She looked at each of my defenders in turn, seemingly unimpressed. This wisp of a woman uttered a laugh like a silver bell and danced sideways, catching the troll in the side with what looked like a casual backhand. He was lifted and hurled into the bar with enough force to destroy a sizeable portion of it in an instant shower of splinters and shards.
She met Boneyard’s charge head on, evading his first few attacks with effortless grace before slamming a fist into the side of his jaw. He barely flinched, responding with a raking swipe of his left hand that shredded the front of her gown and left bloody furrows between her breasts and her throat.
She sprang away, landing atop the sprawled form of Hydra, and thrust her hand at the ‘thrope. Some invisible force lifted him and launched him at the opposite wall with enough force to drive him through the paneling and into the concrete beyond, embedding him there like a child’s toy driven into the mud by an adult’s angry foot.
Then I saw Hades gesture once again, and the glass from the front window rose as if transformed into a swarm of bees and flew at her as if driven by a malevolent will of its own. She didn’t notice it until it was nearly too late, and was caught in the vertical rain of glass before she could do more than throw up a hand to protect her face.
Dazed by the ferocity of this assault, she failed to realize that the troll on which she stood had regained consciousness. Fingers like stovepipes wrapped around her ankle and she was lifted and bashed against the floor with all the fury a pissed off troll can muster.
At this point I think it was simple luck that saved her life. We vampires are vulnerable to two things—sunlight and severe damage to our brain or spinal column. Had she not been able to absorb enough of the impact on her arms, he would have no doubt dashed her head against the floor with enough force to turn her gray matter into so much mush.
As it was I heard the unmistakable sound of breaking bone and she screamed. She was not terribly handicapped by the pain, however, spinning abruptly and kicking out at Hydra’s wrist. He released his grip on her ankle with a bellow of pain and anger of his own.
She spun to her feet, cradling her right arm. I knew that it would mend within minutes, if not seconds, so they’d be wise to press their advantage now. They’d caught her by surprise, but it wouldn’t happen again.
Through all of this Jack had sat stock-still at his table. He stood now and lifted one arm slowly. I wondered if he was aiming a weapon, but he seemed to be pointing at the mirror behind the bar, which had miraculously been spared any damage.
The mirror shimmered like a still pool struck by a stone and a lone woman stepped out of it. The first thing that struck me about her was her beauty. Real human beauty, but truly as close to incomparable as one could imagine. If I were to guess at it, I would have marked her bloodline as Arabic. She had dusky skin, a straight, aristocratic nose, and hair as dark and full as Hades’s. Pale green eyes, completely out of place in that face, stared at the vampiric intruder with cold intensity.
At her side suddenly appeared a small blue humanoid creature, naked but for a thin vest. It stood no taller than her hip, and its most distinguishing feature was the wide grin that split its round face. That and its lack of any sexual characteristics, that is.
The blue thing vanished with a “pop” and appeared in the air above Alesandra with a whooshing sound. It dropped down upon her shoulders and wrapped its arms around her face. She reached up with both arms—apparently she healed as fast as I’d feared—and tried to pry the creature off. It didn’t budge, hanging on with all the determination of a love-sick squid.
The dark woman spoke, a husky contralto that most likely made the heart of every man in the place skip a beat. “You’re about a second away from sunlight,” she said, obviously speaking to Alesandra. “My friend there can take you anywhere in the world in a split second. There is no way to stop him. Unless you’re immune to it, and I suspect that you are not, you’d best take a minute to consider your options.
“Option one. You keep fighting. That’ll earn you a one-way ticket to someplace hot, dry and instantly fatal.
“Option two. You sit your undead ass down in that chair over there and we converse in a civilized manner.
“There is no third option. Raise your right hand if you’re willing to parley.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Alesandra lifted her right arm.
“Smart,” the dark woman said. “You can fade now, Q.”
The creature on Alesandra’s shoulders phased out, leaving behind for only a brief moment the outline of its huge grin. The woman from the mirror jabbed a finger at Alesandra as she shifted her weight. “Don’t even think about it. Quickfingers can be back in a second, and then we’re back to option one. Take my word for it, you’ve lost. You lost the minute you thought to walk in here pursuing your vendetta.”
“Who is she?” I asked Hades in a muted whisper, certain I should already know the answer.
“That’s the Lady of Blades,” he murmured back. “Jasmine Tashae. If she’s Jack’s backup security, it’s no wonder he doesn’t worry about anything too tough for us to handle.”
“She’s just one woman,” I hissed. “How tough could she possibly be?”
A chair materialized behind Alesandra and she sat abruptly. It didn’t look as though it had been her idea. Jasmine Tashae strode over to her and stood there looking down at her, arms folded under her breasts. “So what’s your deal, lady?”
“I am the Queen of the Vampires,” Alesandra said. “I am the mate of the Keening and all of the undead fall under my rule.”
“The Keening?” Jasmine made a choking sound and it took me a minute to realize she was laughing. “That maggot comes within a mile of me and he’s dust,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You think bringing up his name entitles you to anything but contempt?”
“He is the oldest vampire in existence,” Alesandra said casually. “He has powers that other vampires cannot even imagine.”
“He’s an asshole,” Jasmine said firmly. “A lot of innocent people died so he could go back in time and live out his fantasy of being king shit vamp. We’ve been looking for his ass for a long time, lady. There’s a reason he sent you here to do his dirty work for him. He’s afraid to do it himself. Because there’s a whole host of us who’ll be on him like white on rice the minute he pops his head out of whatever hole he’s hiding in.”
“Keening? That’s the name of the…” I let my voice trail off. Gina Keening had been the founder of the Conclave. They were talking about her son. He’d sent this creature here and had her kill his mother? The thought nauseated me. And brought up some questions I would have never thought to ask without that little revelation.
Why had he even bothered? Obviously he had made whatever mark he’d wanted on his own vampire community, in his own universe. What the hell did he think he’d gain by sending her here to do his dirty work? And did he really expect her to succeed? It seemed unlikely, considering that he hadn’t come himself.
Was it simply a matter of revenge?
None of it made sense to me and I really don’t like things that don’t make sense.
“How did you get here?” Jasmine was asking Alesandra. “Through a worldgate? Where’s this worldgate?”
The self-described vampire queen didn’t want to answer these questions. Her initial arrogance had faltered, and I think she finally realized she was in big trouble. Yes, we vampires are big and bad, and none more so than the eldest among us. But the immortals were big and bad in their own right. Particularly this one, apparently.
“Fine. If you’re not willing to answer my questions,” Jasmine said finally, after thirty seconds or so meeting Alesandra’s defiant gaze, “you’re useless to me.”
And abruptly the air around the seated vampire was full of swords. Alesandra didn’t even have the chance to flinch before the blades had moved in concert to separate her head from her torso. The effect was nearly instantaneous as she disintegrated before our eyes,
becoming nothing but a pile of gray ash in and around the chair.
“Ohmygod,” I gasped. “She never had a chance.”
Hades shook his head. “No. She didn’t.” There was something I couldn’t place lurking deep in his eyes and, after a moment, I realized what it was. Hades was terrified.
I learned why an instant later when Jasmine turned her emerald gaze on him. “Hades.” Her mouth curved into a feral grin. “I’d heard that you’d resurfaced. I’d even heard that you’ve turned over a new leaf.”
She was suddenly standing next to our table and I hadn’t even seen her move. She leaned over, putting her face within inches of Hades’s. “You know, of course, that it doesn’t mean shit to me. There will always be things that are unforgivable. What you did to all those children is one of them. The only thing you’ve earned from where I stand is a chance to keep breathing. You step one foot over the line again and it’ll be the last step you ever take.”
She stood, spun around, and launched herself at the mirror, vanishing back into its depths without even a telltale ripple this time. A second later her blue companion reappeared, this time in the center of the table at which we sat.
I have to give Hades props for nerve. He didn’t even flinch. I did, but just a little.
The creature grinned—which seemed to be its habitual expression—and patted Hades on the head like one might a friendly dog. “Redemption is a good thing, Hades. The boss is a bit of a hard ass, but her heart’s in the right place.” It laughed aloud at that and fired off a wink. “Rumor has it she keeps it in a jar under her bed.”
It snickered and, in a heartbeat, it was gone.
“Okay,” I said to Hades, “what the hell was that?”
“That,” he replied, “was Quickfingers the imp. He’s a spirit, a creature formed entirely out of magic, crafted by Jasmine when she was only a kid. He’s probably as powerful as she is, if not more powerful, and damn near completely unpredictable. The one good thing about Quickfingers is that he can’t do anything to hurt anyone.”
“But what about her threat—“
“A bluff. I think. I’m not sure if that would fall under the restriction that seems to cover the imp’s behavior. It might be a loophole.”
“A loophole?”
“Sure. Teleporting to a sunny clime is only dangerous to vampires. I’m not sure he’d perceive it as any sort of attack. He’s proscribed from doing anything overtly injurious to another being. Or so I understand it.”
I’d had enough. This whole evening had been a merry-go-round of emotional distress, a roller-coaster ride of terror and depression. I desperately needed to get away from the Lounge, from everything I knew.
I stood abruptly. “I’m going to take a vacation,” I told Hades. “I need to sort some stuff out in my head. You have a couple of choices.”
“Which are?”
“You can either come with me, or spend the next while worrying about me. I’m interested in you, Hades, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to get involved with me. We both have our own baggage and it may not all fit together very well.
“The Conclave owns an artificial island in the Caribbean,” I told him. “It’s a world-renowned party spot, and has one hell of a night life. I need to get away from it all, and that’s my destination of choice. Interested?”
He thought about it for all of about five seconds. “How long?”
“I can’t say how long I’ll need to stay there,” I answered, “but I understand you have obligations here. How about you spend a week down there with me and we can take it from there?”
He met my gaze and a slow smile spread across his face. “I believe we have a deal.”
We didn’t leave that moment, of course. We had to make sure Hydra was all right, and that Boneyard could be extricated from the wall without harm, but we were able to set out sometime before dawn.
He wasn’t happy to discover that we’d have to travel there by boat, until he got a chance to see the boat in question. The island might have belonged to the Conclave, but this particular vessel was all mine. She was named Night Shade and she was a seventy foot sailboat with a completely autonomous robotic crew. The perfect boat for a long cruise with someone you wanted to get to know better than you did.
Are we in love?
Not sure how to answer that. I do know one thing for certain. I’m certainly in lust. And every indication tells me that he feels the same way.
We’ve got forever to figure it all out. Forever works for me.
How about I get back to you in fifty years or so?
Episode V: A Troll for All Seasons
Modern medical equipment isn’t designed with someone of my stature in mind. Nor do doctors seem particularly interested in treating or even finding the source of my malaise. This is an unfortunate side effect of being a troll.
My appetite, while significant to begin with, had grown to epic levels in recent weeks. I found that I could not pass by anything remotely resembling food without having to eat it. It is fortunate I make a decent living, or I might have been made destitute by my increased appetite.
One might wonder what a nine-foot, gray-skinned troll might do for work. I cannot speak for other nine-foot gray-skinned trolls, but I build boats. Sleek, lovely, customized sea-going vessels with all the comforts of home.
Some people find it ironic that I would manufacture items that I myself cannot use. I am primarily the designer of said boats and leave it to others to do most of the actual construction. One might realize that this means that I have greatly understated my resources, and have grossly overstated the effects of my current appetite on my financial well-being.
I am not a poor troll, reduced to exacting tribute from people unfortunate enough to have to cross a bridge under which I happen to reside. I am, in fact, a very wealthy troll, but a troll nonetheless. Even medical professionals have difficulty putting aside their prejudices in order to examine me.
There are those researchers who specialize in the metahuman mutations such as myself—trollologists, as they’re known in certain circles—who classify me as an animalized troll, which means that I resemble another creature as much as I resemble a human. For me it’s an elephant. I am large and bulky, with a long, trunk-like appendage where most people would have a nose. I do not, however, have any particular urge to stomp about in bodies of water and spray myself with my nose. In fact, near as I can tell, I have no elephant-like tendencies at all.
People fear me. As I am at heart a gentle soul who wishes harm to no one, this leaves an aching void within my soul that I cannot fill.
The only humans for whom my monstrous appearance is not a factor are my friends at the Magitech Lounge. It is only in that unique place where I am allowed to feel like a human being rather than a freak of nature.
I am usually the first of the night crowd to arrive and that particular night in early September was no exception. I squeezed through the door and trundled up the ramp from the entrance—which squeaks in protest every time I do so—and strolled across the wide expanse of the dance floor to the bar.
Jack, the manager, had renovated a little in the wake of a small battle that had occurred on the premises late last month, during which I was thrown through the bar and subsequently forced to commit violence against a particularly noxious fiend of a vampire with what I believe was a God complex. She was taken out of the picture by someone else entirely, a fact with which I had no qualms. I am not a violent man by nature, and only the need to arise to the defense of one of my friends had drawn me into the fray.
On this particular night, Jack was behind the bar rather than in his usual booth in the corner. As this means that the usual night bartender, Callie, had taken the night off, I inquired as to her health. She usually has Sundays and Mondays off. This was Thursday, which, in my mind, indicated a cause for concern.
“Death in the family,” Jack told me, setting a mug of frothy beer in front of me. I quaffed half the contents in a single draught a
nd nodded.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sincerely. I harbor great affection for Callie. She is a normal young woman who seems to take my appearance, and the general oddness of the other patrons, well in stride. I dare say she is one of the most friendly normals I’ve ever met, and far more tolerant than most. Even by the standards of these ostensibly enlightened times.
I was, as usual, the only one in the lounge during the transition between evening and the late night shift. What was unusual was the fact that my arrival did not cause any daytime customers to flee the scene. The Lounge was uncharacteristically empty. “Is everything all right?” I asked Jack.
Jack seems a normal human of ordinary stature and unremarkable appearance. It is rumored that he somehow gained his position as manager of this place by virtue of being in the right place at the right time, and attracting the attention of some very powerful people who were interested in sponsoring a place very much like the one the Magitech Lounge has turned out to be.
He shrugged in response to my question and said nothing.
I heaved a sigh. “Got anything to eat?”
His brow furrowed into a deep frown and he regarded me somberly. “Maybe I should be asking you if everything is all right,” he said. “You seem down tonight.” He tossed a menu in front of me and gave me a wry grin.
Jack is a good listener, if nothing else, and I found myself pouring my angst and frustration with the medical profession into his ear. He listened attentively, and when I was through, reached across to pat me on the arm. “Have you considered taking a trip out-world to get checked out?”
In all honesty, I hadn’t. It’s hard for me, sometimes, to comprehend how vast the universe actually is. This Earth and its colonies are not the only places to seek help. There are other Earths and other realities entirely.
When I was younger and more hopeful, I believed that maybe, somewhere, there might be a cure for my condition. I read everything I could find about Starhaven, the Interworld agencies, and the power players in the metaverse.
Tales from the Magitech Lounge Page 9