Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

  “I am ready when the time comes. And, your guardian is here.”

  Holy mackerel – Dory is here. I try not to become a stuttering mess. “Where is she?”

  “Not fully coalesced. She is literally around us. She says to tell you that you are much loved, and it pleases her that you keep the curse in check.”

  “I love you, too, Dory. I wish you were here.” I cringe at the faux pas. Obviously, she is here. “You know what I mean. I, uh, well you know all about Sil. I mean that she’s real and now… Of course, you know. I haven’t stopped loving you. Things are just so strange. What should I do?”

  “The guardian says to follow your heart,” Yayne says in my head. “She says it is a good heart and repeats that you are much loved. Now she transcends.”

  “She what?”

  “She left.”

  My chest is thrumming. “Thanks, Yayne. I hope we can do that again. It means a lot to me that you could share her thoughts with me. I am blessed by both of you.”

  “I suspect the guardian knows that you share words of prayer to her after your ritual cleansing and our conversation. Perhaps timing will be fortuitous again. She tells you to trust your heart with the dark-souled life eater. Interesting, don’t you think?”

  “You could just call her Sil, or Silithes.”

  Laughter. Laughter from Yayne. Not a mocking laugh, but heartfelt. It’s a level of connection we haven’t shared before.

  “I could, yes. I should, probably. Tell me we are going to smite evil and save the world again, Arthur.”

  “We are going to smite evil and save the world.”

  “Then I will follow your heart. Maybe it sees more than mine. Place me by the window, please, for today.”

  “Of course.”

  I get up and put him across the small end table and head out for the next important ritual of the day – shower and coffee.

  ⁂

  Arix has made the coffee as Pffif is still at the North Dakota bunker. I thought about re-calling him, but to do so without warning is kind of rude. Arix sits down at the dining-area table with a coffee, and I dial up Znuul as none of my summonlings got the special-issue phones.

  “Calling early,” comes his deep voice. “You miss me that much already?”

  “My heart pines for you. Can you get Pffif on the line?”

  I think I hear Kitten sighing or something.

  “I will in a little bit. He’ll be calling you.”

  Click.

  Well, at least he took the call.

  I hear a door in the hall close and have to figure it’s Vets. After a few moments, I’m not disappointed.

  “Train this morning?” she asks, walking to the refrigerator pulling out the eggs. Before I can answer, she asks, “Are these still edible?”

  I motion to her to bring the carton over – over a week expired.

  “Probably all right. Just smell them before you cook them. If they smell bad, they are bad.”

  She nods, pulls a glass out, cracks four of them, smelling each one before depositing them in the glass. Then she powers them down.

  “Satisfying. I shall be training on the second floor.”

  That’s big girl – she’s no chef.

  I take in the feeling and relax in it – routine, blessed normalcy.

  ⁂

  Five days pass quickly and comfortably. Online house hunting was fun, but fruitless. For the price of a six- to eight-bedroom luxury home, I could about buy a whole apartment building that would offer some income potential, in albeit less-than-swanky areas. But, come on…

  I’ve asked my property managers in Charleston to make the decision between two large multifamily rental properties, with the understanding that I want a whole floor to myself.

  The feeling of routine and normality has returned, and it’s nice. Pffif is back with us. The Hidden Eye is chugging along, and the kitchen has had no code violations. Part of me is thinking it’s going to be a shame to pick up and move to Louisville.

  But that’s where Sil is. And taking Dory’s advice, I’ll follow my heart. Our twice-daily calls are now on the up and up on a landline as opposed to our “Team Z” lines. If The Protectorate wants to listen in, we’re both smart enough not to talk about anything sensitive – other than our feelings.

  Aww, shucks.

  Today’s activities are going to be highlighted by a healing session with a really nice witch I know that operates a popular store in the quarter. She’s not with The Protectorate, but she’s well-known, and so is her wife. I made the mistake of taking coffee at Du Monde and got seen. Apparently, there’s a daughter of a friend of theirs who has leukemia. I know, and they know, it’s a long shot. But it’s a little girl, so I have to try. They’re going to cover for me being a real healer, with faux ritual and hopefully real potions. We’ll do everything we can.

  The parents can’t know about me. That would break one of the tenets of the healing hands. There’s not enough healing to go around, so we heal clandestinely unless one knows of the Hands. Luckily for this little girl, Miss Neferini does. I’ll give it my all.

  Pffif and I are taking in the morning news with our mugs of coffee. It’s good to have the little man back. There’s something comforting about his presence. Sheyliene took off for the gardens, wherever that may be. I’m guessing to find her Winx. Given she’s been gone a couple of days, I’ll bet she found him.

  Good for her.

  Coffee is good, and Pffif’s company is always appreciated, even though he can’t get past the fact that “the news shows don’t really change.”

  Then the elevator buzzer rings.

  I’ve had security installed after the vampires sent their emissary, as nice as she was. I figured it shouldn’t be as simple as press “three” to see Arthur.

  I go to the security console and see that the elevator is full. There’s that runt mage that is always hanging on Alistair’s coattails. There’s another mage type and two obvious Techno-Mage types. I see Gunter and at least one other Paladin. I surmise that based on the sword strapped to his back.

  I push the button for the intercom and say, “Come on up, guys.”

  I figure if Gunter is there, it can’t be all bad. After all, he knows everything that’s going on.

  After waiting a short while, I hear the lift stop and the doors slide open. I open up the door for them and am promptly greeted with a taser.

  Chapter 48

  Stiffened on the ground, I think I hear the sounds of suppressed weapons fire. I know I am being dragged. Then I have the distinct feeling of my summonlings returning to the white. That’s right before I get another dose of taser.

  I’m flipped over quickly, and my hands are bound behind my back. I feel myself being picked up gruffly and look into Gunter’s eyes, right before he throws a bag of silence over my head. I’m moved around gruffly and put in a chair.

  They leave me in darkness for a while. I know the routine. I calm myself. The hood comes off, and there’s Runtly, Gunter, and the others.

  Right off, Runtly is in my face screaming, “You’ve betrayed your own kind! Where is Ahtsag Znuul?”

  “I can’t know exactly,” I tell him.

  One of the Techno-Mage guys puts a truth stone around my neck.

  “Answer me again,” Runtly screams, partially spitting in my face.

  “I can’t know exactly.”

  Blue is true, and that’s what the stone says. Because whereas I may have a good indication of where he may be – I can’t say exactly.

  Demon word games can work for humans, too.

  “I can loosen his tongue,” Gunter says, putting on a padded glove. He grabs me under the chin, gives me a look that tells me I’m nobody he cares for, then lets go of my chin and backhands the hell out of me.

  That has to be a lead glove. I spit out some blood and try to collect myself. That effort is foiled by the blast to the gut I receive that removes any breath I have.

  The next while is a litany of questions by
Runtly, followed by punishments from Gunter and the other Paladins. I answer their questions honestly, but in no way that affects Znuul or anyone else that is trying to stop the Dzemond invasion.

  Runtly takes my chin in his hand and says, “You think you are smart; you will tell us everything we wish to know. You will bow to my will and the will of the worm.”

  He turns and pulls out a mortar. He cuts his hand and begins muttering phrases in a language I don’t understand. I recognize dark magic when I see it, This is not going to be good. He thinks it’s going to be good, though, based on the smile on his face.

  That smile is erased by Gunter’s large fist.

  “Necromancy! Dark magic,” he yells, as Runtly collapses to the ground from the blow.

  The Techno-Mage guys point their hands at Gunter. The Magerium types point their wands and staves. The other guys from the Order of Light have their swords at the ready.

  Gunter just stands over Runtly.

  “You would conjure a mind-worm? I heard you did this at the Vatican. That magic is black and prohibited from use. You are no better than the demons we wish to fight.”

  Runtly is rolling into consciousness.

  “You will pay for this, Paladin. Alistair himself will hear of your crime.”

  Gunter’s answer is a boot to his face.

  “The order will tend to its own. We will interrogate this man, and afterward release him from his bond to the sword so it may be passed to another. And, yes, we will film everything. No detail will be omitted.”

  Crap sticks. Crap double sticks. What he means is they are going to torture me, then kill me – so Yayne can go to a new wielder.

  Chapter 49

  I’m ushered out and, from what I can tell, into a vehicle. I have little concept of time. Truth is, I’m in no hurry either. Only torture and death await me. Crap sticks indeed. Time pushes on, and all I am aware of is that the vehicle is moving. I guess I could have counted or something.

  Seems like a waste of effort to me. It’s going to be what it will be.

  Or if I’m lucky what I can make of it.

  The hood comes off, and I see that I’m in the back of a van, with one Paladin next to me, Gunter in front of me, and I sense the other behind me. And, of course, a driver.

  “Well, Arthur, this is a fine mess. Is it not?” Gunter says to me just a bit too cheerfully.

  I choose not to say anything, instead opting for the stinkeye.

  “Oh. I see. You are angry. Imagine if I really hit you with that lead glove.”

  Man, I want to rip a smart-ass reply. I stick with the stinkeye instead.

  His smile grows.

  “Please. I had to make it look good. We heard about the attempted use of necromancy in Rome by that one. I didn’t think he would be arrogant enough to try it again. Much less in front of warriors of The Order… Fool.”

  “Uh… so this is good cop?”

  The van erupts in laughter.

  “No, Arthur. This is The Order of Light looking out for its own. We realize The Protectorate has been corrupted, most likely from the top. You are our inside man for the demon Znuul’s efforts. As much as it pains me to say, at least that beast seems to act with a sense of honor.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Release his hands, please.”

  The block behind my back is opened, and my hands are freed. I look around the van at my captors who are really my liberators.

  “Um … Thanks.”

  “We need to get to a house we have set aside for interrogating you. From there, you will overwhelm us and escape. We will be very angry and disappointed that we could not stop you.”

  The other Paladins let loose with laments to their inadequacy for not being able to stop me.

  “Hey guys,” I say. “Be easy on yourselves. You did your best.”

  ⁂

  We arrive at a nondescript row house and pile out. I am handed Yayne’s box and a duffle bag presumably with stuff that they were going to investigate.

  “Come in,” Gunter booms out. “We have some things to share with you before you go.”

  I drag my things inside and find an empty house, except for a metal chair in the middle of the living room atop a tarp. Yes, this is a nice site for brutal torture and execution.

  “Please feel free to take a seat, Arthur,” Gunter says, holding an arm out in invitation.

  “Think I’ll pass.”

  Gunter walks over and takes the seat instead. He looks to one of the Paladins.

  “Please tell me we have beer.”

  “I’m sure we do. Let me get you one, sir.”

  Gunter nods and smiles at the man before he leaves. His eyes turn back to me.

  “We have two points of unpleasantry to deal with, Arthur.”

  “Only two?”

  “That is enough. First would be the harm you and yours must inflict upon us to have plausibility for your escape. Yes, you will have your revenge. Surely you understand I had to make it look good, right?”

  I laugh. “Yes, but I think you enjoyed it a bit too much.”

  “Not true. Second is, I have a video I am sworn to show you. It was supposed to help break your will. You understand, I swore to show you this, right?”

  My mind swirls. What video would break me? My family at gunpoint? Surely Gunter would never allow for that.

  I don’t have to think about it for too long as he says, “Summon the fairy and the sorcerer.”

  “All right.” I run my finger along their sigils, and they ripple into existence amongst us.

  “Sorcerer,” Gunter proclaims to Arix. “You need to singe us with either lightning or light fire, so we can say we were overwhelmed. Please do not seriously harm anyone. If you do, we will return the favor with your wielder’s assistance.”

  “Oh, well, then I best consider my spell choice carefully. Regardless, to leave a mark, you know it will hurt – yes?”

  “Of course. We are not averse to pain.”

  “Speak for yourself,” says one of the Paladins.

  Gunter just laughs. The other Paladins join in.

  “Well, collect yourselves together,” Arix says after the laughter subsides. “I’ll attempt a minor ball of flame that should do little more than singe your clothes and hair. Please understand, it’s easier to make it bigger, than smaller.”

  “Fair enough, demon. Bring on the fireball.”

  The Paladin group moves in together tightly. Arix’s hands weave, and he mutters quietly. A flaming pebble appears in between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Close your eyes, gentlemen,” he warns.

  Arix pitches the fiery pebble at them, and there’s a flash and the smell of burning hair and cloth.

  “Well, see, no real lasting harm.”

  Gunter laughs that laugh of his again. “Indeed! I needed a haircut, this works mostly the same.” He slaps the backs of the Paladins around him.

  “Now,” he continues, “I must take an arrow wound from the fairy. Does anyone else volunteer?”

  The Paladins all look amongst themselves and seem to concur that taking an arrow is a bad idea. Gunter laughs again.

  “Fairy, make it a flesh wound here,” Gunter says, pointing to his chest near his shoulder.

  “You sure?” Sheyliene asks.

  “Yes.”

  Sheyliene pulls her bow and draws down on Gunter. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  The arrow flies and goes straight through Gunter’s chest where he wanted. He looks at the other Paladins.

  “Blood must be spilled.”

  They look at each other and square off. Each one punches the other in the nose, drawing blood. They stand there bleeding on themselves, then they begin with the laying on of hands. One by one they heal each other, Gunter being last.

  “Now we have a plausible escape,” Gunter exclaims. “Blood and evidence of violent magic. What could be better?”

  “Beer?” asks one of the Paladins.

  “Yes! Join in
drink with us, Arthur?”

  “No, thank you, Gunter.” Somehow, I think staying clear-headed makes the most sense.

  “Ah, yes. But you may wish for a drink, considering the video I must share with you.”

  “No. Just bring it on.”

  Gunter smiles and reaches into a duffel, pulling out a tablet. One of the other Paladins comes by and hands him a can of beer. He looks at it in disdain.

  “American beer, bah. But better than no beer.” He sets the tablet down and pops the beer, taking a healthy gulp. “For the Order.”

  “For the Order,” I say in return to the toast along with the others.

  “So you know, Arthur, I am oath-sworn to share this video with you and to play a certain clip of audio. I find this… movie most unpleasant on many levels. The Order insisted we watch it to better understand our foes.”

  “Gunter, what the heck?”

  “How about we start here.” He swipes the tablet and turns it to me to hit play.

  I see what appears to be a winged female creature all in yellows and red, making the facial details almost impossible. She’s astride another figure and... it must be Paul. The other smaller yellow-red-winged humanoid that is apparently kissing and rubbing on him must be Jex.

  The smaller figure pops up turns and kisses the larger buxom female figure, then playfully pushes her away, and I hear my first audio clip.

  “My turn, greedy!”

  No doubt that’s Jex. And when Sil replies, “You little minx,” there’s no doubt it’s really them and not some CGI thing. Sil gets up and sidles up to the now-riding Jex, gives her a kiss, then rearranges herself over what must be Paul’s face.

  There’s a manly sounding “Mmmm,” and I see one of his hands reach up to take her gently by waist and tail.

  I’ve seen enough. I push the little play button to stop it and hand the tablet back to Gunter.

  “So they planted a video camera in their home? That’s just wrong.”

  “I must agree. But they did not put a camera in the home. They used a high-definition camera with a heat-sensing technology. The man stood outside the bedroom wall of the incubus’ home.” Gunter takes a swig of his lousy American beer. “I do not approve of voyeurism. The cameraman did not have to record over seven hours of their… activity. What real secrets did he think he would find?”