Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

  Arix, of course, had the answer: “No doubt this corruption has stretched to all elements of that organization. How many good people have died in the name of holiness, after all? They are zealots, and we are obviously at a new age of inquisition.”

  It makes sense to me.

  Pffif shakes his head, “Naa, it don’t make sense.”

  “We need to go now,” Sil says.

  Arix agrees, “We can sort this out later.”

  We make our way downstairs and Hjuul greets us, meaning downstairs is clear. I look over to Arix and give him the orders: “Burn it down. No witnesses. No evidence.”

  The rest of us go to the van. A moment later Arix returns. Black smoke is beginning to billow out the upstairs window. That leaves only one more detail – the Italian. I pull the van around to the back, where he should be laying or trying to crawl away.

  But he’s not there. What in the name of Dante’s Inferno is going on? I jump out of the van and see bloodied tracks leading to the six-foot tall wooden fence. Blood is on the fence. How the heck did this guy climb that fence after two or three gunshot wounds and a two-story pancake fall?

  Shey calls out, “We have to go!” She’s right. I tear off a piece of my shirt and dab it in the dark brown blood, finding it hard to believe it’s turning that color already. I get back in the van and head down the alley, turning onto Dilworth Street, slowly.

  We drive away like nothing’s going on. After a few blocks, a fire truck passes us – sirens and lights engaged. I hear other vehicles joining.

  I hand Arix the bloody swatch and say, “Find the bastard.”

  Chapter 12

  We pull back into the Carriage House without incident. I dismiss everyone and exit the van alone. Once inside the room, I call back my team, touching one glyph at a time.

  I turn on the TV and switch to the local news. Coverage of the inferno at St. Patrick’s Cathedral is on. Firefighters struggle with the blaze… No apparent survivors. The rectory housed three full-time staff including the beloved Father Melvin Ploughman. His photo graces the screen – it’s the man from downstairs that Sil took out. They begin to go through his accomplishments.

  Next up for sure will be people crying and speaking of him in reverence. I turn off the TV, feeling more than a little uneasy. Was that man in league with the brutal murderers of my son? They were staying in his house, eating his bread, enjoying his hospitality; the rationalization makes me feel a little better.

  “We got lucky with the Paladin,” Shey says. “If he were wearing his armor, we’d have been done for.”

  “Aye,” Pffif agrees. “Ana, it don’t make no sense at all that one of ‘em would be mixed up in any of this. Foul deeds ana the Paladin order donna mix.”

  Arix scoffs, “The evidence speaks for itself.”

  “Enough already,” I say.

  I’m becoming quite agitated. I know the Italian was behind this and an armed contingent only points to complicity. At least that’s how I continue to rationalize it to myself.

  “Arix, use the damn swatch and find the bastard.”

  Arix goes over to the table where the city map is still laid out.

  “Pffiferil, give me one of your lockpicks,” he says.

  He begins to fashion his dousing rod.

  While Arix is making preparations, Shey walks over to Sil. She is sitting in a corner on the floor, her arms and tail around her legs and chin resting on her knees.

  “You know this isn’t right.”

  Sil looks up at Shey.

  “I’ve already said that.”

  Shey puts her hands on her hips and sticks her head down at Sil.

  “There’s something you’re not telling us, I can tell! You are not acting normal. Spill it... right now.”

  “Shut up, little bitch.”.

  “I can’t concentrate with this female babble,” Arix says. “Perhaps good Silithes, if there is something so terrible you wish the master to know, you can whisper it in my ear and I can share it on your behalf.”

  Shey turns to me. “She’d probably just be a big liar-liar anyways.” She turns back to Sil and sticks her tongue out at her.

  Sil stands up. Shey steps back and bows up ready for a scrap. Sil points a finger at Shey.

  “Fuck you.” Then she points it at Arix – “And fuck you more. Do your job sorcerer and stay out of my affairs.”

  Arix bristles and opens his third eye.

  “Something you wish the master to know?”

  “No, nothing I wish our wielder to know, but yes, something I will share!” She looks at him coldly, then over to me – “Bind me to speak only the truth.”

  “How do I do that?” I ask.

  We both look over to Arix, who has now closed his eye and appears very uncomfortable.

  “Yes Arixtumin,” Sil purrs, “wouldn’t that be one of the first things a good teacher would share with a new wielder?”

  Arix stammers.

  “Never mind,” Sil continues, “I swear what I am to speak is the truth by all my essence and all my power. Now you command me to tell the truth of this with feeling and authority and do so using my full name, Arthur. We will be done with this.”

  Her head cocks and her eyes go steely on Shey.

  This is awkward and not the least bit untimely. The Italian is digging in somewhere.

  “Fine, but let’s get back on track… Silithes, I command you to tell the truth.”

  Shey rolls her eyes. I must have done it wrong.

  “I have made an oath and been bid to the truth by my master.”

  Sil’s eyes turn to Arix, boring a hole in him, causing him to uncharacteristically turn away, and then her eyes turn back to me.

  “Arthur, I… I have care for your family. Jerry, I felt a particular kinship with.”

  “Yes, that weakness might be considered embarrassing in Helterezen,” Arix quickly interjects. “May I get back to work? You can be embarrassed at your weakness later.”

  Shey looks at Sil curiously and puts her hands back on her hips.

  “Enough already,” I say gently to interrupt Shey before she gets started. “Let’s stay focused on the Italian. Sil, I understand that particular emotion is in conflict with your moral upbringing and laws. But in this case, it is much appreciated.”

  I turn back to Arix.

  “Now find that fucking Italian.”

  Moments pass while Arix waves the lockpick over the map. He finally looks up.

  “He’s not in the city.”

  “He be dead?” asks Pffif.

  “No, he is not, I feel a spell link has been made; he is just not in the area of this map.”

  “You sure he’s alive?” I ask.

  “I am positive, my wielder.”

  I realize we need another map. I go to the nightstand and pull out the phone book and tear out the page with the U.S. map.

  “Use this – now,” I say and hand the map to Arix.

  Arix repeats the procedure and begins to hum continuously. The lockpick begins moving upward at a very slow pace. He stops, and the lockpick returns to its normal gravity.

  Arix closes his third eye and turns to me “The Italian is moving quickly, I would venture a guess by air. I will not know his destination until he arrives there. He appears to be moving due North.”

  My heart stops.

  How did he get on a plane? How did he get up after the abuse we dealt him? I don’t even know where he’s going. Will my family be safe? What if he leaves the country? What will I do?

  I bury my face in my trembling hands and begin to sob.

  I feel a small arm around me and a strong hug. Shey’s voice breaks through my implosion.

  “Bad things happen to bad people. We’ll make sure of it.”

  She plants a light kiss on my forehead.

  “For once, the Pixie and I agree on things,” is Sil’s hushed response from her huddled position in the corner.

  Arix, looking and sounding disgusted, scolds me.


  “This is no time for weakness and no time to waver. This Italian will stop somewhere, and you will end him. More than likely he goes to his superior. The snake needs beheading. Do you agree?”

  I look up from my hands, still teary-eyed, and scan the room. “Of course I agree.” I take a deep breath, “Who here wants to go on a snake hunt with me?”

  Everyone is in.

  “Group, I need time alone.”

  And I do. One by one, I dismiss them, Arix last.

  “Three hours and I’ll have back for another reading.”

  He nods and leaves me with a parting thought.

  “Do not be afraid to be angry; do not feel shame for your hatred. Let it stoke the fire of your power. I am proud of your performance today; you have learned well and performed magnificently.”

  “Thanks, Arix.”

  I send him to the white.

  Is it good when a demonic sorcerer is proud of your actions? I don’t know, but we were at least effective. I set the alarm on my phone for three hours and stretch out on the bed, exhausted.

  I fall asleep immediately, but horrific dreams of Jerry’s and Marge’s death jolt me awake. I try to rest again. I jolt awake again. The alarm goes off. I reach down to Arix’s sigil and call him back.

  Not moving from my prone position on the bed or even looking at him I tell him, “Read it.”

  A small while later, Arix tells me “He is in Massachusetts.”

  I bolt up from the bed and look to where the lockpick is – Boston. I say it aloud. Quickly I summon everyone back and let them know what we have discovered and what the plan is. I will get on a plane, go to Boston, get another van, and call them back.

  “Get a better room next time,” Pffif says.

  I just shake my head.

  I dismiss everyone – except Pffif. I need him with me, covering my back because I am that exhausted.

  “Don’ ye have a worry, I’ll be with ye the whole way. No-one’ll be seein’ me.” Then he adds, “I donna know why the demon sorcerer didn’t teach ye the true sight spell, it be an easy one, I hear. Sure’n be nice for ye to see me at yer side. I could be mockin’ people unawares for yer entertainment.”

  “Yeah, that would be keen.”

  Truth is I don’t care.

  I only need to care about four things right now: dumping the weapons, returning the van, flying to Boston, and killing that bastard Italian.

  Chapter 13

  The only time the nerves set in is while I’m waiting to purchase my flight to Boston – what if I’m a person of interest? I imagine the lady at the counter looking up at me from the screen and saying something like… “Please wait a moment Mr. MacInerny.”

  Nothing happens. Thank goodness.

  I make my time productive waiting for my flight. We are going to have needs again, so I research military surplus stores and the various locations of churches. And for Pffif’s sake – better hotel accommodations. I know he’s watching.

  Unlike the first flight, my complete exhaustion doesn’t allow me to stay awake. But my active imagination doesn’t let me stay asleep. I jar awake shortly before the crew calls to turn off electronic devices for landing.

  After landing, I take a seat in the gate area and turn my phone back on. A beep tells me I have voicemail. It has to be family. I open it up, and all my grands have called, Helen, Bobby and Jerry Jr. They have called multiple times.

  I know why.

  I take a moment to compose myself and say aloud for Pffif’s sake, “I can’t call them all back.”

  But knowing I must at least let them know I’m aware of what’s going on, I make an executive decision to call Helen, the oldest, so she can be the point of contact. I don’t even listen to the message, I can’t. I just take a deep breath and hit call-back.

  The phone rings; once… twice… three times…

  “Grandpa?” There is crying, and I try not to join in. “Thank god, we were worried about you too when you didn’t answer, it’s so terrible.”

  “I know,” I try to say calmly and in control, but my voice is cracking.

  “Oh, god,” she says, and more pain comes through the phone.

  If only I were there to console her. Steve, her husband, comes on the phone as, apparently he felt Helen didn’t need to deal with this anymore.

  Good man, good call.

  “Arthur? You need to get here. I can’t begin to tell you how bad it is. They…”

  I cut him off.

  “I know what’s going on. The people that killed Jerry were trying to get to me. I’m on their trail. You damn sure make sure to circle the wagons. I may not be coming back, as this situation is beyond serious. Just let everyone know I love them and I wish I could be there for them. But the truth is I have deal with these bastards. Get me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nobody should call me. Bad stuff is getting ready to go down. Maybe even worse than the church burning.”

  “What?”

  “Circle the wagons.”

  I hang up. I feel a hand on my leg and see Pffif standing next to me with a tear in his eye. He reaches into his coat, pulls out his flask and hands it to me.

  “Don ye worry, no one’s noticed me appearin’.”

  I look at the flask and remember myself before I was gifted with my merry band of summonlings: a drunkard, a man of little character, moral value or ambition. I hand the flask back to him.

  “Later, maybe.”

  We rent a van, and I make sure to pick up every free map they offer. I brief Pffif on plans while making our way to a Residence Inn. Once checked in, I roll up my sleeves and summon the rest of the team.

  Then the phone rings. So much for the family not calling. I pull out the phone and see “Number blocked.” I make the universal “hush” sign. I answer the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Well played, necromancer,” says the greasy Italian voice. “Your little display changes nothing; you will submit to The Church for judgment. Only now, your crimes are more.”

  I want to scream. I want to jump through the phone and strangle him. I want so many bad things. But cool heads prevail, so I take a deep breath and say nothing.

  “Necromancer?”

  “I was there well before sunrise. I left you a message I was coming,” I say calmly as I can.

  “We know of your kind, you would think to use your powers to defeat us. Your kind always needs to be taught respect.”

  His words ooze confidence.

  I take another deep breath.

  “So you brutalize and butcher innocents? That must be new to church doctrine.”

  “Their blood was tainted of your evil, as is the remainder of your family. Now, submit yourself for judgment.”

  He just threatened my family again. My fists clench. My heart pounds. I close my eyes and know this is the reaction he wants.

  “Necromancer?”

  “I am here. Let me share something with you. I know two things. There are only so many Catholic churches and organizations here in Charlotte and that you are badly hurt. So, you need medical attention which is why I am canvassing hospitals. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll just have to burn each church to the ground then, won’t I? You’re threatening my family – I’m threatening yours. By the time I am done, the Pope himself will be handing you over to me, you evil bastard.”

  I hear his laughter.

  “Just tell me where you are, and we can get this over with quickly,” I say.

  “You keep searching necromancer, we will meet at the place and time of my choosing. And you should know that even if you find me and are able to dispatch me, The Church will send another in my place.” He laughs, “Shouldn’t you be with your family? We know where you are and you should stop your futile search. Drive instead to say goodbye to your grandchildren, since they are so close by. Either you will be leaving this world, or they will. Would you like their addresses?”

  That puts a smile on my face. So, with as much venom as I can muster,
I spit out “I know where they live!” into the phone and hang up.

  My smile returns.

  Arix looks at me knowingly, “The Italian I presume?”

  I nod yes, then fish out the cloth with the Italian’s blood on it.

  “We need his location, right now.”

  Pffif hands him a lockpick and the maps.

  Shey tugs on my sleeve, “That’s not a happy smile.”

  I look down at her and smile even bigger.

  “But it is happy, because they have no idea where we really are.”

  She digests that for a moment. A very mischievous look comes over her face, and she says, in her singsong voice, “Somebody’s going to be surpriiised.”

  Chapter 14

  After a few moments, Arix peers down at the map and lets us know that the Italian is currently near the intersection of Shawmut and East Berkeley. I plug that address into the mapping software on my phone and figure that he is taking a meal. I expand the area and see that three blocks away is the Cathedral of the Holy Cross.

  That just happens to be the seat of the Catholic Archdiocese of Boston. And home to Archbishop Callon O’Dale. That’s at least one snake-head on the hydra.

  I share the plan with them. First, we weaponize, and then we repeat the St. Patrick raid: late night, take security down, and stealthy entry.

  First things first, I direct Arix, Sil and Pffif to take the van to General Surplus – supposedly a purveyor of fine weapons and military surplus items to secure the armaments on my list or best they can. Sil is to put the whammy on the manager, and Pffif will stuff his thief bag with all the things he hopefully gives us willingly. If it breaks down, Arix will stun whoever he has to.

  Shey protests, “We’re stealing from innocent people again?”

  Dang her conscience.

  “Yes. They’ll have insurance if they figure it out.” I look over to Sil, “Leave him really happy if he goes along with the plan.”

  Sil, who was sullen and off to herself, perks up.

  “Really? And I can have a little taste too?”

  Now, look what I’ve done.

  “Fine, as long as there’s no permanent harm and it’s good for him. We are, after all, trying to make up for stealing.”