by Jack J. Lee
I saw Tim as I stood up. He was urgently waving me over to get further away from the highway. I was so close that the outside lane drivers were swerving away from me. I watched a guy in a truck give me the finger as he passed. I took three steps back toward Tim.
B was gone. My throat and mouth were completely dry. I had to swallow a couple times before I could get any words out. “Drew told me if I healed him, he’d become an Oath Brother. Why was he able to leave Salt Lake City?”
“He didn’t look younger. Did you reverse his age at all?”
“No, I took care of his lower back and knee problems.”
“Your magic exposure has to reach a certain threshold for the Oath to take effect. The healing spell alone wasn’t enough to do that. If you’d had made him younger, he wouldn’t have been able to leave.”
“Have you heard from Aidan?”
“No.”
I called Aidan.
As soon as he picked up, he asked, “Have you found Mina?”
“The rules for paladins and Oath Brothers have changed. We can’t use sleep spells to leave Salt Lake City. Drew’s gone up north by himself to look for her.”
“Ah, my son…”
I interrupted him before could say more, “How are Ben and Andi?”
His voice got quiet, “They didn’t have a chance.”
“When did they die? Was it at the scene or later?”
“They were dead before the paramedics arrived.”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the nuts. I should have said something—if only to tell Aidan I was going to hang up. I didn’t have the energy. I ended the call.
“Vic.” It was Tim. He had come closer while I was on the phone. “Your mount is meant for just one rider. I’ll have Master Aidan pick me up. Why don’t you go home?”
I mouthed my mount’s name and then rode her back to the house. I went up into my suite and put two glasses on my tiny kitchen nook table. I poured Glenfiddich into both of them. I sat down in one of the two chairs and quietly said, “B, I’d like to have a drink with you.” When I looked up, he was sitting across from me.
“Vic.”
I put up my hand. “I get it B. You can’t help me with Mina.” I saw relief on his face. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about my parents, but first, try the scotch. It’s my favorite single malt.”
I watched B take a sip then I asked, “Can you tell me if my parents are in heaven?”
He nodded, “I can’t help you with any of your active missions. A lot of the stuff your parents did and how and why they died are still classified. But I can tell you that they’re both dead and in heaven. I know this seems like penny ante bullshit—this need to know crap.” In disgust, he repeated, “IT IS CRAP. The guys who decide what I can and can’t tell you are morons. It sucks, but I don’t make the rules.”
“I understand. Can I talk to my parents?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s one of the things that changed when Jesus made his sacrifice. People used to be able to talk to the departed. There were even practitioners who specialized in it, Necromancers. In China in particular, it was a major part of ancestor worship.”
“Why did Jehovah stop it? Is there any way around the prohibition?”
I saw B figure out why I was asking these questions. I put up my hand again as he began to shake his head, “Please B, I’m just asking about my parents.” I drained my glass. “I’m just asking about stuff you’re allowed to talk about.”
We looked at each other for a long moment and then he gave a terse nod, “Vic, if you survive the Jotunn and recruit enough Oath Brothers to keep Salt Lake City safe in your absence, you’ll be able to leave Salt Lake City for weeks at a time. If you live long enough, you’ll visit other dimensions and get a chance to look around. Once you do, you’ll realize that the best dimension is right here. And the only reason for that is Jehovah. Whatever flaws we have, it’s better here than any other world. Jehovah can’t keep it together without a bureaucracy. Our universe is too complex for Him to run it by Himself.
“The official reason why the dead aren’t allowed to talk to the living? Both have jobs to do, and if they’re allowed to talk, they get distracted. Cultures based on ancestor worship tend to be less innovative and more stable technologically than those that aren’t. Heaven’s main goal is to increase the number of souls on Earth. For thousands of years there’s been a direct correlation between advances in technology and an increase in the population.
“That’s the official explanation. The real reason is that under every bureaucrat’s veneer of logic and reason, there’s a Mickey Mouse asshole who wants to tell you that you can’t do shit because,” he used his fingers to make quotes “it’s for your own good.” He picked up his glass and polished off his Glenfiddich.
“Thanks.”
Empty glass held in the air, B asked, “For what? I’ve been giving you nothing but bad news today.”
I met his eyes. “Thanks for letting me know what was going on as soon as you knew.” I tried my best to keep my voice from trembling as I said, “I owe you.” I poured more scotch into my glass. When I was done, B was gone.
I knew Ben and Andi were probably dead as soon as I saw the Mini’s smashed front end. But I had to hear it from Aidan’s lips before I could give up hope.
I doubted Samael was still in contact with Signe. She probably had no idea I couldn’t leave Salt Lake City.
I could only see two reasons why Signe would want to kidnap Mina. The first was to use Mina as a bargaining chip—to try to make me trade myself for my love. The second was bait—to make me so angry that I’d leave Salt Lake City to go after them. Either way, they’d want to be where I could easily find them.
Within the next fifteen minutes or so, if Mina was within a hundred miles of Salt Lake City, the Etch A Sketch should pinpoint her location.
I tried to have hope—to convince myself she was still alive, but B wouldn’t have said ‘I’m sorry’ if she was. The fact that Signe had used a kidnapping technique that was as likely to kill Mina as it was Ben and Andi confirmed that the bitch didn’t care if Mina was dead or alive. My love was a fighter. She wouldn’t just meekly accept being kidnapped, and it’s a lot easier to manage a corpse than it is a live, angry, uncooperative hostage.
I put my phone on the table and waited for Drew to tell me I was wrong.
I waited for an eternity. When my phone rang, I wanted to wait longer. The caller ID said it was Drew. I had to force myself to pick up the call.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got bad news…” Drew paused as he tried to figure out the right words.
I already knew what he was trying to say. I’d been expecting it, but it still hurt. I made myself say, “The Etch A Sketch shows she’s dead.”
“She’s not breathing and she doesn’t have a heartbeat, Vic. I’ve also got thirteen six foot plus breathers with heartbeats near her. It doesn’t confirm that they’re Jotunn but that’s where the smart money would be. They’re just outside the Snowville city limits, a hundred and six miles out from Salt Lake City.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Brigham City.”
“Come back to the house.” After I ended the call, I began to laugh. I continued to laugh as tears ran down my face. It’s better to be lucky than good. Michael and Samael probably had no idea that they’d saved my life when they got rid of the sleep spell loophole.
If they hadn’t, I’d be in Brigham City with Drew and Tim when I found out for sure that Mina was dead. There’s no way I’d have turned back. I would have gone after Signe and the rest of the Jotunn. Tim, Drew, and I would have gotten Signe for sure and a few of the other Jotunn before they killed us.
Michael and Samael gave me no choice but to play it safe. I had to stay in Salt Lake City. I had to wait for my mercenaries to arrive. I had to wait for the Jotunn come to me. The cosmic irony of Michael and Samael accidentally saving my life was sid
e-splitting. My glass shattered in my grip. As I tore the table in front of me into pieces, I promised myself that one day I would thank them properly.
After I destroyed the table, I sat on my bed staring out my window until I saw Tim and Aidan pull into the driveway. I was heading downstairs when my phone rang. It was Father Mallory.
“Yes?”
“Paladin…” I could tell he was stumbling over saying Paladin Paladin.
“Yes, what is it?”
He sounded excited. “Have you been watching the news at all?”
“No.”
“I suggest you turn on your TV to channel 5. The Salt Lake City local news stations are all broadcasting stories about your fiancé’s kidnapping. A silver 2009 Subaru WRX sedan was found on the side of I-15 right outside of Snowville. By chance, Channel 5 just happened to have a news crew right there.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.” I ended the call, ran to the living room and turned on the TV.
A female anchor was saying, “We’re waiting to talk to John Sanderson, who is on I-15 just outside of Snowville at the scene of the abandoned vehicle that is thought to be the one used in the kidnapping of a Salt Lake City resident, Mina Swenson. Her kidnapper, who has been described as a tall, blonde woman, was involved in a head-on collision with Ms. Swenson’s vehicle earlier today. Ms. Swenson’s brother and sister, Benjamin and Andrea Swenson are both reportedly dead as a result of this accident.” The anchor paused and nodded her head, “John, what’s the situation there?”
Tim and Aidan walked in. I motioned to the TV. They stood and watched with me. The screen showed a reporter standing next to a guy wearing a Caterpillar cap and a blue mechanic’s coverall. “This is John Sanderson, reporting to you live from Snowville, Utah. I’m talking to Bob Sanger of Mel’s Towing. Bob, please tell us what you know.”
“Well, I was driving back from a job when I saw this here Subaru.” As he pointed, the camera panned over to a silver sedan. Parked next to it was Utah Highway Patrol car with its lights flashing but the siren off. The camera panned back over to Bob. “I pulled over to see if I could help. Nobody was in it but I saw blood on the front seats, so I called the State Troopers. They got here about fifteen minutes ago and called for backup and then headed down that there ravine.” Bob pointed, and the camera panned over to a dirt trail that led into a deep ravine.”
John asked, “Do you know why the Troopers went down there?”
“They said they saw some tracks.”
“Bob, can you show us where they went?”
Bob looked at John like he was crazy. “It ain’t part of my job description to look for no killer. Listen there,” faint sounds of sirens could be heard. “I’d caution you to wait for the police.”
I saw fear war against ambition on John’s face. I could see him thinking that if he waited for much longer, the cops would cordon off the area and he’d have no chance of catching the kidnapper on film. Ambition won. “Well then, it’s our duty to investigate. Someone may need our help” The camera crew followed the reporter into ravine.
“Oh my GOSH!” John shrieked going soprano, “There are two dead troopers here!” The camera shook as it panned on two bloody figures on the ground. They were both in Highway Patrol uniforms. One trooper had been decapitated. His head had rolled a couple feet away from his body. The other’s head was split down the center from the top of his head to his sternum. The blood splattered around them still looked fresh. John screamed, “Get out of my way!” and ran toward the camera. As he passed, the picture jumped, whirled, and then went dark.
A couple seconds later the female anchor was back on. “We are experiencing some technical difficulties at this moment. We are in the process of trying to contact John Sanderson.” She fidgeted in silence for a few more seconds and then touched her ear. She smiled, “We were able to reach John by phone. John, what happened? You had us quite worried.”
John’s voice came on, “Wendy, It was a disturbing scene but I had the situation under control at all times. My crew and I were in the process of getting back to the highway when the camera received some minor damage. The camera is currently being repaired and it should be operational shortly.” Sanderson went silent. “Okay, I have breaking information, Wendy, six Utah Highway Patrol cars are pulling up now to the scene. They’ll need my eye witness report on the murdered troopers. For now, this is John Sanderson signing off.”
The anchor, Wendy Nelson then announced a commercial break. I switched to the other local TV stations. All of them had their news crews talking about Mina’s kidnapping, but they had nothing new to report.
I turned back to channel 5 and waited for the commercial break to end. They repaired the camera, because John Sanderson came back on the air. He said that the cops were looking for the killer, but so far there were no signs of her or Mina. Blood hounds were on the way. After that it was all crap. John and Wendy kept repeating what they knew.
I asked Aidan, “I have a police scanner. It doesn’t have the range to pick up the State Troopers a hundred miles away in Snowville. Can you tweak it so we can hear what’s going on?”
He nodded soberly, “I see no reason why I can’t.”
I went out to my truck and brought the scanner in for him and Tim to work on. While they worked their magic, I cleaned up the mess I’d made in my apartment. I was almost certain that Signe and her warband were no longer in Snowville, but I still wanted to hear what the Highway Patrol had to say.
I sent a text message to Father Mallory to thank him and to let him know I no longer needed his help.
Aidan and Tim were still working on the scanner and I was back watching TV when Drew got back. On the way home, he’d stopped by a Utah State Liquor store and picked up a case full of scotch and bourbon. Without a word, Drew handed me a full glass and sat on the couch next to me. It was Jim Beam—our drink of choice as kids. I thought of all the reasons I had not to drink. I still had the scanner to monitor and the TV news to watch, but I knew there wasn’t much chance that human cops would catch Signe.
Signe probably wouldn’t attack during the night; the house’s defenses were strong enough to hold against a single Jotunn, no matter what weapon she’d stolen from the Norse Gods. And if it came to it, I could use magic to instantly remove all of the alcohol from my system.
I clinked my glass with Drew’s and we both slugged back our drinks in one swallow. As he filled our glasses again, Tim and Aidan entered the room. Aidan turned on the scanner and we heard the State Troopers. The Troopers were hunting for a cop killer; they were pissed and highly motivated. They had nothing.
A thought occurred to me. While Drew poured bourbon for Tim and Aidan, I asked, “Guys, why aren’t reporters swarming all over us?”
Tim answered, “The protection spells on this house prevent enemies or irritants like reporters from finding us.” He tried a weak smile, “That’s why this house has never been visited by Mormon Missionaries or Jehovah Witnesses. None of the human databases have the correct address. Even if reporters got the right address, unless they had the power to defeat the protection spells, they’d keep getting lost.”
Aidan raised his glass, “Lads, I’d like to propose as toast to Mina, Ben and…”
I interrupted him, “Aidan, we’ll mourn them after their killer is dead—not before.” Our eyes met. His were sympathetic. I knew mine were ice cold. He nodded his head. Tim and Aidan left after two drinks each. Over the next few hours, Drew and I talked about old times and we finished off a 1.75 liter bottle of Jim Beam.
After Drew passed out on the couch, I went upstairs to my room and wrote in my journal about Mina, Ben, and Andi. This time, I didn’t leave anything out. I wrote about every moment I spent with Mina from the time I first met her to the time she left for the gun range. I even described the night we tried to have sex. I wrote about my love for her. After I was done, I wept and then went to sleep.
Chapter 30: Revenge
I woke up when a chunk of drywall fell on my fac
e. I opened my eyes, and saw the entire ceiling collapsing. I didn’t have time to get out of my room. I rolled off the bed, scooted underneath it, and said, “Azam-shay.” I wondered if Salt Lake City was being hit by an earthquake.
A huge, birdlike foot tipped with two-foot-long talons smashed into my room and answered my question. Claws snagged my desk, chair, and bed. As my furniture got yanked out of my room, I bounced up, took the door off the hinges with my shoulder, and jumped down the stairs. I hit the floor feet first and then rolled into the kitchen to shed momentum. Drew rushed in from the living room as I got up.
He turned to the window which revealed the scaly underside of the thing that was destroying the house. “Vic, is that a fucking dragon?”
That was as good of a name as any I could come up with. The house shook, groaned, and creaked as the dragon ripped through the roof and smashed down all the walls in the top floor. Since I couldn’t do anything else for them, I hoped Tim and Aidan were okay.
The thing was tearing down walls with just one swipe; Drew and I didn’t have much time. “Drew, where’s the M85 and the LAW rockets?”
“They’re still secured in my van; I never took them out.” Like me, Drew kept his most important equipment in locked steel cases in his vehicle.
“Where are Tim and Aidan?”
“Don’t know, didn’t see them.”
Through the window, I saw more of dragon as it shifted position. Its metallic scales reflected the moonlight, and its head sported a spiky, armored frill. The dragon was at least a hundred feet long; it filled the yard as it sat on its hind legs and tail and used it’s forelimbs to tear the house apart. I had a strong suspicion that Sanguinis and Obex wouldn’t be enough for a hundred feet of magic lizard. I needed more powerful weapons—MUCH more powerful weapons. We’d never get the M85 and the LAW rockets out of the van in time.