Saint Heist

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Saint Heist Page 14

by W H Lock


  Quinn summoned his Wind Blade again, the air around him whipping his clothing and hair about in all directions as the formless weapon came into existence. Wind Blades were fairy weapons, capable of cutting through just about anything without much effort. Quinn wasn't sure how useful the blade would be against a tornado made of fire. He directed the fake Quinns to charge at Oscar as he dodged away from the flaming column of swirling destruction.

  As he dodged away from the tornado, skipping to the beat of the song, Quinn discovered that sections of the mostly bare patio had caught fire. The wooden beams embedded in the ceiling and parts of the columns that held the roof up were already on fire. As the tornado approached Quinn's magical winds from the blade, it flared out of control. Fire burst from the tightly controlled spinning column of flames and sucked the oxygen in from around Quinn. The Wind blade responded by feeding even more wind into it.

  Oscar shredded the last of Quinn's imitations with his twin blades. He had been born in a cabal of wizards trying to create a breed of magically superior people. Oscar had been trained from birth in various forms of magic, including the martial forms. But he had turned his back on it all to seek his own way in the world. Fighting for his life would be like home for him.

  "You're weak, Quinn! You were born weak, that's why your parents gave you up," Oscar said. He pointed at the area where Quinn was standing, able to decipher his location from the whipping winds and following tornado of fire.

  "You know, that hurts coming from a guy who was created in a test tube by a bunch of magic Nazis." Quinn dropped his invisibility and charged Oscar with a scream. Oscar caught Quinn's massive overhand sweep of the two-handed Wind blade with his crossed swords of fire. They drove at each other, each trying to gain the upper hand as their blades crossed again and again. The fire tornado closed in on them, consuming the small tables and rugs placed about the room in its pursuit of Quinn.

  Quinn dodged back, jumping behind the tornado to gain a moment. As he ran, he summoned a Circle of Egni Rhwymo with a Sigil of Dringo on the ground in front of him. The circle flared and disappeared as he ran through it. With a flip, Quinn landed on the wall and ran along it. It was as if gravity had changed for him but not the rest of the world. Oscar was far better than he was with swords. Quinn hadn't managed to land a single blow on Oscar. But Quinn was covered in welts and burns from where Oscar had landed touches. This was not going well. He needed to change things up.

  Oscar charged forward, dispelling the burning column just as he jumped at Quinn. Quinn brought his sword up in time to block the double strike from Oscar. Oscar bore down on him, driving Quinn closer to the wall. Quinn rolled with Oscar's forceful attack and ran to the ceiling.

  Oscar chanted and gestured at the air in front of him. Several small star patterns formed. Oscar ran across them as if he were skipping on stones across a creek. As he jumped from the last one, the world reoriented for him as well, and he landed on the ceiling facing Quinn.

  Below them, Oswyn laughed with delight and opened another bottle of wine. Once again, the two men clashed. Oscar's smaller swords moved fast, slicing in and around Quinn. Quinn used his longer sword's reach to keep the distance between them. The remaining power in his Asmodai Shields absorbed blows from Oscar's summoned blades.

  "I am running out of ways to make you look good, Quinn," Oscar said as he leaned in over their blades.

  "Oh, you were trying to make me look good? I thought I was carrying this whole show by myself," Quinn said with a grin.

  Just then their ears rang as if they had been inside a giant soap bubble that had suddenly burst. The air of the outside world rushed into Oswyn's compound. Alarms throughout the building went off then fell silent as the power died. The only sound was the burning patio and the rustling leaves outside.

  Then a shadow passed over the central hole of the patio and landed with a heavy thump on the building. Quinn and Oscar staggered with the impact. Oswyn stared up at the sky with a stunned look on his face. Something slammed against the top of the building where Oscar and Quinn now stood. The magic encircling their feet flared briefly and then winked out of existence. The two men fell to the ground.

  Then with a trumpeting roar that echoed off the surrounding California hillsides, Wyn Driag, the White Dragon of Cleveland announced his presence. The dragon ripped the roof off the patio and looked in on the humans beneath him. It was at this moment that Quinn thought that luring a dragon to this location was a bad idea.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Wyn Driag, the White Dragon of Cleveland glared into the hole he'd ripped in the patio roof. Unlike the drawings of him from Medieval Wales, Wyn Driag did not have four legs and a set of wings. Rather, he was built more like a bat with hind and forelegs, but the forelegs had leathery membrane stretched between them. The large central wing joint had three hooked claws extending forward.

  From the outside, there was the sound of gunfire. Sparks flew from the dragons white scales where the bullets impacted. The dragon grabbed another section of the roof with his claws and ripped it free. Rearing up on his hind legs, the dragon threw it down the estate road to crush the incoming matte black SUV.

  At that moment, Oswyn regained his sense and began casting. He moved and gestured with precision while he chanted words that only Oswyn understood. Lines of bone white fire coalesced in the air and along the ground around Oswyn.

  "How dare you, you filthy beast! This is my home, and I will not countenance this intrusion." Oswyn shot his right hand out, shaped into a grasping claw. He braced his arm by grabbing his wrist with his left hand.

  The dragon reared back, clutching at its throat as if some great force was grabbing and chocking him. Oswyn laughed in delight at the great wyrm's obvious pain. Oswyn let go with his left hand and sliced at the air with it as if his other hand was a knife. White light formed in the air behind the passing of Oswyn’s hand. Beams shot from the arc. The hard-edged light sliced the scales of the dragon. The beams faded from the world like flash burns in the eyes. The dragon roared again and again, wincing in time with each slashing gesture from Oswyn.

  Oscar stepped back from Quinn and dismissed his fire swords. With a nod to Quinn, he turned and ran back into the dark house.

  Quinn slunk around to move out of Oswyn's line of site. He reached into his shirt and grabbed the clay amulet that Karen had made for him. It was warm to the touch, and the edges were crumbling. Quinn wasn't sure if that meant the magic was running out or if the quickly made item was just falling apart. In either case, he didn't have much time. Once Quinn was sure that Oswyn's attention was fully on the dragon, he ran for the case he'd left in the center of the room. It had been untouched by the fire and wind storm that had raged through the patio.

  Quinn turned around at the sound of more bricks being ripped from the ground. The dragon snapped his jaws, crushing a shadowed creature in half. He shook his massive head as if he was clearing a nasty taste from his mouth. The dragon was a beacon of cold white light as every scale glowed with power. Oswyn staggered back, his right arm dangling at his side and his left covered in blood. Off in the distance, Quinn could hear sirens.

  Quinn pulled the amulet Karen had made out of his shirt, the last of it crumbling away in his hands. He stood up and began to frantically wave his arms in the air, "Hey! Hey! Hey!" he shouted.

  Both Oswyn and the dragon turned to look at Quinn with a snarl. The dragon's ice blue eyes focused on Quinn in recognition. Quinn stepped to the side, revealing the harp in front of the display case behind him. Oswyn cocked his head in surprise and puzzlement.

  The great beast moved forward, snapping shadowy chains that had tried to bind him to the earth. What could shadows do to a dragon, after all? Oswyn shouted and started casting a massive spell, the geometric lines of bone white magic formed around him, spreading out in a dizzying pattern that folded in on itself before expanding out again and again.

  The Dragon turned back to Oswyn, and much like a cat tired of playing with its pr
ey, Wyn pounced on Oswyn. The Dragon drove both of its clawed hands down on top of Oswyn, crushing him beneath the weight of the massive monster. The ground around the dark magician cratered, forming a bowl of cracked concrete. Driag pivoted on his front paws, grinding Oswyn further into the ground. Its great head snaked forward and turned to snapped shut in front of Quinn's head.

  The only thing separating Quinn and being a dragon snack was a calculating look in Driag's eyes. Quinn looked down at the ground and inched further away from the Celtic harp in the case behind him. The dragon stepped forward and turned his head to look down the hallway that led back into the house. He sucked air in through his nose. Quinn threw himself to the ground as the dragon unleashed a torrent of white-hot fire from deep within its body. Quinn wasn't sure if the roar was from the air being burned by the rushing flames or if it came from within the dragon as well.

  Somewhere inside the house, something screamed and then exploded.

  Driag turned back to look at Quinn as it delicately plucked the harp from the case with its jaws. It turned quickly, surprisingly supple and fast for a massive beast. With only a step and a flap of its great wings, the White Dragon of Cleveland took to the air, carrying the small Celtic harp as it flew off into the night.

  Silence filled the space where the dragon had been. Not even the roaring house fire was enough to replace the great beast. As Quinn's ears adjusted to the new normal, he could hear sirens in the distance coming closer. It wouldn't be too long before the local cops, and fire department arrived on scene. And once they found what Oswyn had going on here, the Feds would be along shortly after. Quinn still had a few things left to do.

  Impossibly, someone groaned from the bottom of the small crater that Driag had made with Oswyn's body. Oswyn groaned again. Quinn watched in disbelief as the dark magician slowly pulled himself out of the hole. His body was clearly broken in many places. Blood was leaking from every orifice in his head. His eyes were mostly wide and white as he pulled himself up over the edge of the pit.

  "Damn," Quinn said. From the baleful look of madness on Oswyn's face, Quinn thought it was a really good idea to not be here right now. Quinn did one of the things that he was really good at; he disappeared.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  County Sheriff Deputy Ted Jones was a little freaked out. He hadn't ever given the Norbridge place much thought in the months since he'd started with the county. Nothing had ever happened out here, so there wasn't much call for a deputy to be out in this part of the county. But he'd seen things that he thought were impossible. He'd seen men that looked like they'd died years ago but somehow were still walking around in suits. He'd seen a man that should be dead from the number of injuries he'd received straighten his own arm out from multiple open breaks.

  He'd started to get a little harried around the edges when his sergeant had gotten a hold of him.

  "Look at me, Jones," the sergeant had said, holding Jones's face, so the young man was forced to look him in the eyes. "I want you to go to that patio area, okay? There's a case there. Go guard it. Got it? You watch over that green case. Don't touch anything. No one touches that case. Got it, Deputy?"

  Jones had nodded mutely, trying his best to not look back at the ink black blob that was crying like a baby as a few other deputies herded it with their flashlights. It smoked where ever the light touched the puddle. Jones had ignored the knowing looks the older deputies had shared when he turned to leave. The patio was black with fire damage and drenched in water except the part right by the display case.

  The case had all sorts of weird things like a small hat box, a cane, a human skull, a skull of what was probably an alligator, a monkey's paw, and very creepy looking doll. The doll was one of those old porcelain types that were articulated at each joint and came with ratty simple cotton dresses. The eyes were black and stared straight ahead. Somehow, despite being the obvious epicenter for whatever had happened here, the case had escaped being burned or drenched in water.

  Ted turned around and watched as more people pulled into the compound. From what he could tell, just about every service, the county had, including water and animal control was out here tonight. And he was pretty sure he'd seen a Federal agent wandering around as well. Whatever this had been, it was really important. Ted heard something rustle just behind him. He turned back to look at the case and was certain that the doll had moved. Hadn't it been about a foot further away and staring out into the night? Now it was closer, posed as if it were walking and looking directly at him. Ted had to remind himself to take his hand off his gun.

  "What's your name?"

  Ted jumped and nearly pulled his gun out of the holster at the sudden sound of a voice right next to him. He turned to find a man in a brown sports coat and black slacks. His black hair had probably started out as neatly combed earlier in the day. But Ted was struck by how blue the man's eyes were. They were the same sort of blue of the sky on a perfect day.

  "Jones, is it?" the man said when his eyes briefly flicked to Ted's chest.

  "Uh, Yes,...sir?" Ted said.

  The man grabbed Ted by the arm and spun him around to look back at the case. The doll was closer. It was only a few inches away from him, it's arms were outstretched. As if it were reaching out to grab Jones.

  "Do you know what you have here, Jones?" the man asked.

  "A seriously creepy doll?"

  "No, that's just a homunculus. What you have here is a focused, non-mobile, repeating intrusion or a Class Five Radiant Skull. A real nasty one too."

  "Okay?"

  The Federal Agent, Ted felt that someone who talked and looked like this guy had to be a federal agent of some kind, pushed a black bag that was on the ground closer to Ted. Had that been there before? Ted didn't remember seeing a black bag when he'd gotten here.

  "Here's what I need you to do. I need you to take that skull," the agent pointed at the skull and then continued, "and put it in that bag. Then I need you to walk that bag down that hall and give it to Agent Anderson."

  "Who?"

  "Anderson," the agent said. He grabbed Ted by the shoulder again and spun him, so he looked down the melted hallway. At the other end was another Federal Agent looking fellow. His black hair was slicked back. He was dressed almost identically to the agent next to Ted. He leaned against a navy blue Crown Victoria sedan. The agent waved at Ted as if he could hear what his partner was saying. He spun Ted back around again.

  "Right. You want me to get that skull and take it to that guy down there, gotcha." Ted said.

  "No. That's not what I said to do. I want you to pick up that skull, put it in that bag, and Give It," the man's voice paused over those two words. Then he repeated, "Give it. Give it to that man over there. Now, what did I say?"

  "Get that skull. Put it in that bag. Give it to that guy right there."

  "Perfect. Now, where the hell is Pollacki?"

  "Who?"

  "Pollacki! Damn! Where the hell is that man? Why haven't you gotten that skull yet? When you're done with that, go find Pollacki!" The agent turned around, picked up the doll and put it in the little hat box. After a moment he flipped the box over with the doll still inside and placed a massive book on top of the cauldron.

  Ted shrugged his shoulders and did exactly what the agent asked him to do. He bagged the skull, which was strangely warm to the touch. When he held it in his hand, Ted felt that the world was wrong. Everything was twisted and shifted out of place. Not that the world had changed, but that the way he had always seen the world was the wrong way. That it was all a lie, and he had to scratch past it with his hands to get to what was real.

  Ted dropped the skull into the bag as fast as he could. As soon as he let go of the skull, that crazy sense that the world was just a thin sham over something truly terrible faded. Then he walked it down the hall that looked like it has been painted by that guy who did the melting clocks. He lifted the bag up and said, "I guess I'm supposed to give this to you?"

  "Just so we're cl
ear here, you're giving it to me, right?" The federal agent said.

  "Yep, I am giving it to you."

  The agent nodded and quietly accepted the bag. His skin was tanner than the first guys, and his black hair was neatly combed back and under control.

  Ted was struck by the intense green of this agent's eyes. They were the sort of green he'd imagined Ireland would be after a gentle rainstorm. The green-eyed agent quietly slipped into the car. As Ted watched the blue car drive away, the first federal agent appeared at his side.

  The agent said, "I wouldn't trust that doll either. If you can, call in sick and just leave. Don't go home, just get a motel downtown LA somewhere random and stay away from your normal places for at least two days. Maybe three. Yeah, three days. And if you start to see it in your dreams, call this priest." The agent pulled a business card out of nowhere and tucked it into Ted's shirt pocket. Then he got into the car and drove off.

  Ted pulled the car out of his shirt and looked at it. Sure enough, it was a business card for a priest from the downtown Mission. Ted stood there for a moment, wondering if he should go back to where his sergeant said to be or take the federal agents advice and call in sick. When he saw the small box bump and shift on its own, Ted made up his mind. He was calling in sick right now and for the next week.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Quinn slapped the side of the car in time to the music his Circle was playing for them as he drove down the country road. In the short distance, Quinn saw a country stop sign that had a red flashing light sitting on top. The red light blinked out a sad and lonely beat that matched the music. The road had gotten quiet and dark after the last of the emergency services had gone ripping past Quinn with their lights flashing.

  When he brought the car to a stop, he leaned forward to look down the long empty road on both sides. There wasn’t a sign of any headlights anywhere. With a grin, Quinn threw the car into park and jumped out.

 

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