by C. M. Lance
Sig glanced again at the large leather book anchoring the stack and considered pulling it out and hurling it at the Professor. It would be a waste if he blasted such a lovely old book with one of his fireballs.
He forced himself to ask calmly, “Why do you feel it’s the most likely scenario?”
The Professor warmed to his subject. He began ticking off on his fingers. “It matches the modus operandi, if one formulates the theory that the same wizard is responsible.”
He reached out and patted the massive volume anchoring the stack on his desk. “This work is by Basil Lotheridge, a Cistercian monk. He documented phenomena performed by his Abbot who succumbed to the temptation of dark practices.”
“Men of the cloth practiced black magic?”
“Those who have magical powers still have the weaknesses of men. The promise of great power becomes a siren song that transfixes even the strong. The church is guilty of many excesses, particularly in the Middle Ages when it battled for dominance with the rulers of those days. Luckily, Friar Lotheridge clung to his faith and documented his Abbot’s unrestrained behavior at great risk to himself.”
“At least he was able to finish his masterwork.”
“Well, no, he didn’t. The final page is incomplete, stopping mid-description of the victims of a particularly nasty demon.” The Professor sighed. “At least we have what he was able to pass on to us.” Professor Herman’s gaze grew distant.
Time to draw him back to the subject at hand. “What does Friar Basil’s book have to do with the modus operandi that you mentioned?”
The Professor looked startled. “Yes… In the book he describes how the Abbot enlisted the services of various demons.” He pulled the book from the stack and flipped it open. The pages crackled.
He squinted as he flipped through. “Ah, here it states that demons are extremely literal.” He looked up at Sig with a smile.
Sig responded with a quizzical expression.
The Professor poked a finger at the page. “According to Friar Basil, the Abbot was at war with another wizard. The Abbot commanded a demon to prevent the wizard from ‘expelling any magic.’” He looked up with smile. “The key was disallowing the expulsion of magic. When the wizard discovered he could only internalize magic; he transformed into a tiger, and killed the Abbot by tearing his throat out. You see?” Professor Herman smiled, quite pleased with the revelation.
Sig thought for a moment. “So, if I had the same demon, I can change, but can’t perform magic outside of my body. What happened to the wizard after the Abbot died?”
The Professor turned back to the book and said, “Friar Basil said that, after the Abbots death, the wizard regained his powers, changed back from tiger form, and escaped by blasting the door of the dungeon.”
Sig was silent for a few moments. He looked up at the Professor. “You said the modus operandi fit. I don’t see how.”
“Ahhh, the grimoire that the Abbot used, also had a spell which weakens a wizard by invoking a demon to eat his magic.”
“Like Grampa. What happened to the wizard who the demon was eating?”
Professor Herman grimaced. “Friar Basil’s recordings don’t actually record that spell being used.” He looked up at Sig with a weak smile. “However, toward the end of his writings, the friar conjectured that if it were used, the demon would be released upon the Abbot’s death, as happened with the tiger wizard.”
“What happened to the friar?
“It doesn’t say. The friar wrote that the Dark Abbot assigned a demon to kill his followers if he died. He was enumerating those that died, when the book ends... in mid-sentence.”
“Why have two different spells that are similar?”
“Similar, but diabolically different. With one spell, magic, the wizard’s own weapon magic, turns on him. He can use it but using it slowly kills the wizard. With the other, magic is stolen leaving him defenseless, or so it was thought until the tiger roared.”
“And, the only way to stop the demons is to kill the wizard who invoked them?”
“It appears that is the solution.”
“Now all I have to do is find the dark wizard who invoked Grampa’s and my demons and kill him. Piece of cake. Maybe it would help if I could change into a tiger. And do it before he kills us.”
Chapter 41
Dmitri walked into The Room. This time it was dark. He peered about and didn’t detect anyone, but in the darkness, who knew? He sat and fiddled with the snaps on his coat. Snap, snap, snap, snap.
“Stop that!”
Dmitri froze. Where did the voice come from? He stood.
“Sit down.”
He sat. His hands trembled. He stuck them in his coat pockets.
The voice hissed again. “What have you found? Will the child be clear of magical wards to hide behind when I release Andras?”
“His friend, the Were, has a competition. They will be together at the Game Room.”
The wizard shrieked. “Where will his mentor be?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve never seen him there.”
He shrieked again. “I will be trapped in the circle. When I come out, the boy better be dead.”
Dmitri’s voice shook. “I can only provide the location. You and Andras must do the rest.”
The Dark mage hissed. “Make sure he is there. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Dmitri stood, and then knelt, head bowed. “Yes master.” There was no reply. He rose and groped his way to the door. He turned the knob and the door opened. With the light from the hallway, he turned and looked back into the room. No one was there.
†††
After Sig’s banishment from the Amazon training facility, he and Rick spent more time together. Rick drove him to and from school and work, until Sig bought his new Jeep. After the purchase of the Jeep, since it had headlights and was drivable at night, Sig and Rick rejoined the evening social scene.
Rick jumped in exuberantly. Sig was more constrained. Amazons still frequented the same venues they attended. Those Amazons he liked and got along with maintained their distance because the Commander had pronounced him off-limits. Others eyed him as if he were a hunk of meat prepared for their consumption.
Walking to the restroom was an ordeal. He caught them pointing at him and whispering among themselves. He wondered if this was what women felt like when guys ogled them. He’d be careful in the future to not subject women to similar treatment.
One evening at the Game Room, Rick commented on Sig’s reserved behavior. “Why are you so quiet? Are you missing Giselle that much?”
Sig frowned. “I see her all the time at work. We chat.”
“About work. It’s not the same is it?”
“Naw, not really. I guess I do miss talking with her about other stuff. She didn’t let me get away with much and made me think. She forced me to see things differently, but did it in a nice way. I also miss the camaraderie of the training center workouts.”
“So, you’re a masochist and liked getting your butt kicked?”
Sig gave Rick a wry smile. “Right.” He knew the Amazons learned as much from him as he did from them. He toyed with the straw in his soda. “I miss the workouts. If the girls weren’t around everywhere we go, it wouldn’t be so bad. But they are, and now everything is different. Some avoid me, and others… They act like they want to have their way with me.”
“I thought we were talking about your problems, not reasons you should be shouting whoopee, I’m gonna make whoopee.”
“You should try it sometime.”
“Please, please, please, tell me how. I’d like to try it. Don’t forget, I’m a Were. We have that whole alpha dog thing going. My turn doesn’t happen until way down the list from the alpha wolf.”
“Sorry. I guess we all have our problems. I shouldn’t get lost in mine.”
“That’s the attitude. If Amazons have issued a tribal imperative, there are lots of other women out there. I saw a couple of cute little w
itches head toward the shuffleboard game. Let’s go over there.”
Rick grabbed his beer and swung around on his stool, and stopped. “Look what the dog dragged in. If it isn’t Dean Heathcoat. What’s he doing here - slumming? Oh, there’s the answer.”
Sig looked over as Dmitri walked up and sat down next to the Dean. “What does Dmitri have to do with Dean Heathcoat?”
“He’s a research assistant. I don’t know what research he does or how much he assists, but it’s a cushy assignment for an All-America football player. Maybe he gets the Dean tickets to the games.”
Sig frowned at Dean Heathcoat. “There’s something different about him, but I don’t know what.”
“He’s usually in a dark suit. Khaki’s, a brown tweed sports coat, and brown T-shirt are out of character.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s it.” Sig shrugged. “Let’s find those witches.”
†††
Rick stood. “Sig, the dart competition is about to start. I have to get over there. Are you joining me?”
Sig stood and turned to the two witches. “Ladies I must go and provide moral, or in his case, immoral support. Should you care to join us, we’ll be at the dart venue where Rick will vie for the Game Room Championship.” He delivered the last in sonorous tones.
Rick and Sig marched off to the dart championship. Rick’s main competition was a small red headed man named Seamus, from Ireland. Rick called him Leprechaun. He looked like he might grow up to become a garden gnome.
Since Seamus frequented many of the same places as those imbued with magic, Sig wondered how accurate the nickname was.
Rick and Seamus played each other frequently, evenly, and sociably. Today, however, was the official dart club championship, for a cash prize. The trash talk had already started. Rick greeted Seamus, “Hey Leprechaun, do you need the cash prize because you lost your pot of gold? If you’re that hard up, I’ll write you a check after I win.”
“Sure, and I’m thinking there’ll be enough elastic in that check, I could make spandex pants for all the girls around here - and a pair for you when you dance in the moonlight.”
Some of those who had gathered to watch the competition snickered.
Rick blushed and flashed a strained smile at Seamus. He pulled out his darts and laid them on the bar. Seamus did likewise.
Andrew, the bartender, looked around. “Does anyone here want to check the darts for spells?”
From the end of the bar, a long arm holding a glass raised high. “I’ll do it.”
Professor Herman got up from his stool and sauntered over with his pint of dark brew.
Rick looked surprised. “I didn’t know you came here.”
The Professor smiled and raised his pint. “I enjoy a brew as well as the next man, and I thought I’d come and show support for my research assistant. Even if he didn’t invite me.”
Rick opened his mouth to reply, then shut it and shrugged. “Thanks for coming.”
Professor Herman picked up the dart cases, opened them, set them back on the bar, and domed his hands over the darts, about an inch away. He pursed his lips, picked up Seamus’ darts, and with raised eyebrows handed them to him.
Seamus shrugged, smiled, pulled another set of darts from his pocket, and handed them to the Professor. He opened them, placed them next to Rick’s, and repeated his examination. After a moment, he nodded and handed the darts to each competitor. He then extended his hand to Seamus, palm up.
Seamus looked up at the Professor, rolled his eyes, and smiled. He pulled the original darts out of his pocket, and put them in the Professor’s hand. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“Obviously.” The Professor pocketed the darts, returned to his seat, and signaled Andrew for another brew.
The first game was Cricket. A player accumulated points on any number, until his opponent “closed” a number by scoring three darts in it.
Seamus went first and threw five bull’s-eyes. Rick closed the bulls and threw a triple twenty. Seamus threw three twenties to close them, plus a nineteen. The Cricket match continued until Seamus won on the strength of his original bull’s-eyes.
The following match was “301”. Each player starts with 301 points and subtracts points scored. The first to zero wins. The trick was that the final points subtracted had to be from the doubles ring. Rick won that match, managing to double out with a twenty.
Seamus drew first throw for the last match. Rick picked the game. He announced loudly, “301. Leprechauns are terrible at math. Comes from not needing to count their money.”
“301 is based on luck. Cricket requires true skill.”
“Hurry up Leprechaun before someone steals your lucky charms.”
With a sour smile, Seamus toed the dart line.
The throws were very close, but Rick managed to land the winning dart. He threw his hands up and shouted, “Irish whiskey for everyone, in honor of my noble competitor… on me.” Then he turned to Sig with a crooked smile. “Well for everyone old enough to drink.”
Sig laughed and clapped him on the shoulder as he said to Andrew, “Make mine a Fresca - on the rocks.”
†††
Everyone stayed until closing time. Rick spent all of his prize money and the Professor, surprisingly, stepped in to make up the difference.
Dean Heathcoat and Dmitri stayed until almost the end. Dmitri left, but Dean Heathcoat remained until the party broke up.
As everyone streamed out of the bar and down the hall toward their cars, one of the Amazons rushed back in from the parking lot. “There’s some idiot kid riding a pony out in the parking lot.” Sig and Rick looked at each other. Rick mouthed, “Fuck!”
Sig turned and ran toward the back of the building. Rick looked after him in disappointment and hurried out the front with the rest. He emerged in the middle of a milling group of inebriated patrons watching Andras and his wolf pace back and forth between the exit and the cars.
Seamus said, “That’s not a pony. What’s that funny helmet he has on?
Andras stopped the pacing and thundered, “Bring me the boy. This time he is mine.”
One of the Amazons, standing next to Rick said, “I’m not giving any baby to that freak.”
Rick said to her, “He eats babies.”
“That bastard! Amazons - to me.”
Rick found the witches in the crowd. “That freak wants to hurt a kid.”
“Not on my watch,” hissed Amalia, the witch.
Andras raised his sword and hurled a flaming ball at the crowd. “Bring him to me.”
The Professor, arriving after settling the tab, raised a shield. The flaming ball smashed into and splattered throughout the parking lot, sizzling while it dispersed.
“Where is he?”
“Right here.” Sig, in Battle Wizard form, stepped out of the dark behind Andras and sliced off the rear half of the wolf.
Andras turned to look at the back end of the wolf twitching on the ground behind him. The wolf’s head turned to look too.
Sig sliced at Andras, but he blocked Sig’s blow and leapt off the wolf.
Andras attacked with a flurry of slashes and thrusts. To the onlookers, it appeared that a steel whirlwind attacked Sig.
To Sig it seemed like he was battling multiple Amazons, something he’d done in his other form, successfully. He blocked every hack, dodged every thrust. It was like déjà vu, all over again, except he was holding his ground this time. However, although he could defend, he couldn’t mount an attack. He couldn’t defend forever against a demon with an infinite life.
He sought an opening in the curtain of steel whirling in front of him and couldn’t find one. He backed up, seeking opportunity. Andras backed Sig against a car. Sig sought a break from the whirlwind in front of him, and then vaulted over the car.
Andras jumped on top of the car.
A stream of water blasted Andras, sweeping him off the car and across the parking lot. He screeched as he tumbled. His wolf, rejoined, ra
n to him and the flow caught it broadside. They both slid toward the street.
The water died down and Andras leapt upon the wolf. It reared and charged Sig. The wolf leapt and crashed into an invisible barrier, falling to the ground on top of Andras. He shoved the wolf away.
Sig stood over Andras and chopped down. Andras blocked the blow and rolled away. He sprung to his feet in time to take another blast of water, knocking him onto his back.
Sig lunged forward, ready to chop again, but had to block a fireball Andras hurled at him with his sword, and then slapped another away. The fireballs flared and splattered blindingly over the cars in the lot.
He whirled to defend against the next attack. None came.
Sig’s eyes recovered from the flares in time to see Andras leap on his wolf and race away.
He heard clapping. The Professor led the crowd in applause. Rick laughed as he walked toward Sig. “With a little help from your friends, even you can kick the ass of a Marquis from Hell.”
Chapter 42
Sig spun, sword up, head swiveling, searching for danger.
Rick said, “Hey, we kicked his ass.” He gestured toward a gushing fire hydrant, “Luckily our new friends, Amalia and Rebecca are water witches. They blasted Andras with a water jet and kept him off balance. The Professor chipped in with an energy shield at the opportune moment. Voila, Andras ran.”
Sig kept scanning the surroundings. “Don’t forget, he ran last time too - and came back to attack us. Let’s get everyone out of here in case he returns.”
Rick glanced at the chattering crowd outside the club. “Maybe there’s strength in numbers. That helped last time.”
“I don’t want anyone hurt because Andras is trying to kill me.”
“Maybe he’ll stay away if we’re all together.”
“C’mon, let’s get them out…”
A shape dove off the roof into the crowd. Andras on wolfback hacked left and right with his sword. One of the Amazons fell, cleaved in half, top to bottom. He sliced through another sideways. The screaming crowd scattered.
Sig ran toward Andras. A huge wolf passed him. Rick went in low, slashed at Andras’ wolf legs, dashed out, and whirled to slash at the wolf again. He darted away again, just in time for Andras to miss a cut aimed at his back.