Immortal Protector

by Ursula Bauer

  His dark eyes focused on hers, pinning her and burning through all her defenses. She almost lost her nerve, but the arrival of the rest of the thugs helped her find the courage. She brought up the inhaler and blasted him in the eyes with the aerosolized medicine. Albuterol wasn’t as caustic as mace or pepper spray, but it did the trick.

  He jerked back and released her, cursing in some foreign language and rubbing at his eyes with one hand. He never released the sword however, and moved that into a defensive position as he struggled to see.

  Meg broke and ran. One of her sandals fell off but she didn’t stop. The mist was now so thick she could barely see. She slowed her steps and focused on the ground, trying to follow the lines of the parking lot as a makeshift map to reach safety. She’d not gone too far when she ran into another body of solid muscle. A stench like a rotting corpse filled her nostrils and drew forth an involuntary gag. She looked up this time not at the swordsman, but at another creature like the one he’d killed.

  It grinned down at her with razor sharp teeth, its black lips twisted into a sinister smile. This thing was real and not a man in a Halloween mask, a realization so frightening it chilled her very soul. The creature breathed down on her, smothering her in a black, noxious cloud. Her system went into overload. She lost control of her limbs and dropped to the ground. Agonizing pain rolled through her body. Her vision clouded as her mind began to shut down.

  The creature, so far from human her brain could no longer deny what her eyes saw, bent over her as she groaned. It scraped a claw along her arm and puffed more smoke over her. Then it scooped her up off the ground and began to walk into the mist. She should have stayed with the swordsman, she thought, as her consciousness sank back in fear and pain and the world went dark.

  ———

  Gideon’s eyes burned like twin fires. The doctor was free and off running into the mystical fog conjured by one of the attackers. Three more jumped him and took him to the ground hard. Gideon kicked out at one, and sent it flying backward. His vision cleared in time to miss a death strike of another as it swung a Kriss dagger down at him. The blade glowed dull red and dripped with a viscous, black, magical poison, and was wielded by a zombified corpse. Gideon was immortal, but the right strike from the right weapon could slow him down, send him back to his Gods, or, take him out permanently.

  Gideon rolled to one side, elbowed another zombie, and fought up to his feet. The first creature he’d killed was an Ash demon foot soldier. The one he’d kicked was the same make and it was getting to its feet as Gideon gained his own footing. Not wasting time, he brought up his blade and decapitated the demon. The head dropped to the ground, then it and the body disintegrated in a plume of fetid smoke. He hoped it was dead. Some demons you had to kill more than once, particularly depending on who was running the magical lead strings.

  His sword heated in his hand, itching for the corrupt blood of the perverse creatures. That meant one more demon was still out there, if not more. Normally, he’d have sensed their kind, smelled them in his panther form as well as his human form. Tonight magic had covered the attack. Not the dime store kind, but big magic. The kind that did not come cheap, or easy, and always promised trouble. He had to find the doctor. There was no doubt in his mind they were after her because of her role in the convergence, and there was no doubt now that more was at work than the mystics had foreseen.

  One of the zombies lunged and Gideon sidestepped the attack. As he dodged, he reached behind his shoulder, unsheathed the sawed-off shotgun, cut a quick arc and fired the first barrel at the thing. It blew a clean hole through the creature and sent a blue cleansing glow throughout, setting the imprisoned soul-energy free. The other backed off, but Gideon fired off the second shot before it could get out of range.

  He holstered the gun and stared into the thick, impenetrable fog. He had to find Dr. Carter. He didn’t have a second to lose. He focused and switched back to panther form. The were-magic given to him by Bast was based on the real creatures that traveled between the two worlds of human and animal. Their domain was the mists and as such, as panther, he could more easily navigate the enchanted fog.

  Gideon’s awareness spread out as he raced through the magical barrier. The last remaining creature, another Ash demon, carried Dr. Carter to a dark blue van. Whoever held the puppet strings knew how to cook up major magic. Those kinds of creatures didn’t work easy, or free. They were summoned with the darkest of arcane words and held to task with the strongest of wills, and still they demanded a king’s ransom in payment and human slaves. He scanned the area for a Keeper, the war band leader that was a more powerful version of the Ash demon. He also looked for more of the foot soldiers. Lucky for him and the doc, the Keeper wasn’t around, and neither were more troops.

  Gideon reached the van as the demon dumped the doc inside. He shifted back into human form, the sword once more in his hand, and hamstrung the creature. As it dropped, he decapitated it with a single strike. His sword blazed blue like an angry moon as the evil was released. With the threat neutralized, he spoke the word, and the sword vanished. His tattoo tingled with a light burn then went dormant. Gideon pulled out a cell phone and hit a series of numbers.

  A woman’s throaty voice came across the connection. “Mammett’s Cleaners.”

  “It’s Sinclair. I have a level three spill.”

  “Do you require containment?”

  “Yeah.” He glanced around as the magical fog began to thin. This last demon must have been the key for the spell. “Make it quick. There’s risk of seepage, and two vehicles involved.”

  The nameless woman took the pertinent details and disconnected.

  Gideon looked down at the unconscious Meg. Her features were contorted in pain and she moaned softly. He could take her out of play here and now and the cleaners would do the rest. He removed the .22, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She shifted restlessly and turned on her side. He raised the .22. For a moment, the dark clouds in the sky cleared, and moonlight shone down upon her alabaster skin.

  She had no significant contact with the artifact as far as he could tell. The mystics indicated it would be several days before key contact resulted. The creatures he’d killed were the servants of someone running a hell of a lot of magical juice, and they wanted her as bad as the Council of Wardens wanted her out of play. None of the mystics foresaw this attack according to the information contained in his briefing file, meaning the whole interpretation could be wrong. A mystic could be compromised, indicating the entire operation was at risk. Gideon sheathed the .22. The clouds slid soundlessly across the moonlight, leaving him in darkness once more.

  An innocent shouldn’t suffer because a group of fools thought they saw something in a scrap of fevered vision. He wasn’t a Paladin, he didn’t follow orders without question. He moved her gently to the edge of the van and picked her up.

  Her scent surrounded him. Her body warmed his. Cradled in his arms she was soft and boneless against him. She wore a tissue-thin, copper-colored gypsy skirt that flowed silkily over her curves. Her heat burned him in ways he didn’t want to admit. His groin tightened, a purely male reaction to the sultry female held so close. He was breaking all the rules. He knew this, even as he set off for his SUV. He was breaking the rules, and risking the world and his very life for a hunch, and a mortal woman.

  He was a champion of justice, he reminded himself. He moved above the normal concerns, he worked by different rules. He knew his business enough to know there was something rotten at work. Tonight he’d take Meg Carter out of play, just not the way the Council believed. He’d find out what was really behind this convergence and he’d find out what the real deviation point was, if indeed there even was one. If he played his cards right he could score the artifact before she came into contact and stop the convergence that way. If a mystic was compromised, he’d find out who and why, and rain hell upon those involved.

  He reached the vehicle, touched the door, and
the enchantment released the locks. He set Meg gently into the passenger’s seat and belted her in. Then he dipped the seat back a bit so it appeared she was nothing more than a sleeping woman. Her face was still strained. The gas attack of the Ash demons not only put victims into a state of suspended consciousness, it caused the average human body tremendous pain. He took out a small vial from a breast pocket, dabbed a little of the lily-scented fluid on his finger and rubbed it on her temples. Unable to stop himself, he traced her full, berry-colored lips with his thumb, marveling at the plush, silken feel. A man kissed by those lips was a lucky man indeed.

  He shook off the crazy, errant thought, closed the vial and tucked it away. Most likely, she’d sleep soundly for the next hour or so. Any pain she felt would be diminished by the sacred healing oil he’d placed on her skin, and eventually pass. He could wake her easily enough once he got her to safety. Until then, it served his purposes for her to sleep.

  As an afterthought, he returned to the lot and grabbed her backpack and missing sandal and tossed them into the backseat. As he secured the shotgun in a concealed compartment beneath the dash, a non-descript van, one of Mammett’s many that dotted the globe, slid into the front lot. Gideon made a quick search of the demon’s vehicle, the only thing left of the battle other than ash piles and zombie corpses. The van was scrubbed. It had no identification and nothing useful: another sign of a determined professional fronting this operation.

  He returned to the SUV, climbed into the driver’s side, gunned the engine and pulled out of the lot. Once safely lost in the anonymity of the city streets he risked a glance at Meg. Her head tilted towards him, her features now relaxed. Her chest rose and fell with long, deep drawn breaths. He could watch her for hours and never tire. A dangerous thing. Gideon turned away. He couldn’t afford to think of her as a woman. She was a mission, a mystery, nothing more. He had to sort out this mess, get her off his hands and stash her someplace safe.

  He left Troy and picked up the Northway, bound for Lake George. There was a safe house in an old motel built on consecrated ground just outside of the tourist trap. He could hole up there with her and know they’d escape even the most assiduous of magical searches.

  The night was dark and moody. Meg’s enticing scent filled the cab of the SUV, making it damned hard for him to concentrate. Her presence had power, so much so, it surprised and worried him. In mist form out in the parking lot, his body was incorporeal. It was easy to remain physically aloof from her charms even while he was drawn to her in other, less tangible ways. In human form, his body had the normal male reactions experienced in the company of a desirable female. Only he wasn’t really a normal male, and he could never forget that fact. It was the reason he kept to his own kind when looking for company, or, kept to one night stands with women who had no interest in anything other than a good time on a first, or no name basis only. Meg Carter wasn’t that kind, and never could be, not under the circumstances. His attraction could only lead to trouble for them both. He needed distance and objectivity, not complications.

  Then again, he’d gone and complicated things beyond reason by changing plans. He figured he had time before the solstice. According to the information on the flash drive, the summer solstice was D-day. If he found the artifact before then, if he kept her clear of it and figured out who was really after it, he had a chance of correcting things prior to the convergence. And that was the way it needed to go down, wasn’t it? Keep the doc far away and the convergence doesn’t happen. Gideon smiled to himself. It was a sound plan. There was a more secure safe house by the Canadian border. He could stash Meg there while he worked things out.

  Tonight, though, he needed to get information from her. He grimaced, knowing what was to come. As an innocent, she had no idea what was really out there going bump in the night. He’d seen the disbelief in her eyes during the fight. A part of her recognized she was dealing with forces beyond the mundane, but the rest of her fought that recognition. He knew her brain would continue to resist, he knew she would try to block out the truth. She would see him as just another enemy, a psycho killer and kidnapper.

  He needed to show her irrefutable proof that the weird and the wild existed, that he was on her side, sent to help, and capable of dealing with what would come. And he needed to show her she was dealing with a situation that couldn’t be fixed by a call to the local cops, or her lawyer. Dr. Carter was used to fighting, he didn’t want her fighting him. Not tonight. Every second counted like never before.

  His cell rang and he answered via the link to the vehicle’s sound system.

  “Sinclair.”

  “What are you doing, Gideon? I heard from the cleaner. The Carter woman wasn’t in the pick up.” Ramon Salazar’s smooth as glass baritone vibrated into the quiet cab. “You know we don’t condone coloring outside the lines.”

  “An unexpected event took place. Wasn’t on the radar, but it changed the picture and the plan.” Gideon wondered if he could count on Salazar’s backing. No one played the game quite like the Spaniard. “I’ll send you out a more detailed report. Right now I need to go dark.”

  “You’re playing fast and loose. That’s a risky thing.”

  “I have until the solstice.”

  “You’re prolonging the inevitable and putting everyone into unnecessary danger.”

  “This whole op stinks, Ramon. We both know that. I’m not coloring out of the lines, I’m in a whole different book. And in that book I need more than the word of some strung out trancer to take the life of an innocent.”

  “She was attacked. She’s not that innocent. Someone wants her other than us. That should tell you something.”

  Gideon bit back a curse. Ramon would respond better to reason than threat. “Someone wanted her bad enough to send a team of zombies and Ash demons to do the job. That tells me they may want to prevent contact with the artifact just like us, and I’m pretty damn sure they’re not working towards the same end as we are. That means we could be wrong about her role in the convergence. That means we need more facts before we risk the dimensional timeline and the rest of the world.”

  Salazar was silent for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “I don’t like what you’re doing, Gideon, but I agree, there is something wrong with the picture. The mystics should have picked up such a powerful magical presence. Even now it’s not registering. It bothers me when I don’t know the other players in a game.”

  Gideon’s body relaxed. He’d need a man on the inside if he was going to succeed at running a rogue op. No better ally than Ramon Salazar could be had. No more dangerous enemy. So far, Salazar was an ally. He’d need to keep that alliance running strong. For a man who hated politics, that would be a challenge all on its own. “I’ll call you when I have more.”

  “I’ll keep the line clear.” Salazar let out a deep, tired breath. “You may be onto something, Gideon. You may also find out that in the end it doesn’t matter. The outcome may remain unchanged. What will you do then, if the only way to make it right is follow through with the original protocol?”

  Gideon’s blood ran cold, at both the Spaniard’s words and the truth. He could do all the digging in the world, and the deviation point, the critical measure of time and action that could doom or save the timeline, could still come down to one thing: Meg Carter’s life. Or death.

  He glanced at Meg resting beside him, blissfully unaware of the torrent of events surrounding her or the powerful enemies aligning against her. And, against him, now that he’d decided to go rogue. Choices. So much came down to choices. The memories spilled forward into his consciousness, like an invading army. His choices had led to the destruction of others. A picture of the bloody past blurred his vision. He blinked hard, cleared his mind, and focused on the unbroken lines of the road ahead.

  “Gideon?”

  “I’ll call you, Ramon. Until then, see what you can dig up on any local activity.”

  Gideon cut the connection and switched the phone off. He needed to ge
t them to safety as fast as possible. He fought the urge to bury the gas pedal and unwind the engine to the max. Unfortunately, none of the quicker passages that slipped between the normal fabric of space were currently open. The few he could find didn’t run near enough to the motel to make the risk worth taking. He had to make do with the mundane routes of travel. Hopefully, the enchantments worked into the vehicle would keep them safe enough until they reached the sanctified grounds of the motel. Magic. Always a crap shoot.

  Gideon mulled over what he knew so far, which was far too little for his liking. Questioning Meg might bring him more information, give him some much-needed leads. He hated this kind of job, all cloak and dagger with murky objectives and invisible players with obscure and shifting agendas. They were never clear-cut, not like the normal ops run by the Tribunal forces. Tracking down offenders, bringing them back for justice or executing justice on the spot, that was his stock and trade. He consoled himself with the fact that he was still serving justice, that Meg deserved a fair shake before fate and the Council of Wardens wrote her off as an acceptable casualty of dimensional integrity preservation.

  He reached the exit as the rain changed from a soft mist to a punishing downpour, and ten minutes later, he turned the SUV into the parking lot of The Pine Motor Lodge. The neon sign blinked on and off, announcing no vacancy, but that was standard fare to keep out the tourists and the straights. The Pine catered to the metaphysical set exclusively, and the signs for them read vacancy, any time they needed one.

  He parked near the front office and checked one last time on Meg. She appeared comfortable and showed no signs of rousing. He wished idly he could settle this account without having to show her the darker side of life, the oily black shadow that trailed what passed for reality. Gideon stepped back from the car and the mortal. He’d wished many things in his life and none had come to pass except the opportunity to wreak vengeance through eternity. Meg would soon wake and he would threaten and destroy everything she thought she knew about her world, and her life.