Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

  But nothing happens, he hears a loud “Gahhh!” and opens his eyes to see that the Golem has slammed into the smoking creature and has it in a bear hug, now dragging it to the middle of the street. The creature is shouting in an unknown tongue and trying to shake the Golem loose.

  “Paladins! Strike now,” yells Lev.

  That urging brings Vasily back to his senses. He picks himself up and sees the other Paladin running towards the golem-entangled invader. Now on top of them he pulls his glowing sword back to take its head.

  The creature pulls the golem around so that its massive back is blocking the cut.

  Vasily picks up his sword to join and yells to his comrade, “Georgi! From below!”

  But he’s too late. The creature’s tail whips out and strikes Georgi in the leg. Georgi stops, stiffens, drops his sword and falls forward, convulsing and foaming from the mouth.

  “No!” cries Vasily in anguish, but still he rushes towards the golem holding the monster. The golem is spun around again, only this time he sees one of the golem’s arms break off and go flying. The creature, now free, powers out of the golem’s grasp and takes its leg off with a swipe of the strange sword it carries. The golem falls, catching itself on its remaining arm. The creature takes a single step in and with a backhanded blow, shatters the golem’s head.

  Vasily stops dead in his tracks. The creature spins its glowing sword easily in its hand and steps around the bulk of the fallen golem. Vasily knows this adversary is not an unthinking beast. He senses it’s smile under the reflective mask. He attacks to keep it from attacking first.

  The strike is blocked; the follow-up is sidestepped. He stabs in, then spins to shoulder butt it, hoping to create an opening for a real strike. What he receives is a forearm that puts him to the ground. The creature lifts its sword for a cleaving strike and brings it down.

  Vasily raises his sword to block the mighty blow.

  The creature’s sword shatters over Vasily’s bright-white glowing sword.

  It didn’t expect that.

  He didn’t either.

  His foe looks at the broken hilt. He imagines it is either expressing disgust or confusion. Then it flips the broken blade in its hand and hurls it at him. Listening to his sword, he pre-empts the blow, the force of it jarring his arm. It starts in towards him, but a slashing cut moves it back. He rolls, gets to his feet and takes measure of his opponent. Cautiously, he takes a stance and begins to wade in.

  It flexes its legs, and with a whoosh of its wings it is now a good 15 feet above him, well out of range of his sword. He sees it reach back and pull out the long block that was bound to the suit next to where the sword was. He sees the block transform into what looks like some sort of gun.

  Vasiliy’s sword tells him to run through their telepathic bond. He does, diving over the hood of a small car. He hears the gun fire – a light “veep.” The car rocks like it was hit with a boulder. Another sound, the windshield shatters. Another sound, the fender is torn off the car.

  Vasily hears Timur yell another incantation and feels the wind swelling around him. Winged flying creatures don’t do well in a tornado. Vasily takes that opportunity to run for the cover of an upturned military vehicle. Once there, he looks and sees that the creature dropped its hovering, given the sorcerer’s tornadic spell. It rolls from the area of the wind and then pops up with that gun-thing trained on Timur.

  Vasily hears the sound and sees Timur fly backwards violently.

  He prays that Timur’s protective wards and shields have saved him.

  The creature turns around and shoots at Vasily, hitting the upturned vehicle, causing it to move from the force of the shot.

  Pinned behind the vehicle, blind, Vasily holds no hope for escape. That is, until he hears the tell-tale sound of tanks approaching. He looks around to see the tank rounding the corner a block down. It bears down the street, gun turret taking aim.

  He hears the creature's gun go off three times in rapid succession. The tank actually takes damage from all three shots, even causing it to veer from course.

  Vasily again runs from his position, diving into one of the blasted building fronts. Once inside, he takes a position beside a strong part of the building and looks out.

  He sees their foe has now turned towards Lev and Timur, gun raised. Lev is trying to drag a limp Timur out of harm’s way; obviously the shields have failed. He hears the tank fire and the creature is engulfed in an explosion. The flames dissipate and he sees the creature getting up, having been knocked yards away. It stands, shaking its head, then regards Timur and Lev. The tank takes its attention again - it must be reloading. He sees the creature reach to its side and pull something out. It starts to run towards the tank.

  Vasily breaks cover, thinking the creature being focused on the tank is an excellent opportunity to take its head. He sees the thing throw whatever was in its hand at the tank. Then it takes to the air and flies away, above him – fast.

  There is a sound, a strange sound like a “weeeeeee-ump!” and then Vasily sees the tank and the world around it being sucked into some kind of vortex. Objects and space just crumple, deform, and are consumed by whatever it is that thing threw at the tank.

  The sword screams “run!” to him yet again.

  He listens, running fast toward where he saw Lev and Timur.

  Rounding the corner of the block that Lev was dragging Timur to, he sets eyes upon them. Lev is unharmed. Timur is coughing blood. Lev and Vasily have a moment of silent eye contact. Their understanding is simple.

  “We just got our asses handed to us.”

  Chapter 22

  I look at the still-made bed as I’m tucking my shirt in. We never made it that far. One tingling kiss and we were on the floor. On the floor having the most hungry, consuming, gratifying sex we’ve had in a while. We’d still be at it if it weren't for Sil bringing up the reality that people were outside waiting for us.

  And probably listening - whether they wanted to or not.

  Pushing me off was a nice, helpful touch too.

  I look at my watch. Almost fifteen minutes. Geez.

  “Hey, for us that’s fast,” Sil says reading my mind again, straightening her skirt after coming from the tiny restroom to clean up a bit.

  She’s right. I flash her a smile in recognition.

  She saunters over to me, her arms going around my waist first, followed by her wings stretching out and completing the hug. A very brief kiss is followed by an even tighter hug. There’s none of the neuromancy or pheromones, other than what’s left over from her natural sweat - which is plenty potent.

  I’ve seen a sweaty Sil turn a club into a madhouse of desire.

  Luckily though, I’ve been “cooled off.” That is, she’s used another of her neuromantic skills, to reduce all the desire and instill enhanced reasoning and clarity. That makes this hug all the better. It’s not about lust; it’s all about mutual appreciation.

  “Time to go. We need to find out about this,” she says to me, her head resting on my shoulder.

  Again, she’s right. I acknowledge that with a squeeze. We turn around and I’m the first out the door to the hallway. Sheyliene is the only one in the hall, everyone else must have opted to wait in the exam room.

  “I’ve never heard you squeal before, Silithes,” Shey says in her perky fashion.

  “I don’t squeal.”

  “Well, that was a high-pitched happy sound.”

  Shey’s smile allays any thoughts of she’s trying to antagonize. I know my pixie-fairy; she’s genuinely happy.

  “Yes it was,” says Sil back to her.

  Leaving the discussion of squeal versus happy sound to them, I enter the exam room, knowing exactly what to expect. Christophe appears to snap awake, poor guy. Everyone else has taken a seat or is standing around.

  It takes no time for Doc Bart and crew to descend on me with their gadgets. Mouth swabbed roughly: check. Finger pricked with a excessive force: check.

  Green
lights off both.

  I step in the scanner booth and it does its thing. Same sound as last time. I move out of the scanner to ask the million-dollar question and don’t get a chance.

  “So, am I hurting him?” asks Sil, now on top of Chris at the monitor.

  Christophe appears a little put-off by my leather-winged angel, crowding him at his station. He looks over at me then says quietly, “A little space, please.”

  Sil steps back a bit, but I promptly step in. Poor Chris.

  “Well, judging from what I see, the Madame does not appear to be causing any harm.”

  Neither Sil nor I have a chance to comment. That is done for us by our cheerleader Sheyliene.

  “Yay! They can be in love and love each other and do lovey things like lovers do,” Shey sings out, barreling into Sil with a patented Shey-hug that’s more like a bear hug. Shey tries to get Sil to do that circle dance she loves to do, but Sil opts to be an un-moveable object.

  “You might cool it on the L-word there, twerp,” Sil says to her rather severely.

  We don’t use that word a lot, though it’s probably truer than not. Sil, because she feels it’s a blackmail word; if she says she loves me, then it implies I’m a shit-head if I don’t say it back. Me, because I’m afraid that will mean I’ll forget Dorothy.

  I can’t do that. Ever.

  Christophe just looks at our dysfunctional little band and shakes his head in disbelief.

  “So is this good news?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I tell him.

  “It is!” says Sil, mimicking Shey’s singsong. She caves and takes Shey back by the hands and they begin doing that circle-dance that Shey loves to do.

  “Mr. Arixtumin, I do believe we’ve determined which energy strand is yours,” says Christophe.

  “Really?” asks my sorcerer coming over, making sure to avoid the circle dance of joy. I come over to see what’s up too.

  “If you will note one red line is rather swollen, and if you look at it over time it even appears to pulse a little. I would guess that is the madam’s,” says Christophe rather clinically.

  “Yes… it appears our succubus has been rather well fed indeed,” Arix says with that smug tone he’s so good at exuding.

  “Damn straight!” Sil exclaims, not breaking the circle dance with Sheyliene, if anything the two of them are dancing with more abandon. I try not to look too long for fear of getting dizzy.

  I must admit the physical evidence is undeniable. It makes me feel pretty darn good.

  But what I hear after that, doesn’t.

  “Gunter has some issues with all this and needs to speak with you,” says Chris. “He’s in room 423, you should go.”

  Damn. He’s not going to have anything to say I want to hear.

  At all.

  Chapter 23

  I plod down the hall alone to take my share of Gunter's grief. Sil was going to come with me, mostly because she's fed up with the whole “whore” thing, but Chris waved her off, stating that he needs her for additional tests and that I'm a big enough boy to handle a civil discussion with Gunter.

  I come face to face with room 423 and stop for a moment. Not out of a sense of dread or intimidation, as Gunter is a very large man, but more to remind myself that anything he says is because he cares.

  So, I check my temper at the door - he's entitled to share his feelings.

  I enter briskly and Gunter is facing the window, hand clasped behind his back.

  “You soil yourself with that... beast.”

  “I suppose I do.”

  Gunter spins around. “You think this is a joke? You disgust me, giving in to the depraved control of such a creature. What is wrong with you that you would give up your grace to an eater of souls? You are a disgrace to our order and humanity as a whole.”

  That was harsh. Then just like that, Gunter is right up in my face.

  “What? Has it taken your balls, too, along with your cock? You are proud of defiling yourself with that… thing. That's all you have to say for yourself… I suppose I do?”

  Just to accentuate his point he jabs a very large finger into my chest with enough force to push me back.

  “I've heard enough of this, Gunter,” I say turning to get out of the room. The man is pushing my buttons. But Gunter has other ideas. He grabs my arm brusquely, spins me around, and shoves me back into the wall.

  Son of a bitch.

  “I'm not through with you, whoremonger. Who are you to turn your back on a knight of the order? Have you turned your back on the grace of the light entirely? I am surprised your sword even allows your touch.”

  That hit home.

  “Well, Gunter, actually it's not responding to me anymore. We ran into...”

  “What?” Gunter shouts at me with an incredulous look

  I don't think he really expected to hear that. “Yeah, we were driving up…”

  “I can't believe you,” he yells interrupting me and again shoving me back hard into the wall. “You stand here and tell me you debase yourself with unclean creatures…”

  “Creature.”

  “Silence that smart mouth, before I shove my fist into it!”

  At least six-five and every bit of over 250 pounds in current fighting trim, those are serious words to be reckoned with.

  “Hey Gunter, listen…”

  “When did you become such a panty-boy Arthur MacInerny? I feel sorry for the angel of your wife having to look down upon such a wretched thing.”

  That motherfucker! He said what? I come off the wall shoving him hard with both arms.

  “Listen up, bucko,” I start in on him, “you're about half a sentence away from getting your ass thrown out that window over there.”

  Gunter casually brushes himself off from my shove and laughs.

  “You're not man enough,” he says returning my two handed shove with a one armed shove of his own. “I know how to make the angel of your dead wife happy, even if you don't. I think I'll have to smite your demon whore. She would look much better with her head separated from her shoulders.”

  “You're going to what?”

  I didn't see the slap that came off his hip. But I sure felt it. Felt the chair I stumbled into also. And now I'm feeling rage. Who the hell does he think he is? I bolt up ready to give him a piece of my mind only to be put down again by another slap I didn't see coming.

  “You are pathetic. Paetricius and I will enjoy cleaving the head off your demon whore. In fact, I will make it a point to do it every time I see that unclean beast you fornicate with.”

  I'm so pissed I can't even think. That is until he smirks at me and turns around to go chop my Sil's head off. I see his sword lying by the door. Rage turns to panic.

  Panic turns to stone cold hatred. And I know how to use that hatred. Arix showed me very well.

  As Gunter turns to get his sword and leave, I touch my fresh pool of hate. I visualize and feel its swirling, turbulent power. I close my eyes and release the force through a wave of my hand and the trigger word - “Tznok!”

  Gunter's feet are swept out from under him by an unseen force. He spills to the linoleum floor, letting out a curse. He’s getting up. I'm over to him - fast. I launch a punter's kick into his ribs. He swings a backhand at me - the fool. Rather than dodging it, I step into it, grab his arm and let his own momentum take us both to the ground.

  I have both hands on his wrist and wrap both my legs around his arm to push him down. Next up - break that big ass arm and enjoy the screams of his agony. But Gunter flips over, grabbing his own forearm, bending his limb to a safer position.

  It's now a battle of strength; my entire body versus his arm. He will lose.

  But something unexpected happens, he rolls a bit more, picks me up with the one arm, and slams me on the hard linoleum floor. Despite having the wind knocked out of me, I still pick myself up.

  Now, I'll just have to kill him.

  “Arthur,” booms out Gunter.

  I smile, raise my hand
, and shout, “Tznok!” back at him before he can finish that thought. The wave of force pushes him across the room. I charge in to take advantage of the moment and to my surprise, he charges too. He comes off the wall like a roaring lion exploding from the thickets and crashes into me.

  Physics take over, his two hundred fifty-plus pounds and momentum, well overtaking my one hundred sixty something pound momentum. His arms grab me in a bear hug and we barrel into the opposite wall. I feel the drywall give.

  “Listen to me Arthur,” he says having locked me down in his arms and pinned against the wall.

  I’m in no mood to hear more. So I reach up, grab his earlobe, twist, and pull with my left hand, then fishhook his mouth with my other hand causing his head to turn. And his grip on me loosens. My left hand releases his ear and my elbow crashes down into his at the inside of his elbow. The fishhook is released, followed immediately with a close quarters forearm to the side of his head. Now clear of his grasp, both of my hands grab his belt and spin him around into the wall.

  Gunter is against the wall, arms wide, chest open. I ball my fist, drop it to my side, square my hips and shoulders, step in and strike him in the solar plexus with all my strength and every ounce of my body behind the blow in perfect balance. I make sure the strike drives downwards, in and against the natural strength of the muscles to ensure maximum penetration. Strike delivered, I pull my fist back rapidly, followed by a step back.

  Gunter’s eyes are bulging. His mouth is open, but no sounds are coming out, except gasps. He falls back against the wall, trying to collect himself.

  “That's a heart-stopper, isn’t it big man? For the finale, I’m going to cut your fucking head off with your own damn sword. I won’t need it to do any holy shit, just cut real good. Be right back.”

  I turn to get the sword that is still propped up next to the door. The door bursts open and it’s Christophe. He starts to say something and stands in my way. A forearm shot to the side of the head removes that obstacle. I go to take another step and my leg isn’t moving right. I look down and see Pffiferil with his arms and legs wrapped around my leg.