The Wizard of Lovecraft's Cafe
Page 19
“Those are almost the very words that Beladon had used when he first found me,” she said.
“Indeed? Well, then you must judge his words against his actions, just as you may judge mine. Have you both grown strong together? Have you satisfied your hunger? Or have you been told to wait until the time is right? And who is to say when that shall be? You? Or Beladon? Has he told you when that time will be? Or has he just said, ‘Soon’?”
“I do grow weary of that word,” she admitted.
“I do not say, ‘Soon, Delana.’ I say… now. We have been sitting here and watching humans arriving at this dwelling all evening long. Shall we wait until they all depart, and then bring back this man Leone to await Beladon’s pleasure? Or shall we take advantage of this opportunity and then decide how best to employ the strength that we shall gain? I am willing to be charitable. Let Beladon have the human named Leone, if that is all he wants. Why should we not take the others for ourselves?”
Delana stared hungrily at the house across the street. “Why not, indeed?” she said.
Calador smiled. It had gone even better than he had anticipated. Beladon had underestimated him, and he had denied Delana for too long. He did not even suspect it, but he had already lost his grip on her. And once she had absorbed fresh, invigorating life force, he would not regain it. Together, the two of them left the car and started walking toward the house.
Wyrdrune hung up the phone in the kitchen, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Then he went back to the others in the living room. “Well, that was certainly interesting. Not exactly what I’d planned on.”
“Don’t worry, you did the right thing,” Makepeace said. “Let the police handle these gangsters. Drug enforcement cannot be our concern.”
“It isn’t just the drugs,” said Wyrdrune. “There’s still a hit out on John. Not much we can do about that now, though. Not without taking the law into our own hands, and McGuire was very emphatic about our staying out of it.”
“How did he sound?” asked Angelo.
“He asked about you,” Wyrdrune said. “He’s concerned. He’s going to lift that A.P.B. on you, but he’s going to have to do some fancy explaining. And there’s been an interesting new development. Case, the New York Bureau chief, was with him when I called. And so was the D.A.”
“So then he’s gone ahead and brought in the Bureau,” Gypsy said.
“Actually, it’s the other way around,” said Wyrdrune. “Are you ready for this? Case has been working with the Dark Ones.”
“What?” said Kira.
“Apparently, there are two of them, and they never bothered actually placing him under a spell,” said Wyrdrune. “They used terror and intimidation. They felt that he would be more useful to them if he was able to function freely, and it seems he has been. He’s kept them informed of all the details of the investigation and he’s given them the D.A.’s task force files, as well.” He glanced at Angelo. “It was too much for Case. He’s scared. They just finally pushed him to a point where he got too scared to be intimidated. They now know all the details of the case you were working on, and they’ve decided to make use of that information.”
“How?” asked Angelo.
“They’re planning to take over Leone’s operation,” Wyrdrune said.
“You mean distribute the Ambrosia?”
“Knowing them, they’ll probably take over everything he’s into and make use of his people. As for the Ambrosia, they may just give it away,” said Wyrdrune. “After all, why bother using magic to enslave people when you can get them hooked, instead? They’re learning to do things the modern way.”
“Damn,” said Kira. “But that means we know what their next move’s going to be. If they’re going to go after Tommy Leone—”
“I’m way ahead of you,” said Wyrdrune. “Unfortunately, so is McGuire. He’s already gotten in touch with the police in Long Beach and arranged for round-the-clock surveillance on Leone and his people. They’re going to coordinate with the N.Y.P.D., the Bureau, the D.A.’s task force, and the D.E.A. And he wants us to stay out of it.”
“That’s crazy,” Kira said. “Did you tell him he doesn’t stand a chance? What the hell does he think he’s going to do, arrest them?”
“He seems to understand what he’s doing,” Wyrdrune said. “Or at least, he thinks he does. He said he’s not going to take any chances. He’ll have Case with him, and if the Dark Ones show up, they’ll simply open up on them with all the firepower they’ve got. If they do that, it just might do the trick.”
“If they do that,” Billy said.
“And might just isn’t good enough,” Kira added. “McGuire just doesn’t learn. They tried the same sort of thing on us back at the penthouse, and we got away, didn’t we? Unless they have the advantage of complete surprise, it’ll never work. They’re all liable to get killed. And the Dark Ones will be that much stronger. We’ve got to be there and you know it.”
“That’s what I figured you’d say,” Wyrdrune replied. “The only trouble is, all we know is that Leone lives somewhere in Long Beach. I already tried information and he isn’t listed. Just where are we supposed to go?”
“He’s got an estate just off Ocean Boulevard,” Angelo said suddenly. He blinked several times. “I’ve been there before. I’m pretty sure I remember where it is.”
“All right!” said Kira. “We’re in business!”
“Not yet we’re not,” said Wyrdrune. “He’s starting to recall things, but there’s still too much he doesn’t remember. We can’t afford to take any chances. We need to know if he can form the Living Triangle.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” said Kira. She took off her glove and held her hand up, palm facing out. The sapphire runestone began to glow.
Wyrdrune removed his headband, revealing the glowing emerald set into his forehead. Angelo swallowed hard and started to open up his shirt. “I’m not sure I know what to do,” he said. But even as he spoke, the ruby in his chest, over his heart, started to grow bright.
“The runestones know,” said Wyrdrune. Then, turning to the others, he added, “Shield your eyes.”
“The hell with that,” said Gypsy. “I’m not about to miss this.”
The emerald in Wyrdune’s forehead suddenly flared with a blinding green light and a beam of pure thaumaturgic force lanced out from it like a laser and struck the sapphire stone in Kira’s palm. The gem seemed to absorb the beam of force and reflect it, adding its own energy to it as a second beam shot out from it and struck the ruby in Angelo’s chest. Angelo gasped involuntarily, and then a third beam shot out from his own runestone and struck the emerald in Wyrdrune’s forehead, completing the triangle. It took no more than an instant, but in that instant, the entire room was bathed in searing light that flickered from blue to red to green, growing brighter and brighter until it washed out everything in the room.
Gypsy cried out, covering her eyes.
Slowly, the incandescently glowing triangle of light started to revolve. Wyrdrune, Kira, and Angelo were no longer visible. They were somewhere inside the whirling Maelstrom as it spun faster and faster, raising a wind inside the room as it formed into a pyramid, spun faster still, and elongated into a cone that suddenly seemed to suck up inside itself with a whistling, howling noise… and then it was gone.
The others sat, dazed, as papers blew about the room and fluttered rustling to the floor and silence returned to the apartment.
“My God,” Gypsy said with awe.
“My sentiments exactly,” said Gonzago.
There was a loud pounding on the ceiling and they all jumped, startled, except for Makepeace. “All right, Mrs. Pietruskiewicz!” he called out, loudly, toward the ceiling. “We’ll try to keep it down.”
Broom came shuffling in from the kitchen, took one look at the room, and raised its arms up to its head, or at least where its head would have been if it had a head. “Oy! I just cleaned up in here! What is it with you people? You’re al
l meshuggeneh! I’ve had it! You can just clean this up all by yourselves, thank you very much. I quit!”
Tommy Leone sat leaning back in the leather office chair behind the desk in his den, his feet encased in brand-new running shoes and resting on the table, crossed at the ankles. He wore brown velour athletic sweats that had never seen a jogging track or the inside of a gym, something to which his large and overweight frame attested. The zipper on his top was pulled halfway down, revealing a hairy chest, an ornate golden crucifix on an intricately linked chain, and a medallion of the Virgin.
“I want that son of a bitch dead, you understand me?” he said. “I want his head in a fuckin’ box, delivered to that bitch D.A.!”
“We’re working on it real hard, Tommy,” Maldonado said. “Word’s out on the street. We’ve got ten grand on Angel’s head. He won’t be able to hide for long.”
“You’re real generous with my money, Vinnie,” said Leone wryly. “That dough’ll come outta your cut. You brought him in. He was your responsibility. What’s more, you had him and you blew the hit.”
“He had an adept with him that helped him get away,” said Maldonado.
“I don’t wanna hear no excuses. I just want the job done, period. If we lose this shipment on account of this, your next address is gonna be the East River, got me?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” Maldonado assured him. “He may know when the shipment’s coming in, but he doesn’t know where. I’m not that stupid.”
“Stupid enough to think I could’ve been the stoolie, when it was your man Angel all along,” said Joey Battaglia with a sneer.
“You shut your mouth, punk,” Maldonado said, fixing him with a glare. “‘You got no room to talk. It’s a funny thing how your whore and Angel disappeared together, ain’t it?”
“If Blue took off, it’s because Angel warned her you were after her,” said Joey. “She didn’t know anything, and even if she did, she knew well enough to keep her trap shut. You can’t put this off on me, Vinnie. You screwed up.”
“I’ve had about all I’m gonna take outta you,” said Maldonado, stepping toward him, but Franco got between them.
“Leave it alone, Vinnie,” he said. “The kid’s right. You blew it. If you’d simply whacked him instead of running your damn mouth, we wouldn’t be worrying about Angel now.”
“He wants a piece of me, let him come ahead,” said Joey defiantly.
“Enough!” Leone shouted. “I’ve had it with this bullshit. You guys want to wave your dicks around, do it after the job’s done. Once the shipment’s in and Angel’s feeding fish, I don’t give a rat’s ass what the hell you do. But right now, both of you shut the fuck up.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Leone,” Joey said. “You’re the boss.”
Maldonado made a little circle with thumb and forefinger and brought it up to his lips, making little sucking noises.
“Can it, Vinnie,” said Leone. “Jesus, you’re acting like a couple of fuckin’ twelve-year-olds. Now I want to know what’s being done about—”
A sudden burst of fire from a machine pistol interrupted him, and then, just as abruptly, it was cut off.
“What the hell was that?”
“It sounded like it came from down by the gate,” said Franco, moving toward the door and reaching inside his jacket for his piece.
“The rest of you, go see what it is,” Leone said quickly.
The others moved to follow Franco, but as Franco reached the door, it suddenly slammed shut. Franco grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, but the door refused to open.
“What the hell?” he said.
“Open the goddamn door!” Leone said.
“I’m tryin’, but it’s stuck or something,” Franco said.
“Here, let me,” said Joey, reaching for the doorknob.
“I am afraid that no one will be leaving,” Calador said.
The others spun around to see Calador standing behind the wet bar, pouring a drink. Delana was seated at the bar, facing them, her long legs crossed attractively.
“Who the hell are you?” said Joey. “How did you get in here?”
“They’re adepts, you fucking moron,” Maldonado said.
“How perceptive of you,” said Calador sarcastically. He handed the drink to Delana and came out from behind the bar. “But we are much more than mere adepts. Which of you is named Leone?”
“That’ll be me,” said Tommy, getting to his feet behind his desk. “And whoever the hell you are, you’d damn well better have a warrant.”
“A warrant?” Calador asked casually. “A warrant for what?”
“You got a paper with a judge’s signature, I want to see it,” said Leone. “Otherwise, you can get the hell out of here right now.”
“Such insolence will not be tolerated,” Calador said. “On your knees and beg forgiveness.”
“What?” Leone said with disbelief.
“‘I said, on your knees, you fat slug.” Calador’s eyes flared with bright blue light and Leone screamed, clutching at his head as he collapsed to his knees. “I am master here.”
“Fuck you!” Joey Battaglia shouted, shoving Maldonado aside as he raised his semiautomatic and pumped eight 10-mm hollowpoint bullets into the necromancer as fast as he could pull the trigger. The first four struck him squarely in the chest, and as he jerked back, the next two hit him in the throat and mouth. The seventh and eight rounds went right through his skull, sending fragments of bone and brain tissue out in a spray against the wall.
“No!” shouted Delana, and with eyes blazing blue fire, she threw out her arm, fingers extended, toward Battaglia. The bolt of thaumaturgic force she hurled struck Joey in the chest and burned a hole through his torso big enough to throw a basketball through.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” Franco cried out, and he fired his gun at her point-blank. The others followed suit, but they had lost the advantage of surprise and, with it, any hope of survival. They all kept firing until their magazines were empty, but none of the bullets reached her. They were all incinerated in midair as they got to within a foot of her, and it looked as if she were surrounded by a star burst of miniature fireworks. And then there were no bullets left.
Like an enraged bull, Maldonado bellowed and charged her, but her eyes flared as she swept her arm out in a backhanded motion and the big man went flying across the room to crash into the opposite wall, though she had never even touched him. The others panicked and attacked the door, but it refused to open. Heat began to build up rapidly inside the room until the temperature was like that inside a blast furnace. The paneling started to crack and peel away from the wall.
The glass windows exploded and the drapes burst into flame. The men clawed at their throats, vainly trying to breathe in the unbearable heat that seemed to suck the air right out of their lungs. They collapsed to the floor, their skin turning red and blistering, splitting open like the baked earth of a desert in a scorching drought. It all happened in an instant as the room was turned into an inferno of searing heat and then the screaming started as Delana took their souls.
She felt the vibrant force of their life energy flowing through her and she gasped with rapture as she took it in, feeling the strength welling up within her and making every fiber of her body sing. She drew it in the way a man dying of thirst would gulp down cold, refreshing water and she wanted more. It had been so long, so very long, and she was so very hungry.
She turned her attention to Leone, who was cowering back against the wall, eyes rolling in his blackened, cracked, and blistered face with stark terror.
“No,” he whimpered, “please, God, no! Don’t! I’ll do anything you want! Please! Don’t! I’ll do anything, I swear, anything!”
“Then die,” she said, bending over and seizing him by the throat. Her eyes flashed as twin beams of force streamed out of them, burning through Leone’s pupils and deep into his brain. He screamed hoarsely as she drained him and threw his lifeless body down onto the floor.
More men appeared at the far end of the hall and when they saw her, her skin glistening with sweat, her red hair wild, and her eyes blazing with unearthly light, they opened fire. The bullets never reached her. She threw her arm out toward them, fingers splayed, and it was as if she had fired a flamethrower. The wallpaper bubbled and burst into flame as blue fire streamed down the hall toward them, enveloping them, and as they screamed in agony, dropped their guns, and beat helplessly at their flaming hair and clothing, she took them, as well.
She walked down the burning corridor and came into the large living room of the estate. At the far end of the room, Tommy Leone’s wife stood on the stairs in her robe and nightgown, her small daughter behind her, clutching at her hem. She saw the smoke pouring into the living room from the corridor and cried out her husband’s name. Delana came out of the smoke like a wraith, moving toward her.
The swirling vortex appeared over the front lawn of the estate and descended to the ground. When it dissipated, Wyrdrune, Kira, and Angelo stood there, staring at the smoking house. The firemen who were not busy bringing out the bodies gaped at them and backed away.
“We’re too late,” said Angelo. “They’ve already been here.”
Their runestones were still glowing as they picked up the residue of necromancer magic. In the distance, there was the sound of rapidly approaching sirens.
“Something went wrong,” said Wyrdrune as he stared at the fire-blackened house. “They came here to possess Leone. not kill him.”