by James Somers
She had known the layout of the restaurant prior to coming here today. After all, this wasn’t the first time Adolf had dined at this establishment. In fact, the man might have deviated from his routines a little better if he wanted to remain secure from would-be assassins like herself.
Instead, Adolf acted as though no one could possibly touch him, let alone harm him. There was some truth in that idea, she mused. Adolf’s touch was far more likely to be fatal to an assassin than they would be to him.
However, there were any number of ways to kill a man and a carefully placed bullet from one hundred yards away was usually as effective as was needed. But Sadie would never take that way. She had a personal score to settle and she didn’t want to be a mile off when the light of life left his eyes. Sadie intended to look him in the face so he would know who had done the deed. She hoped the same for the angel Southresh when his time finally came.
The fact of the matter was that Adolf had not killed her mother, but he was all a part of the machinations of the Fallen. He was Lucifer’s man right now and he had been used to massacre millions. If anyone deserved death it was Adolf.
Southresh was probably no better off than a pawn either, but he played his part nonetheless. And it had been the mad god who had actually taken Sophia’s life along with that of the Shade King. The downfall of the Leprechauns had resulted soon after.
To be rid of these two would essentially be the excision of all that had caused ruin in her life. Still, Lucifer would remain. But God’s plan for him was already a matter written in the heavens and indisputable. He would get his, when all was said and done.
Sadie appeared in the restaurant’s kitchen. She did not materialize in her natural form, however, but in the guise of one of the waitresses. She gave little thought to the matter of running into the woman. She didn’t intend on holding this disguise that long.
Coming from the back of the restaurant, Sadie walked past several cooks who paid her only minor attention. A cursory glance and a flicker of recognition and they continued with their work. However, another, possibly the manager on duty, inspected her with some degree of uncertainty.
“Janice?” he asked. “I thought this was your day off.”
Sadie smiled impishly. “And miss the Fuhrer’s visit? I wanted to help, if you’ll have me.”
The man smiled. “Sure, why not.”
Beyond, in the dining room, Sadie could see that Hitler was seated already in a section of the restaurant reserved for special groups. The table was oval in shape and elongated so that twenty people could be seated comfortably. Hitler sat at the head with several lower ranking officers to either side.
A retinue of soldiers from the trucks outside were already stationed around the restaurant and the Fuhrer himself. They all carried MP40 submachine guns strapped across their torsos and held ready before them. The best course of action would be to get in close before striking.
Even from here, Sadie could see the man’s features. He was much older than when they had known one another in Rockunder. Of course, all of them had aged well into adulthood. Sadie would already be considered middle-aged by number, though in appearance she only seemed to be in her mid to late twenties.
Adolf looked older than she did. He had the appearance of a human in their mid-thirties despite being almost the same age as her. Perhaps the guilt from his many evils, or the pressures of losing a war, as he currently was, had mounted to age him prematurely. Maybe it was something else entirely.
She had noticed that her father, seemed much older than he should have for being one of the Sons of Anarchy, a direct Descendant of the Fallen. He had noticed the same. Brody had even postulated that the time of the Descendants must truly be drawing to a close and that their ability to age more gracefully was failing at the same time.
Her father was now officially approaching the ninety-year-old mark. An age that should have been not even mid-life for someone of his heritage, especially considering the kind of long ages that Donatus and Laish had known. Yet, her father looked like a human in his late forties already. Perhaps there was more to his theory than just musing.
If that was indeed the case, that the time of Descendants was drawing to a close in the grand plan of the Almighty, then she had that much more reason to get this business over with speedily. Her father and Cole worried about her, but she felt confident. With the aid of Malak-esh, she would defeat not only Adolf but Southresh as well.
“Janice?”
“Yes?” she said, turning her attention back to the manager.
“Why don’t you take the wine cart out for Francois,” he said, indicating a silver cart with three levels. Several bottles of wine were already chilling on top. The glasses would already be sitting on the table. “He’ll be out to take their orders momentarily.”
“Of course,” she said with a smile, maneuvering around to push the cart out of the kitchen. “My pleasure.”
All eyes were upon Sadie as she made her way to the side room. The soldiers watched her with hawk’s eyes, scrutinizing her. The safety of their Fuhrer depended upon constant vigilance.
But this was a restaurant where Hitler had dined many times. The staff were trusted here. This woman they were seeing had been working here for years. Some of the soldiers knew her from previous visits. Others considered her simply to be no threat—of little consequence. After all, they were military men, trained and heavily armed.
So, there was no difficulty getting close to the man. Adolf only glanced at her approaching the table. She stopped, taking her hands off of the cart.
The power within her itched to be released. Her fingers felt tingly with anticipation. This scourge on Descendants, indeed upon the world, would soon be dead. She would be that much closer to having inner peace—peace she hadn’t known since her mother’s death years ago.
Without a second thought about her actions, Sadie attacked. Fire flew from her outstretched hands toward the Fuhrer. As the blaze ignited, flying out toward him, Adolf’s eyes found her. Orange light cascaded across his face.
Sadie’s expression was that of grim determination. She had known Adolf personally, though they had never been friends. He was a Descendant, but still a menace to society. She told herself that this was for the greater good and she believed it.
Then something unexpected happened. The guards flanking Hitler were engulfed in flames. Her inferno had divided at the Fuhrer and scattered to set his soldiers ablaze instead. He was magically shielded—an ability Adolf had never possessed before.
Sadie’s fury burned as hot as the flames leaping from her fingertips. She had been tricked again. This was clearly another imposter that Adolf had left in his wake. He knew she was seeking to kill him. Yet, he never faced her himself. Adolf was toying with her.
Her disguise as Janice the waitress vanished, leaving her true appearance behind. The soldiers writhed in flame, rolling about on the floor, running blinding into furniture and other panicked members of Adolf’s entourage. Even the kitchen crew were shouting in alarm now.
The remaining soldiers turned on Sadie with their MP40 submachine guns, opening fire. She knew from experience that a shield of the kind she could manage would do little good against their weapons. Magical attacks were one thing, bullets were another. Her father would have been impervious to them, but her power was more limited, save for the fire she could conjure as his daughter.
However, she still possessed the prowess of a werewolf from her mother. Sadie dodged, leaping over the table. Becoming a blur to the soldiers, she moved quickly to incapacitate them, namely with Malak-esh.
Her sword came to her waiting hand. Already the flames were spreading in this area of the restaurant. Several people remained on fire, and the building was now ablaze as furniture and curtains spread the flames from bodies to the structure itself.
Bullets sprayed from the weapons of the Nazi soldiers, peppering the walls where beige wallpaper with curled green leaves had been applied only two years prior. Crysta
l clear panes in the French doors to the private room were driven through with holes that spider-webbed out through the glass or shattered them completely, leaving shards upon the freshly vacuumed carpet.
Sadie had been standing there only a fraction of a second before. Only the blurred light of her passing remained for the soldiers to fix upon. She was already skirting the table to attack from a flanking position while gunfire pattered through the restaurant sending the staff running for their lives through the kitchen and out the back door.
Malak-esh cut through the soldiers each in turn, dividing their guns before dividing their flesh. Between those on fire and those she dispatched with Malak-esh, Sadie had made short work of Adolf’s contingent. However, the man himself was not simply going to cower beneath the table.
Magical attacks followed her from across the room: lightning and shockwaves that only aided the fire burning out of control in the private dining room. This imposter was most definitely a Descendant, possibly an elf, at the very least a spell caster. These were not abilities she had ever seen in the real Adolf.
Lightning forked out at her, the imposter already backing toward the front of the restaurant keeping the thickly made dining room table between them. The attack was easily absorbed by Malak-esh. The sword could handle anything this spell caster might hurl at her. Even angels couldn’t best this blade. It remained, perhaps, the one weapon they feared.
Soldiers from outside on the street had responded quickly. As yet, only seconds had passed from the time that Sadie had launched her assault. Seeing their Fuhrer in danger, or the one they took for their Fuhrer, they flanked him on either side, firing back into the restaurant as Sadie pursued.
Several shots clattered against Malak-esh. She dodged to the side again, hoping to keep clear of their gunfire. Normally, the movements of humans appeared very slow to her. The same could be said for vampires like Cole. She and he were far faster, making mere mortals seem sluggish in comparison. However, bullets cut through the air at hundreds of feet per second. Too fast to get out of the way.
The trick was to anticipate correctly. The aim was still slow being dependent on human movements. So, a single rifle shot could be determined fairly easy. Just by watching the aim and line of sight, she could be gone before the shot was even fired. Machine guns, with their high rate of fire, made it more difficult but not impossible.
She sprayed the room ahead of her with fire, causing the soldiers to instinctively flinch away. This gave her the opportunity she needed. Sadie cut back toward them and hurled Malak-esh at the imposter. He made a desperate last ditch attempt at defense.
The blade radiated light. Then it hit its mark. The imposter fell. His disguise came away, leaving only a man in appearance. He might still have been an elf. Not all of the clans possessed the tell-tale ears.
It didn’t matter now. It wasn’t Adolf. That much was now certain. The blade protruded from his chest momentarily and then vanished from the wound, leaving behind a corpse that would puzzle the surviving soldiers. But even that probably wouldn’t last.
Adolf’s power over these Nazi’s seemed absolute. They fawned over him like a god in human form, hanging upon every word as divine revelation. If Adolf suggested that nothing mysterious at all had happened here today, all would be forgotten in favor of whatever he wanted them to remember in its place.
This registered for her in the blink of an eye. With her mission a failure, she dashed away, crashing through the plate glass façade. The soldiers managed to recover as the flames roiled and dissipated. They fired their weapons after her, merely because they had seen something plow through the window.
But she was already gone. Malak-esh had returned to its place in the dimensional pocket near her at all times. The imposter lay dead, wearing Adolf’s uniform with a slim wound in the middle of his chest where blood seeped out steadily. The restaurant continued to burn.
In a few minutes, as smoke ascended above the street, a fire engine would make an attempt at saving the eatery. It would be a futile attempt. Gutted by fire, it would not be reopened. No one would ever know why the waitress had attacked.
The real Janice would be taken into custody regardless of her pleas of innocence, despite the fact that the Fuhrer had never actually been in attendance. Three days of questioning would end with a quiet execution inside a Nazi military outpost with no answers to their questions. A bullet to the back of the head would close the matter forever.
Investigation
Cole had only just made it back to the United States with the body of the assassin when he was struck by an epiphany. Sadie was in Germany. There was no way of knowing when she might return. It seemed to him that she was gone these days more often than she was home. If they wanted answers quickly, it was unlikely they could depend on Sadie to get them.
There was also the matter of her skill with the healing arts. She had studied years ago, but her training had never been complete, not by a long shot. Sadie could do minor healings and was maybe only a little better at determining causality. But this was nothing compared to true healers.
A healer spent their entire upbringing studying the arts, apprenticed to an elder of their clan. They were human in appearance and found it easy to blend in with the peoples of the world, though they tended to reside primarily in the Asian nations. Their skills were far superior to anything Sadie could offer.
Brody wasn’t here now to consult with him on the matter, but Cole knew what needed to be done. He would take this assassin’s corpse to the only sect of healers he knew of in the world. In the mountainous region of Tibet, a group had started a monastery hundreds of years earlier. They had taken the semblance of monks to a certain religious order, but all of them were, in fact, Descendant healers quietly studying and practicing their art far away from the prying eyes of the world.
It was near dark in Tennessee and would be early morning there where he had to go. The monastery was really in no place at all. A village with so few people that it didn’t even deserve a name on a map. But Cole knew where he had to go even if it didn’t have a real name in the world, a place just south of Shigatse in Tibet.
Brody had constructed a library here taken from the one in his Highgate home in England. Every volume had been painstakingly removed one winter evening following a recent bombing of the city of London. Brody had grown concerned that his beloved library, which had once been Oliver’s library, might be destroyed should Hitler’s Luftwaffe continue its attacks unmolested.
By a magical transference, Brody had caused all of the volumes in his Highgate home to push out from the shelves and line up. They spent the next twenty minutes filing through the hearth portal from London to Tennessee like a parade of polygons. At the very last, shelves now bare in London and any beloved furnishings already removed from the manor house, the spelled hearth deconstructed itself.
The mortar had crumbled to dust and then, stone by precious stone, it had sucked in upon itself, each river rock coming through the portal until the very last departed. On the other side, within their new home in Tennessee, the hearth had reconstructed itself. From several buckets mixed and waiting, mortar flowed into the spaces between the stones and solidified there.
Cole entered the library with the wrapped body in tow behind him, hovering over the floor like a fish suspended in a tank. He called down a spelled volume containing a history of the region and the name of the monastery found therein. It had been notable in days gone by and so the name was recorded.
“Shalu Monastery,” Cole said to the floating volume.
The book opened on it own, pages flapping by quickly. They stopped where the mention was first made of the monastery. He gave the pages a cursory look just to be sure it was correct. After all, Cole was about to walk through a portal based upon the record here. He wanted to arrive at the right place.
Cole waved the book away toward the hearth. Obediently, the volume flew through the air and landed upon the mantle, activating the portal matrix. Green fire stirr
ed in the hearth which was tall enough to accommodate a large troll if need be. He remembered his friend Redclaw and smiled before putting memories aside. He had work to do.
Cole looked back at the assassin’s body, hoping that it would not be there. The last thing he wanted right now was another mystery to solve. He had had enough of fighting. Cole’s hopes lay with Sadie now, that we might somehow have a life beyond all of these problems. But those hopes remained frustrated.
This body was just one more reminder that their problems—the problems that had dogged them from his youth up—had never gone away. Cole couldn’t have a normal life. He wasn’t normal. Perhaps, he never would be.
He sighed, saying, “Come on then.” He expected no response, of course. He wasn’t quite crazy yet. Just frustrated.
Cole walked on into the hearth and through. Its green fire enveloped him, though there was no pain to it. The flames were simply a manifestation of the power at work within the matrix.
The body of the assassin, wrapped in a canvas tarp Brody had conjured while still in the jungle, followed behind him, going where Cole went like an obedient lap dog. The portal enveloped this as well, never balking at the fact that this person was no longer living. A portal just took whatever you threw into it and carried it along to a point of destination.
Cole emerged in the very chill air washing around and over the Shalu Monastery. It was a very unimposing edifice similar in architectural style to that of the Chinese, their sweeping roofs curving at the ends and adorned with ceramic tiles and figurines of idol gods. The structure was broad horizontally but squat in stature.
The cold bit into his skin, a dry sweeping wind surging through the Himalayas. Cole was now standing in the highest populated area in the world. And, yet, Heaven remained untouchable for man even in this place. Christ was still the only bridge between the mortal and the divine.