“Riddle?” Scallion asked, leaning toward me. “What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “Oh, I have no idea. It just seems odd to me that the riddle preceding the murder of one teacher came too late to do anything but attend his funeral. And the riddle preceding the murder of the student also came too late, because it failed to come at all. But the riddle warning us that Dr. Miliron was the next target came in plenty of time and was ridiculously easy to solve.”
“I gave no warning before sending my Proletariat to the Miliron residence,” Scallion said slowly. He turned his gaze on Phobos. “Tammy Angel herself arranged the riddle for me. No Psi Fighter should have been there. Miss Angel was the only person who knew of my plan, so I believed Phobos when he told me of her true identity.”
Phobos began to leisurely clap his hands. “Very good, Psi Fighter. Twisting events to turn us against each other.”
“I’m thoughtful like that,” I said, looking around the field as though I had lost interest in our conversation, hoping beyond hope to see Mason in his funky Proletariat outfit somewhere out there.
“I will deal with Phobos later, but for now, we have a common enemy,” Scallion said. “You will find that Knights are not so easily turned.”
Phobos stopped clapping. “So says the traitor. I know what you have been doing. So does Nicolaitan.”
This was good. My plan was working. They hated each other.
Scallion tutted. “We shouldn’t bring family problems to work, my boy. Can we talk about this after we kill the Psi Fighters?”
Phobos nodded. “Agreed.”
Okay, maybe the plan wasn’t working so well. Double-headed War Hammers materialized into the hands of both Scallion and Phobos.
“Here’s how we play this game,” Scallion said. “We will distract you by attempting to murder you while my minions light the funeral pyre.”
“I told you before, you don’t have minions,” I said to Scallion. Then to Drake, “It’s time.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Surrounded and Alone
Drake stepped in front of me, Thought Saber in his gauntleted hand. “Phobos, you really should watch who you murder. The dead talk. I know your real name.”
“Phobos is my only name. You can take that to your grave.” With that, he flew at Drake, spinning his double-headed War Hammer like a baton.
Drake’s Thought Saber flashed, slamming into the War Hammer. Psionic sparks flew as they collided. Drake’s weapon screamed with rage as he unleashed his pent-up fury. Phobos was driven back by his relentless attack.
“And so we find ourselves in a familiar situation,” Scallion said. “I, with the upper hand, and you, with a quandary.” He clapped his hands, and a Knight with an unlit torch turned to face the oil-soaked wood pile. “Do you let me kill your preoccupied companion while you save the life of Police Chief Dalrymple and the esteemed Morgan girl, or do you try to stop me while they die a fiery death?”
“Neither,” I said, extinguishing my Thought Saber. “Your backstabbing companion is about to lose, and to tell the truth, if he had been working Nicolaitan against me all this time, I’d let him. But, hey, that’s just me. I don’t tolerate teacher’s pets.”
“Your ploy to stall is intriguing. Please continue.”
“You heard Phobos. He left you out of two murders so he could get all the credit. He set you up at Dr. Miliron’s home and led us right to your Knights. Ever since we met, I assumed you masterminded the clues we had been receiving. They were so brilliant. I had no idea it was a boy behind them. Just a kid. I have to wonder if this”—I waved my hand at Dalrymple and Tammy Angel—“isn’t a setup, as well?”
Scallion glanced toward the goal post. “Unlikely. I am about to murder a longtime thorn in Nicolaitan’s side and deliver him a gift that he has craved for a decade.”
I pointed to Tammy Angel. “You mean the cranky blonde who has been selling stolen merchandise for you? The one who will spill everything to Nicolaitan once she gets a good look at him? I think Phobos would get bonus points for that. He arranged this, didn’t he?” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
“You are a clever girl,” Scallion said. “I can see why Nicolaitan is attracted to you.”
Attracted to me? Oh, that was just gross. I popped that image right out of my head and went on with my game. “And so, we find ourselves in a familiar situation—I, with the upper hand, and you, with a quandary.”
“I have no quandary.” He clapped his hands, and the Knight lit the torch.
“That’s your plan?” I asked. “Okay, I can see burning Dalrymple. He was supposed to die anyway. And I suppose killing the Morgan girl would shut her big mouth. Everybody wins.”
“Exactly.”
“Except Nicolaitan. How will you tell him that you killed the very person he has been hunting… How long has it been? I understand he’s wanted her for a long, long time.”
Scallion stared at the Knight holding the torch, then turned his gaze on me. His body relaxed, his shoulders drooped, and he shook his head. “You weary me. Kill them both!”
The Knight raised the torch to throw it on the wood pile.
Bewilder, I thought, and a starburst blazed from my Amplifier. I rushed the Knight, closing the distance between us in an instant, slamming a side kick into his chest. The torch flew in one direction and he flew in another. The Knight was out cold, but the torch blazed even hotter. It landed at the edge of the oil-soaked wood, igniting the pile where Tammy Angel lay.
“Thank you,” Scallion said as he walked away.
“I need you,” I said into my com as I jumped onto the woodpile.
“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Drake’s voice came back.
The oil at the base of the woodpile had ignited, and I had only seconds before the entire mound would become an inferno. My Chaos Burst collapsed and reformed, a Thought Saber in its place. I sliced through Dalrymple’s bonds. He slid down the goal post and came to rest in a sitting position on the wood beside Tammy. Her eyes were wide with fear.
I sensed someone coming at me from behind, but spun too late to ward off the attack. A War Hammer smashed into my chest armor, knocking me off the woodpile onto the ground. This dude was no Proletariat. I rolled as another blow crashed down, slamming into the turf beside me. My armor had absorbed the force of the War Hammer, but it hurt. I slashed the Knight’s legs and he dropped. I bounced to my feet and parried a blow from a War Hammer that came out of nowhere. A sharp pain shot through my back as a fierce kick struck me from behind.
I was in pain and suddenly totally surrounded by Knights. Flames were crawling up the woodpile toward Dalrymple and Tammy, and would engulf them in seconds.
Just then, a Proletariat rushed at me, swerved to miss, and bounded over the flames.
Mason.
“Sorry about the wait,” he said, stooping to pick up Dalrymple and pulling him to safety. No sooner had Mason dropped Dalrymple away from the inferno, when the Knights renewed their attack. I lashed out with my Thought Saber and spun in a circle, slashing anything in my reach. Four Knights dropped to the ground, their mental connections short-circuited. I watched in horror as Mason ran through the flames a second time and grabbed Tammy. He heaved her over his shoulder just as the woodpile blazed out of control. I yelled Shield into my mask and ran through the fire, shoving Mason out of the flames. He tripped and dumped Tammy unceremoniously onto the football field.
She screamed obscenities through her gag. I turned to see a new wave of Knights rushing me as I pulled off Tammy’s blindfold and cut her bonds so she could escape.
I left the gag in place.
Catty. I know.
Scallion led the attacking Knights. I lunged at him with my Thought Saber. Just as it was about to pierce his chest, his War Hammer flashed, swiping my blade to the side.
“Attacking when I’m not ready,” Scallion said. “How underhanded. I like that. I’d almost prefer
not to kill you.”
“I’d prefer that, too,” I said, blocking a vicious blow from his spinning War Hammer. “Would you consider surrendering? It would save us all a lot of trouble.”
“I would, but that would give Phobos one more thing to tattle about.”
“Family squabbles are the worst,” I said. “Don’t you agree?”
“But in the end, we’re still family.” Scallion attacked with everything he had, driving me back toward the inferno. Slowly, he pushed me backward until I was totally surrounded by flames. He stopped in midstroke and backpedaled quickly.
“That didn’t go as you planned, did it?” I said. “Don’t tell me a Knight’s armor isn’t fireproof?” I stepped out of the flames, Thought Saber extended. “Now, where was I?”
“About to be defeated,” Scallion said, spinning his War Hammer, preparing to resume his attack.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” I glanced over Scallion’s shoulder at the battle taking place behind him. Drake had Phobos flattened against the stadium wall.
Scallion quickly looked back then said, “I am always sure.” He extinguished his Hammer and raised his hands. The fallen Proletariat pulled themselves shakily to their feet and regrouped. Some forced themselves between Scallion and me. The others surrounded Drake.
I did a gauntleted palms up at Scallion. He laughed, and the puppet-Knights attacked.
I tucked my Amplifier back into my belt and said to Drake across our coms, “Here’s your chance to show off your kung fu. You have to knock them out, or they’ll just keep coming.”
Drake nodded, backed away from Phobos, and waded into the Proletariat, planting a series of devastating kicks on anything that resembled a jaw. For every puppet-Knight that dropped, it seemed as if two took its place. So, I dove into the middle of them and cut loose like I was back in the Academy training room practicing with Andy—punches and kicks, throws and sweeps. Knights fell in droves. Scallion kept them coming at us, working his arms like an orchestra maestro.
Drake’s scream came across my mask. “Look out!”
Phobos was behind me, unleashing a fierce Mental Blast at my back. I turned to shield when Drake’s body came between us. A loud crack like a lightning strike rent the air, and Drake fell to the ground, unconscious. I slammed a side kick into Phobos with everything I had, sending him flying. He landed on a pile of unconscious Proletariat and then pulled himself to his feet, visibly shaken. I had to give that one a twelve.
My Thought Saber blazed to life and I stood over Drake, guarding his unconscious form.
“Here we are, once again,” Scallion said. “This time, I, with the upper hand, and you, with no options at all.”
“That hurt, Psi Fighter,” Phobos said, his War Hammer exploding from his Amplifier. “Let’s see how you like it.” He raised the Hammer for a two-handed blow at my head.
I feinted a low thrust at Phobos. When he tried to parry, I beat my Thought Saber against his Hammer, twisted my wrist, and sent his weapon sailing through the air. It fizzled out before the Amplifier hit the ground.
“I like it,” I said. “Want to try again?” Then I fired a roundhouse into his midsection and spun to slash at Scallion.
Scallion blocked my cut with a two-handed thrust of his War Hammer, then slammed the hammer head into my chest armor. The armor neutralized the blow, but the force of it knocked me backward. Phobos struck at my leg while I was backpedaling. I snapped my blade into his attack and reposted with a thrust to his chest. I knocked down three Proletariat as Scallion came at me with a series of alternating high and low attacks. Phobos spun his Hammer like a buzz saw, always striking at my sword arm to disarm me. I knocked him off his feet with a Mental Blast and then fired one at Scallion. He caught it on his Hammer.
“You’re good,” I said.
“So are you,” Scallion said. “Maybe too good.” He snapped his fingers, and a group of Knights swarmed the field from beneath the bleachers.
“More puppets?” I said. “You’ll have to do better than that. They bore me.”
Scallion laughed. “These aren’t Proletariat, Psi Fighter.”
I found myself surrounded by a gaggle of seasoned Walpurgis Knights. “Is this a test? What do I get if I pass?”
“To live,” Phobos said, and he flew at me with a lightning fast spinning kick.
I skewered him with my Thought Saber, and he dropped to the ground unable to control his limbs. “Next.”
“Impressive,” Scallion said to me, then, turning to the Knights, “I want her alive. Whether she remains conscious and unbroken is entirely up to you.”
Somebody once said that the best defense is a good offense. I don’t know whether he was right or not, but being outnumbered by Knights is pretty offensive, so I cut loose with everything I had. Bewilder, I thought, and my Amplifier flared. A Knight with a mask like a snake struck at me with a massive psionic scimitar. Apparently, they didn’t all prefer War Hammers. Not that it would have mattered much. His huge misty blade sliced right through another Knight instead of me. I struck a pressure point in his neck and he dropped like a stone. I methodically worked my way through the field of Knights, taking advantage of the fact that they couldn’t focus on my image. It was a simple matter to counter every missed attack with a disabling blow of my own. All at once, three of them banded together to attack me. Three War Hammers streaked toward various locations around me, but one was more accurate than the rest, heading straight for my face.
I extinguished the Chaos Burst and went back to my old reliable Thought Saber, parrying the Knight’s stroke and slashing through his arm in a single motion. He stared awkwardly at me for just an instant, and collapsed.
A powerful blow struck me in the back, shooting sharp pain through my body. I spun in time to partially block a Mental Blast but was knocked to the ground by the residual blast. I shook my head and pulled myself to my feet, holding my Thought Saber in front of me, daring any of them to come near.
“What now, Psi Fighter?” Scallion said. “As they say, I have you surrounded.”
The woodpile and the goal post were now fully engulfed in flame. Smoke hung over the field, eerie in the stadium’s flood lights. Police Chief Dalrymple was still unconscious, and it occurred to me that he may already be dead. Drake was moving slowly, but the Knights didn’t seem to notice him.
“You still have the option to surrender,” I said, puffing from exertion, ignoring the fact that a dozen Knights stood between Scallion and me.
“I have as many options as I desire,” Scallion chuckled. “The Morgan girl is on her way back to Camelot, Dalrymple will shortly become firewood, and you are about to be my slave.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, pointing at Scallion with my Thought Saber. “That’ll happen.”
I wasn’t nearly as confident as I tried to sound. I scanned the field for Tammy, but she was nowhere to be seen. A swarm of Knights surrounded Dalrymple’s prone body as the goal post toppled over, shooting flames and sparks into the night sky. Drake had stopped moving, and I was exhausted from battle. Worst of all, I didn’t know where Mason was.
“I’m afraid it will,” Scallion said. “Unless you’d prefer I kill this one.”
One of the Proletariat was shoved brutally to the ground in front of me. Scallion stooped down and plucked the mask from his face.
Mason. He grinned at me then turned to Scallion and gave him a you-are-so-dead glare.
I had to act quickly.
“Why should I care if you kill one of your own?” I asked as though the very thought bored me to death.
“You know very well that this is the mayor’s son.” A misty hand burst from Scallion’s palm. “Now, young lady. Remove your mask.”
“Handless Death?” I said. He didn’t know what Mason and I knew. “You must be joking.”
“That stupid hand won’t hurt me, Skeletor,” Mason said, pulling himself to his feet. Like a striking cobra, Mason’s fist crashed into Scallion’s jaw, knocking him backward. “Bu
t you can’t say the same for mine.”
I slashed the two closest Knights, dropping them before four others caged me in with War Hammers.
“Hold them!” Scallion bellowed with rage as two Knights pinned Mason’s wrists behind his back. Before I could move, Handless Death shot from Scallion’s gauntlet, and he forced it against Mason’s chest. The ethereal hand fizzled and sputtered, rolling off Mason’s body like fog. Scallion jerked his palm away and stared at it as if he had never seen it before.
“I guess Nicolaitan failed to mention that little tidbit, huh?” Mason said. “How’s the jawbone?”
Scallion slammed his real fist into Mason’s stomach, driving him to his knees. “I never liked your father, and I don’t like you. Now, Psi Fighter, remove your mask or the Draudimon boy dies.”
“Do we need an instant replay, or did your dried up brain miss the fact that Handless Death can’t kill him?”
“Perhaps not,” Scallion said in a menacing tone. He pulled a gun from his robes and pointed it at Mason’s head. “But this will.”
“Since when do Knights carry guns?” I asked, thankful that the electronics in my mask filtered out the panic in my voice. “I thought that was too uncivilized for Nicolaitan.”
“I follow my own rules,” Scallion said. “Your mask.”
“Don’t do it,” Mason spat. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“You should be.” Scallion placed his pistol against Mason’s forehead. “Three, two—”
“Okay,” I said. I extinguished my Thought Saber and returned my Amplifier to my belt. “I’m yours. Just don’t hurt him.”
“No,” Mason said. “You can’t.”
“I believe the boy knows your identity,” Scallion said.
“I guess we’re even,” I said. “I know his.”
“Your mask, Psi Fighter.” Scallion pulled back the hammer. “I won’t ask again.”
“Okay, put the gun down.” I pulled my hood back slowly, revealing my mask’s blond hair. My hand shook as I reached to unlatch my mask.
“Mom,” Mason cried. He started to sob. “Please, Mom, don’t.”
Live and Let Psi Page 25