Saint Heist

by W H Lock

  Quinn immediately froze and said, "I'm sorry. It's just, you know,..." he gestured at the air.

  Oswyn laughed and said, "Just relax. You've done this how many times now?"

  "I don't know? A bunch, I guess?"

  "When why the nerves, dear boy? This should be old hat for you."

  Quinn sighed and said, "I guess it's because it's all really coming together? I mean, we're going to be able to make a lot of money out of this. I came out to LA because it was a Free City. If this goes the way that I think it will, I'll be able to get married!"

  Oswyn smirked and quirked an eyebrow at Quinn. "You have a lady waiting back home for you, do you?"

  Quinn nodded. Quinn looked out of the window, his eyes going misty as he looked far away, "Her parents strictly forbid her having anything to do with me, of course. They have been a magical family for several generations, and, well, I'm the first in my family..."

  "They always do, my boy. They always do. And, if I may hazard a guess, you also didn't have enough money to suit their tastes?"

  Quinn looked down at the ground and nodded. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

  He looked up and said, "But now, when this all comes together, I'll have more than enough to buy their approval. I'll be the one in charge!"

  "That's the spirit, my boy! Once we get this business all sorted out, I saw we take you shopping for a proper suit. A man needs a suit. And, frankly, the one you are currently wearing makes you look like a civil servant. It just won't do, my boy! It just won't. But first," Oswyn reached across the car and opened the door. The car glided to a stop just in front of Drummonds. "Do be a dear and make a deposit for us, won't you?"

  Quinn scooped up the bag and jumped out of the car. He marched up to the front door, dispelling the illusion around the bag. The bank alarms would be tripped if he walked in with the enchanted bag.

  Quinn pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had several messages from Karen and Rube. Rube, Eno, and Freddy had cleaned out the store. Karen had scrubbed the wards from the place. Any trace of the enchantments should fade within a few hours. She'd also had a chance to look at the bag.

  "May I help you, sir?" a young woman appeared at Quinn's elbow.

  "Yes," he said. "I have a harp on deposit here. I need to withdraw it."

  Behind Quinn's back, Oscar got up and walked out of the bank.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Quinn pushed the wheeled hard case out in front of him as he walked out of the bank. He'd always liked Drummonds. It was maybe a bit too fancy for most people, but he really appreciated the full service the bank staff offered. They'd even offered to call him a cab to make sure he got home safely. That's not the sort of service you'd expect anywhere, especially from a bank.

  He walked down the curb, harp case rolling along in hand. He didn't have to wait long before Rube pulled up. The young map popped the trunk open for Quinn. Together they wrestled the case into the car. Quinn hopped in the back, where Karen was putting the finishing touches to a token.

  "He was using an application of the Ritual of Impetu in conjunction with the Third Tier of Telekinesis to control you at the store. That he was gestureless is," she shrugged her shoulders and made a face.

  "Is what?" Quinn said with real panic in his voice.

  "Problematic. Normally this would make you immune to the Ritual and slippery to Telekinesis, but..."

  "But? I don't like the sounds of But, Karen. What's but?"

  "But he'll still be able to hold you. He’s just too strong. And it will still be painful. But when he's not directly focused on you, you should be able to slip out." Karen said as she put the simple twin necklace with baked clay amulet at the end around Quinn's neck. "I had to rush the amulet and the casting, so I don't know how long this will last."

  Quinn looked down at the clay amulet as he tucked it under his shirt. "How will I be able to tell when it's done?"

  "It'll crumble to dust. Oh, and he'll be able to lock you up again."

  "And then what?"

  "Well, to quote my Third Year Rituals professor, you'll need to seek alternate solutions."

  "Great. Anyone heard from Oscar?"

  There was only silence to answer Quinn's question.

  "Fantastic. Well, let's hope he's in position by now," Quinn said.

  "That skull is a real piece of art," Karen said in a rush.

  "Really?"

  She nodded and said, "Once this is triggered, remotely mind you which is supposed to be impossible, it paralyzes whoever is in the room and uses them as the ground. Then transmits the Ley energy to a paired element, likely the battery he's got in his house. Then it burns itself out. Erasing any trace of the connection and route. Which means with the conveniently placed bodies, anyone investigating will assume that the tap went wrong and fried whoever that corpse is. It's impressive."

  "Meh," Quinn said.

  "What do you mean meh? That's amazing!"

  "It lacks elegance. It's not sexy. It's effective, yeah. But...," Quinn shrugged and look out the window at the passing traffic. "No one is going to look at that and say 'Wow!' They're going to find that and say 'Whoa' but like in the same way they'd say it if they found a serial killer's trophy room."

  "Whatever, it's an impressive piece of craft," Karen said defensively.

  Quinn nodded not so much to agree with her but more not to hurt her feelings. After a few moments, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Now for the really dangerous part,” he said.

  Quinn placed a call to a Dragon in Cleveland.

  Chapter Thirty

  Quinn smiled as the guard stepped out of the small shack-like building that sat in front of the wrought iron gates of Oswyn's estate. The guard was dressed in a nice suit, sunglasses, and shaved his head to try and look more intimidating. This close to the wards Quinn could feel their power pushing against his skin.

  "Hi! I believe your boss is expecting me?" Quinn said, letting his natural nervousness come out. He pulled the harp case out in front of him and shook it a bit. "I'm the guy from the bank? Or store, maybe? I have a store, and we had an appointment. You see--"

  Quinn stopped when the bald guard held his hand up. He talked into his sleeve for a moment and nodded as someone responded. Behind him, the gate moved of its own accord. It opened with the screaming protest of metal that preferred to remain the way it was rather than moving. Once the gate had dragged itself open like the gaping maw of some hellish beast, the guard pointed to the back of a waiting golf cart. He didn't wait for Quinn to start moving before jumping into the front and start the cart up.

  Quinn had to run to jump on to the back and pull the case along with him. Quinn normally really liked expensive topiary and estate gardening. He found it charming. But somehow Oswyn Norbridge had managed to create a dark and forbidding forest in sunny southern California out of palm and scrub oak trees. There wasn't anything delightful to be found in the looming woods.

  As they passed through the gate, Quinn felt the wards physically push against him and then suddenly swallow him up. It was if he had pushed through a layer of gelatin. First, it resisted him and then sucked him in and encased Quinn in its all-encompassing embrace.

  The golf cart followed the winding estate road, things rustled in the bushes and tracked along with the two men. Inky shapes in the trees twisted and flowed through the branches to keep pace with the cart. Something that sounded like a human child cried in pain out in the darkness and then was suddenly silenced.

  Quinn was beginning to regret having agreed to take this job.

  Karen had been wrong about one thing about Oswyn's house. It wasn't inspired by Aztec temples; it was an Aztec temple that someone lived in. While the central building didn't rise up from a jungle, this two-storied tiered pyramid of carved stone dominated the area in the exact same ways as the ancient temples had in Central Mexico.

  The bald guard pulled into a smaller interior courtyard. It was sealed off from the rest of the estate by a waist-high ca
rved stone wall. Quinn didn't want to look at the wall for fear of seeing something really gross.

  "Hey, Pal," Quinn said from the back. "You ever think about getting that Japanese girl from the Ring? She'd fit in around here just fine."

  The guard didn't respond. He pulled to a stop, looked at Quinn and pointed at the massive double doors. The doors weren't any better than the rest of the compound. They were too tall by half, too wide, and covered in carvings that Quinn was pretty sure would look back at him if he stared. Of course, the door clicked and swung open of its own accord just as Quinn raised his hand to knock.

  "Taking it to that extra creepy level. Good job," Quinn muttered to himself as he walked in the house. The harp case rattled as he rolled it over the threshold.

  "Why don't you join us in the back room, my boy? Just follow the lighted path." Oswyn's warm baritone filled the air.

  The inside of the house was less dedicated to the Aztec murder temple compound than the exterior had been. While the walls were still made of carved stone, the carvings had changed to simple geometric shapes. It was furnished in the style of an English Gentleman bachelor; lots of small tables tucked up against the wall, low-light sconces tastefully lit the halls, and comfortable leather furniture made the occasional appearance. Quinn stayed in the lighted hallways as he made his way through the house. The last thing he needed to do right now was battle some horror from beyond in a dark corridor.

  Quinn found Oswyn easily enough in the large screened-in sunken patio. The patio area was three steps down from the floor level of the house. A knee-high wall ran around the edge of the small pit. Black screens covered the space between where the wall ended, and the roof began. At the center of the roof was a circular hole that opened to the darkening sky. There was a matching circular pedestal of the same carved rock that the house had been built with directly beneath the hole. The center of the pedestal was filled with onyx rocks surrounding a fuel-less fire.

  One of the two walls the patio shared with the house was filled with the glass display case. Just like their video recording had shown, the cabinet was filled with curios and ritual objects. Even with the sheer overwhelming presence of the outer wards, Quinn could feel the power of the artifacts in the case vibrating from where he stood. The silver lines of wards crawled along the edges of his vision.

  "I'd say let's take a look at what you've brought us, dear boy, but I think we both know it doesn't matter, does it?" Oswyn said from across the room. He held a glass of what Quinn hoped was red wine.

  "What do you mean?" Quinn said, playing the innocent. "I got this amazing harp. I think it's Gaelic or something. It's really old." Quinn opened the case. He pulled out the inlaid wooden Celtic Harp. It glowed with an almost inner beauty. It was a harp built by a master craftsman. The strings were held in place by an elegant sweeping arm. Anyone looking at the harp could almost hear the strummed songs of bards across the centuries. Quinn closed the case, pushed it up against the display case wall, and set the harp on top of the case. "It looks pretty good there, huh?"

  "Uh, you're spoiling this delightful vintage with that treacle, boy. Stop it this instant. You see, you compatriot approached me shortly after our initial meeting." Oswyn said, stirring his wine with a finger. He nodded to a spot along the wall away from Quinn.

  A hidden door opened and out stepped Oscar. The other man sneered in recognition when he saw Quinn. Quinn responded with a disappointed shake of his head. How long had they been friends and worked together?

  "Now, I must confess something here. When I had originally discovered your little arrangement, I had thought to use you both as a red herring for the authorities to find. And then, after my rather educational meeting with young Oscar over here, I decided to take him on as a sort of apprentice. Instead of the both of you as a sacrifice to drive the tap, it's just you."

  "Nice," Quinn said. "Do you get thirty pieces of silver a month with the position or is that just your sign-on bonus?"

  Oscar responded by taking off his trench coat, and brown sports coat. He loosened his cheap polyester blend tie and rolled up the sleeves of his cotton blend shirt. "Let's not make this any worse than it has to be, buddy. This isn't personal. You know you'd do the same thing in my position if you could."

  Quinn didn't respond. He took off his sports coat and tie. He tossed them over the top of a nearby couch. He rolled up his sleeves.

  "How delightful!" Oswyn said, genuine delight coloring the baritone of his voice. "In fact, the skull you had sought to steal from me is in that case next to you. It's the one in the middle."

  Quinn didn't turn around to look. He didn't take his eyes off of Oscar.

  "Not as fanciful as the one I gave you, but that's Catholic Saints for you. Just Plain Jane all around, you see. Now, where was I?" Oswyn took a drink as if somehow drinking the wine could restore his memory.

  Quinn shrugged. He wasn't in a hurry to get to the painful part. Oswyn would probably expect him to bolt back into the house, but Quinn wondered if anything could stop him from going through the screens of the patio.

  "Oh, yes! My plan. Well, as I was saying, boys, I had thought to just sacrifice one of you and take Oscar here on as a sort of apprentice or assistant. Something along those lines, you know. But." Oswyn held up his finger and shook it in thought. "But the cab ride we shared the other day, my dear Quinn. I found myself rather liking the cut of your jib, young man!"

  "Lucky me," Quinn said. He edged to the side, trying to get a little closer to the screens.

  "Indeed! I was stunned by the sheer gumption it took to sit in the car with me and talk about how you were doing this all for love! And a love that could never be! Ah, how tragic. It was wonderful, I truly enjoyed our ride together. And I have decided, here and now, that I am altering my plan one more time. You see, I can't just throw talent like that away! No! So, here is what I propose. The two of you fight to the death. The winner becomes my apprentice, and the other, well, we know what happens to that one, don't we?"

  Quinn and Oscar looked at each other and then at Oswyn. In unison, they said, "What?"

  This hadn't been a part of Quinn's plan at all.

  Oswyn poured himself another glass of very thick red wine and said, "If you will pardon the expression, Chop Chop, boys. Time is a-ticking."

  Quinn stepped back and quickly summoned a Wind Blade. The nearly invisible weapon coalesced from the air. The air whipped and swirled around Quinn, outlining the empty space where the blade was in this world. While Quinn was especially gifted in the Illusion spells, he had a few battle spells up his sleeve. He wasn't going to make it easy for anyone to take him down.

  Oswyn sputtered out wine when he caught sight of Quinn's summoning. He said, "Now where on Earth did you learn Fae Magick, boy?"

  "You'll find I'm full of surprises," Quinn said through gritted teeth. He summoned a Shield of Asmodai. Under the direction of his will and hands, the air was cut and oozed a dark red energy. The Shield immediately separated into three section. At Quinn's direction, the demonic shields set to dancing around his body. They would block most physical attacks from weapons or fire.

  "Indeed," Oswyn said. "Fae and Demonic magicks? You are a delight, my boy."

  Oscar drew the more customary geometric fire patterns in the air and snapped two small swords made of fire into existence, one for each hand. Shields unfolded around him like origami made of lines of fire.

  Oswyn clapped his hands once, a sound that rang throughout the patio with supernatural force. There was a moment of silence, and then he shouted, "Fight!"

  Quinn immediately summoned a Circle of Dyblygu. The circle duplicated his image faithfully. The false Quinn split in two again and ran forward. Each Image splitting again until there were a half a dozen Quinn's in the patio holding their Wind Blades aloft. Quinn added a Rune of Anweledig to turn himself invisible. He directed the copies of himself with his free hand and started to slide over to the display case with the skull in it.

  Oscar wasted
no time and charged forward at two of the nearest Quinn copies. He ducked under one clumsy swing and came up with one of his fire swords driving it through an illusionary torso. The fake Quinn screamed realistically and then disappeared in a column of fire. With the other sword, Oscar pointed at the fire burning in the center of the room and shouted a complex phrase in Latin.

  "Where are you, Quinn?" Oscar shouted. He held his fire swords up, keeping the fake Quinn's at bay. "I know none of these are you, you little bitch!"

  Quinn didn't speak Latin, but he was pretty sure he'd heard the words for tornado. He stopped closing in on the Skull and let his own Wind Blade go. He wasn't able to credibly hold the illusion of so many versions of himself and keep the Wind Blade in this world. One of them was running in place up to its knees in the patio floor. He needed to focus.

  The fire in the pit flared higher and spun faster and faster. Yeah, Quinn had been right. Oscar was summoning a fire tornado. Quinn set his doppelgangers to moving around the room. They darted in and out trying to strike at Oscar and avoid his fiery blades. Quinn quickly summoned another Circle, this time it was his personal a Circle of Cerddoriaeth. The musical circle pulsed in response to Quinn's heightened state and immediately started playing raucous music with a heavy guitar riff. The exact song perfect for a fight. Except that Quinn had forgotten to make sure it wasn't visible. The new Circle immediately betrayed Quinn's position.

  Oscar destroyed two more imitations and pointed at the aquamarine circle near Quinn. The fiery tornado jumped off the pedestal and spun its way directly at Quinn.

  "Shit!" Quinn shouted.

  "You've wasted your life, Quinn!" Oscar shouted, stalking along behind his fire tornado. "You may as well make your death count towards something."

  Behind it all Oswyn laughed and watched.