Fists of Iron_An Urban Fantasy Novel

by J. A. Cipriano

  The pulsing chaotic slime was the same shit from the Square, that much was certain to me now that I was staring it right in the face. The air, the smoke, even the solid matter around the stuff shivered and vibrated from being in contact with the very unreality of it all. I could feel that all too familiar head-spinning throb start in my brain as my eyes and my sanity tried to bug the hell out of there.

  But maybe I was already crazy by then because I managed to hold my ground and summon up the power of the heart. As before, seeing the emptiness of the chaotic mass in the otherwise glowing tapestry around me sent shivers up my spine. Through that emptiness, though, I could see those glowing red patches of spells holding the blackness down, tethering it to the rusted steel of the truck.

  That was my opening. Before those tendrils could skewer me like a shish kabob, I swiped my hand through the air, visualizing it as a sword cutting through the enchantments in front of me. La Corazon sang in my chest, a righteous cry as its power sliced through the magic like butter. As the tethers that held the mass of protoplasm under control tore away, it fell apart into a wet, viscid lump. Where it fell on the street and the back of the van, steel and glass hissed, popped, froze, and melted all at the same time. The husk of the truck that was left behind was a corroded, rusted skeleton that fell into a heap the moment its parasite was freed.

  Unfortunately, the lump of twitching chaos was only inert for the briefest of moments before it rose back up. Well, more like it churned back up like a bubbling spring of slime. It was straight out of The Blob, except this thing could move a lot faster… and it had a face. Well, faces would be more accurate, pushing against the outer membrane of the thing with gaping mouths caught in mid-scream.

  I definitely liked it better when it had still been attached to the Mack truck.

  “Frank!” Gabriela cried as the Blob lurched, shooting out a shotgun spread of tendrils in my general direction, plenty enough to turn me into a bloody pincushion.

  A prideful man, a man with no security in his manhood, would have puffed his chest as some last, stupid act of defiance, a big show for the crowd. Me? Well, I’m quite comfortable in my manhood, so I threw myself back and down in a desperate attempt to keep myself blissfully non-punctured. It would have probably been a futile gesture if I didn’t have some real pros backing me up.

  “AER!” The smoke and dust from the crash whipped up with cyclonic force around me at Molly’s command, cutting the stabbing tentacles short and blowing the ooze back, leaving me safe and bone-dry.

  Meanwhile, a big, black hand clamped around my shoulder and pulled me all the way against the front seats. “You two get the hell out of here!” Tyrone commanded as he stepped into the space I had just vacated. The engravings up and down the AA-12 were still glowing bright gold as he squeezed.

  I glanced at Gabriela, her green eyes practically alight in the wash of the pulsing neon glow in her hands, then back at Tyrone and Molly. The Irish girl had gotten to her feet and was wielding her wand as if it were one of her knives.

  The molten rock belching from Tyrone’s shotgun burned and scoured the pulsating, multi-colored mass, and it elicited a soul-cutting and mind-bleeding keening. It tried to rush forward anyway, but Molly cut it back (literally and figuratively) with more arcs of wind, forcing the shuddering blob off the end of the van. It was a beautiful symphony of violence and carnage, if such a thing could ever be beautiful.

  “Frank, if I use the spell, they’ll–” Gabby started, speaking along with the thoughts already pounding in my head. If we were to cut and run, as Tyrone insisted, the sudden burst of speed from the spell would throw him and Molly off the back end, but if they didn’t keep the thing at bay, it would hold us down all over again, which would give the last of the death mobiles time to catch up.

  I was about to cut her off, but Molly beat me to it. “There ain’t a choice, Doctor dear. If ye and Frankie don’t cut now, we’re all dead, anyway.” She shot a coy smirk and winked. “Dinnae worry about us! The walking barrel and I will make out fine, aye?”

  “Gabby, we don’t have a choice.” I could see her wince as I said words I hoped I wouldn’t regret, even if they were the right ones to say.

  She nodded and spun in the driver’s seat. The doc knew we had to go. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t get to Max, and at the end of the day he was more important and always would be. I hopped into the passenger’s seat and buckled up as the violent sing-song of wind and fire continued behind us.

  “Hit it, Doc!”

  Gabriela slammed her glowing hands on the steering wheel. The brilliant light suffused the dashboard and rushed down to the hood right before we shot off like a rocket. For me, it was a familiar experience, though it was slightly odd experiencing it from the passenger seat as the world rushed by faster than I could reliably perceive it.

  There was one thing I definitely caught though, and it filled me with anger and sadness in equal measures.

  It was the final cries of Molly and Tyrone as they were thrown out the back of the van by our sudden escape.

  6

  When the corona of neon green energy faded, and the world outside changed from blurred lines to the sunbaked skyline of downtown San Diego, Mom’s mini-van unleashed a tremendous sigh of relief. Or maybe it was a sigh of defeat. The pedestrians strolling down the avenue gaped both at our sudden appearance and the state of our ride as broken safety glass fell away from the busted windows, and the smell of burning oil and backed-up exhaust filled the air.

  Gabriela sat there for a long moment, breathing hard with a pale, sweat-streaked face. I was shaken too, more from the fact shit had gone so wrong so quickly than from the strain of the trip itself. My teeth were still chattering from the impact of the van bottoming out as I staggered out the door.

  “Are you okay?” Gabriela mumbled as she walked around the car, carefully keeping both hands on the dying vehicle in an effort to keep herself upright. Good old Gabby, thinking of others before herself.

  “I’m just a bit shook up,” I replied as I put a supporting arm around her. It felt a lot better to do than it should have given our situation. “Mom’s gonna kill me though.” That’s right, Frank, use a stupid joke to mask your pain and worry. Very mature.

  The doc let out a weak laugh as a small crowd of bystanders started to gather. “I’ll cover it if we manage to live through this.” She took a deep breath. “Wow, that really took a lot out of me. I’ve never tried that kind of magic before.”

  I waved at the crowd with my free arm and smiled as casually as I could. “We’re okay! Just an object lesson as to why you don’t supercharge a mini-van. Nothing to see, okay?” It didn’t do much to defuse the curious onlookers, but they at least kept a polite distance. Guess most people really don’t want to get involved after all.

  Gabriela glanced up, and I could feel the steel coming back into her. “We can’t worry about them right now.” I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the bystanders or the friends we had left behind. “We made it to the El Gato, and we don’t know how far behind us those things really are. We have to move.”

  She was right after all. We had to hurry. If those Old Ones caught up to us, we wouldn’t have another getaway minivan to drive into the ground.

  I followed her gaze up the fourteen stories of the building in front of us. The El Gato Hotel is a San Diego landmark. Built in the 1920s, it was the tallest building in the city when it was built and still remains a protected historical sight, even as it was turned into a bunch of condos. I had no clue why we were here or what this had to do with all the talk of seers and oracles and prophecies, but I wasn’t going to question it.

  “Right, okay, let’s go then.” I helped Gabby along. She was right in more ways than one. Not only did we have monster mobiles and maybe John after us, the cops would be along any minute. Besides, I didn’t have any answers for them they’d believe. The crowd gave way for us, mumbling and gossiping amongst themselves, cut off when the minivan gave up the ghost, falling
apart in a pile of smoking parts.

  I couldn’t help but snicker. It was just like the end of the big Blues Brothers chase scene, if you subbed out Illinois Nazis for death cars, right down to the collapsing car.

  After a few steps, Gabriela recovered enough to walk under her own power, even if she still looked awful pale. “Try to look natural. Don’t worry, the hosioi should be able to pick us out as consultants without us making a scene.”

  “Hate to say it, but we kind of arrived as a scene, not to mention we both look like we’ve been in a couple of car accidents in a row.” I tried to casually brush some bits of safety glass off my shoulder. The aches and pains from the whiplash were starting to set in, but I forced myself to stay standing. “And aren’t we trying to get somebody to consult with us? Why are we the consultants? Oh, to make it a full three-question set, what the heck are hosioi, anyway?”

  Now that she had her feet under her again, Gabriela set the pace, practically pulling me along as we slipped through the front doors. The questions, though, brought her familiar academic tone to the fore. “The first two are essentially one question, so I’ll make it simple. I mean the old meaning of consultant, which is to say someone who consults others. We’re going to enter a place that’s a bit archaic, no matter how modern it may seem on the outside, so be careful with what you say and how you say it.” She gave me a thin smile. “I’m serious, Frank.”

  “Hey, I’m nothing if not serious,” I said, grinning back at her.

  She rolled her eyes and continued. “As for the third, the hosioi are holy men and women who assist the Pythia. They will assess our request for validity and urgency, to judge if we are worthy of speaking to the Oracle.” She forced a grim smile. “You know, no pressure, right?”

  I let out a bark of a laugh because if I didn’t, I might worry, and if there’s one thing Frank Butcher doesn’t do, it’s worry. “Yeah, no pressure.”

  While I had been a bit foggy on things before, I was pretty sure I had this sussed out now. Gabriela was talking about the Oracle of Delphi, something I’d seen in at least a couple of movies. Of course, I had no idea how the fuck we were going to see an ancient oracle that was supposed to live in Ancient Greece while we were in sunny California.

  The exterior of the El Gato had been preserved in the Spanish Renaissance style, but the interior had been redone in a more modern style, recently if I was any judge of decorating. Windows on the far side of the lobby showed some office spaces flanked by glass elevators. Hallways on both sides of the lobby led deeper into the first floor. The clean, cream walls, chrome fixtures, and crystal lamp shades caught the eye and turned the room into an almost blinding display. I had a burning desire for a pair of sunglasses.

  The old girl wasn’t a hotel anymore and the lobby served as much as a front office for the relators as an actual lobby. I hadn’t expected to see anyone milling about, maybe a few condo dwellers coming and going, so I was a little off-put by the three young ladies standing around patiently, one in front of each elevator and one in front of the office doors.

  They were hard to tell apart, not because they looked alike, but because of what they wore identical white pantsuits and the, well, aura they put off, a feel of stark purity, was quite distinct. Yeah, that sounds vague, but we’re dealing with magic and myth here. Vague is a way of life for the uneducated like me! It was like I couldn’t quite focus on their faces, almost like they were perpetually backlit by an inner light that really wasn’t there.

  I glanced sidelong at Gabriela, and she nodded in reply to my unsaid question. The ladies had to be the hosioi, and they were right there, expecting us as Gabby had said. At least this part of our little journey was turning into an easy one. As silence smothered the room, we made a beeline toward the office and the hosioi standing in front of it.

  Once we had gotten halfway to the office, the strange woman strode forward purposefully and met us part way. She was the tallest of the three but aside from her caramel-colored skin, I couldn’t make out much other detail through the misty light. I decided to risk a peek through the eyes of the heart and was almost immediately blinded by the intense white threads wrapped around the woman.

  “It would be best for your eyes to not look upon us in such a way, Bearer,” she said in a clear, unaccented voice. “Even through the filter of the ancients, there are things not meant for mortal eyes.”

  The whole “Bearer” thing annoyed me. Gabriela thought the whole idea of the stupidly powerful anti-magic artifact in my chest making me “special” or “chosen” was a bit ridiculous. Instead, she preferred to believe the object was just an object. Incredibly powerful sure, but still just an object. I agreed with her. Mostly because if I didn’t, well, then I was some super chosen one destined to save us all, and I was definitely not that guy. If I was, could you imagine my ego?

  Still, I wasn’t going to fuck things up be being offended by that. “You make an excellent point.” I let the power fade and my eyes cleared immediately.

  “Oh, holy one,” Gabriela began in reverent tones, “we humble consultants come before you, seeking audience with the Pythia to guide us on our way.”

  “You ladies have been expecting us, yeah?” I mean, the idea that we had to announce ourselves to people who could see the future seemed stupid, but Gabby had warned me to be on my best behavior. God help me, one day I’ll manage to keep my snark in line. Gabby elbowed me lightly in the ribs, a mild enough rebuke, but I think she really wanted to do more.

  The faceless lady let out a soft, musical laugh. “You could put it in such a fashion, but that is… imprecise.” Her tone turned deadly serious. “Come, consultants, follow me, and we will speak of your needs.” She glided to the glass door and held it open for the two of us.

  The air in the door frame shimmered hazily like a desert mirage, the office on the other side indistinct. The faintest hint of panic rippled up my spine, one too many bad memories of the Afghan desert coming to mind, but I choked it down. This was a magic portal to who knew where, nothing compared to being a sniper’s target.

  I must have paused for a moment because Gabriela put a hand on my arm. “Frank? Are you all right?” I focused on her, and she had a worried look in her eyes. “You whiplashed hard, are you concussed?”

  I forced a big smile. “Oh, no. I’m good. Just some old memories.” I cracked my neck. “Come on, let’s get on with it.” I offered Gabby my arm like a true gentleman.

  She answered me with a half-smirk and hooked her arm into mine. I could have sworn the hosioi, no matter how well her face was cloaked, cracked a smile as we walked through the doorway.

  There was a faint resistance, like walking into warm ocean water, and then we burst through. Unlike most of the portals I had used in the past, there was no gut-churning sense of disruption, not even a hint of disorientation. Still, for all that pleasantness, we were most definitely in a very different place. I couldn't help but wonder if we were even still on Earth.

  The air was thinner, that was the first and most obvious thing. It was like being high up in the mountains… probably because that’s where we seemed to be. Clouds and mists roiled around the platform we stood upon, but there were enough breaks in the clouds to show vast chasms and cliffs below, while steep steps of carved marbled blocks rose up the rocky face along one side of the platform.

  The doorway behind us wasn’t a door on this side, instead it was a stone arch flanked by Grecian columns. The stones beneath our feet were perfectly fitted and seemingly brand new, but the carvings looked like something straight out of a swords-and-sandals flick. Not everything was all Mount Olympus though.

  The center of the platform was dominated by a glass and steel executive’s desk that would have been at home in any Fortune 500 C.E.O.’s office. A polished chrome document divider had three shelves, each marked with tabs written in Cyrillic letters, probably Greek, with what looked like a top-of-the-line Apple Macintosh all in white, but the Apple logo on the back was odd. It depicted a
whole apple instead of a bitten one and was solid gold, not just in color though. It looked like real gold. Behind the desk was an imposing almost throne-like seat upholstered in white leather. Two smaller, backless chairs very New Age in look, sat on the other side of the desk.

  “Please be seated.” The hosioi gestured graciously to the chairs as she walked toward the leather throne. “Put your hearts and minds at ease. I know of that which hounds your steps. Rest assured, you have sanctuary here, at least for long enough to properly make your case.”

  Gabriela and I each grabbed a seat. Despite the odd design, it was quite comfortable. “That’s fine, sure, but I don’t get the whole rigamarole,” I complained. “I mean, if I’m reading this right, the lady in charge can see the future. I’m sure she knows this is some next-level stuff, so why not ring us through, ya know?”

  “Divination, even the kind facilitated by an extra-dimensional being, doesn’t quite work–” The doc’s explanation was cut off by a raised hand from the hosioi.

  “Please.” She turned her faceless gaze on me, and I have to admit I felt a bit small under it. “I can see into your heart, shrouded by gold-and-stone, and feel your doubts. You do not believe in fate or a future that can be read, yet you sit here in supplication of the Pythia. Why?”

  It was a good question. You could argue I hadn’t exactly been in charge and had instead been following through with Gabriela’s initial suggestion which had been pure desperation to get out of a bad situation. You’d have a point there but regardless of that, no matter how much I didn’t put stock in this prophecy business, I trusted Gabby. Above all else, I trusted her more than anyone else I knew, maybe even more than Mom.

  Don’t ever tell Betty Butcher I said that though.

  I was about to open my mouth, to lay it all out there, when the hosioi nodded. “There are no words you need to say, Bearer. I see the truth in you.” She glanced between the two of us. “Now, we can properly begin the supplication. I am Aglaia, chief of the five hosioi of Delphi. Speak your desire so it can be judged fairly in the eyes of the gods.”