“Much better – Bandolier?” asks Vets.
“Ach! It be a pawn shop, warrior.”
Another round of digging and he produces a smaller handgun, I presume a nine millimeter. He reaches around the seat, “Here ya go, wench,” and tosses it back to Sil.
I hear a very demure, “Thank you, Mister Pffiferil.” Another round of search the bag and toss the ammo back occurs. We are all quiet, except for the clicking sound of loading ammunition.
I see the distinct architecture of the Cathedral and my stomach drops a bit. I pull into the parking lot nestled in the rear of the complex and turn off the van.
I look to Pffif, “Weapons, please."
In goes his head and upper body into the bag again. He comes out bearing two weapons, one appears to be a Smith & Wesson .357 snub nose revolver; excellent in close quarters. The other appears to be a Sig nine millimeter. Ammo, extra clips and holster follow.
I arm myself and give the next command.
“Arix, wards up, me last.”
The purple glow of his eye washes over the van, and with soft mutterings, he begins to cover us in invisible armor. After a few moments, I feel the ward wash over me. Better than Kevlar, but not as durable. I’d rather have both, but that’s not happening – except for Vets who is fully armor-clad. She is now officially the tank of our group.
“Arix, make sure they’re here,” is my next command. He makes his way to the front of the van and sticks his arm through the front seats, palm extended. He places the dagger in his palm and orients the tip of the blade away from the buildings. There is a pulse of brighter purple light from his eye, and he says, “Where.” The dagger spins ninety degrees.
The rectory - thank goodness. I do not cherish the thought of laying waste to the Cathedral itself. At one time I considered myself a good Catholic but somewhat drifted away in my explorations of better understanding what had been given to me. I close my eyes and pray, calling to Jesus in apology for what I am about to do and wishing that he get his house in order.
I open my eyes and say, “Amen.”
Arix scoffs.
“So, stealth or assault?” I ask. “We have two floors to contend with. Arix, which floor is our target on?”
“One moment, my wielder.” Arix turns toward the rectory and holds the dagger point down in between his palms so it can swivel up and down. “Where,” he whispers again. The dagger pivots upward – the second floor.
“Stealth, then,” comes Vets' deep voice from the rear. “Better to have high ground fighting out than fight against high ground going in.”
We all nod in agreement.
I give the orders. “Pffif, scout ahead – take out security. Shey – you're with him above. Take out any interference quietly. Return when it’s safe to enter.” The front door opens, and Pffif jumps out, Shey buzzing out the door after him.
I lean back over the front seat, “Assuming we can get in quietly, I need you to point us in the right direction, Arix.” He nods in acknowledgment. “We use hand signals, like in the old days. We get in, we whack the bastard good, and we get out.”
“What about information, Master Arthur?” Arix asks quietly, “Surely these thugs did not work without orders. We need to know from where, as we may have to take the head off the snake. May I suggest, that we incapacitate him and take him to interrogate – or allow me the time at least to rip through his mind?”
Damn, if he isn’t right again. “Okay,” I reply, “No taking him with us unless he can resist you Arix. Just leave me enough, so he knows who finishes him.”
I am going to finish this monster, and it will not be pretty, or too terribly quick. Images of Jerry and Marge flash through my mind and my fists clench. Payback will be a bitch.
Minutes later the front door opens and Pffif reports. “Security ana phones be down. All be quiet scepts’ for one in the kitchen. Locks be picked ana doors be open.” Shey expands to her more normal size. I brief them on stealth approach – they remember the drill. Pffif asks everyone to look away.
We all pile out of the van; I have Arix restore Hjuul to his regular form. I whisper to him that he is to take the rear and remind him of our stealthy ambitions. He nods his massive head in understanding.
Good dog.
We make our way quickly to the open front door and enter. I am on point, gun drawn. Arix is behind me with the dagger. Shey is behind us, followed by Sil and Hjuul. Who knows where Pffif is. I would guess ahead.
I make it about six stairs up when the person from the kitchen appears. Shocked at the sight of this other than human crew, he drops his coffee mug on the hardwood floor. Hjuul whips toward him as if to lunge. The man’s eyes bulge in fear. Sil’s hand quickly grabs Hjuul by the scruff, stopping him, and then she releases him with a pet as if to say, “I have this.” She makes eye contact with the man and puts a finger to her lips as to say, “Shhh.” He is fixated on her and caught in a paralysis of fear, confusion, and seduction. Sil walks over to him, locking in on his eyes, whispering quietly, “It’s okay.”
My eyes dart upstairs, partly because I don’t want to be surprised and partly because I just don’t want to watch her devour his soul, but like a train wreck, my eyes can’t stay away.
Sil is right next to him now. She smiles. He smiles. She brushes her hand across his cheek, then rests it behind his head. Her lips brush against his in a gentle passing kiss. Her eyes close. His eyes close. Her other hand reaches up to take him by the chin.
I look back upstairs because I can’t watch her eat his spirit; there are multiple wrongnesses to it. Then, there’s a wet cracking sound, which causes me to look back down again. The man’s head is turned ninety degrees, and Sil has him suspended in the air by it. No soul sucks deluxe, and that’s okay with me. With a quick heave, he’s now over her shoulder. She turns, looks at me, and signs me to go up with a pointing finger.
At the top of the stairs, I take a quick look in both directions, and all is clear. Quietly I move into the hall, putting my back against the wall facing the stairs and beckon Arix for a reading. He lays the dagger in his hand and with a whisper, it spins to the right. I sign him to figure out what room, followed by instructing Shey to cover the opposite hallway from the stairs.
Vets and Hjuul are given orders to stay. I indicate to Sil to come up and take my place. If we do get a roamer, she can hopefully take care of it silently again. I move down the hall watching Arix and the dagger. Four doors down, he points.
We have the bastard.
I signal Vets to come up and cover the hall where Arix is, and I will be. Hjuul is directed to hold the stairs and cover our flanks from below. I check the time: 5:17a.m. I’m still well early for sunrise.
Good, I think – I hate to be late.
I make my way to the door, revolver in hand. I let Arix know to be ready. I check the knob silently – not locked. I look back to Vets, and then to Arix. I signal “on three” – I count it down, swiftly open the door, and enter.
A golden-hilted dagger bounces off of my chest, thanks to the wards. Another flies in my direction, and I jump to the right.
Our target cries out “Necromancer!” in that Italian accent, and I know for a fact he’s our guy. He is a skinny, greasy looking man with a receding hairline and pencil-thin mustache. He looks at me and spits out, “Prepararsi alla morte!” I fire my gun, and he flies back against the wall, leaving a reddish-brown spatter behind him from the wound to his shoulder.
All stealth is officially gone.
The murderer bounces back up again, and I put another round into his right leg, hobbling him. Arix strides into the room eye ablaze, gestures at the man and issues a black bolt of energy into him, which elicits a groan from the bastard as he crumbles to the ground.
I look at Arix, “Take him and leave something for me.”
Arix quickly makes his way to the murderous motherfucker and hoists him up by the good arm.
Quick as a hiccup, using his injured arm, the Italian jabs Arix in hi
s third eye. Arix is startled and releases him, stumbling back. Then our target jumps out the second story window six feet away. I fire reflexively.
I believe I got another round into him on his way out. I hear the thunder of Vet’s shotgun in the hall, with repetitive fire.
I rush to the window and look out. The Italian is sprawled on the ground face down, not moving. I hear pistol fire; Sil is engaging the enemy now. We’ll visit the Italian on the way out – he’s not going anywhere
I turn from the window and Arix is wading into battle in the hallway. I follow quickly. There is one body in the hallway. There appear to be two combatants on Sil’s end of the hall that are armed. On our side Vets is nowhere to be seen, so I presume she’s gone into one of the rooms to flush someone out.
A door down and across the hall from me opens, and a shot is fired, missing me by about a foot. I immediately jump across the hallway to force him to exit if he wants to get a shot at me. Instead, he slams the door shut. Another volley of bullets whistles down the hall from the other side. I hear Arix respond with a spell and smell sulfurous fire.
I step out in front of the door, and well up the hate inside of me as Arix taught me. I holster the pistol and use both hands to pull that black, hateful power out and shape it. I name it mentally and call it – “Tznok!” casting it forward in a powerful wave. The door splinters, the jamb caves in, and the wave continues into the room.
I hear, “Damn!” coming from inside the room along with the windows breaking.
I follow the wave in and see the thug getting up; he gets off a shot before I do. It crashes into my shoulder, and I feel the ward shatter and deep radiating pain screams from my pectoral muscle. I get off the next shot, and it hits him in the mid-section pushing him back against the wall and creating red spatter at the exit.
I feel myself moving toward him, fast. I hear myself screaming, “Why! Why! Why!” while unloading another shot that hits him in the hip and third in the chest area. “Click. Click. Click,” is the sound of my empty weapon.
I stand atop of him and smack the gun from his hand.
“You bastards killed my son.” I snarl at him. “Have a taste of hell.”
I drop my gun and look him in the eyes.
“What?” he gasps.
I reach back into the deep well of hate, creating a mass of sickening dark energy that I extend to my hand. Then I jam my hand into his stomach and release it into him as a coil, feeling it connect with his life force. There is a sense of confusion about him that I feel strongly. Then, envisioning that black vortex, I speak the word, “Vnaam” and pull the black coil back to me – along with his life force attached to it.
It’s a rush, his very life flowing into me. He grimaces and tries to shout out – but he can’t grasp a breath. I am getting stronger. He is getting weaker. I see an image of Jerry and Marge in my mind and pull hard on the black coil with my desire as Arix showed me. There is a wheezing sound, and the thug turns into a desiccated mummified shell of a man. His life is mine.
I feel like a superman! Power courses through me. I know I will kill them all! I will burn down this false church and send a message that cannot be mistaken for those who would harm me and mine.
But my moment of exaltation is interrupted by the combat in the hall.
Vets’ voice calls out – “Paladin!”
Chapter 11
I run to the hallway door quickly scanning toward the stairs. Shey is sending volleys of arrows toward a doorway. Sil is looking down the hall in my direction, wide-eyed. I duck back in and then stick my head out again to look the other way.
In the hall, there is a large man with wet hair and wearing only a towel. He is holding a great sword. Directly in front of him, a pile of ectoplasmic goo steams away to nothing that must have been Vets
Arix says, “Essha Tornu,” followed by, “Curses Paladin!”
That spell must not have gone as planned.
I step into the hall and call out, “Hjuul, here – now!”
That gets me the full attention of the towel-clad man. That attention shifts when he sees the four hundred pound wolf-monster barreling off the stairs and down the hall toward him. He shifts backward and takes the sword back in both hands, awaiting the onslaught. I notice a glow emanating from the weapon.
Figuring him to be occupied, I reach down to my arm and summon back Vets to the battlefield.
I hear Hjuul’s mighty roar as he goes into an airborne lunge at the towel-clad man. The man, intent on Hjuul, steps to the side and with one strike cleaves Hjuul’s head clean off. Hjuul’s body continues in momentum all the while liquefying and beginning to steam away.
Damn. Curses indeed, Paladin.
But Vets is back, and she wades into battle immediately. Sword versus sword, Vets, takes a mighty downwards strike, no doubt intending to bring the big man to his knees. The swords meet, and Vets’ sword shatters. Undaunted, she holds on to the hilt and lands a crushing forearm blow to the man’s head. He reels back from the impact, and she drives into him with the broken hilt which he barely manages to turn with his sword. With a mighty “Rawr!” Vets pushes on, letting go of the hilt completely and grabbing the man’s sword hand.
He collides with the wall, and Vets pummels him with her free arm. The plaster breaks in behind him from the force of the blows.
I pull the 9-mm and take aim. No clear shot.
Then in a tactically brilliant move, the Paladin peels the towel from his waist and throws it over Vets’ helmet while kicking her away. I pull the gun back up and take a shot, but he’s already ducked into a roll putting him behind Vets.
Vets spins around to meet him. But the big man is ready first. With a cleaving blow, his sword now glowing again, he splits her in half through the midsection. Through the armor. Through her. Like a hot knife through table-warm butter.
I am awed. So much so that I haven’t taken the shot, which gives our now naked adversary, time to grab one of the hall tables and flip it up as an ad-hoc wooden tower shield. Arix approaches the man, his fingers nimbly forming some magical attack.
“Turn unclean beast!” the Paladin shouts, keeping the table toward me, but holding out one hand toward Arix. Arix recoils and then runs into the Italian’s room. I put a round into the table just to see what happens.
Gun still fixed on him; I see Sil has joined the hunt. She stalks forward, eyes locked toward his. She does the shush thing. I hear her say, “It’s okay.” I hear him say, “Yes,” and the table drops slightly. She closes the gap with him.
Then, like a roaring lion exploding from the bushes – sixty pounds of the oak table comes flying at me, knocking me to the ground.
I look up to see the expression on Sil’s face as one of shock and fear as it tumbles freely to the ground from her shoulders, beginning to liquefy along with her falling body.
I am the next target. We make eye contact, and he stalks toward me. But Arix’s return stalls him; I flip the oak table off of me. He pounces toward Arix and with a driving blow, shoves the sword through his third eye; finishing Arix off by pulling it out through the top of his head.
He’s two steps from me now. I lunge for the nine millimeter and turn toward him.
He’s stopped in his tracks. He has silver arrows protruding from his body. Pffif appears behind him, dagger in hand. With what can only be a sixth sense, the naked Paladin mule kicks little Pffif into the wall, leaving him a crumpled mess.
Another arrow embeds itself in him – then another. What is this guy made of? I think to myself as Shey’s arrows usually go totally through people.
So, it’s time to find out if he’s lead resistant. I take aim and fire. Leg. Leg. Shoulder. Stomach.
He’s not lead resistant and falls to the ground. I spring up from my crouch, run over to him, and kick that vile sword away.
He looks up to me, and in a strange Nordic accent says, “You will pay for this evil.”
So I stomp on his sternum about where his liver should be.
His eyes turn quizzical, and he attempts to squeeze out some excuse I don’t want to hear, “Your son?”
A quick kick to the groin shuts that up. I concentrate, again reaching down into my ever-bubbling cauldron of hate and begin to pull the coil of sickening dark energy to my hand again.
I smile at him, “Let me give you a hand.”
And then two gunshots go off rocking his head sideways followed by a crimson and grey splatter.
Shey. She is standing to his side, my 9-mm in hand, glowering at me.
“No! Not like that!” She is furious at me. “That is foul, unclean magic and I will not have you tarnish your soul like that!”
The black coil in the meantime has nowhere to go and is growing inside me, calling me to release it to hurt and destroy.
“Damn it, Shey, he was mine!” I scream at her in absolute rage. She grabs onto her head and falls to her knees from the concussion of my magically enhanced anger and malice.
The black coil is inside me, twisting and hungry, calling for release. So I put my hand on the nearest wall and release it. The wall immediately sprouts mold and begins weeping a foul-smelling substance.
I stare at the wall for a moment, realizing that was in me. Shey slowly picks herself up, shaking. She continues admonishing me.
“You’ll be no better than demon scum if you go down that road. What would Dory think, you sucking the life out of people like a vampire? It’s nasty, addictive magic, and you know better!”
I nod to her, not wanting to discuss it or to tell her what I just did moments ago. I give her instructions to tend to Pffif and begin re-summoning my wiped out troops. Once all together, I instruct Hjuul to clear the first floor and howl if another Paladin shows up.
Shey says, very lightly, “I don’t understand. A Paladin should have never allowed what happened at Jerry’s.”
Pffif chimes in weakly with an “Aye.”
Mid-Arc Page 8