Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

  6. He has delusions of grandeur.

  7. He craves status and recognition.

  8. He is a mercenary and holds no status in the hierarchy of Helterezen; primarily because he will not fight one on one for his status. His kind rarely do.

  9. He is a liar; nothing that comes out of his mouth can be trusted.

  10. He is a sick son of a bitch –a depraved sadist extraordinaire.

  I share my list with everyone. It seems like I did well. I may have a job as an FBI profiler.

  After a few weeks, things seem to be coming back to normal. Znuul is showing his face at meals. Roger and staff have returned. The only thing that is strange is that Karen hasn’t left. She’s usually only around a day or two at the most. I am assuming that has to do with her report to The Protectorate council on Znuul’s disobedience. The thought of the council sending orders for Grey’s death, just to kill Znuul bother me to no end.

  Today, I'm a bookworm. With less than two months left on my sentence, I need to take advantage of what is here, and here only. I hear the locks to the library door click open. Roger enters, beaming a smile.

  “What are you reading?” he asks.

  I hold up the book; the translated treatise on the weaving and binding of protective wards.

  “Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Roger says nonchalantly, “If you want I can show some cool shortcuts I worked out.”

  Damn know it all kids. And to think Arix had me convinced humans could not perceive the intricacy of that kind of magic.

  ”Grey is looking for you,” he says.

  “His Office? Of course...”

  We are now back to the usual, officially. Here comes the training grind…

  I go to the office, knock on the door, and am invited in with an, “Arthur!”

  Grey puts down the spray bottle he’s using on the plants and greets me warmly in a hug.

  “I have the most wonderful news for you – early release. As of this moment, you are free to come and go as you please.”

  I see genuine happiness in his eyes at the news.

  “Please take a seat. Let us talk about your plans.”

  I take my seat, and he does too. This is not a sit before the warden’s desk moment. I am stunned at the news, speechless.

  “I pulled a few strings. So, visit family first?”

  I get the feeling he may be as happy with this news as I am.

  “Geez, Grey, I have no idea – that would seem the thing to do.”

  “Yes, yes, I imagine this news is overwhelming. Take some time and consider what you wish to do. All my resources are at your disposal; after all, you have become a part of this family.”

  “Thanks. Who else knows?”

  “Just Karen and the council as of now. That will change as soon as you leave.”

  He pins those all-knowing eyes on me.

  “Arthur, nobody says you have to leave or that you can’t come back. Once in my fold, always in. Of course, if you choose to stay, I will have to put you to work somewhere.”

  I smile. Grey does too.

  “If I stay, can I be the lead grape stomper? I bring extra sets of feet with me.”

  I think he appreciates the humor.

  I stand and say, “Once I know my plans you’ll be the second to know.” I sit back down. “You and Znuul got everything patched up? Did you ever figure out how he was able to disobey you?”

  Grey sits back down too, a more serious look on his face.

  “Yes. We had a very uncharacteristically emotional moment with him and I, unfortunately, discovered how he was able to apply himself as he did. All is known now.”

  “Unfortunately?”

  He smiles and holds his hands out in defeat.

  “I am a simple country mage and was tricked by one much older than I. Without getting into detail, the binding he agreed to was for all he was – at that moment. And at that moment, he was a shell of himself; weak and emaciated. As you can see he is no longer a shell and I have no dominion over the strength and will he has regained since that moment. I should have known better, I should have scrutinized the agreement, but time was pressing. I was younger. However, he is still very bound to me and I to him.”

  That means the nuclear solution is still there. Znuul can be stopped by killing Grey. A cold chill runs down my spine.

  “So, do you have control over him? I mean, now that everything is on the table, he has no reason to not… not be Ahtsag Znuul at least to some degree?”

  He stands, meaning time for me to go. I must have touched a nerve. When I arise, he takes me by the arm gently guiding me out.

  “I think he is held by an even stronger bond now – trust.”

  I stop. He looks at me as if to say 'yes, that’s what I said.'

  “And how does Karen feel about this… Trust?” What of her report to the council?”

  “She desperately wishes to trust him. The depth of their bond at times disturbs me, but I must trust her perception and ability to be dispassionate.” He winks at me. “She is not a weak one, you know. As for her report to the council, they are aware of his disobedience and that all, for now, appears under control.”

  My poker face gives me away, yet again.

  “At this point, there are no plans I’m aware of to kill either of us.”

  I step out of his office. The hallway seems so wide and long now. I think my world just got bigger. I go out to the rear lawn porch and plop down at the table. I feel my will and call out to each of my troop. They all convene wanting to know what is going on. Once they are all there, I share the news.

  “Early release; we can go home.”

  There is an explosion of celebration. Even dour Sil is clapping and celebrating.

  “No plans yet guys, but they’ll be coming soon. I’d suggest you get to packing.”

  We break on that direction. I head upstairs to begin my packing and also to figure out what the plan is. This is a curveball, but a good one.

  I plop down at my desk and try to clear my head. Despite my desire to see family, I have an oath-sworn mission, and in all honesty, none of them are safe until that mission is complete. The door opens, and Sil enters, still clad in her frumpy warm-up pants and flannel shirt – not exactly dressed to impress.

  “Knock knock,” she says, as she walks over to my bed, falls on it, and stretches. “You need to bed me before you fling us headlong into almost certain death. I know that’s what you’re thinking. Right?”

  There was no come hither with that statement. She might as well have been asking me if I wanted fries and a drink with that. She sits up and looks at me

  “I’m not asking for your sake, I’d just like to have experienced you before we go to wherever it is we go when we truly die. You’ve seen how you can hurt us with your anger and disapproval – I want to experience the opposite of that. I am being selfish and admit it.”

  Well, there’s no seduction there for her to be compelled against.

  “What happened to, we stand a chance, Sil?”

  She falls backward on the bed again.

  “We still have a chance, but that’s a far cry from a sure bet. Come on, throw your succubus a bone – she wants to be overwhelmed in pleasure by her wielder before wading into battle against impossible odds.”

  “Sorry, can’t.”

  “Why not, Arthur? What could possibly be the reason?”

  She’s not even looking at me, as she’s still on her back on the bed.

  “Dory’s watching.”

  Sil sits up immediately and snarls at me.

  “Well, then I guess we’re never going to do it because she’s always going to be watching over you!” She jumps off the bed and glares at me. “I am desirable! I am not a disgusting thing! I am a prize befitting a king! I could… Fine, Arthur. Whatever.”

  She makes a bee-line for the still-open door.

  “Sil, just stop, damn it.”

  She turns and says, “It’s okay. I don’t want you anymore.”


  Like I believe that.

  “Alright Sil, but hear me out. When we kill him, I promise you one night. But only one night. And only after that bastard is dead and cold.”

  I have her full attention.

  “What about Dorothy?”

  She looks at me skeptically.

  “Well, you and I will just have to hope that Jerry’s able to convince her that avenging him makes it all okay, won’t we?”

  With a little swagger back to her, she crosses her arms over her chest, cocks her head and says, “I know he can… and Marge will help convince her too.”

  She saunters happily out of my room leaving me alone again.

  I know I did the right thing. I need all of my team motivated. Because we will only have one shot at surviving what I have in mind.

  C

  hapter 46

  I go to Grey first thing and let him know my plans. Go to Charlotte to visit with family for a day. Then we head straight to New Orleans to deal with my quest.

  “And how are you going to deal with your quest, Arthur?”

  “I am going call a meeting with Maldgorath and whack him with the blessed sword. All other details will be on the fly. Surprise is my only advantage.”

  The completely blank look on his face tells me what he thinks before he does.

  “That has to be the poorest excuse of a plan I have heard in all my years. You need a strategy. You need to plan for an emergency exit. I taught you better than that.”

  “Yes, you did. And he’ll see right through it all.”

  Arms across his chest, Grey relents.

  “You are an adult. And a rather old one. I can’t tell you what to do. I can offer use of my private jet, assuming you pay for the fuel and the pilot’s time.”

  That, I didn’t see coming.

  “Of course, sir. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  ***

  I inform the team and say my goodbyes to the good people of the Chateau. Marthe is emotional, shedding a tear.

  “You must come back,” she says.

  Reginald tells me, “Good luck, then.”

  Roger insists I write and send New Orleans stuff.

  He has no idea of all the touristy crap that will be coming his way.

  As we are converging on the downstairs with duffel bags in hand, Grey takes me aside.

  “You’ll be flying with another passenger: Ahtsag. Now, please know this has nothing to do with my lack of faith in your plan if I can even call it that. How do I best put this? He has been … complaining about your leaving. I think he may miss you.”

  Destroyer and Devourer my ass. I acquiesce, realizing it’s not going to hurt anyone having panty boy tag along. I can just play it off to family that the freakishly large professional wrestler looking man with me is really an assigned bodyguard.

  At the time to leave, all are there to wish us goodbye. Hugs are exchanged. We pile into the car… and wait. Znuul eventually comes down looking human and dressed in a blazer and slacks, small roller bag in tow. He stops with Grey; they share a hug and a moment.

  Destroyer and Devourer – sure, right.

  We get our bags in the trunk and leave for a three-hour trek to the airfield. The drive to the plane is uneventful. Pffif thinks it’s flasky fun time for us, given the festivities before. I pass on the drink; so does Shey and Vets. That meant Pffif and Sil got hammered. Znuul just holds his own like he tends to and pokes fun at the drunks.

  The flight is as long as it has to be. I wanted to sleep through most of it, but a certain large someone was feeling chatty and full of questions. Asking of my family; what they’re like. Asking what it’s like to have a loving family. Asking how he should behave. Asking how I feel about being united with them.

  After a while, it becomes a bit of blah, freaking blah. I do my best not to let on to those feelings. Not out of fear, but because Znuul seems so genuine about it. It's like he's trying to understand how we feel - or at least understand how better to mimic it.

  We land at Charlotte Douglass airport and taxi in. I make a call to Helen, who’s going to be picking us up. It’s very late, and after an emotional reunion, we make our way back to her and Steve’s place. Sleep is on the docket.

  The next morning is a family reunion, and I am as happy as I can be. Not all can join in the gathering as some of the great-great-grandchildren don’t really know the truth of who I am, and there is some drive time involved. But there’s more than a good enough turn out to make me smile; along with Pffif, Shey, and Sil.

  And if Hjuul could smile he would be smiling too. Surprisingly, Znuul ingratiates himself with everyone, especially my great-great Matthew who at three years old thinks he is a giant.

  Despite the years, it’s all still a bit foreign for Vets, but I sense she is at least trying.

  Steve takes me, Shey, Pffif, and Sil to Jerry and Marge’s real gravesite. That visitation is more than a little overwhelming. I’m glad Helen stayed behind, she would just feed off of my pain; he knows that too. It is emotional. Sil loses it. Pffif repeats the emptying of the flask. Shey is silent; mourning in her own way.

  This visit has to be short; just a day. Grey needs his jet, and I have to get my plans in order. They drive us back to the airport, and we have a heartfelt parting of the ways.

  Helen cries and hugs us all.

  “Don’t do anything too crazy,” Steve says.

  If he only knew – I’m going to poke my finger in the eye of an ancient, powerful entity and try to lop its head off.

  The flight to New Orleans is pretty somber, despite the excitement of having seen everyone. Znuul professes interest in “seeing how you live.” That, and he’s never been to New Orleans. He does mention to me that New Orleans is quite a nexus of practitioners and home to the South’s preeminent vampire clan holding to the accords of the vampire war.

  That means “good” vampires. Based on my reading that means they don’t kill except in self-defense and only procreate after petitioning the protectorate for permission. Outside of that, they are still blood sucking vampires that can spread like a disease.

  The jet comes to a landing and arrives at the private terminal. There is only so much room in a taxi, so Vets, Hjuul, and Sil go bye-bye. Shey reaches up to her hair and goes tiny in the cascade of fairy dust. Znuul takes a moment to talk with the pilot, confirming plans for the return to France. We collect our bags, trolley them out and make our way to hail a taxi.

  But we don’t have to. Grey has made arrangements for us. There’s a limo driver there, holding a sign, “MacInerny.”

  That Grey, he thinks of everything.

  Chapter 47

  Znuul and I follow our driver, and he piles our bags in the trunk.

  “My place is on Decatur, sir.”

  “Yes Sir!” he says and pulls out from the terminal. “I’m supposed to bring you to meet somebody first, but we’ll be goin’ where you need ta.”

  Znuul and I look at each other.

  “Maybe the Techno’s or The Order wants to open official channels,” Znuul says.

  “So, where are you taking us,” I ask.

  “Just a bit past the city, not far.”

  “So who are we meeting with?”

  “I’s just the driver, sir.”

  “Hmm,” Znuul says.

  We cruise along I-10 and turn on 510, then turn onto 90. It doesn’t feel right to me. We’re heading for the bayou. I bend over to Znuul, who leans down to me.

  “Meetings in the swamp generally aren’t a good thing.”

  He gives me a look of recognition.

  “How much farther?” Znuul says.

  “Not much farther, sir, not much at all.”

  We cut up to highway eleven, and I know there’s nothing there but bayou. Damn. I concentrate and try to cast a shield discreetly on myself, then on Shey. Znuul reaches into his blazer and puts on a pair of dark sunglasses. Guess he just wants to look the part.

  The limo suddenly pulls over off the road. The driv
er leaps out and runs away.

  That is never, ever, a good sign.

  A blue Chevy Tahoe comes tearing down from the opposite direction toward us. It skids to a stop in front of us, and the doors fly open. Out of the rear, three persons unload - two to my left, one to my right. All are very armed. The one to the right is armed with an AA-12 assault shotgun, the two to my left have a nice mix of arms; an AK in the hands of the one at the rear and the man at point sporting a Glock.

  The front doors open and the men are joined by the driver also holding a handgun. Out of the passenger side, a man in a well-tailored suit emerges, no weapons in hand.

  “Caster type there most likely,” Znuul says, indicating the well-tailored one. “Follow my lead. Pixie, cover Arthur. Arthur – don’t get killed.”

  Znuul opens the door to face the two on the right.

  I hear him say something to the effect of, “Good afternoon, what’s all this…”

  The shotgun goes off, and I see Z topple downward. The second man with the pistol rushes over, and they both drag Znuul’s large frame to the front of the Tahoe. I see the pistol holding man let go of Znuul, grab his eye and fall out.

  There is the end of a silver arrow poking out from under his hand. I see the well-tailored man look upwards, mutter something and gesture outwards.

  Shey’s burning form comes falling from the sky, her voice screaming in pain through the flames. I immediately reach for her sigil and send her away – it’s the fastest way to stop the pain. The window next to me explodes thanks to a warning shot from the AK. I hit the floor in case further ordinance is incoming.

  Pffif, who despite being sneaky, is spied by this well-tailored bastard and gets set aflame as well. I send Pffif away as quickly as I can.

  I hear someone, most likely the well-tailored man, call out to me.

  “Arthur… Arthur MacInerny, please exit the car with your hands well in sight, or we will have to kill your rather large bodyguard, here.

  “Do as they say, Arthur,” Znuul says.

  What the heck, this is our world crushing demon-thing?

  I crawl toward the door Znuul went out of, away from the two on my left and stand behind the door because that still offers some cover. The man with the AK is trained on me from the other side. The other man with a pistol runs over to Znuul and puts it against his head. Now that damned assault shotgun is on me too.