"Wonder where the manager is," Adam said, noticing the assistant manager's name tag on the kid behind the screen. Knowing who was operating the place, even if they were fronting for someone else, might offer clues to whoever was behind it.
The teenaged clientele buzzed about with unrestrained enthusiasm, biding time at shoot'em-up arcade games, a pool table or a big air hockey table in the back. Adam had thought the hairstyles in Dallas were weird, but that was five years ago, and trends among youth changed quickly. Now it wasn't the color of hair but the lack of it: near-baldness seemed to be in now. And the last time he had seen this much metal in someone's face was in a torture chamber.
"I'm afraid I see a problem with our cover already," Sammi whispered under her breath as they took a place in the short line in front of the counter.
"Maybe if I shoved a bronze nail through my nose?"
"No, that wouldn't do . . ."
"A silver one? Through the eyebrow?" He wasn't joking. His suggestions were tame compared to what he saw walking around.
"Don't be silly. The few grown-ups I see here are with their kids."
Adam saw that she was right. "I don't look that old, do I?"
"Maybe if you shaved your head . . ."
"No, no. And no. That is where I draw the line." He pulled out a wallet and began fumbling for his human currency.
"Don't worry. I think we'll pass. And put that away. I've got passes."
They stepped up to the counter. The kid didn't look up from the screen.
"Code name?" the boy asked.
"Dallas," Adam replied, feeling vaguely silly, and not knowing exactly why. Sammi signed up with her code name of "Isis." For their passes they received an electronic tag, and instructions to wait for the "gamma" game, which would start momentarily.
Meanwhile they used the time to explore. A hallway in the back led to two restrooms and a door with a sign, "Employees Only." If anything was going on back there, Adam could not sense it, and short of opening it he saw no other way to investigate. Best not to push our luck right away.
Over the PA a loud voice said, "Good evening and welcome to Lazerwarz. If you are holding a gamma game key, line up at station door. Your judge will be with you in a moment."
Half of the crowd in the lobby surged toward a conspicuous door that looked like a submarine hatch.
"Here goes," Adam said to his sister, as a sudden wave of apprehension seized him.
* * *
In the Lazerwarz control center, Mort stared in disbelief at the monitors.
What in the seven bloody hells is King Aedham Tuiereann doing here?
Not just Tuiereann, either; his sister had come with him. Mort first spied them at the standing stones, pretending to be humans, yet failing to conceal their auras. The King's shone like a bonfire on a moonless night, while hers, though detectable over his magically tweaked video system, was hardly noticeable. The glamories weren't all that good either; even on video Mort saw the occasional appearance of a pointed ear, flickering like a badly tuned TV channel. Of course the arrival of Stonehenge had broadcast a blast of node energy to the far corners of this continent like a nuclear detonation. That emissaries from Underhill would arrive to meddle was no surprise, but the King of Avalon?
Avalon always had a soft spot for the humans. Then his thoughts darkened, considering. Especially for the children. Have they come to investigate the stones or the arena?
Or both?
Whatever their motives for the visit, it could not be tolerated.
He turned to a panel on the control board, made a few queries on the server, and saw that the Gate function was ready to go. He preferred not to start harvesting until well after the first day of business, but this was no harvest, it was a quick fix for something that should never have happened.
By a partner I should never have made an alliance with!
He spoke briefly into the radio headset to Yuaroh Dhu. "We have a situation. Notify the kingdom they will be receiving a very special gift."
Then he shouted an order to the slave boy Alan standing at his elbow. "Pennzoil! 20-50. Straight up. Now!"
* * *
The "judge," a young guy in a flashing Lazerwarz pack who looked to be about fifteen and stood under five feet, ushered them into a dark room illuminated with black light and glowing fluorescent paint.
Appearance was the only thing small about the judge, though. When he opened his mouth to speak, Adam thought he was talking over a PA turned up way too high. But he wasn't; his voice was naturally loud, instantly stopping conversation and seizing the attention of everyone present.
"Gooood evening! My name is Space Demon, and I will be your judge this game . . . !"
In a well-rehearsed and lively speech he explained the vest's features, where the targets were, how to fire the gun, what the screen on the back meant. It was a fairly simple point-and-shoot affair, and the small display kept the player abreast of who was winning the game, and who was not.
"Now, we will go into the station," Space Demon continued, and let them into another darkened room with vests lined up on the walls. A group of apparently experienced players began suiting up in vests. Adam and Sammi followed, activating the gun with the electronic tag. The vests lit up, and an ominous beep sounded from each gun as a large metal door rolled up, and a waft of misty fog drifted in and started pooling around their feet.
Players began filing into the arena, and when Adam saw how big it was, took Sammi aside. "We should split up if we're going to cover this whole place."
She looked doubtful. "Are you sure?"
Adam wasn't, but considered the time factor. The sooner they knew what this place consisted of, the sooner they would prevent it from swallowing up more kids. "Yes. You go left. I'll go right."
Sammi didn't argue, but looked like she wanted to. "Meet you back here when the game's over."
Space Demon took their tags as they entered, and Adam made a sharp right into a dim, misty world that reminded him uncomfortably of Underhill in some of its darker, less formed areas. Techno music thundered from unseen speakers, reaching deep into his diaphragm, thumping away. Conscious of the countdown beeping away from his rig, he opened up his mage sight and sent it forward, probing the darkness where his eyes couldn't see. Nothing suspicious, so far.
The countdown ended, and Adam guessed from the explosion of laser blasts throughout the arena that the game had officially started. Even though this was a search for evil forces first, and entertainment second, he didn't want to come out too badly on the score sheet. Besides. I have to blend in. If I walk around without shooting anything it would look odd.
He intuitively stayed near the outskirts of the arena, zig-zagging through surreal hallways until he heard a blast overhead, and his pack went down. On the level above, peering down through a metal grate, a ten-year-old grinned triumphantly.
He fired back, but the kid danced just out of range. Adam proceeded under the level, looking for another grate to shoot through, but found something better: a ramp leading up. He followed this until he passed an opening, and beyond the wire mesh covering it was a lively battle. It was dark in here, which only emphasized the blue-red-yellow targets on the vests.
He shot one, then two, and with extreme pleasure watched the packs turn dark, then return with a minimum of lights. Score. The display on his gun told him he was 17th, and even he knew this was pretty pathetic.
The two he'd hit fired back, and killed his vest, which emitted a painful, electronic wail as it faded to black. Adam proceeded up the ramp, followed it left, then left again, taking him to the second level of the arena. He saw from the intense laser fire crisscrossing like spider webbing that this was where the real action was.
I am not going to rank 17th to a bunch of human kids!
Never mind that the human kids clearly had more experience at this than he did, he was an elf, and could see better than any of them. In a niche in the upper level, isolated from the main portion, Adam found a good lo
cation to shoot from. At shoulder level was a circular hole, giving him a good view as well as good cover. Firing into the battle, he tagged the lights on someone's gun, deactivating the pack, then peered around the left wall, where three players were in the middle of a free-for-all. They didn't notice him until he had tagged all three. Now slightly wiser, Adam pulled back into his protected position. They didn't seem to know who'd hit them.
Shooting through the hole again, he tagged the other player, who looked around in futility for the culprit. In the darkness, with his lights behind a partition, he was invisible. Adam caught himself smiling.
On his gun, the screen told him he was tenth. Better.
A stampede sounded from the level below, and a cluster of lights surged up the ramp. Adam turned the gun loose on the group, blotting out the vests, one by one. Finally one of them looked up, shouted, "He's up there," and the seven or eight of them started running the remaining leg of the ramp.
They must have known exactly where he was, Adam surmised, since moments later they had swarmed around him like flies, knee high little munchkins jumping up and down and plinking out his targets, over and over. While one of them poked him repeatedly in his unprotected groin with the gun muzzle, the rest barbecued his elven butt in the cross-fire, giving him no chance for his pack to recover.
Hey! What is this shit! Adam thought, looking for an escape, and finding himself cornered instead. He began to reconsider his race's deep reverence for the lives of children.
"Hey over there, break up that team!" shouted the voice of God, but it was only the judge Space Demon shining a flashlight into the brouhaha. "Or I'll take you out of the game!" Like roaches with the light turned on, the swarm evaporated into the darkened nooks and crannies of the arena.
Once they were all gone, Adam's pack came back up. Great.
"Feel free to go after them," Space Demon said as he walked off, apparently in search of more vermin.
Don't mind if I do, Adam thought, following the pitter patter of fleeing footsteps.
He pursued them back to the ground level, tracking them easily by the sound, and when three came into view their backs were to him. Target acquired. He picked the three of them off, two with one shot, being in line with his sight. Sweet revenge. When they saw who was after them, they squawked and scampered ahead, looking for cover. There was none. He tagged them again the second they had their vests back. They jumped with each shot, as if the vests were zapping them with an electrical shock. I can only wish. Intent on escape, the munchkins took off at a dead run. Adam was laughing too hard to keep up with them.
He ventured a glance as his ranking. Hmmm. Fifth. Spite can be productive.
As soon as the retreating footsteps faded away, Adam felt something change around him, a moment later the music increased in volume dramatically, until the thump thump thump of the bass drum shook the walls. If someone screamed right now, no one would hear it. Contemplating this notion, Adam began to feel uneasy. Maybe it's time to look for Sammi.
He had no idea where to go, so he picked a direction and started walking. The arena's cinder block wall, painted in black and green, with fluorescent swirls, rose up on his right.
The wall caught his attention, and as he stopped to study it further a familiar blast of node energy struck him from behind. Even as he fell he knew it was levin bolt-induced paralysis, skillfully administered, as it didn't kill him instantly.
There's still time for that, he thought morosely, furious with himself for his carelessness but too stunned to think beyond that. He heard his gun clatter to the concrete floor, out of sight. Lying face down on the concrete he perceived a change in the cinder block wall, then a Gate flashed into view. From the luminous circle came dark figures, not Unseleighe elves, but the unmistakable outline of gargoyles.
Mercenaries. For whom? he wondered as clawed hands grabbed his arms and pulled him up. A foul-smelling bag dropped over his head, blotting his vision, and he felt the unmistakable disorientation of a Gate taking him somewhere else.
* * *
Sammi followed the sounds of laser fire through the middle of the maze, and found herself in the worst imaginable position. From two upper levels on either side of her, snipers tagged her, repeatedly. She was a sitting duck.
She was more annoyed than angered. All this male testosterone crap. Over what, toy guns?
She walked nonchalantly out of range of the young bucket-o-hormones gleefully firing away at her, to a relatively quiet area under one of the levels. So far this strange place had offered no hints to the sinister activities she was certain was in progress, but that didn't mean much. At the Baltimore arena signs of Underhill magic didn't appear until after the disappearances, and even then there were only traces.
Good thing Adam came along to help out. If anyone can bear down and do the serious work of rooting out evil powers, the King can.
Just then a horde of small boys, maybe eight years old, stampeded past with expressions of utter terror. Alarmed, Sammi looked to see what was chasing them, wondering if they were about to be kidnapped. Over my dead body, they are!
She had half expected an Unseleighe Lord or a human henchman to be chasing them with a net or something, but no, King Aedham Tuiereann, ruler of elfhame Avalon, was in hot pursuit with a plastic gun.
Sammi shook her head. I don't believe I'm seeing this. The last time she'd seen him in this state he was fighting Zeldan Dhu for his life, with a real laser weapon capable of boring through thick gauge steel.
So much for some serious recon, she thought, as Aedham and his young prey vanished into the maze. Sammi followed halfheartedly, but got turned around, and found herself going in circles. To worsen matters, monotonous techno that had been beating away at her elven senses increased dramatically in volume. Now she couldn't hear her own footsteps. But over the loud music, recognizable only because she had heard it before, came a noise she'd hoped to never hear again, either here or in Underhill: the report of a levin bolt, somewhere nearby.
Adam . . .
The air filled with the power, which was everywhere at once, no surprise in an enclosed environment like this. She pushed forward, taking random turns, finding places she had already covered. The maze was maddening, and she thought it might have been designed to confuse elves in particular.
A new element joined the fray. What's this now, a Gate? It was the phenomenon she had expected, but still it caught her unbalanced, and a bit of panic crept into the search. No one can summon a Gate but a Mage . . . or a god. Is that what's so terrifying to me?
She had no time to ponder these notions. Her duty was to find the King, but the search was proving to be futile. As she discovered a hallway she knew she hadn't seen before, she felt the Gate vanish, along with any signature of magic which might have led her to its source. And where is Adam? I don't sense him . . . anywhere.
The realization sickened her, but presence of mind prevailed. Am I next? She now wished she had the Glock she'd left in her room. Not that it would stop a Mage. It would be . . . something. And the steel jacketed rounds would seriously damage anything second cousin to an elf.
The game appeared to be over. Players, until now invisible to her, came out of the maze and trudged towards a flashing yellow light.
Game . . . over. She shook her head against the thought. No, game just getting started. They haven't won anything yet.
At the station where they began, players were filing in, commenting on the game, who got hit, by whom—innocent talk that had nothing to do with the abduction that had she knew had just taken place. The judge was standing by the door, looking pleased.
"Did you have fun in there?" he asked sincerely.
"Had a blast." Then she remembered the music. "Did you turn the volume up there towards the end?"
"I would if I could," Space Demon replied. "That's all handled in the control center."
She reholstered the gun and started removing the vest. "Where's that?" she asked calmly.
"Upstairs som
ewhere. We never see it. I don't even know how to get up there."
That seemed to be the only explanation necessary to the kid who was, Sammi knew already, completely unaware of what was really going on here.
She lingered in the lobby, waiting for the rest of players to come out, hoping for a betraying expression, a clue, a hunch, anything. Under a large computer display, their scores popped up. Dallas' name didn't show up anywhere.
As if he never existed, she thought, wondering why they hadn't grabbed her, too. Perhaps they still can. She surveyed the lobby with her trained eye, seeing nothing that would betray an Unseleighe presence, and considered asking to see the manager. She had done so before, in the other arenas, and had always been met with unquestionable evidence that nothing out of the ordinary had happened in there. That was the problem. This isn't out of the ordinary, here.
And they can still get me.
She didn't want to leave without Adam, but if they caught her too, no one would be left to report to the elfhame.
What would Adam do?
He would warn Avalon. If it's not already too late . . .
* * *
In the control center, Yuaroh Dhu did not look appropriately chagrined.
Perhaps he doesn't understand yet what he hasn't done, Mort thought. He whirled around on the big swivel chair and regarded his henchman with a hard, dissatisfied stare. At length, he said, "The kingdom has received only King Aedham. What of his sister?"
"But, master, we only saw one Mage. And that Mage was Aedham."
"The other elf! The woman with him. Are you blind?"
The Unseleighe's eyes turned to the floor, but not as quickly as Mort would have liked.
"I saw only the one," Yuaroh replied.
I must watch this elven Lord, Mort thought. This was a peculiar oversight. I can't believe he didn't see the two sidhe in the arena.
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