Windslinger

by JM Guillen

  “Liz realized that she needed to fucking get going. She stood up.” I pushed myself up as I narrated, the old habit putting me one step removed from the horror. I glanced down and realized I still clutched my room key, complete with green plastic keychain and gold letters.

  No way would I take it back inside. Instead, I tossed it toward the door.

  “Time to leave.” I jogged around the side of the motel, where I could still see my Valkyrie, parked and packed.

  That had been a lucky break. What if my creepy-ass friend had come looking for me while I packed my things? If I’d needed to go back inside to get my clothes and game books…

  “Nope.” I frowned at the thought. Any other situation might have ended poorly. Now that my message was sent, I only had to run.

  Running always worked. If I could just get far away from ol’ silver eye, I should be safe.

  “For now, at least,” I muttered and threw a leg over the Valkyrie in preparation to running; likely a temporary solution. Mister Lorne wouldn’t be inclined to let things go, but I had a plan. No way something like today would work again—I’d counted on luck. It paid off, but I didn’t think it would another time.

  Now I could only run. I’d make my way to New York, hole up with my dad for a few weeks, and get Simon in on this little problem.

  That should buy some time. If anything could be said about Simon Girard, I’d say that he was a man who understood problems. He’d take care of things.

  I fired up the bike and began to pull out. A black sedan with tinted windows pulled off the highway, cut in front of me, and forced me to pull up short or get creamed.

  “Hey! Thanks a lot!” I gestured politely at the sedan. Had they not seen me?

  The man behind the wheel looked like the last person I would expect in a place like this. Nice suit, dark glasses, handsome in a square-jawed kind of way.

  “I can’t imagine you need to bring your lady friend to a place like this, buddy,” I muttered and nodded at him. In the passenger side sat a young blonde woman, but, unlike the man, she didn’t look at me. Instead she stared into the space in front of her and gestured with just the tips of her fingers.

  Weir— Before I’d even finished the thought, tiny slivers of ice swam in my blood. The dark suit, the intent gaze…

  “No way,” I breathed. Razored slivers of ice trickled through my veins.

  Could that be one of the Silent Gentlemen?

  The man nodded back, a slow, cold acknowledgement. An uncomfortable, buzzing sensation accompanied that gaze, and the woman turned toward me as well.

  The buzz in my skull increased, the peculiar sensation not unlike the pins and needles of a limb falling asleep.

  Simon had told me about the Gentlemen, terrifyingly inhuman creatures who wore human faces. They hunted folks such as myself, people who had odd little… knacks. Through technology far beyond anything we could understand, they had a means of detecting tiny shifts in reality, and they had no patience for such antics.

  They black-bagged people like me. They vanished them. Once the Gentlemen had you, there was no going back.

  “Fuck,” I whispered, turning away. This was exactly the reason I had wanted to avoid shaping the wind! How had they gotten here so quickly?

  As he pulled in, the creature’s gaze met mine. From behind those glasses, I couldn’t exactly make out much about him, but I didn’t suppose it mattered.

  I knew what he—it—was. Just seeing it here meant that I’d overdone things.

  Somehow, they’d found me. I’d shaped the wind too much or perhaps they’d felt something ripple when Lorne’s goon came for me. Simon had spent over two weeks cautioning me about the creatures and now—

  Not what I needed.

  “Time to go, Liz.” I waited until they passed and pulled the bike out onto the Connecticut highway. Immediately, I put the hammer down, and tore across the highway.

  I didn’t have time to worry about silver-eyed miscreants or silent creeps looking to put a black bag over my head. I had miles to go, state lines to cross, and an appointment to keep.

  Introducing the Party

  August 29, 1997

  New York, New York

  Days and miles later, my malignant stalker and our dalliance at the flophouse had been all but forgotten.

  I had a new problem now, one that involved the undead.

  “I don’t know if you’re quite the lady for the job.” Rehl, a shaved head, goateed man, shifted in his seat, seeming a bit uncomfortable.

  “I’m the only lady for the job.” I smiled grimly. “You don’t have a lot of choices, and you know it.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” The young man sitting to my left gave me a quirky smile and pushed his glasses up onto his nose. “Tell ‘im.”

  “What do you know about my choices?” Rehl toyed with the foot-long beaded braid that sprouted from his goatee. “I don’t like it when strangers know too much about town business.”

  “I know that you and yours are missing some children, Sherriff.” I leaned back in my seat. “If it weren’t the natives, and they weren’t taken by—”

  “I figure you’d better be on the next train outta here, Miss Lawson.” He reached into a bag of chips, rustling it as he thought. “I think maybe you don’t know what you’re in for.”

  “—the vampyres,” I continued, as if he hadn’t even spoken. “You know they’re here, Sherriff.” I met his gaze, as if he wasn’t a foot and a half taller than me.

  “Shit. You did it now.” Rehl leaned forward and flipped through a notebook. “Roll diplomacy/social interaction, Liz.”

  “Wonderful.” Alicia rolled her eyes.

  “Easy,” I crowed, tossed my dice, and looked at the result. “One!”

  “One?” Baxter lamented.

  “My dice are cursed,” I mumbled.

  “The Sheriff looks at you strangely, and you see the crimson glint in his eye. As you watch, his face elongates, becoming thin, almost gaunt in the firelight from his hearth.”

  “I knew it!” I grinned at Baxter and Alicia, my tablemates. “I knew he was one of the fuckers.”

  “How?” Rehl raised an eyebrow and grinned.

  “You named him Sheriff Cruor!” Alicia rolled her hazel eyes and shook back thick auburn locks. “You act like you’re the only person who knows what words mean.”

  “Sheriff Cruor lunges at you, moving inhumanly fast.” Rehl studied his notes. “Roll initiative, Liz.”

  “I hate Weird West,” I teased and scooped up my dice. “It’s always supernatural monsters versus me and my decrepit six shooters.”

  “You don’t think cowboys have a chance versus otherworldly beasties?” Baxter asked.

  “No. It’s hardly fair.” I rolled.

  This was the second day of CONsortium, the first con my dad had ever taken me to, back when we lived together in the city. He loved running me through games, although honestly, my father’s love for puzzles and codes meant that he had to dumb down his campaigns for me a bit when I was a kid.

  I’d made the trip to the con since I was sixteen. The ignorant jack-assess I played with were the same idiots I’d played with every year, although typically Alicia did the game mastering.

  Just now, CONsortium might be the perfect distraction. Well over a week had passed since New Canaan, and my mind had scrambled the entire way here.

  How did Lorne’s goon find me so quickly? I had intended to stay ahead of it long enough so that perhaps Simon could help me with my Mister Lorne problem.

  But if it found me that quickly, what was to stop it from coming again?

  “You missed?” Baxter sat back in his seat and massaged the back of his neck. “How did you miss from that close?”

  “Apparently, my dice hate me.” I scowled. “It’d be nice if I had some back up.”

  “You were just disparaging the natives when you spoke to Sheriff McFangy!” Alicia growled. “I can’t see why the shaman would help you.”

  “You
slipped off and didn’t even tell Danvers where you were going!” Baxter grumbled. “So I’m in my workshop, fiddling with my flying automatons.”

  “I wasn’t disparaging,” I sighed at Alicia. “I was looking for information.”

  “By telling him you thought the barbaric natives might be eating children?”

  “It was a strategy!” I waved a hand.

  “We aren’t cannibals!”

  “Children,” Rehl chuckled and leaned back. “None of these things will stop Liz from being a steaming corpse here in a moment.” He turned to me. “What do you do, Miss Lawson?”

  “Well…” I drew the word out and glanced across the table at Rehl. “Remember last year when we played these characters? When Alicia ran?”

  “The Jade Spectre of the Arizona Delve.” Alicia nodded and toyed with the pentacle which hung around her neck.

  “Right.” I pointed at her, and leaned forward. “Well, you may remember that Miss Lawson got left behind. But when the Masked Brava came out of that mine—”

  “Our characters all know Miss Lawson is the Masked Brava!” Baxter ran both of his hands through his sandy hair. “Your secret identity sucks. We’re not stupid, Liz.”

  “Well,” I continued, ignoring the crazed-looking Baxter, “when Rehl here said he wanted to run A Moon of Blood tonight, I showed him my character sheet. You all know I let ’Licia keep my sheets, so I don’t lose them while rambling across the country.”

  “Riiiight.” Rehl’s eyebrow cocked suspiciously.

  “Well, I still have the canvas sack that the Masked Brava came out of that mine with.” I fixed him with a grin. “She trusted me with it, until she was needed again.”

  “Oh.” Alicia titled her head as realization washed over her freckled face.

  “So since you looked over my sheet, Rehl, you can’t say that you didn’t know I was carrying two sticks of dynamite.”

  “Oh, fuck me.” Baxter sank into his chair and rubbed his eyes.

  “Right.” Rehl cleared his throat, and searched for something to say. “The thing is—”

  “I throw the sack into the hearth.” I raised one raven brow. “Before I become a steaming corpse, I mean. What do I roll?”

  “Fuck.” Rehl fixed me with an annoyed eye, and reached for a rulebook. “Baxter, where do I find blast radius?”

  “Page seventy-eight.” He shook his head, ruefully. “There are blast templates in the back.”

  “You know we hear the ruckus,” Alicia crowed, and glanced from Rehl to me. “And there’s no way that Nightwolf would believe Miss Lawson innocent when odd midnight explosions start.”

  “Hey, that’s true!” Baxter grinned up at Rehl. “The moment I hear that shit, I’m leaving my workshop.”

  “Fine, but wait a sec.” Rehl scanned the book, and his eyes narrowed as he read. “Let me find the best way to fuck over Miss Lawson here.”

  “Take your time.” I shot him a triumphant grin.

  The blast was incredible. It completely caved in the Sherriff’s office and slaughtered one vampyre. After I made a series of miraculous checks (when my dice didn’t hate me for once), Miss Lawson was merely buried alive.

  Of course, this was only the beginning.

  “‘The Master!’ Rector Scarbrough screams as he runs into the square, his face aglow from the fire.” Rehl gave Baxter a smug little smile. “‘It’s because of them! The strangers have brought this upon us!’”

  “Damn it, Liz!” Alicia dug through her spell lists and pointedly did not look at me.

  Beneath the table, Rehl passed me a note. I read it and fought to keep a straight face.

  The next three rounds did not go well for Baxter and Alicia. It seemed that there were far more vampyres in the small town than we had thought, which proved to be a problem.

  If I had known, I might have held off on unexpected explosions.

  “Okay, Liz. It’s your turn.”

  “Her turn? Miss Lawson’s lying beneath a building’s worth of rubble,” Baxter grumbled.

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Obviously, I’d like to make some rolls later to survive, but not until we’re safe. Fortunately for us all—”

  “NO.” Baxter was emphatic as he turned from me to Rehl. “You aren’t going to let her?”

  “Fortunately for us all,” I continued, enunciating clearly, “the Masked Brava heard the commotion and stepped from the shadows, bullwhip in hand.”

  Alicia muttered something beneath her breath. I didn’t make it out, but apparently Rehl did.

  “It’s your fault,” he crooned, poking her in the shoulder. “You let her make the damn character.”

  “The Masked Brava whips the closest vampyre.” I scooped up some dice. “In the face. She wants to whip the monster in the face.”

  “Of course she does.” Rehl chuckled. “Roll a called shot.”

  As often happened, the presence of the mysterious Masked Brava was a turning point for our small party. Her sharp wit and bravery always inspired the other characters, which is why I assumed my friends respected her so much.

  “I hope I don’t accidentally catch the Masked Brava in the field of my lightning.” Alicia tilted her head, and smiled sweetly as she rolled. “Oh, good. I didn’t.”

  “You hit four of them.” Rehl raised an eyebrow at Alicia’s damage roll. “Danver is next, Bax.”

  “Say hello to my little friend!” Baxter crooned as his tinker flew a heli-coptric automaton over the vampyric townspeople, Gatling guns blazing.

  “I don’t know why I ever thought this would be a challenge.” Rehl hung his bald head and chuckled darkly.

  Only a few rounds more saw us heroically lay waste to the entire town. Obviously, most of them were vampyres or servitors of some kind, and therefore totally deserved it.

  Most.

  “Pizza?” Baxter looked around the table. “It’d be a shame if Liz came to town and we didn’t indulge.”

  “I dunno.” Rehl sighed. “I need to find another job. I almost couldn’t afford the con.”

  “I’ll grab your pizza, you big ape.” Alicia elbowed him. “You can pay me back after you get the next job that you’re only going to hold onto for a couple weeks.”

  “That’s not fair,” Rehl whined a bit. “You get to just go to school. I gotta tell you, working retail is awful. I should just go back into the Army.”

  “Maybe we can get pizza in a few.” I frowned, just a touch. “I think I’m gonna call my dad. He should have popped by before now.”

  “I didn’t see his booth on the Con map.” Rehl sounded almost apologetic. “I looked. Wanted to ask about special ordering some stuff.”

  “I assumed you knew he wasn’t here,” Alicia added. “I’d looked forward to playing in this year’s game.”

  “Me too.” Rehl grinned. “Your dad’s games are worth waiting on, Liz.”

  “The snow elves?” Baxter shook his head. “He just takes a game too far. I don’t need a dossier to play a single character.”

  “Aiden’s games are better than anything you put on.” Alicia harped at him.

  “Well, yeah,” Baxter conceded. “But most modules don’t force the players to learn a fictional language. It’s too much.”

  “Slieteri is a cool language.” Rehl jumped in. “The man’s a craftsman and you know it.”

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t cool,” Baxter clarified. “I think I knew the language almost as well as Liz did.”

  “None of which matters,” I grumbled, “as it seems my father might be missing.”

  For years now, Dad had attended CONsortium as a vendor, selling comics and whatever roleplaying games he thought were likely to be hot. The truth was that his shop, a little place called Knucklebones, would never do much more than break even, but it wasn’t about the money for my father.

  No, my dad was a gamer from back when Gygax printed incomprehensible systems that required a slide rule to understand. He loved all manner of geekery, and during the times I spent with him
, made certain that I indulged as well. For several years, he had run an ongoing campaign that featured some of his most devious puzzles, riddles, and codes.

  ‘Fanatical’ described his devotion pretty well.

  Every year since I was a teen, we had met at CONsortium. Mom had driven me a few times, but usually I had ridden my Valkyrie.

  He was always here. Always.

  And as it happened, hanging with my dad for a few days was all part of my brilliant plan. If he wasn’t around, I might be on the run a bit longer than I’d planned.

  “Um, just so you know,” Baxter almost stammered, “your dad gave me a call about three weeks ago. Said he was setting up some computers in the shop and wondered if I could stop by and lend a hand.”

  “Yeah? Did he seem okay when you went by?”

  “He wasn’t there. I tried two other times. Didn’t pick up the phone, either.”

  “I talked to him…” Had it been last week? No. “I left him a message last week. I’ve been on a bit of a road trip, and my Nokia doesn’t have the best coverage.”

  Now that I thought of it, it had been weeks since I had actually spoken with him. At that time, he had been thrilled about the con, and planning our meet up.

  Other than that letter I had dropped him that night I left, I had been a little busy letting Lorne’s thug chase me down. I really hadn’t spoken with my father lately at all.

  “I need to call him.” I reached for my bag on the floor. “I’m sure something weird came up and he’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “He never misses the con.” Baxter frowned.

  “I don’t have—” I furrowed my brow as I patted my pockets. “Damn it. I left my phone in my room.”

  “As you should have,” Rehl spoke with a regal air. “We were running a game for you peasants, and demand your attention.”

  “Whatever, highness.” I scooped up my dice and pushed my character sheet across the table to Alicia. “I’ll take my stuff upstairs and call my dad. From there we’ll see about getting Baxter some pizza.”

  “I like a lady with a plan.” Baxter grinned.

  “Maybe we hit the anime room later?” Alicia’s voice lilted hopefully. “New line up this year.”