“That is the most preposterous nonsense I have ever heard,” said Daemon, standing up beside his desk. The door opened and some men walked in. “Now excuse me, this meeting is at an end. These men will escort you out.”
Jude gave the men a look, wondering if they were about to be disappeared. He glanced over at Montoya, who from his expression must have wondered the same thing. He nodded to his partner and they walked to the door, then followed the men out of the office. He made sure he was close to one of the men, and Montoya stayed close to the other, until they reached the bank of elevators and got in, taking it down. Jude kept his hands at his side, but he was ready to move. The men stared into space, every once in a while looking at him and his partner. The door opened in the lobby and he and Montoya got out.
“Have a great day,” said one of the men with a smirk.
Neither moved, staying put in the elevator. The door closed and the two were alone in the lobby, except for the security guards at their desk. Those men looked as if their moods hadn't improved in the intervening time. Both glared at the detectives. Jude glared back, sure that he and his partner were safe in the lobby. Beyond that he wasn't sure.
Outside it was still early afternoon, and a warm one at that. Jude didn't feel the warmth. He felt a chill as he walked through the visitor's lot and to the department car.
“What the hell was that about?” asked Montoya as they walked to the car. “What in the heck was that nonsense about little blue guys?”
Jude focused on the vehicle for a moment, casting a spell to see if any magical energy had been placed on it, then motioning at the car and getting in. The Sergeant started the car and pulled out of the space.
“So you gonna tell me what’s going on?” asked Montoya, glancing over at Jude. “What was that stuff about little blue guys?”
“He sure reacted to that, didn’t he?”
“Like he saw a Shadow,” agreed Montoya, looking into the mirror and grunting.
Jude looked behind him and saw the black steamer that was pulling out behind him. He thought he recognized one of their friends from the elevator driving it. He couldn’t make out the other man, but would bet it was that man’s partner.
“I had a dream yesterday morning,” said Jude, looking over at his partner while the man turned the wheel, bringing the car out onto the main street in front of the building.
“A dream,” said Montoya, eyes widening. “You confronted him based on a dream?”
“It seemed to have meaning to him,” said Jude, watching the other car pulling onto the street behind them, then keeping on their tail at a constant distance. “Enough meaning to have us followed.”
“Hope it didn’t have enough meaning to have us disappeared,” said the Sergeant, glancing behind. “That was a powerful man you were messing with.”
“You think I was wrong to do so?”
“No,” said Montoya, shaking his head. “I’m just reminding you that you messed with someone who can cause a lot of shit to fall on you. And me by association.”
Jude thought about that a moment. Yes, Daemon was a powerful man to mess with. Even his name conjured up power in the political circles of the land. He thought for a moment on the name, Daemon. Its ancient connotation was a spirit of nature, sort of like a demon, but not of evil origin. It could be destructive, but not because it was of evil bent. But the eyes that had stared at him in the office had no touch of human kindness in them. That was a man who would do whatever he needed to do to protect his personal empire.
“Can you lose these bozos?” Jude asked his partner. “Or at least get out of the sight of whoever might be watching by other means while we see what they want.”
“I can only think of one kind of place to do that,” said Montoya, giving his partner a worried glance. “Are you sure you want to go there?”
“We’ve still got four hours of daylight,” said Jude, pulling out his revolver and checking the load. “I think we can risk it.”
“OK,” said Montoya with a frown. “It’s your funeral. Hope it isn’t mine too.”
The short Detective spun the wheel, cutting off an oncoming car, eliciting a long honk and a curse. The car following them sped up and took the same turn just as the stopped vehicle was lurching forward. Another honk and a curse, and the tail car was still with them. Montoya tried his best to lose the other car, but it stuck on their tail like a hungry pack dog after a wounded deer.
“There it is,” said Montoya, looking over at his partner.
Jude turned away from his watch on the trailers and looked ahead, at where the street entered the dead zone. The car crossed into the ruined area of the city, and Jude felt all connection with the magic of the land cut off. His chest felt tight and sweat broke out on his forehead as his lifeline to the world of the arcane was severed. He looked over at his partner, who was not exhibiting any kind of symptoms of magical withdrawal. Figures, thought Jude. He doesn’t use any kind of magic with the exception of some devices he’s required to by his job. He has nothing to withdraw from. He checked the rear and saw that the trailing car was following them in, and he wished the same kind of headache that was coming on him for his pursuers.
Jude glanced to either side at the buildings that fronted the street. All buildings had broken windows opening onto empty rooms or areas clogged with rubble and garbage. Most of the doors were broken in, some hanging from hinges. There were numerous areas hidden in shadows, to be avoided during the day, as the entire region was at night. Through no fault of its own, this area of several square miles had been abandoned when the population had dropped to the point that it wasn’t considered worthwhile to keep pumping magical energy into its grid, when power was needed in so many other populated areas. The remaining people had moved out and the Shadows had moved in. And being not on the magical grid it could not be observed by magical means. Which meant that Lucius Daemon would not be looking in on whatever was going on.
Montoya drove on, a half dozen blocks into the zone, then down a side street. Some of the streets they had passed had been so blocked with trash and rubble that they couldn’t drive down them. This had been another main thoroughfare, and though narrowed with debris was still passable.
“Stop here,” ordered Jude at a likely looking place. “Let’s see what these goons want with us.”
Montoya nodded and pulled the car over to the sidewalk. There were some deep shadows in the windows here, and Jude looked at them nervously while he opened the door and got out of the car. He pulled his revolver out of his shoulder holster and cocked the hammer, holding the pistol by his side. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but if he did he wanted each shot as accurate as possible. Cocking the hammer gave him the steadiness he needed, that would not be achieved by pulling the hammer back by way of the trigger. He looked over at his partner and saw that the man had his favored automatic in his hand. Jude had shot those weapons as well, and had to admit they were faster firing, with more ammunition on board and a much quicker load. But he didn’t like the drawbacks, like the possibility of jams, and retained his big revolver.
The other car pulled up and stopped in the middle of the street. The men got out, slamming the doors behind them. Both had one hand hidden from sight at their sides, stern looks on their faces as they walked toward the two policemen.
“That’s far enough,” called out Jude, his voice echoing in the empty street. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
The two goons stopped in their tracks and looked at each other. The biggest turned a scowl on the two cops, while the smaller smiled.
“We just wanted to make sure that nothing that shouldn’t be said got said,” said the smaller man.
“Very direct of you,” said Jude, his body tensing. “Now just what the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” said the man, his own body tensing, giving away his move, “that we can’t risk you talking.”
As he said the last sentence he brought his arm up, a big automatic in his fist, and fire
d off a shot. The round went wide, cracking through the air as it passed. Jude brought his own pistol up in a smooth motion while trying to quiet his heart and keep his breathing steady. The barrel of the other gun tracked back on him after recoiling upward. It looked like a cannon pointed his way, ready to take his life. Jude made sure his sight picture was good, the front tab centered between the rear notch and pointed at the man’s chest. He squeezed his own trigger before the other gun could fire at him again. The heavy forty-five recoiled up and to the left. A spurt of red blossomed on the man’s right jacket shoulder. Jude pulled his hammer back with his thumb and aimed again. His pistol roared and he watched the man’s face explode into a smear of red. The hood dropped his own pistol and slid downward to his knees, before falling forward onto his front. From the thirty yards separating them Jude could see that the back of the man’s skull had exploded outward, and knew that this man would not walk again among the living.
He heard a grunt over the explosions of pistols and the ringing in his ears. He looked over to see Montoya falling to the ground, the front of his jacket smeared with blood. While shouting at his partner he looked back at the larger hood, who was still firing his big pistol and missing the falling Sergeant. Jude brought his own gun up and pulled the trigger, missing the man in his haste to get a hit. The thug turned his attention and his pistol at Jude, letting off two quick rounds that missed, while Jude planted a round center mass in the man. The hood screamed out as he fired another round, the slide on his pistol locking open as the magazine was emptied. He fumbled at his belt and pulled out another magazine, pushing it into the pistol. Before he completed the action Jude sent another round into his chest, then the last bullet for good measure. The man stumbled backwards, fell against his car, then fell forward like a tree that had been lopped off by a lumberjack.
Jude ran around the car and knelt down by Montoya. The wound was low on his chest, where the ribs met the abdomen, on the left side. Montoya was trying to get back on his feet, his face pale, blood seeping from the wound.
“We’ll get you to a hospital,” said Jude, reaching into the car for the first aid kit he knew was there. He pulled up the Sergeant’s shirt and began to bandage the wounds when the sound of an approaching steamer got his attention.
“I doubt if that’s help on the way,” said Montoya through clenched teeth.
“I don’t think so either,” said Jude, grabbing his partner under the arms and pulling him away from the car. “I need to get you under cover and see what I can do about them.” And hope there’s not too many.
Straining all the way, he got the Sergeant into an alley that was still in the light of the sun, hoping that there were no sun demons around at this time. He didn’t think that was likely here in a dead zone, since there was nothing for them to stalk here. He got him further into the alley and was pulling him behind some rubble that lay just inside when the other car screeched to a stop. He laid Montoya gently onto the ground and ran back to the mouth of the alley, kneeling down and looking around the corner.
Another black car had stopped just behind the first, and four men got out as he watched. Three looked like regular goons. The fourth was something else. His clothes and the staff he carried gave the impression of Mage. He wondered what the man hoped to accomplish here in a dead zone when the small globe on the top of the staff glinted with light. He brought his own energy with him, thought Jude, hoping that it wasn’t too much energy.
Jude ran back to Montoya and knelt beside his friend.
“We’ve got more company. You stay quiet and they should pass you by. I’ll lure them away and come back for you.” As he spoke Jude opened the cylinder of his pistol, ejected the spent rounds, and pulled out one of the quick load cylinders he had in the pocket of his rig. He pushed the bullets into the cylinder of his pistol, pushed the quick loader into his pocket, then closed the cylinder. He carried eighteen spare bullets, three reloads, though now he wished he had carried a spare box. “You still got yours, huh,” he said, seeing that the automatic had remained in Montoya’s right hand. Jude took the pistol from the Sergeant’s hand and pulled a magazine from the man’s belt, substituting it for the one in the gun. “Now at least you got a full load,” he said, putting the gun back in the Sergeant’s hand. “If I don’t lead them away then you shoot their asses, OK.”
Montoya nodded his head. Jude patted him on his shoulder and trotted back to the alley entrance.
The four men were at his car by now. The Mage was looking down at the dead men, then knelt by one and grabbed his face. Doing a reading, if Jude knew the business. The other three, pistols drawn, were looking at the surrounding buildings and moving up the street.
Jude felt the almost paralyzing fear as he prepared for what he needed to do next. He needed to cause a distraction for his partner. To do that he needed to present himself as a target to people who wanted to kill him, while trying to kill them, and preventing them from hitting him. Nothing was guaranteed. The first bullet they fired his way might take his life, before he even knew what was happening. Or he could be groaning out his life on the street, watching the men walk toward him, eager to finish the job. He decided on his best chance and got ready, stepping out into the open on rubber legs and bringing his gun to bear. He fired a shot at the closest man, then two more quick shots at the other two. He thought he might have hit the middle one, but couldn’t take the time to make sure. He brought his gun down to his side and took off in a run, going through the middle of the street with his arms pumping, before he zigged up the asphalt, then zagged back toward the sidewalk.
Bullets snapped by him, their cracks of passage turning his bowels to liquid. He raised his pistol behind him and let off another round, hoping that it might distract the men a bit and worsen their aim. He jumped over a low bit of stone rubble, then dodged around a large piece, dropping to the ground as several bullets snapped by. His knees hurt from hitting the ground, but he forced himself to slide around until he was looking past the rubble. He fired his last bullet at the nearest of his pursuers, then scrunched behind the rubble and pulled out another quick loader. He ejected the old load and slammed in the new, placing the quick loader into a pocket. Before he could finish rubble in front of him started to glow. It gave off an uncomfortable heat which grew by the second, forcing him to slide back. He snapped his cylinder shut just as the rubble began to bubble and flow, turning into a falling glop of molten rock that splashed along the street.
Damned Mage, he thought as he took aim at the nearest of the men and fired a shot, hitting the man in the thigh. That man grunted and knelt down, and Jude fired two more rounds into his body that made him bend over and fall face first into the street. Jude scooted back and pushed to his feet, taking off for an alley mouth while a bullet zinged off the street to his left. Just as he reached the alley mouth a ball of force hit him in the legs, lifting the Detective into the air and dropping him hard on the asphalt, luckily into the alley and away from the men firing at him. He landed hard on his back, thinking to tuck his chin at the last moment and protecting his head from hitting the hard surface.
I have to move, he thought, scrambling to his feet despite the pain in his back, and looking around the edge of the wall. Bullets sprang from the wall in a flurry of stone pellets. He saw that one of the men was in the mouth of the alley where he had left Montoya, and he had a moment of concern that the man might find and kill his partner.
Jude took a shot at the man in the other alley. That man fired back. With violent suddenness a trio of booms echoed from that alley, and the man arched his back, dropped his pistol to the ground, and fell after it.
Good old Montoya, thought Jude, turning his attention back to the other gunman. He was sure that his partner had maneuvered himself to where he could see the man at the entrance to his alley, and had gunned him down with his automatic. Now he had to hope that the other men didn’t go after his partner, who might be able to shoot, but couldn’t run, or even hide very well.
The other two were totally focused on Jude. The gunman fired a couple of rounds while the Mage walked toward him. Jude ignored the gunman, who was not the greatest threat. He aimed and fired at the Mage, hoping to get in a hit before the man could cast a spell. His heart beat faster as he watched his bullet slow to a stop a few inches from the Mage, then drop to the ground. The wizard had already erected an entropic shield, protecting himself from any fast moving objects that might be sent his way. His gun was essentially useless against the man, while the man’s magic was anything but against Jude.
Jude retreated back into the alley, careful to avoid the lengthening shadows, especially the open door in the side of a building that let into a deep gloom. The alley dead ended within forty yards, that end piled with rubble and now deep in shadow. There were no other exits from the alley except for that one doorway leading into darkness. Jude would not take that door if all the demons from hell were after him, because they would surely be waiting in that darkness.
“There’s no way out,” called a deep voice.
Jude turned and saw that the Mage was at the entrance to the alley. He raised his gun and fired, then fired again, watching as both bullets stopped and fell to the ground.
“I’m afraid that weapon is of no use against me,” said the Mage while the gunman came up behind him, careful to keep the Mage between himself and Jude. “I understand that you have some magical talents yourself,” said the Mage to Jude, his eyes laughing at the Detective. “But you’re cut off from any power.”
“What do you want?” asked Jude, frantically trying to think his way from out of the situation.
“Why, your silence,” said the Mage, a cold smile on his face. “You’ve been asking questions that have disturbed some powerful people. And so you have to disappear. Convenient of you to choose such a place to make your stand, where you can disappear so easily. A pity that you killed so many of my associates. But you have proven to be competent, and competent people sometimes have plans and ambitions of their own.”
Daemon Page 10