies, huh?

  Another thing you may not know. When doing chest compressions, you crack the patient’s ribs. Sometimes they break entirely. In order to pump the heart, you need to press hard enough to actually pump it through the breast bone. The pressure creates fractures along the ribs, snapping them.

  CPR is mostly a fruitless effort to give you the illusion of control in a fucked-up world. Something to keep your hands busy while you watch someone die. A pointless exercise to make you feel like you tried, while you realize our amazingly powerful bodies are in fact highly fragile bags of watery meat.

  But that didn’t stop me from doing it.

  Eight percent? I’ll take those odds. Because I didn’t have a choice.

  I pumped and pumped that little kid’s heart and . . . nothing. No flicker. No spark. No life at all. No no no.

  I charged up my tech bracers and used the hard-light projectors to create leads. I touched the leads to TJ’s body and released a current of energy. The boy’s body arched as the energy shocked his body into a contorted child-sized pretzel.

  God, it pained me to see the boy like that. But I did it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  I felt the cold metal circle of a rifle barrel against the back of my head. “Say goodnight, asshole,” the voice rasped.

  “Vera,” I whispered. “I’m trying to save a life.”

  “Why? He’s gone,” she sneered.

  I looked at the kid. The tear that ran down his cheek reflected my own.

  “Then just pull the goddamn trigger,” I whispered.

  A shot rang out.

  For a moment there was nothing. Just quiet. Then, Vera fell over, dead.

  I heard breathing, and I looked to my left from an open corridor between a set of the chemical storage cylinders. Riggs stood there, holding a smoking gun.

  “If you want that boy to live, then you have to do exactly what I say.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  All Forty-Four

  In Flotsam Prison

  Vali’s blood pooled beneath him.

  He gasped for breath. Each gulp of air wracked his body with impossible pain. His sight grew dim. Of all the gods, the Aesir were the closest to human. They could live like a mortal if they chose. And they could die like a mortal in the right circumstances.

  Which was why Vali cheated.

  His blood stopped pouring from the wound. His breath was slowly returning and the pain was subsiding. Vali only hoped his enemies could not see his recovery. Thankfully, Yeela provided an unintended distraction.

  “Do I get to see my sister now?” Yeela asked.

  “In time, little one,” Gerhardt said.

  “When you all pulled me out of the water, you said I’d get to see my sister if I brought any friend of Salem’s to you!”

  Gerhardt sighed as he dropped his energy shield. “That I did, that I did. I am nothing if not honest.”

  The mage walked toward Yeela, who bowed before him. Gently, Gerhardt lifted Yeela’s chin so she was forced to look into his burned, mangled face, and looked her in the eyes. “Would you like to see her now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “OK.”

  Gerhardt let go of the demoness’s chin, then opened his greatcoat, removing a small device from a black leather pouch on his belt. Affixing an artifact made of red crystal, bone, and what looked like human skin, Gerhardt flexed his left hand into a fist. The red crystal flared to life, emitting a scarlet light.

  From a distance, Vali could hear stone sliding against stone. Daring a look, he shifted his head slightly to see several sections along the complex wall begin to slide open. Through the darkness, Vali saw monstrosities march forth. Each one was over seven feet tall, thickly built, and held together by surgical staples, leather bindings, and heavy stitching. They were the composite monsters, patchwork abominations formed from the formerly living.

  Vali did not know what this Gerhardt called them, but in his mind, they were the draugr. The living dead nightmares his cousin, Hel Lokisdottir, enjoyed plaguing mankind with during the Iron Age.

  Among the twenty or more of the draugr, one was clearly feminine, standing in contrast to the masculine forms of the others. Slightly larger than the rest, the female was once a demon and still retained most of her original form. Her mostly dark skin was mixed with orange and lavender coloration. She still had her wings and walked on reverse-jointed legs. Her four muscular arms flexed as she obeyed the silent call of her master.

  “Khlabra?!” Yeela half-yelled, half-shouted.

  The demoness rushed towards her sister, stepping over Vali. Yeela was stopped almost immediately as three of the draugr grabbed her, slamming her face to the ground. Yeela thrashed and twisted. Writhing, kicking, and biting did nothing to the monsters as she tried anything to break free.

  Yeela’s head was twisted at an almost impossible angle. The hard ground tore the scales and flesh along her cheek. In the briefest of moments, she crossed eyes with Vali. Past the betrayal, he saw someone who would do anything to be reunited with her sister. And even through the burning of the demoness’s betrayal, Vali had to pause, considering her actions against his own.

  Would he do anything different if it were his own brother?

  She was someone who only wanted a connection in the world. Someone who wanted to matter to someone else and would do anything to ensure it. It was the same yearning Vali had every day.

  “Khlabra!” Yeela cried again, pleading to her sister. The monster, Khlabra, stood completely still, watching her sister. The statuesque demoness was unmoving and unfazed by her sister’s screams and pleading.

  “Yeela, I am pleased to reunite you with your sister. Khlabra here has been quite the subject. I must say, her transformation has been something of a crowning achievement for me.”

  “No!” Yeela screamed, but one of the draugr clamped a massive hand over her face, stifling her screams, nearly suffocating her.

  “Shh,” Gerhardt hushed, kneeling down close to the demoness. “There’s no need for that. I promised you that you would see her and you did. I thank you for your service in bringing me this specimen.”

  Gerhardt turned towards Vali, smiling at the blood-soak
ed god. Vali got his first clear look at the mage. His face, what was left of it, was blackened and burnt from some type of explosion. His lips were all but gone, exposing his teeth, and what was left of his nose was mostly a hollow nasal cavity. The charred edges of his skin ended in pinkish-white scar tissue.

  “Not dead yet? Good. It would deprive me the pleasure of testing my indoctrination on a god. Even a weak Norse one. After you’ve been beaten down and humbled, the two of you will make excellent subjects.”

  “No!” Yeela hissed. “I will not go back through that! Not again.”

  “Oh, dear, does the thought of the indoctrination scare you? Or is it going through it without your mother and sister? Please be specific. It is vital to my records,” Gerhardt said to Yeela with an almost gentle, concerned timbre to his raspy voice.

  Gerhardt turned his gaze then to Vali, his twisted face attempting a smile. “What about you, little god? Are you ready for what this island has planned for you?”

  Vali leaned forward, reaching his arm towards Gerhardt. Vali turned his fist over and silently extended a middle finger.

  Gerhardt chuckled. “We will see how long that spirit holds.” Looking away for a moment, the mage saw Maz still lying on the ground. Shaking his head, Gerhardt tsked. “Do get up, Archbishop. You are starting to become something of an embarrassment.”

  “Maz’ael,” Vali whispered, “stay down.”

  With a sudden move, Vali lunged forward, gripping Gerhardt’s head in both his hands. Before Gerhardt could react, Vali quickly got his feet under him and suddenly threw himself to the ground, taking the man’s head with him.

  Vali slammed both his chest and Gerhardt’s jaw to the ground. The sudden downward movement and impact broke Gerhardt’s jaw while also ejecting Harpe from his body. Almost immediately Vali felt the breastplate he wore finish closing his wounds.

  The magical armor was one of the last surviving pieces of an ancient set that had belonged to the Green Knight of Britannia. The fabled emerald steel protected its wearer from mortal wounds, and it was the most valuable piece of Vali’s gear.

  Calling upon his reserve of faith-bestowed power, Vali felt incredible strength course through his body. Picking up the fallen Harpe, the god rushed forward, kicking the draugr that held Yeela on the ground along the side of its head. While not reacting in pain, the monstrosity was hurled off the now-free demoness.

  As the other draugr reacted to the attack, Vali swiped with the keen edge of the Grecian short sword, cleaving the outstretched arm of the draugr at the elbow. A swift strike removed the monster’s leg below the knee, dropping it to the ground. A final swing beheaded the monster.

  Vali reached down and pulled the demoness to her feet. “Run,” he commanded.

  “But my sister!”

  Before Vali could respond, the rest of the draugr were upon him. A huge fist struck the back of his skull like a hammer, causing Vali’s eyes to flash a white light. Cursing, Vali spun, allowing his sight to guide him. His strike lashed out in a perfect horizontal swipe, beheading the draugr.

  The headless creature toppled over. Vali grabbed the demoness by her shoulders. Turning, he hurled her clear of the draugr, only to be struck once, twice, three more times across his face and body. The blows dropped him to the ground. Even with his strength returning, and powered by the faith of the people of Löngutangar, the odds were not in his favor.

  Vali had to even those odds.

  Vali dove into a roll, clipping the legs of the nearest draugr, toppling two of them. Swinging his leg wide, Vali popped up to one knee as he reached to his back once more and unsheathed an ordinary-looking sword of ancient Slavic design. Stepping up, Vali took a step backward and hurled the weapon end over end into the mass of patchwork creatures. As he did, Kladenets the Self-Swinging Sword sprang to life.

  As if wielded by an invisible blademaster, the weapon whirled and danced in midair. The enchanted sword hacked and cut with incredible speed and precision. Never slowing and never tiring, it was a fitting equalizer against the undead opposition.

  As the draugr were shredded into hunks of once-again-dead flesh, Vali saw Gerhardt crawling away. He was burned, maimed, and holding his jaw in place. Vali had to admire the man’s tenacity.

  But Vali still took great joy in spearing Gerhardt through the back with Gae Assail.

  Ducking under the outstretched arms of a draugr, Vali retrieved the iron rod from his bracer and ran towards Gerhardt. The god brought his fist down, transforming the Celtic spear. Vali slammed the weapon through Gerhardt’s spine, pinning him to the marble pathway and paralyzing him from the waist down.

  A horrid scream erupted from Gerhardt’s already-damaged throat. His fingers curled as he clawed at the cold stone. Vali could hear the mage try to form the words and complete the intricate hand gestures to craft his magic. Even as he pushed through the pain, his attempts failed over and over. The cold iron spear, forged by Tuatha de Dannan, was constructed to neutralize Fae magic. And apparently, the magic of Flotsam’s torturer.

  “I . . . I’ll k-kill you!” Gerhardt choked through the pain.

  “The world has been trying to kill me for a long time. You will not be the one to do so,” Vali said, mocking the man.

  Above the sound of Gerhardt’s cursing, Vali heard the snipers and guardsmen above him along the wall’s vantage points. In moments, his minor victory on the small battlefield would become a killbox when the rain of gunfire came down.

  Vali bolted, running in a broken field style, not giving a proper lead to any of the would-be shooters. On the move, Vali snatched Agneyastra the fire-bow of Agni from the ground. Vali had come to Flotsam to bring the fires of Hell.

  Rapidly, Vali drew and fired the bow, not aiming for the guards, but for the floodlights. With a few quick releases from the magical weapon, the garden was cast into darkness with the shattering of glass bulbs.

  Vali threw his sight wide open, allowing everything in. In a flash of sensory overload, Vali not only saw their location as if it were a bright sunny day, but also he felt all their lives and all their weaknesses instantly.

  There were seventeen guards along the wall at various checkpoints and lookout stations. One of the guards had a solid cranial cybernetic implant, but suffered from an arrhythmia. Another had a blood clot forming in his neck due to poor diet and a lack of exercise. Yet another guard, Caleb, was was sleeping with his friend’s husband and together, they were plotting to kill his friend.

  His sight showed him countless ways to kill them. It showed him each of their weaknesses and their strengths. It showed him which guard was standing on loose mortar and which of the snipers were right or left handed, determining the angles at which they would bring their weapons to bear. It showed him which guard liked to piss on the inmates from high above them in his lookout tower, and which guards like to take sexual liberty with the prisoners.

  “None of you are worth saving,” Vali said from the darkness. Finding Tarnhelm on the ground, Vali slipped it on, going invisible as the guards were most likely switching to night vision equipment.

  “I am going to kill all of you!” Vali roared, nothing more than a disembodied voice cutting through the darkness.

  True to his word, Vali unleashed Hell on earth.

  The sniper along the far wall who thought of his friend’s children with lust was the first to die. The magical arrow through his groin burned his body in seconds. Vali held his breath for two heartbeats, then released his next shot. The arrow sailed silently through the night and struck another sniper along the opposite wall in his forehead, the one who could have saved his neighbor from disease but chose instead to ignore him. Immediately, the arrow burst into blaze, igniting the body and illuminating the dying man in a flash of divine fire.

  Vali drew and fired over and over, each time carefully selecting another victim as his sight revealed his targets’ weaknesses and sins. For all the wickedness and cruelty each of the guards exuded in life, they all died screaming. Thei
r burning effigies were beacons in the night, symbols for the Hell that Vali had brought to Flotsam. Burning to death in pain, fear, and panic on a cold winter night was too merciful for most of them.

  Removing Tarnhelm and dampening his sight, Vali regarded the gruesome aftermath in the garden. Crackling fires, the smell of burning human, and the whimpers of a mad mage were all that was left.

  “Khlabra!” the god heard Yeela call out.

  Vali looked as Kladenets cut through the last of the draugr, save Khlabra. The former demon seemed not only physically different, but also mentally different from the rest of the undead. She seemed to have more of an instinct than the rest of the wretched creations.

  Khlabra moved and dodged with incredible speed as Kladenets sought to cut her apart like the others. She ducked under the magical blade, snatching it from midair by the enchanted weapon’s leather-wrapped grip.

  Twisting, the former demoness pivoted into an overhand strike and drove the weapon, blade first, hard into the ground, piercing the marble pathway and imprisoning the sword. Kladenets vibrated, yearning for the freedom to continue the slaughter, but remained trapped in the stone.

  Khlabra turned towards her smaller sister, who stood immobile before her. “Khlabra, please,” the demoness pleaded, trying to reach anything inside the creature who was once her sister. In response, Khlabra lashed out and grabbed Yeela by the throat with two of her four arms and held her high.

  “Khlabra!” Yeela croaked, pounding at her sister’s impossibly strong arm.

  Vali took aim with his bow, only for Yeela to see him. “N-no!” the demoness cried.

  “You’ll die,” Vali said, keeping the bow aimed.

  “This . . . is all so very t-touching,” Gerhardt said from the ground. The mage turned as best he could with Gae Assail still pinning him to the ground. The red-crystal artifact affixed to his glove glowed in the night.