Crimson Strike

by Peter Bostrom

  The first lady vampire rushed toward me, her hooded cloak whipping around her lengthened frame. I reared back my whip as she sped closer and brought it forward, but at the last moment, she dodged to the side and rolled gracefully onto the ground, easily avoiding the glowing red end of my whip.

  As she leapt back up onto her feet, a lord vampire with a deep maroon shirt under his open coat began running toward me. I swung the whip around my head and let it fly at him, but he, too, dodged the glowing end before it could connect. My whip made a loud cracking noise, but that was all.

  My eyes darted to find Winnifred, who was swinging her sword so quickly to fend off the other lord and lady vampire that she left long, bright streaks of yellow light hanging in the air. And, by the way the thin lord vampire was favoring his right leg, it looked like she’d already done some damage.

  The lady vampire with the hooded cloak lunged at me once more, but when I flicked my whip to the space where she should have landed, she somehow changed directions. I missed again, and this time she was close enough to kick me hard in the side. I thought I felt something crack as a sharp pain exploded within me. I reeled backward, flailing my whip in the air aimlessly to give me a little space.

  Was Winnifred having the same problems I was having fighting these creatures? I looked over to see her pull her sword out of a lady vampire’s stomach before she spun around with blinding speed and sliced through the wide-eyed vampire’s neck. The creature’s head rolled off her thin shoulders and fell to the ground with a dull thump. Winnifred pointed at the other lord vampire—this one with an emerald green silk shirt beneath his leather coat—rotated her hand 180 degrees, and then beckoned him forward with that same finger.

  I guess I really was the only one having problems. Back at the table in the center of the room, the bald vampire was still looking over the scrolls on the table, apparently unconcerned with the two warriors who were there to slay him and his comrades. Because of the way he was holding himself at the table and his lack of concern for the battle, he had to be a high-ranking officer to the heavily-armored vampire we’d seen earlier.

  I turned my attention back to my opponents and tried a different strategy—I was going to need to bring them to me.

  So I summoned the electric guitar and drumbeats of the orange stone, and imagined two golden lassos flying from my gloved hand. In my mind’s eye, they shot through the air and landed around the vampires’ shoulders, but when I yanked on the lassos to pull them toward me, their yellow gems glowed brightly. The edges of the vampires’ figures blurred again, and as they did, the images of the lassos unraveled in my mind.

  The lady and lord vampires looked at each other, lips curled, and then darted toward me. All I could think was, Hera save me.

  At the last moment, I swung my whip and sent the two attacking vampires in different directions. Dammit—had they somehow used their yellow stones to transform themselves to effect the way my stone interacted with them?

  Earlier, it appeared as though the vampires had only used their yellow philosopher’s stones to change the bodies of others—like changing civilians into werewolves. But seeing the way they used their gems to transform their own bodies got me thinking. Instead of using my stone to pull other things toward me, what if I pulled myself toward them?

  Once again, I brought to mind the orange stone’s beat-heavy music. I imagined another golden lasso, but this time, it was tied to the lady vampire’s hand and the looped end swung quickly over her head before it shot toward me and fell over my shoulders.The vampire’s eyebrows knitted together and she tilted her head, but in another instant, the lasso grew tight and I was snapped toward her, my feet skidding across the smooth artificial marble floor.

  I quickly reached back and let my whip fly. She tried jumping out of the way and to the right, but my direction immediately changed to match hers as my glowing whip struck her squarely in the center of her collarbone, obliterating everything from the neck up.

  My momentum carried me forward so that I stumbled over the lady vampire’s corpse and barely managed to regain my balance.

  “Winnifred?” I asked between heaving breaths.

  I looked back to Winnifred and saw her, sword raised, standing over the other lord vampire with a wicked grin on her face.

  “Just a moment,” she said in an eerily calm voice.

  A violent hiss from the remaining vampire I was fighting snapped my attention back to the present situation and my eyes fell once again upon his vulture necklace with its yellow gem. Using the stones’ power on myself a moment ago had opened up exciting new possibilities. When the maroon-shirted lord vampire leapt into the air and sailed toward me, I wondered if I could use the purple gem’s power to push myself up off the ground. Would that work?

  I quickly pictured a pinkish-purple crystal in the center of my chest and, using the ground as my point of reference, I pushed up against my center. Immediately, I went flying into the air, but miscalculated and overshot the vampire.

  However, as I flew behind him, I quickly twisted myself around and lashed my whip at him. Unable to change his trajectory, the vampire scrambled in midair as the length of my whip wrapped around his ankle.

  I pulled back on the whip as he fell, altering his path and bringing him up short of where he had intended to land. Winnifred was already on her way over and took advantage of my destabilizing the lord vampire. She leapt forward, swinging her glowing sword in a long arc upward. It connected with the vampire’s head, splitting it up the middle with a sickening sizzling sound. When the three of us landed on the ground, only Winnifred and I were still alive.

  A deep, raspy laugh sounded from the other side of the room, and we spun to see the bald-headed vampire, still standing at the head of the long metal table. Since I was pretty sure the guy I’d seen earlier with the flat top haircut, giant wing-shaped cape, and dragon patterns on his armor was the Red Dragon that Winnifred had mentioned, this bald, ugly fellow had to be the Dragon’s Tail. I wouldn’t date the guy, but I guess that means there’s someone for everyone, right?

  He was fingering his vulture pendant with long-nailed, spindly fingers. The yellow gem in its center glowed intensely and his form became blurry before materializing into a bald, cat-sized bat with crooked teeth. Damn, if it wasn’t the ugliest thing I’d ever seen.

  The bat darted from place to place around the room, making it impossible to use my glowing whip against him. So, instead, I raised my hand and began imagining different objects in the hopes that something could catch that vampire.

  I tried picturing a large net and dragged it across the room, but when the focused power of my stone came close enough, the yellow gem around the bat’s neck flared to life and he changed into a thick mist momentarily, before changing back into a bat.

  After these infuriating attempts, my orange philosopher’s stone didn’t seem to be much help against this final vampire.

  Out of frustration, I tried bringing to mind the sinister, booming marching tune of my Power Glove’s red stone. Once again, a loud sound of static filled my head when I tried using it, but as I tried desperately to summon the trumpets and trombones, I began to hear snippets of the song.

  There was a quick burst of brilliant red energy that shot from the palm of my outstretched glove, missing the ugly-as-hell bat and striking the wall at the far end of the room with a rumble.

  I’d almost hit the leathery-winged bastard!

  I strained my mind to get past the static and again found a few strains of the marching music. I fired another short burst of red, which sailed past the bat and hit the wall with another rumble, this time knocking down several of the hanging images.

  Dark veins of cracks began to climb up the sides of the wall, but those didn’t matter right now—I had to kill this damn bald-headed vampire.

  The bat swooped away from us, toward the top of the far wall, where it wheeled around. Then, letting out an ear-splitting shriek, it dove straight toward us.

  I mana
ged to find another snippet of the sinister marching song amid the static in my mind and let loose a desperate burst of red energy.

  The bat twirled away, but the force of the blast somehow affected his flight and he faltered in the air, his leathery wings flapping furiously to regain his balance. The red bolt hit the top of the far wall with a rumble and sent several dark cracks racing along the seam between the wall and ceiling.

  Having steadied himself, the horrifically ugly bat hung in the air above me, his unblinking beady eyes fixed on mine. This was it—him or me this time.

  As I fought through the static to summon one last, bright red bolt, there came a deeper rumbling, one that shook the entire building.

  In another moment, there was a loud cracking noise as the room’s massive far wall broke from the rest of the building and began to topple toward us.

  34

  WINNIFRED STOOD STARING at the enormous falling wall, paralyzed. At first, it looked like the wall was coming down in slow motion, but now it was falling faster—much faster. I sprinted toward my frozen companion and frantically tried to find some way to keep the both of us alive.

  The first thing that came to mind was a clunky old medieval suit of armor, which I imagined forming around me as I sounded the heroic, brassy music of the purple stone in my mind.

  At the last moment, I dove and tackled Winnifred to the ground, shielding her with my body.

  The ground shook upon impact and I could feel the tremendous weight of the wall pressing down all around me. Winnifred coughed beneath me.

  “Hold on,” I said.

  Still holding the image of the medieval armor in my mind, I raised the volume of the heroic music I’d been sounding and pictured the armor instantly swelling to five times its original size. The ground rumbled again, but this time it was a good thing. The large pieces of wall directly above me rose and fell backward and the space around us quickly expanded, pushing away broken sections of wall.

  As I jumped to my feet and tried to get my bearings, I looked to the far end of the room and was blinded temporarily by a bright red light. Covering my eyes, I turned away from the glow, and as my vision returned, I frantically looked around us for the bald, ugly bat. Just a few meters away, I saw a corner of leathery wing hanging limply between two jagged pieces of broken wall.

  I put out a hand and helped Winnifred up from the ground. She held my deactivated rod-sword in one hand, which she dusted off briskly with her other one. Then she peeked around my shoulder, squinting against the red light.

  “There he is,” she said. “The Red Dragon.”

  I turned once more and shielded my eyes against the light, looking around the room until my eyes adjusted. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling where the pillar of light had punched through. Miraculously, the rest of the ceiling was still intact.

  The side walls of the room were painted with row upon row of alternating light and dark waves, and at the far end of the room was an enormous mural of a seashell throne, upon which sat a long-haired and bearded merman with a pebbly tiara and holding a shining trident across his torso—which, from my position, looked like it had a bit of a gut. This had to be either Triton, King of the Sea, or some sort of maritime Santa.

  Directly beneath this mural was a single, large seat atop a raised platform. Two large podiums on either side of the room faced the large seat from the floor and next to each of these was a short bench with wide-backed seats. This was clearly the main courtroom.

  When the light coming from the far end of the room became less painful, I finally looked down and laid eyes on its source. It was a small, brightly-glowing sphere about a meter in diameter with swirling shades of red. It floated a couple of meters above the ground, and there was a crouching, flat-topped figure silhouetted against the sphere, his hands moving in intricate patterns around it.

  “Do you think he knows we’re here?” I asked Winnifred.

  As if in response, one of the man’s hands snapped back toward us. Winnifred leapt forward, activating the sword as she swung it. A split-second later, there was a flash and I heard a metallic clang as a small, triangular object ricocheted away from us.

  “Oh, he knows,” Winifred said, her face somehow even more serious in the sphere’s red light. “Arrogant bastard.”

  We picked our way over the slabs of broken wall, which shifted and slid under our feet. We were making a lot of noise, which meant the Red Dragon would know where we were at all times. Not the greatest strategy, but I couldn’t see another option.

  We finally stepped from the rubble onto the courtroom’s black and white checkered floor. As soon as our boots began clicking against the polished, artificial marble, the caped figure’s hands froze in midair. He turned, his dark glasses glinting with reflected light from the orb. The swirling maroon dragon patterns on his charcoal armor shone in the sphere’s light and his broad chest was highlighted by a yellow stone in its center. The stiff crimson shapes on his back both rose to a point over each shoulder, which ended in tiny black claws. It was a pretty badass cape. Or, at least, I hoped it was a cape—and not functioning dragon wings.

  “How dare you interrupt me?” His low voice boomed.

  I held my head high and tried sounding as confident as he looked. “On behalf of the United Federation of Sol, I order you to surrender.”

  His lips curved into a grin. “There will be no surrender,” he said loudly. “There will only be death.”

  If I’d been in a classic vid, this would be the part where my dramatic theme music would play. Instead, all I heard was the slow, humming throb of the swirling red sphere.

  “Then may it be yours!” Winnifred yelled as she charged the armored man.

  My eyes grew wide. “Winnifred, wait!”

  My heart pounded as I raced forward to join her. Was this what it felt like to my crew when I’d run off by myself into battle? Maybe I really did need to ratchet back on the whole running directly into danger thing.

  She activated the sword as she ran straight toward the Red Dragon, yelling fiercely. The man didn’t budge. She kept speeding forward, reared back for a mighty blow, and swung for his chest. At the very last moment, the man gathered his cape and pulled it in front of him. Bright yellow sparks flew as Winnifred’s sword glanced off of his crimson shield. She swung once more on the opposite side, but he simply whipped the other end of his cape around and also stopped this second, fiercer blow in a shower of sparks.

  However, instead of simply deflecting her last sword stroke, he somehow managed to wrap his cape around the sword. Winnifred gritted her teeth as she tried to pull it free. It sputtered and sparked as he twisted the blade, its dancing yellow light illuminating his deep brown face, pitch black goatee, and fanged teeth peeking out from behind his snarl. Or was it a smile?

  I activated my whip as I ran, and it hissed as it slithered against the polished floor. In another couple of strides, I was only a few meters away. I pulled my whip back, but with Winnifred constantly shifting her position, I couldn’t get a clear shot at the Red Dragon.

  Finally, she yanked the sword free—or did he release it?—and she staggered backward, giving me the opening I needed. I swung my arm and sent the whip hurtling toward the Red Dragon’s flat-top. He raised his cape protectively, and when my glowing red whip connected with its crimson surface, sparks erupted. At the same time that I retracted my whip, he brought down his cape and revealed a triangular piece of metal pinched between his fingers. He flung it at me with a quick flick of his wrist and I dove out of the way, my whip trailing me on the checkered floor. There was a sharp thunk behind me, and I looked to see the sharp metal projectile sticking out of the prosecutor’s podium. Sweet Aslan! That was a close one.

  Once again, Winnifred charged forward, this time swinging the yellow glowing sword above her head. The Red Dragon caught the blow with his cape-covered right forearm and sent it sliding off to the side. While the sword was still sparking and skittering, the Red Dragon sent a forceful, charcoal-co
lored boot into her stomach. Winnifred let out a gasp of air and collapsed to the ground, sword still in hand.

  As he brought his other leg around, I saw the boot had razor-sharp claw-like spikes on the toe. Winnifred was sucking in air, unable to move as the spiked boot shot toward her.

  “No!” I yelled as I ran forward, helpless to stop him.

  At the last moment, the Red Dragon turned his boot slightly and struck her head with its side, rather than its clawed front. She was knocked sideways, but not nearly as hard as she could have been. He was definitely pulling his punches—er, kicks—with her. Maybe vampire etiquette specified not using boots to puncture a beautiful woman.

  But the Red Dragon quickly readied himself to kick again. At the same time, I pulled back to lash out with my whip and let it fly, but I knew I was too late. At the last moment, however, Winnifred brought up her sword. The glowing blade struck the end of his boot and severed its spikes, which clanged as they hit the ground.

  At the same time, my whip struck the back of his cape, but because he wasn’t prepared for it, the force of the blow sent him sprawling forward onto the ground, knocking loose his dark glasses in the process. Winnifred scrambled to her feet, sword raised, and leapt back to my side.

  “You okay?” I said.

  “Of course,” she said, rubbing the side of her head. “Just getting into the fighting spirit.”

  She grinned and looked at me with those stunning eyes. I’d never met anyone like her before—not even Kayla Polidori—and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t ever again. And no matter what happened here, I decided I would die before I let anyone hurt her.

  A loud hiss snapped me out of my thoughts. The Red Dragon rose slowly from the ground and turned around with a dramatic flourish of his cape. He took a single step forward, planting his foot firmly on the polished courtroom floor. Then he stuck his chest out, and as he did so, the yellow stone at the center of his breastplate began to glow brightly, turning the room momentarily from red to orange. His eyes flared red and he bared his fangs, which were now much larger—and somehow, so was his mouth. He flung his arms down to his side and his fingers suddenly grew into long claws.