Gun Mage 3: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth

by Logan Jacobs

  “But surely someone would have said something about their children working here,” Sorcha insisted.

  “Wow, just when I thought this place couldn’t get any weirder,” Freya huffed. “I am so ready to get out of here.”

  Michael wasn’t in the room, but there was another doorway at the far end, and we could hear the sounds of someone moving around inside. We exchanged glances, then walked quietly across the thick blue carpet dotted with pink flowers, past the sofa and matching chairs in a pale gold cloth, around the life-sized statue of a naked man gazing toward the sky with an adoring look, and stopped beneath the arch.

  The solarium, as Michael had called it, had a row of windows that looked out on the snow-covered hilltop and the valley below. It was a stunning view, but it wasn’t enough to keep my attention. That was focused on the room itself, where every square inch of wallspace had been plastered with sparkling glass and bits of crystal. Discreetly placed mage lights ensured that every single piece sparkled even in the dead of night, and I wondered what the room must look like with sunlight pouring through the windows. It had to be blinding, and I wondered if Michael had a pair of sunglasses hidden away somewhere.

  “Some of these are mage crystals,” Sorcha warned me as we stepped into the room.

  “Can you tell what they do?” I asked.

  The Irishwoman shook her head as we took a few steps inside. I heard Freya gasp and Darwin grunt, but otherwise, our group remained quiet. Michael, for his part, stood in front of the windows, his back toward us, his hands on his hips and his chin lifted just enough to give us a good view of his profile.

  After Sorcha gave a delicate cough, the angel finally turned around. In the warm glow of the mage lights and the surreal rainbows made by the crystals, he looked younger and more fearsome. I wondered if the magic in the mage crystals was designed to improve his appearance and then tried not to chuckle out loud as I waited for the angel to say something.

  The boy and girl entered the room, each with a tray. The boy presented his tray to Michael, who accepted the single glass of dark red wine. The girl, meanwhile, approached us with her own tray and offered us each a glass of wine as well. At first, no one took a glass, but an offended look crossed Michael’s face and he held up a hand when the girl started to leave.

  “Drink,” Michael commanded. “Surely you enjoy wine?”

  “I’ve been cutting back on my alcohol intake,” Darwin replied.

  “Trust me, you will regret not sampling this wine,” Michael insisted with an icy smile. “It is truly the ambrosia of the gods.”

  “You’re mixing your religions,” Darwin noted. “I thought you were supposed to be a Christian angel, but now you’re talking about the ancient Greek gods.”

  Michael’s smile disappeared for a moment as he studied the ex-trooper.

  “I am familiar with all the old religions,” Michael finally said. “We existed even in those days.”

  “Uh-huh,” Darwin snorted.

  “The wine is delicious,” Michael added as he took a sip from his own glass. “I would not want to see it wasted because you refused to enjoy what was offered.”

  Reluctantly, we each took a glass and the girl scurried from the room. After a careful sniff, I took a sip and found that it was as good as promised. It had to be old, possibly even pre-meteorite, and it had so many layers of flavors that I had to let it roll around in my mouth for a few moments just to taste them all. Somehow, it managed to be both earthy and fruity, with a bit of spice and a touch of soft flower. It was insanely delicious, yet I was perfectly happy sipping it slowly rather than gulping it down.

  “French,” Darwin declared. “Bordeaux, from before the meteorite.”

  “Yes,” Michael agreed. “Sadly, most wines today are only a pale imitation.”

  “The changes in the weather patterns make it impossible to reproduce the old wines,” Darwin sighed.

  “May I ask who those children are?” Sorcha cut in.

  “Ah, Molly and Peter,” Michael observed as he moved toward a circle of six chairs in the center of the room and sat down.

  He placed his wine on the glass-topped table that stood in the middle of the chairs and then pointed us to the other chairs. We shuffled over and after a bit of indecision, we sat down as well. Darwin was the unlucky one who ended up next to the angel, but the ex-trooper moved his chair a few inches closer to Freya and away from our host. Michael scowled, though I wasn’t sure if it was because he saw Darwin’s action as a personal affront, or because it ruined the perfect symmetry of the chair placement.

  “Molly and Peter,” Sorcha reminded Michael.

  “Twins from one of the outer farms,” Michael replied. “They have the divine spark, and I have taken them on as my acolytes.”

  “The divine spark,” Darwin declared. “All humans are supposed to have that.”

  Michael glared at the ex-trooper, then picked up his glass and took another long sip.

  “Some have a stronger connection,” Michael explained as he set his glass back on the table.

  “Do you have any other acolytes?” I pressed.

  “I am always alert to possibilities,” Michael declared. “It is the nature of a divine being.”

  “Divine being,” Darwin snickered.

  “I just find it strange that no one mentioned them,” Sorcha commented.

  “I have taken in Molly and Peter because they have great potential,” Michael snapped. “But the lessons they learn are intended only for them. The good people of Pastor understand this and do not discuss it.”

  “I’m sure they don’t,” Darwin commented. “The Amish have a long history of not discussing things.”

  Michael shot Darwin another angry glare, but the ex-trooper was taking a long sip of his own wine. Freya looked as if she were about to bolt from the room, but when Darwin placed his glass back on the table and glared back at Michael, she took a quick sip from her glass, and tried to smile at the angel.

  “So, you’re not a fan of mages and mutants,” Freya observed.

  “They are all spawns of the devil,” Michael replied.

  “But you’re a mage,” Sorcha pointed out. “A fire mage, though you have some wind skill as well.”

  “I am an angel of God,” Michael declared angrily as he stood up. “I was sent here by my Supreme Master to protect those who have kept the faith. I will not be blasphemed by unbelievers.”

  “Did the Magesterium send you?” Sorcha persisted. “Are you here to keep them contained until your masters decide it’s time to be rid of them once and for all?”

  “Blasphemy!” Michael bellowed in the same voice he had used in the church. I had no doubts that he was using magic to make his voice more impressive, and the sudden explosion of light from some of the crystals lent support to that theory.

  “You’re a mage,” Sorcha snapped back.

  “As are you, witch,” Michael declared. “Do you think I don’t know? You’re all servants of the dark lord, but I have protected you because I had hoped you would reveal your plan.”

  “Our plan?” Freya protested.

  “Our plan is to get to Scranton,” Darwin interjected. “We hear they’re starting up train service again. Now, you could try to kill us right here, but I’d be willing to bet that you’re not immune to bullets, especially without the pretty piece of armor you wear. So let’s make a deal. We leave here and head back to our rooms for the night, then leave first thing in the morning. In return, we won’t tell anyone what you really are or what your plans may be.”

  The two older men locked gazes while I tried to remember which weapons I could now produce. This close, it wouldn’t take much to kill the mage, but I was worried about the sound. The Amish would recognize it and come to investigate, and I didn’t want to have to shoot my way out of the town.

  Luckily, Michael didn’t seem to realize that. Or maybe he honestly believed that we would be willing to kill everyone in order to escape. Either way, he lifted his chin a
nd returned to his power pose with his hands on his hips and his feet set in the ready position.

  “You will at first light,” Michael decreed.

  “First light,” Darwin agreed.

  “Yay,” Freya said weakly.

  Michael clapped his hands again, and the twins returned a few moments later.

  “Our guests are leaving,” Michael ordered.

  Peter and Molly nodded, then stepped aside so we could pass them. I snuck the last sip of my wine, then followed the rest of my companions back to the front hall. Peter appeared with our gear, and Molly helped everyone struggle into their jackets. When we were properly insulated against the cold and snow, Peter opened the front door. The silent duo watched us step onto the porch, then quietly closed the door behind us.

  “He’s training his own mages,” Sorcha mused as we started the treacherous walk back to the steps. “I’ll bet he’s taken in other children as well.”

  “Great, another mage army,” Freya moaned.

  “To be honest, I don’t care anymore,” I replied. “We made it out of the aerie, and now we just need to get through the night so we can leave here tomorrow.”

  “For once, I’m happy to leave this to the Magesterium,” Darwin added. “Rounding up rogue mages is the one thing they do well, so let the red robes deal with this little slice of heaven while we’re safely tucked away in Scranton.”

  “But what if he sends some of his other mages after us tonight?” Sorcha pressed. “He’ll probably call it divine retribution or something.”

  “If he sends anyone, we’ll deal with them,” I insisted. “There’s a reason mages hate guns, and no matter what Michael claims about being a divine messenger or whatever, he clearly recognizes that he’s susceptible to bullets, just like any mage.”

  We’d reached the steps and started to pick our way slowly down the hill by then, so the discussion came to an end as we focused on the ice. We were halfway down when Freya let out a low moan, then sat down on the step.

  “Freya?” Darwin asked in alarm as he turned around and peered into his granddaughter’s face.

  “I don’t feel so good,” she whimpered. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Before any of us could react, Freya leaned over and heaved into a pile of snow. Despite the spasms that wracked her body, very little came up. I could smell the harsh tang of wine, and spotted something that looked like a bit of potato, but it was mostly stomach acid.

  “She’s burning up,” Sorcha noted as she helped the rabbit woman sit back up.

  “This came on fast,” Darwin grunted as he looked back at the house we had just left.

  “We need to get her back to Beth and Simon’s,” I said as I looked around. “If this is something Michael did, then I don’t think we want to be found out here by any of Jacob’s men.”

  “Can you stand?” Sorcha asked as she wiped a few stray strands of hair from Freya’s face.

  Freya nodded, and after a moment, she gathered her legs beneath her and slowly stood up. With Sorcha’s help, the mutant slowly descended the steps while Darwin and I kept a watch for any Amish who might still be nearby. We made it to the bottom of the steps and were working our way back toward the kennels when we had the run-in I’d been dreading.

  “Did you enjoy your meeting with Michael?” An amish man demanded as he stepped from the porch of a house.

  “It went well,” I replied as I tried to block his view of Freya.

  “And what advice did he offer?” The man asked as he peered at us, clearly hoping for some sign that we were demons who should be destroyed.

  “No advice,” I insisted. “But he did offer to help us leave in the morning.”

  Another man was approaching, and I was sure there were others watching from nearby. Whatever Michael had done to Freya, I was now certain it was supposed to be a sign to his followers of our own demonic status. Clearly, he had no problem sending his followers to face a gun, even when he wasn’t willing to do so himself. But his followers didn’t understand that even if they had checked our bags and found all the guns, I could just make another one.

  “Man, that wine was good, but now I feel like I need to sleep,” Freya declared. I glanced behind me and saw that the mutant was standing on her own with a defiant look in her eye as she stared at the man.

  “You… look well,” he said in surprise.

  “Well, my nose is starting to run, but I think that’s just from being out in the cold,” Freya mused.

  The amish man looked like he wasn’t sure what to do, so Darwin and I pushed past him and led the way down the street. I saw a few more shadowy figures as we made our way back to our quarters, but no one else approached us, and Freya managed to stay on her feet without Sorcha’s help.

  We followed Simon’s footsteps to the back of the house and made it to the deck before Freya finally collapsed again. Sorcha managed to keep her from crashing face first into the snow, but she wasn’t able to lift the mutant on her own. I swept Freya into my arms as Darwin yanked the door open, and then I ran inside and straight toward the fireplace even though I could feel the heat that poured off the rabbit woman’s body.

  “I’ll shoot the bastard,” Darwin muttered as he peered over my shoulder at the prone figure of his granddaughter on the couch.

  “Let me see what they have in the kitchen,” Sorcha offered. “They might have something to help soothe her stomach.”

  “If it’s poison, she’ll need to throw up,” Darwin remarked.

  “She already did that,” I pointed out. “And she’s only gotten worse.”

  “And she will continue to decline for a few more hours,” Beth said quietly from the doorway. “And then she will die, either from the poison or at Michael’s hand, as an example of what happens to demons.”

  Chapter 11

  “What the hell is this?” Darwin demanded angrily as he advanced on Beth with his fists raised.

  “It’s how Michael tests to see if someone is a dem… mutant,” Beth replied calmly. “I’ve never actually seen it used before, though I’ve heard stories from Simon. He told me that Michael had sent some of the men out to capture mutants alive and bring them to the house so Michael could test his poison on them.”

  “So it is poison,” Sorcha pressed.

  “Yes, though Simon doesn’t know much else,” Beth sighed. “It only affects those who are part animal, Michael assured them of that. He even had two of the men taste it just to prove his point.”

  “That’s why no one else is sick,” I guessed as I squatted on the floor next to Freya. “He couldn’t know who would drink from which glass, so he poisoned all of us. But only Freya has animal traits.”

  “Stupid rabbit,” Freya murmured as she opened her eyes and tried to smile at me.

  “When Simon came home and said that Michael had instructed the men to bring you to the aerie in the morning, I had planned to tell you not to eat or drink anything,” Beth offered.

  “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Darwin demanded.

  “I thought you would be gone in the morning,” Beth replied. “On the trail and away from here before anyone noticed.”

  “It’s not her fault,” I reminded the ex-trooper as he growled at the Amish woman.

  “Besides, I didn’t believe Simon when he said that the men claimed Freya was a demon,” Beth added.

  “She’s not a demon,” Darwin enunciated carefully. “She’s a mutant.”

  “Of course,” Beth agreed.

  “Do you have anything that will help her?” Sorcha asked.

  “No,” Beth said sadly as she finally walked past Darwin and leaned over the back of the sofa. “As far as I know, there is no cure.”

  “Short trip after all,” Freya mumbled.

  Darwin, who had followed Beth back to the couch, collapsed next to Freya and grabbed her hand in his.

  “Oh, god,” he declared. “I promised I would protect you.”

  “You did, gramps,” the mutant replied.<
br />
  “Hamrick can help her,” another voice said quietly.

  We turned as one to find Simon in the doorway. He was disheveled, with his shirt hanging out of his pants, his red hair uncombed, and a dusting of dog hair on his pants.

  “Hamrick?” Darwin demanded. “Who the hell is Hamrick?”

  “He has a farm near the southern ridge,” Beth explained. “But, Simon, what are you saying?”

  “I told Hamrick that I was worried about the dogs if they should eat some of the poison,” the man replied. “I wasn’t convinced that it would only affect the mutants.”

  “Wait, back up,” I ordered. “Why did you talk to Hamrick about this?”

  “His wife grows the plants we use in our medicine,” Beth explained. “She also has a black garden.”

  “A black garden?” Sorcha asked.

  “For plants that are poisonous or dangerous,” Beth continued. “Sometimes a poison in small doses can be an effective treatment for certain illnesses.”

  “When Michael announced that God had told him how to test for sorcerers and demons, it was Hamrick’s farm that he went to,” Simon added.

  “So you went to Hamrick to find out what Michael was using and what the cure was,” I finished.

  Simon nodded and stared forlornly at the couch.

  “Well, do you have any of this cure?” Darwin demanded.

  Simon blinked at Darwin a few times, then shook his head.

  “Hamrick promised to bring me some, but he never did,” Simon replied as he scratched his head. “And none of the dogs have ever gotten sick, so I didn’t remind him.”

  “How do we get to Hamrick’s place?” I asked.

  “It will take too long to go on foot,” Beth warned. “You’ll need to take the horses.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Simon offered, which seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised us.

  “Let’s go then,” Darwin declared as he stood up and started toward the door.

  “Why don’t you stay here?” I suggested. “Sorcha and I can get the cure.”

  “Gramps,” Freya called out quietly when Darwin started to protest. “Stay with me.”

  Darwin looked as if he wanted to argue with his granddaughter, but her obvious distress overwhelmed his objections. The ex-trooper returned to the couch and sat down next to Freya.