Havoc Rising

by Brian S. Leon

  Fire and earth. That explained a lot.

  “Crepi.” I began heading along the wall to my left. I had no idea where the Lar was, but knowing that Ifrits avoided water at all costs, if I could keep it with its back to the water, then the sonofabitch would have to pass through me to get away.

  CHAPTER 20

  I crept carefully along the wall, the Pelian Spear in my hand, until I came to a series of long metal storage crates at the northwest corner of the lot. As quietly as I could, I climbed on top to lie in wait for the Ifrit. I didn’t have to wait long. When it reappeared on top of a bus less than fifty feet away, it was facing into the lot.

  The monster was huge, probably all of nine feet tall and four hundred pounds, with shiny pitch-black skin and glowing orange eyes and nostrils. It was vaguely human except for its leonine face, and a long mane of black hair was the only covering on its naked body. It stopped and sniffed the air, raising its head like a dog that had caught a scent.

  “Hey, pazzo, come down from there, or I’ll break your face,” the Lar said from somewhere in front of it.

  The beast shifted to peer down at the Lar and left his broad back facing me. That was my cue. I got to my feet on top of the crate, found my target, and tossed the spear lightly. The last thing I wanted was for the weapon to go straight through it. My throw impaled the monster in its shoulder and knocked it off the bus. It landed on the ground with a roar.

  I drew my swords and began closing the distance as fast as I could, jumping from bus to bus with ease. By the time I got close, the Ifrit was starting to stand back up, wrenching at the spear, growling, and trying to pull it free.

  I roared a battle cry and leapt down, aiming to land just outside the thing’s reach, but it spun around and backhanded me in midair and sent me into the side of a bus. Luckily, it was one of those small tour buses with lots of windows along the sides. I crashed into but not through the tempered glass, breaking most of the windows, and landed on one knee, practically on the Ifrit’s foot. Pain exploded through my head, neck, arms, and hips from the impact, but nothing felt broken. When I recovered, its groin was right at my eye level—one of many things I wish I’d never seen. The Ifrit threw its head back and its arms wide and roared.

  Fueled by adrenaline, I drew the sword in my left hand up and across the Jinn’s thigh, cutting deeply, and lunged the sword in my right hand into its gut. I drew my right arm up with everything I had, dragging the sword through the creature’s stomach and out just below its chest, cutting a gouge that began spraying lava that singed my face and forearm before I could back out of the way.

  The howl that followed was deafening, and the Ifrit began swinging wildly. I rolled to my right, barely avoiding another collision with its massive right arm, and scrambled out from between the buses. The spear was still bobbing wildly from the Jinn’s shoulder, the tip of the blade just visible in its upper chest. Grounded by the spear and unable to teleport, the wounded beast tore a massive gash in the bus to its left with a savage swipe of its immense claw and then focused on me again.

  It let out another earsplitting shriek and then stretched its left arm toward me, and fire jumped from the flaming liquid gushing from its side straight at me. I dove left, but the fireball caught my legs and spun me around, setting my pants on fire with a rush of heat across my lower body and searing pain in my legs. I landed in a loose, awkward tumble that knocked the sword from my left hand, but at least I was out of the creature’s line of sight.

  I rolled and swatted frantically at my legs to put the flames out, sprang up, and ducked back. I tried to locate my lost sword as I watched the area back between the buses where the Ifrit was. I could hear its heavy breathing coming closer. I could smell the burnt flesh from my legs, but I couldn’t feel anything yet. I knew the pain would come.

  I ducked between the next pair of buses to my right and immediately rolled under one to get an idea of where the Ifrit was. I had to fight through the growing pain in my legs as they brushed the ground. The Jinn had slipped out to the space at the end of the buses where it had nailed me with the ball of flame. The area was now completely ablaze, and the creature was leaving a trail of flaming gore as it progressed among the vehicles. Directly under the bus in front of me, a glint of metal caught my eye in the glow—my other sword.

  Several of the buses in the row I’d just run from were now fully ablaze, and a bus near the far end of that row was rocking side to side. I braced myself for the coming pain and rolled toward my sword as fast as I could. The second I grabbed it, the rocking bus tipped on its side and fell into the one next to it. The caustic smell of burning metal and rubber was thick. The Ifrit’s roar drowned out the sound of sirens rising in the distance.

  I climbed out from under the bus, swords in hand, and walked into the open area that was now ringed by burning buses. The Ifrit had its back to me, but I could see that the Pelian Spear was still firmly embedded. The wounds in its side and leg were oozing molten blood, sizzling as the flow dripped to the ground.

  “You picked the wrong guy to chase, Torchy,” I yelled as I walked, spinning both swords.

  The Ifrit faced me in front of the wall of destroyed burning buses. Its voice was low and guttural but surprisingly understandable. The heat generated by the burning vehicles was tremendous, as was the growing pain in my legs, but I channeled it all to help me focus.

  “You will die here in this”—it gestured toward the buses—“forsaken mess. And after I show it to her as proof of your demise, I will give your body to the wretched Ghilan to desecrate.”

  “Not likely. But if you tell me who you want to show me to, I’ll take it easy on you, and we can both go see her now. I’ll even let you live.”

  I had no doubt that the creature would reject my offer, but what did I have to lose? Ignoring the searing pain, I bent down on one knee, stuck both swords into the cement tarmac, spit onto the leather wrappings around my hands, and rubbed them, never taking my eyes off the beast. Its injuries and berserk attacks had clearly weakened it. I had taken several Ifrits before in straight one-on-one fights, and I was sure I could do it again as long as my legs didn’t give out on me.

  It laughed a horrible laugh and took a faltering step forward on its wounded leg. The hobble made me grin. In the distance, the sirens were getting louder. I figured we had maybe five more minutes at most. If I couldn’t end this before they arrived, I had little doubt that this injured monster would attempt to take out as many humans as it could before I finally killed it.

  “You will not kill me, Diomedes. You… are not strong enough,” the beast said, laughing.

  “Statements like that have a way of coming back to bite you in the ass, tough guy. I’ll give you one more chance to answer my question, and then I’ll finish my cut.” I pointed at the oozing wound in its side.

  “Insolent!” the Ifrit roared and then charged like a rhinoceros.

  The beast’s blundering attack was cliché. I grabbed my swords and took off, but instead of running straight ahead, I angled for the overturned bus to my right and used it to redirect a jump and flank the monster. It had moved first and predictably, giving me a slight advantage. The distance couldn’t have been more than a hundred feet to begin with, and with our combined speed, it was practically past me when it realized my strategy.

  The jet-black Jinn tried to stop and redirect its bulk but skidded several yards before it managed to whirl around and swing at me with its right arm, using its left to keep from falling as it twisted. I brought one sword up to parry and sliced right through its arm, severing it just below the elbow. The Ifrit’s momentum carried it past me, and I ended up directly behind it.

  It roared in pain and disbelief as I spun around and in a single fluid motion brought my other sword from overhead down in a wide arc at its other arm, which was braced on the ground. I connected just above its wrist and cut right through an
d into the concrete. The Ifrit toppled over onto its chest without its crutch, screaming in defiance, molten blood gushing from its severed limbs and puddling around the creature’s prone form.

  “Last chance,” I said as I got to my feet. I pried my sword loose from the cement and took a few steps back to avoid the growing lava-like blood pools. My swords and the spear were unaffected by the fiery liquid. “Tell me who sent you.”

  The creature growled so deeply that I could feel it in my chest.

  “I tell you what: just answer me this,” I said, trying to compromise. “Was it you who killed the Spartoi?”

  The beast rolled from its chest onto its side and began to get up, the hatred evident in its glowing orange eyes. It threw its head back and started to laugh then scowled at me as it pulled itself onto one knee. The Ifrit labored to speak as it tried to right itself. “They were weak and died like cowards. I let the Ghilan gnaw on their corpses.”

  It kept its left arm tucked close to its chest, and the stump of its right arm hung uselessly at its side. The Pelian Spear was firmly stuck in its back. The wounds in its thigh and chest leaked flaming liquid onto the cement tarmac, forming sizzling puddles at its feet.

  The sirens grew behind us. The cloying smell of the superheated air and the burning buses was starting to make my eyes water, and the pain in my legs was becoming impossible to ignore. And with that last statement, the beast was just pissing me off.

  The ground started to rumble around us, and the Ifrit began laughing again as the same red energy I’d seen earlier began to form along the creature’s legs where they met the flaming, blood-covered tarmac. Without waiting to see what was about to happen, I closed the distance between us and brought my swords down on both sides of its head, meeting somewhere in its chest. The rumbling and the laughing abruptly stopped. I put my foot in its chest and pulled my swords free, pushing the giant body backward onto the spear, which sent the spear forward through its chest. The head separated from the torso, and fiery ichor spilled onto the ground, partly melting the soles of my boots.

  The sirens were close now, probably just down the block, and their shrill wail snapped me out of my adrenaline frenzy. I sheathed my swords and walked around to retrieve the spear, kicking and shoving the Jinn’s torso to wrench it free and melting the soles of my boots even more, nearly falling twice because of the pain in my legs. I was trying to locate the best way out, using the spear as a crutch, when the Lar came out from between some buses in front of me.

  He waved me over urgently. “The police and fire be here in a moment. I have done all I can to slow their approach, but I cannot delay them any longer,” he said, as if apologizing for not helping in the fight. “I have also collected and placed all your gear in a small inflatable boat tied up on Henry Street slip, other side of the building there.” He pointed to a monolithic structure at the edge of the water. The stern set of his jaw suggested concern. “Also, I can help with the pain.”

  “Huh. Is it that obvious?”

  He touched my shoulder, closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, and then smiled. “Go now. As long as you remain in Brooklyn, you will feel better and heal faster. It is the least I can do for your help. Go, go. I will take care of the Ifrit’s body and give you time to leave the dock. And thank you, custode.”

  “You are a worthy protector for this community, and my success is in no small part your doing.” I bowed my head just a little in gratitude. I limped for the slip and the boat as fast as I could, feeling the pain slip away with each step.

  From the seawall, I could see that the bus yard was on fire and firemen were all over it. A news helicopter hovered overhead. I needed to get out of there fast. I found the boat with my two heavy gear bags and hopped in then noticed there was no engine on the rubber tub—just two oars. But the pain was all but gone. I stopped and shook my head. For that, I would gladly row.

  CHAPTER 21

  About an hour later, after rowing from the mouth of the canal past what might have been two dead bodies and a load of stinking trash to an open lot at the Third Street Bridge, I grabbed my gear, ditched the inflatable dink, walked out to the street, and hailed a cab for my bed-and-breakfast. Twice, I felt like I was being watched again.

  I had to have smelled as if I’d just walked out of a vehicle fire, complete with the unpleasant odor of burnt rubber, gas, and charred flesh. My hands and arms were smeared with soot and dirt, which I could only imagine covered my sweaty face and hair as well. Incinerated pants up to my knees and partially melted boots rounded out my ensemble. I did my best to ignore the cabbie’s less-than-furtive glances over his shoulder at me.

  I actually felt like I was making progress. Clearly, I had stirred up a hornet’s nest—somebody knew I was getting close and had tried to deal with me directly, using goons. Ironically, if whoever was behind this whole mess hadn’t sent the Jinn after me, finding the apartment would have been a bust and I would have been at a dead end. If I started poking around with an army behind me, whoever it was might just disappear. At least on my own I presented a target they felt they could come after, and I preferred to be bait rather than use someone else for that task.

  Reflecting on all that made me realize how tired I was. I stared at my burned legs and my blackened right arm where the Ifrit’s searing blood had landed on me. When I finally left Brooklyn, the burns were going to hurt big time. In the meantime, I poked at the burns on my arm and beamed at the complete lack of pain I was in, which almost made up for my near-total exhaustion.

  Back at the bed-and-breakfast, I lumbered upstairs, luckily avoiding any staff. Once I’d fumbled into my room, I put my gear down, pulled out a medical kit and a few towels, crept across to the shared bathroom, and quietly locked the door behind me. I took my pants off slowly and began the process of cleaning and debriding the burns. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, but several areas on my upper shins were severely blistered, slightly blackened, and oozing. With the exception of my knees, which were covered by my kneepads, both of my legs were red and tender from mid-thigh down to mid-shin, and while it didn’t hurt to move my legs at the moment—thanks to the Lar—they were stiff. I definitely wouldn’t be wearing shorts anytime soon.

  The debriding process was slow and tedious. All I could really do was clean the burns as best I could in the bathtub, bind them in fresh, clean gauze, let it dry a bit, and then remove it and repeat. Thanks to my immune system, I wasn’t worried about infections, but I would certainly feel the brunt of the pain at some point. Finally, after three wrappings, I cleaned and dressed the worst burns and wrapped them loosely with more gauze.

  Fortunately, the wounds on my face and arms were just contact burns, but I also had a shallow gash from my cheek across to my ear. Despite the Lar’s help, my head and left arm still ached a bit, except where my left elbow was numb from ramming it into the side of the bus, and I was covered in bruises that were just beginning to turn a lovely shade of ugly. I took some prophylactic aspirin and hobbled back to my room. I looked like hell, and I could only imagine Sarah’s reaction to me if she could see me now, but at least I smelled better.

  I tugged on new clothes, feeling the stiffness now that I was slowing down, and started to piece together what I knew so far. It wasn’t much, so it didn’t take long. I knew the bomber was a nobody and that somebody wanted him to remain that way. I also knew whoever was behind this had to be strong enough to control Jinn, including Ifrits, as well as be magically sophisticated enough to create the explosion at the Met and use the Cup of Jamshid. Apparently, if Ned was right, the being in charge had terrorist connections, too. And it was a her.

  The list of beings I knew that fit that description, not to mention had the cojones to try, was short. Of all of them, one stood out—Medea, a seriously nasty witch even older than I was. I recalled her being somewhere in Iran at some point, but I hadn’t heard of her doing anything this far-reachi
ng in over a millennium. Still, she definitely had connections in the Middle East. I decided to call Athena to run my theories by her. She answered so fast the phone never rang on my end.

  “I hate it when you do that,” I said, instantly annoyed. “But I think I may have an idea about who’s behind this mess.”

  I explained to her what I had found and then listed my suspects, starting with Medea, while Athena listened intently. By the time I was done, she nixed all but two of them. Of course, as usual, she had information I didn’t—like that one was dead. Of course, it had happened recently, and on a day when I was out fishing.

  The only other likely suspect was Lilith—a fallen angel, the first of all known vampires, and supposedly, the first wife of Adam before Eve came along. She was a real piece of work and far worse than Medea, but for the last few centuries, she had been content to play Vampire Queen in Romania.

  Of the two, Medea just made more sense. Born several centuries before my time, she was once the wife of Jason, of Argonaut fame. While she wasn’t as powerful as Lilith, she more than made up for it in pure, unadulterated bitchiness—she’d actually killed two of her own kids, her second husband’s fiancée, and the poor woman’s father, too, before knocking off her uncle.

  I found myself snarling as I recalled the last time I’d encountered her, just over a thousand years ago. She was calling herself Morgan le Fay—the nemesis of Merlin. Since the war between the nasty witch and the equally uppity half-demon, half-human wizard was causing all manner of collateral human damage, it was my job to stop it. Unfortunately, Medea managed to get away while I was rescuing some of King Arthur’s knights who were helping me. She always was a slippery bitch.

  Agent Wright beeped in while I was on the phone with Athena, but I let it ring over to voicemail. After a few more minutes of discussing our two suspects, I ended my call with Athena and left her to research the witch and her current whereabouts as well as Lilith’s current endeavors, just to cover all our bases.