Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

  The Paladin strides over to me and reaches out a hand with a smile. I take it and return the smile.

  “Good to meet you, finally. I'm Larry. You're kind of a legend,” he gushes. “Bonded with a sword, single-handedly beheaded The Collector. And resisting the temptations of a demon whore succubus, for what, like, more than a hundred years?”

  “Oh, please… the whore thing again?” Silithes says, giving the stink-eye to Larry.

  It's amazing how things grow in word of mouth. All the same, it's time share some truth with Larry.

  “Yeah, and sorry; not really resisting her anymore. I'd appreciate it if you'd not call her a whore.”

  Larry is shocked and, I guess, a little let down.

  “It's okay,” comes Sheyliene's perky singsong voice, “Silly's good now and has love in her heart.”

  “Don't call me that,” Silithes grumbles.

  Larry's not sure what to make of any of this, so he gives me a strange look and says “No wonder you're in need of spiritual healing. Follow me.”

  Guess I lost a fan-boy.

  He takes us down the hall he came from, past a set of security doors. A quick trip up the elevator and I find myself greeted by none other than Christophe himself and Gunter Hoffman.

  Christophe looks like he could use a week's worth of sleep. I step forward and we hug.

  “I'm pleased you could make it, Master Christophe.”

  “Me too. I was able to convince the guild to allow me to test some new equipment upon you. I think it will be helpful in diagnosing you. Even better,” he says, hushing his tone, “they let me bring the family - they've never seen Chicago.”

  Gunter has been silent, allowing us our time. I turn to him and reach out with my hand, “Hey Gunter.”

  My hand hangs there all alone. Gunter looks from it to my eyes, not happy.

  “You gave in to the demon whore.”

  “Again with the whore stuff,” Sil spits out.

  Gunter looks past me to Sil. “You are a succubus, a corrupter and defiler. Purveyor of lust and false promises. Demon whore that offers her wiles in exchange for the souls of man.” His gaze turns back to me. “You lay with beasts. This offends me.”

  “Now I'm a beast? Look at this, you call this beastly?”

  Gunter doesn't bother looking at what I am sure Sil is presenting. My eyes stay locked to Gunter's.

  “She's been good to me.”

  “You disappoint me, Arthur.”

  Well, that kind of cuts me to the quick. You can call me names and dress me down, but to say that I'm not meeting expectations, ouch.

  Christophe steps to the side of us.

  “Gentlemen, we have work to do. Come Arthur, we will need to get some baseline readings of you.”

  I look away from Gunter to Christophe, tell him “Sure,” and follow Chris to wherever it is we are going.

  Gunter's voice stops me momentarily, “It is still good to see you. Perhaps you will get your priorities straightened out.”

  “Good to see you, too,” I say turning to regard him.

  “Hmph,” is Sil's addition, as we turn back around to follow Christophe. I look over and see one of her patented sneers.

  Christophe leads us to a large examination room. In the room is a large device that looks like one of those full body scanners they use at the airport. We are joined by another person wheeling in a cart with some apparatus on it. This new person must be Dr. Bart.

  “Let's get started, Arthur,” Christophe announces, “first, remove all metal and electronic devices. Second, please heal and cleanse yourself. What we are looking for is a baseline normal reading of you.”

  So, it is like the airport. I quickly divest myself of coins, phone, belt, wallet, shoes and my pocket knife. Kneeling down on the floor, I take a moment to collect myself, then recite the prayer for healing, followed by the incantation for spiritual cleansing.

  It feels good. Just like it's supposed to.

  The next few moments don't as much. First I get a cotton swab in my mouth. They stick the swab into some machine and a little light blinks green. Green is good, I hope. Next they prick my finger and take a swab of blood. It goes into the device too. It blinks green again.

  “Please step into the scanner, Mr. MacInerny,” says Dr. Bart.

  I walk in, and hold my arms up as directed. The scanner scans and there's a tone to announce it's done.

  “Come Arthur, let us show you what we found,” says Christophe. “This is new technology we have been working on with Edgar's group,” he says holding up the device they put my swabs in. “It detects certain aberrations in the protein make-up, which are particular to our Dzemond friends. With this, we can determine conclusively if someone is a tainted, a blooded servitor, or, in your case, experiencing the side-effects of a curse. As you know, when your curse begins to manifest, your body starts to excrete some Dzemondic fluids. We have calibrated these devices just for you they are very sensitive.”

  “And?”

  “You pass. All human. Now the scanner, that checks for irregular energy. The Dzemond life-energy is different than our own, in terms of spectrum and in intensity.”

  “And in charge as well,” adds Mr. know-it-all Arixtumin. “The Dzemond energy charge attracts dark, or negative energies, naturally, while those of this realm flow in the opposite direction. Devices such as this are routinely used to scan for non-Dzemond riff-raff at official functions, or in areas of a compound which are exclusive to the brood claiming it.”

  “Yes, I will have to discuss that with Messier Tinkerman,” replies Christophe nodding in acknowledgment, “We are not currently scanning for polarity. Come, see your scan.” I look at the image and see my outline with green dot patterns all over it. Intertwined are lines of yellow and red at my core that radiate to my arms and legs. He pushes a button and another image comes up. This one has only green dots. Another button is pushed, and they are side by side.

  “Your scan is different due to the company you keep. The second scan is mine. The red lines most likely represent your Dzemond friends, the ones of other colors, well, the others.”

  Arix is standing behind us, intent on the screens. “Quite fascinating if I must say, I wonder which is mine.”

  Christophe points out the scale at the bottom of each image. “We are going to use this as your baseline. Yours comes from the green to the yellow, here. A normal human-being stays well within the green area. Madame Silithes, would you be so kind as to remove all metal objects from your person and move into the scanner?

  “You mean strip down and get in that thing? This corset is laced with metal and I'm not sure how your thingy will read all the dimensional pockets in the skirt. Best to be safe, right?”

  Christophe just laughs. “Of course. There's a hospital robe behind the changing blinds there.”

  Sil looks at Christophe like he just lost his mind. “I'm not wearing that ugly thing. Do you think I'm ashamed of how I look naked?” She glances around the room. “Anyone offended by beauty or too easily aroused best leave now.”

  Sil turns around to me and holds up her arms. Translation: unlace my corset.

  “Spare us, please,” comes Arix's voice. “Good doctor I presume you desire a scan of a Dzemond energy pattern for contrast. I am quite Dzemond and have very little metal on my person. Shall I?”

  “Yes, that will work.”

  I can sense Sil's disappointment. She does like to take center stage.

  Arix empties the pockets of his pants, takes off the coat/cloak he appears with when summoned, and enters the machine. It scans. Alarms go off.

  On the screen, Arix's scan is blotted red.

  “That is what we do not want to see from you, Mr. MacInerny,” says Dr. Bart.

  Christophe turns to me, “Now we turn to the more enjoyable part of the examination. Arthur, Madame Silithes... we have a small room across the hall with a bed. We need you to… to do what lovers do. Then we will repeat this process to see what effects have occu
rred.”

  “If any,” adds Sil.

  That gets Christophe to nod at her. “Please, Madame, it is important you do not hold back. Whatever it is your kind do, please do it as strongly as you can. I am sure you understand. We do not need a false negative on the test? This is Arthur's well-being we are trying to maintain, no?”

  Sil smiles at Christophe, then looks over at me.

  “Doctor's orders, Kiddo. Get ready to buckle up, it's going to be one heck of a ride.”

  “Now look what ye done, Doc,” says Pffif, “we'll be waitin' on em for hours now.”

  Christophe looks at me with weary eyes. “I'm rather jet-lagged. Please keep in mind I said strong - not long.”

  “Did ye' bring a book? Just sayin' once they be closin' the door, we usually not seein' em until the next day. Bwa ha ha ha!”

  “Just a quickie, we won't keep you waiting,” Sil answers for us, looking sideways at Pffif.

  We follow Christophe out of the exam room, across the hall, and then to another room. He opens the door and beckons us to enter. “Please keep in mind, the walls are thin - by design.”

  I tell Christophe “thanks” and see Gunter down the hallway, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest. His gives me a look of disgust and disapproval.

  I remind myself that this is all for the good of medicine and science, so I enter and close the door behind me. Sil stands before me.

  “Well, here we are,” I say to break the ice.

  We take a step towards each other.

  “You want wings, tail and horns?” she asks with a knowing smile.

  “You know I do.”

  Chapter 21

  Novgorod Oblast, about 15 miles from Novgorod City

  The feeling in the van is trepidation. The team was dispatched from St. Petersburg to Novgorod Veliky as fast as the news came in. The city is under attack. Some creature, thing, is currently laying siege to the town. Its actions have been almost random. It has made no declarations, made no demands, and has shown no mercy.

  Rabbi Lev Grinberg looks over to the other three with him. He is in good company, two Paladins of the Order of Light and the Sorcerer Timur Goloveshka. The Sorcerer has always given Lev a little pause, his ways so far from his own, but he knows their purpose is the same: to stop this menace against the good people of Novgorod Veliky.

  “What do the reports say?” Lev asks the Paladin with the tablet computer.

  The man removes his ear-buds. “The police have had no luck; the bullets have little effect that they can see. The military has used heavy weapons, which has been effective at making it retreat, though the fire they have sustained in return has been deadly.” He swipes the tablet a few times. “It has wings and flies. It is capable of some level of invisibility or camouflage. It shoots things from its arms and carries other weapons. There are other creatures about it which have been put down, but seem to reappear. I doubt this foe is a summoned creature.”

  “Not attacking in the middle of the day like this,” says Timur.

  “When are the reinforcements coming from Berlin, Vasily?” asks Lev.

  “Several hours behind us, at least,” replies the Paladin.

  “Will Gunter be with them?”

  “No, he’s in America.”

  Lev pulls the sheet off the large object next to him, revealing a huge clay statue. “Well then, my friend this here will have to be our muscle.”

  “Excuse me?” asks the second Paladin, obviously joking and pointing between himself and the other Paladin with the tablet.

  “I stand corrected. You two are the muscle. He will be the clay.”

  They laugh, more to break the tension than from the humor.

  The bowler-hatted driver yells back, “Roadblock” in poorly accented Russian. “We're going to have to be making things to get into the center city.”

  “You mean we will have to be creative to get into the center city,” says the first Paladin, correcting the driver's stilted Russian.

  “He's trying and doing well,” says Lev in defense of their non-fluent American partner.

  “Thanks for that and the correction. I will now get creative to the center city.”

  They go through a series of stops, starts, and turns.

  “We're here, do we have a fix on the thing?” asks the driver.

  The sound of gunfire answers the question. Their quarry is close. The team rushes out of the van and is greeted by the sound of an explosion a few blocks over. The sound of the van creaking takes their attention as nerves are on edge.

  It’s just the golem stepping out.

  “Golem, follow and protect,” says Lev.

  The team takes formation with the Paladins at the forefront and run towards the sound of gunfire. Rounding the second block, they are met with the signs of battle. There are military vehicles flipped over and burned out, building frontages have shattered glass and several bodies lay in the street.

  “Get out of here!” comes the voice of a soldier taking refuge behind one of the flipped over vehicles. Instead, they run over to him, crouching down behind the upturned vehicle.

  “Where is it? How badly have you harmed it?” asks Timur.

  “You do not want to be here,” the soldier insists. His partner shifts over to the side of the Tiger and releases a short volley of fire. “It’s over there, somewhere. And I don’t know that we’ve hurt it. The rocket grenades make it back off, but then it comes back hitting harder. It seems to respect the heavy-caliber guns; it’s taken all of them out, as you can see. Now get away from here.”

  “Son, this is what we do,” says Vasily, who pulls his holy sword from the sheath on his back. The other Paladin responds the same way, pulling his sword as well.

  The soldier's eyes show disbelief as the Golem approaches with Lev, Timur and the driver behind it for cover. The soldiers train their weapons on the approaching clay man. Vasily puts his hand on the weapon to point it away.

  “The Golem is on our side.”

  A voice crackles off one of the soldier's radio. “It's on the move again, we think to the park and the cathedral. Get reinforcements there and at the library.”

  “Soldier, ask your man if by wing or by foot,” says Lev urgently.

  The soldier takes his radio, “By wing or foot.”

  “Foot,” comes the reply.

  Lev looks to his group, “We follow. Golem, make sure to subdue the creature and hold it in place for us.”

  The golem nods silently to its direction and stalks off with brisk strides, the team following. The golem disappears around the corner to the next block, intent on its orders. They follow, the same kind of carnage greeting them at the next street. Soldiers and police inside the shattered front of buildings signal for them to take cover.

  The golem, well ahead of them, turns around another corner, disappearing from sight.

  “This should be quick,” says Vasily, his sword now aglow.

  They stop their approach at the sight of 2,000 pounds of seven-foot tall clay golem flying down into the middle of the intersection. It quickly picks itself up and rushes back to its mission.

  The team wastes no time following the construct. Rounding the corner, they have their first look at the attacker. It is humanoid with black skin and an almost serpentine tail that has a bulbous end. Closer inspection reveals that it is not flesh, but some form of skintight covering. Two small horns protrude from a helmet that has a golden-hued, reflective faceplate. It has a long sword and what may be a staff projecting outward from in between its wings.

  The golem charges the creature. The creature waits, and then at the last second, spins gracefully under its grasping arms. The golem stops and turns around, only to have its arm grabbed. The construct is flung through the already broken window of a building in a twirling judo-esque throw. A giant spider wheels after the Golem at a break-neck pace from behind a car.

  The two paladins close the gap, swords ready to strike the creature from behind. With w
hat must be a sixth sense, the creature leaps ahead a good twelve feet, landing in a roll. It turns to the Paladins and pulls the sword from its back, the edges taking on a glow of their own and begins to move towards the Paladins.

  “Hu-zaat,” yells the driver, hands extended, and a field of stinging electricity forms around the creature.

  It responds by turning to the driver and lifting its arm without the sword. A small box forms on the creature's arm. It glows and emits a pulse with a “voomph.”

  The driver's head is torn from his shoulders. The energy pulse hurls it into the wall of the building behind him, where it's crushed and scorched

  That show of force stops the Paladins, but they quickly regain focus as the weapon is turned towards them. The creature fires the weapon again with a “voomph” at Vasily, who manages partially to deflect the pulse with his sword. But he still takes a grazing blow that sends him spinning, clothes and body armor singed and smoking.

  The other Paladin, having closed the distance, strikes, only to find his target has stepped out of the way with almost no effort. He swings again with a wild cut, less intended to kill than to create some space between him and this thing. Now composed, he comes in again, sword aglow. He thrusts his blade forward. It casually steps to the side. From the stab, he arcs the blade in a backhanded cut, intended to decapitate.

  The creature moves in the direction of the strike, putting itself just out of range. While his sword is high, the creature comes in underneath with a stab of its own sword, intended to disembowel him. He barely parries the strike and finds himself now on the defensive, deflecting thrusts and cuts of the creature’s strange sword with sparks flying each time the swords connect. Moving backwards from the offensive pressure, he trips over the curb and stumbles.

  “Bal Zharkoye!” yells Timur and the monster is engulfed in flames. It doesn't seem to register any pain. It disregards the Paladin and points its arm at Timur.

  Timur wastes no time jumping for cover. He really doesn't want to test his shielding against whatever that weapon is. It turns towards the Paladin, who is getting up and swings the arm over towards him. Sword down, unprepared, he closes his eyes, not wanting to see what's coming.