The Burns Defiance

by N M Thorn

  “How can I help you?” he asked calmly like Gunz didn’t just send his ass flying to the floor.

  “You can start by removing the gray stone jewelry from all of us,” replied Gunz, waving in Yaroslav’s and Theron’s direction. “I’ve heard you have some experience in doing it without a key.”

  “I can do it,” said Mrak Delar, but Gunz sensed unease in his voice.

  “You’re not sure,” stated Gunz, frowning. “Why?”

  “The last time I took the gray stone jewelry off without a key, my hands were burnt to the bone,” he explained with a sigh. “And I had to free just one person. Here I have to do it for three people. But I’ll try…”

  Mrak stepped closer to Gunz and took his hand, carefully probing the bracelet on his left wrist. Gunz sucked in a sharp breath as the gray stones magic retaliated against the intrusion. He jerked his hand away when Theron approached them and halted in front of Mrak Delar, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

  “Master Mrak Delar,” he said with a respectful bow, “if I may?”

  “What is it, Theron?”

  “I know where the key is,” said Theron simply. “You don’t need to hurt yourself.”

  The weretiger ran to the table and opened the drawer. For a while he was fumbling with the contents until he finally found the key. He brought it over and offered it to Mrak Delar. The key didn’t look like a key. It was just a thin silver stick, about two inches long. Mrak took the key from Theron, thanking him and turned to Gunz.

  “Gunz, you’re first. Lie down.”

  “Why?” asked Gunz, taking a step back.

  “Taking the gray stone jewelry off is almost as bad as putting it on,” he explained with a sigh. “I have to put you to sleep before I do it.”

  “Hold on,” objected Gunz, raising his hand up. “No one said anything about you knocking me out. It’s not like I don’t trust you, but I really don’t trust you.”

  “Yaroslav,” called Mrak Delar dryly. As soon as the vampire came closer, he unsheathed his black sword and gave it to him. “Put this sword to my neck. If you just suspect that I’m planning to harm Gunz, kill me. Am I clear?”

  An icy smile twisted the vampire’s lips. “It would be my pleasure, Master,” he said, placing the sword to Mrak’s neck. “So, tread lightly.”

  Gunz woke up a few hours later and before opening his eyes, reached to his neck and explored it with his fingers. The gray stone jewelry was gone. He smiled with relief, then he opened his eyes and saw Mrak Delar sitting on the floor next to him, talking with Yaroslav and Theron in a hushed voice.

  I’m finally free... Ugh, never again…

  He sat up and called Yaroslav. All three of them turned around, but only Theron got up. The weretiger walked to the table and brought back a small box. It was beautifully gift-wrapped and had a name tag attached to it. Theron gave the box to Gunz and he took it from his hands cautiously, like he was expecting a snake to spring out and bite him.

  “What is it?” asked Gunz, turning the box in his hands. Inside, something fell and rolled from side to side. He glanced at Yaroslav and Mrak Delar, but they both shrugged.

  “Novak left this box for you,” explained Yaroslav. “I recognized his handwriting. Look at the name tag.”

  Gunz read his name on the tag and started to tear the wrapping paper.

  “Are you sure you want to open it?” asked Mrak Delar. “There can’t be anything good in there.”

  “Unless I open this box and take a look, we’ll never know,” objected Gunz dryly, throwing the leftover of the wrapping paper on the floor, and opened the box.

  Inside there was a small glass vial and a piece of paper, folded in two. Gunz picked up the vial and looked through it at the candlelight. It was filled with clear liquid that appeared to be slightly thicker than water. He carefully unfolded the paper and started to read aloud.

  “Mr. Zane Burns.

  I am writing this letter to thank you for your ever-flaming bleeding heart.

  Mrak Delar was right. You good folks are all so predictable. It is your desire to always do the right thing that makes you predictable in the first place. It makes you weak and vulnerable to those who are willing to go the extra mile and explore other opportunities, outside the boundaries of the so called “good and evil”.

  Having said that, here is my parting gift to you, boy. In your hands you’re holding the life of the woman you’re madly in love with. Your first owner, Kogan, told me how deeply you were grieving. I always keep my promises. So, I used whatever I had left from the Apple of Youth and the Water of Life to create this elixir for you.

  So, here you go. Inside this tiny vial, there is the only elixir in all the worlds that can separate her essence and life force from that of the Lord of Chaos. All you need to do is go back to Mount Karasova and spill this elixir over the sacrificial stone. You do it and she will be free to love and to cherish… and do whatever else the two of you are doing when you are alone together.

  You can save her and bring her back to life.

  Or you can kill her.

  Again.

  The decision is yours.

  Grigory Rasputin.”

  Gunz’s hands shook and he dropped the letter on the floor. Mrak Delar picked it up and quickly re-read it.

  “Gunz—”

  “Shut up,” whispered Gunz, backing away from him. He squeezed his head, his fingers digging into his hair. “Shut up! Don’t say one goddamn word!”

  For a moment he stood like this, breathing hard, thoughts crowding his mind, and no one dared to say anything. Then he lowered his hands, putting the vial into the pocket of his pants.

  “There is something I need to do,” he said, his voice painfully hoarse. “It’s time I paid my debts.”

  He walked to the table and picked up the phone. Pressing the receiver to his ear, he dialed Jim’s phone number. It was the middle of the night and Gunz was counting the beeps, hoping that Jim would answer the call. When he did, Gunz sighed with relief.

  “Jim, hi,” he said, “sorry for the late-night call—”

  Jim interrupted him. The agent wasn’t upset with the late call. He was furious with Gunz for his disrespectful behavior and all his “shenanigans”. In so many quite colorful words, Jim expressed how he felt about all that, without holding anything back.

  “I know, Jim. I’m a goddamn asshole and I deserve everything you just told me,” said Gunz peacefully. “But I’m also the asshole who just destroyed the Head of California House and about to deliver you the key to the Florida underground fighting circles. Did Mishka talk to you?”

  Jim confirmed that the wyvern delivered the message and that he was ready for Gunz’s call.

  “Perfect,” said Gunz. “Meet me at the address Mishka gave you by 8 PM. Bring your friends.”

  He chuckled darkly and hung up the phone.

  Chapter 33

  ~ Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz ~

  At 8 PM sharp, Gunz stood at the gate that was blocking his way to Mr. Kogan’s mansion. Mrak Delar, Yaroslav and Theron were standing by his side. Even though Mrak Delar had offered Yaroslav and Theron to take them anywhere they wanted to go, both decided to stay with Gunz and make sure his mission went as planned.

  Gunz probed the gate, confirming that the Head of Florida House had wards and protection spells placed on it and on the wall surrounding the property. His gaze followed the road leading from the gate to the mansion, and all the painful memories rose to the surface, making him cringe inwardly.

  He pulled out a cheap prepaid mobile phone he had bought before coming here and dialed Jim’s number.

  “Jim, are you in position?” he asked.

  “Yes, everyone is in position,” replied Jim. “All teams, all over the state.”

  “We’re about to start,” warned Gunz, slowly gathering his elemental power in his hands.

  “Gunz, no matter what. I need him alive,” said Jim quietly. “I can’t imagine how you feel, but I must have him alive
and well. You understand me?”

  “You have no idea what you’re asking of me —,” Gunz started to say, muscles tense in his jaw, but cut himself off and added, “Stand by.”

  He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. “Mrak, do you see what I see?” he asked, pointing at the gate.

  Mrak Delar nodded, a cold smirk curving his lips. “I see it. I don’t see a problem though.”

  He approached the gate and placed his hands on it, directing his magic at the wards. Gunz opened his magical sight, watching the Master of Power at work with awe. He still had a hard time getting over everything Mrak Delar had done while pretending to side with his enemy. Since he had met the Ancient Master, that was the first time he had to witness his dark side.

  Nevertheless, love or hate, he had to admit that as a Master of Power and a wizard, Mrak Delar was in a league of his own. It wasn’t only that he was knowledgeable and extremely gifted magically, but he had a natural finesse and class that was showing in anything he was doing, no matter how trivial his task was. Gunz thought that even if this man was tasked with cleaning toilets, with a dirty mop in his hands, he would look just as regal and noble as any knight of King Arthur’s court.

  The wards that Kogan’s wizard placed on his gate were child’s play for the Ancient Master. After a few minutes, all the wards and protection spells were gone, leaving the entrance into Kogan’s property wide open. Mrak Delar touched the lock on the gate and whispered, “Recludius”. Then he pushed the heavy gate open and bowed elegantly, pointing inside.

  “After you, my lords.”

  They crossed inside and walked through the park toward the mansion. They made it all the way to the building without acquiring any unwanted attention. Even if the Head of Florida House realized that he had uninvited guests, he didn’t make his presence known yet.

  Gunz ran up the steps and placed his hand on the door handle. “Recludius,” he said the spell in Dragon tongue and pushed the door. The door opened up quietly, but as much as he wanted to charge in guns blazing, he suppressed his anger and halted in the doorway.

  He sharpened his Salamander’s senses, probing the lobby of the mansion and smirked, giving an arched stare to Mrak Delar. He recognized the magical signature of Kogan’s captive fighters, tainted by the magic of gray stones.

  Gunz turned to Yaroslav. “One more captive event, Alucard?” he asked, chuckling darkly. “Let’s give my old owner a show he’ll never forget.” He pulled his Swiss army knife out of his pocket and transformed it into a medieval sword.

  “Any time,” said the vampire, unsheathing his katana, his devilish grin displaying his sharp fangs.

  Gunz turned to Theron, but the man was gone, replaced by a giant Siberian tiger, his orange fur shining in the electric lights of the mansion. The tiger growled, softly rubbing his shoulder against Gunz’s side.

  “I guess, it’s a yes from Theron,” said Gunz with a smirk.

  “I don’t think you’ll need your toy,” said Mrak Delar, jerking his thumb toward Gunz’s sword. “You want a show? We’ll give this friggin’ slaver a show he’ll remember for the rest of his useless life.”

  Laughing ominously, the Master of Power rose a few feet in the air and spread his arms, throwing his head back. Dark stormy clouds quickly gathered above the mansion. The electric lights went off and the house got submerged into darkness. Lightning forked through the dark sky, for a split-second illuminating the mansion, and thunder rolled above their heads.

  The ground quaked and the walls of the mansion swayed as if the building was nothing but a flimsy house of cards. Mrak Delar roared, striking forward with his hand and the thunder echoed his mighty battle cry. The walls of the house trembled under the pressure of his magic and a large part of the façade fell through, exploding inside the lobby in a shower of dust and debris.

  Mrak lowered himself softly to the ground and gathered the power of Air, sending a hurricane force wind through the gaping hole that once was an entrance door. Terror-filled screams carried through the howling of the winds. Mrak Delar twisted his fist and glanced at Gunz over his shoulder.

  “I believe these captive fighters of yours are ready now for a peaceful negotiation,” he said, a boyish grin splitting his face. “You can sheath your swords, guys. Something tells me they won’t be necessary.”

  As the winds died out, Gunz followed Mrak Delar through the hole into the lobby, or whatever was left of it. Theron, who chose to remain in his tiger form, fell into step with him and Yaroslav with his katana at the ready, closed the procession.

  Gunz walked inside and halted with his jaw dropped. All ten of Kogan’s captive fighters and Sensei himself were in the room, pinned to the wall by an invisible force. They struggled to get free to no avail.

  The Sensei’s furious eyes landed on Gunz and he pushed with his massive chest against the restraints of Mrak’s magic. His eyes lit up with a yellow light as he tried to transform. After a moment, he realized that he couldn’t do it and stopped his fruitless attempts.

  “Gunz,” he said, sounding almost pleading, “please tell your friend to let go. I swear, if I knew it was you, I wouldn’t fight you anyway. None of us would.”

  “Like I said…” Mrak Delar waved his hand at the immobilized fighters.

  “Where are Kogan and his bitch?” asked Gunz coldly. “Tell me, and I’ll let all of you go.”

  Sensei laughed bitterly. “Do you seriously think I want to protect that dumbass after everything he has done to us? I wish I could rip his heart out with my own hands.” His eyes lit up brighter with a furious glow. “But I think I’ll leave it up to you. You’ll find him on the second floor. In his bedroom, behind the curtain, there is a hidden door. Him and his wife are in their panic room.”

  “Panic room, eh?” asked Gunz, chuckling. “I think right now is a good time for him to panic.” He turned to Mrak Delar and asked, “Mrak, do you still have the key for the gray stone jewelry?”

  Mrak Delar nodded, reaching in his pocket and offered the key to Gunz. He took the key and approached the werewolf.

  “Sensei,” he said calmly, “this silver stick is the key that will unlock your collar and bracelets. I must warn you that unlocking the gray stone jewelry is almost as painful as installing them.”

  “I don’t care,” growled Sensei. “I want… No, I need my freedom. I don’t care about the pain.”

  “Fine.”

  Gunz flicked his eyebrow at Mrak Delar, asking him to remove the power field that was holding the captive fighters immobilized. As they fell on the floor, breathing hard, Gunz approached the werewolf and gave him the key.

  “If I catch any of you on the streets engaged in any kind of questionable activities, I’ll kill you without hesitation,” he said icily. “Consider yourselves warned.”

  “I swear, you will never see or hear of any of us again,” replied Sensei, offering his hand. “Thank you for what you did for us today.”

  Gunz shook his hand and turned to his friends. “It’s time for me to say hello to my owner and his lovely wife.”

  Gunz stood in front of a heavily armored door, staring at it with loathing as if he could see the faces of Robert and Clarissa Kogan already. He put his hands on the door, resting his forehead on the cold metal and took a deep breath. All he had to do was to say the spell to unlock it, but his internal turmoil was making his elemental power unmanageable and he needed to be in control.

  “I can open it for you,” offered Mrak Delar, gently touching his shoulder.

  Gunz flinched and turned around, his igneous eyes burning through Mrak Delar. “Blow it up,” he said through his clenched teeth. “Don’t open it. I want a loud bang.”

  Sadness clouded the Ancient Master’s features for a moment as he nodded to Gunz. “Stay back,” he commanded and channeled his power, redirecting it at the door. A loud bang rattled the silence of the mansion and the armed door exploded inward, warped into a shapeless chunk of metal by the magical impact.

  Mrak
Delar stepped aside, allowing Gunz to pass through first. He walked in and stopped. As the dust settled, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Kogan cowering in the corner, his arms wrapped around her protectively. An unwanted memory flashed through Gunz’s mind – that moment before Kogan sold him to the California House, when Mrs. Kogan visited him in his cell. With painful clarity he remembered himself sitting on the floor, covering his face with his arms, cornered and vulnerable. Just like they were sitting now. He stared down at them and felt nothing but resentment.

  Mrak Delar and Yaroslav stood on either side of him as Theron lay down next to his feet, his orange eyes of a predator hungrily watching Mr. and Mrs. Kogan’s every move. Mr. Kogan raised his eyes, meeting Gunz’s deadly gaze. He shuddered and quickly averted his eyes.

  “Gunz,” he said finally, his voice shaking with fear.

  “Hello, master. And mistress,” said Gunz coldly, with a mocking bow. He glanced at Mr. Kogan’s wife and smiled, the kind of smile that left Clarissa Kogan whimpering into her husband’s sunken chest. “I think it’s about time we had a little chat.”

  “Of course, Gunz, of course,” mumbled Mr. Kogan, unlocking his wife’s hands and rising, pressing his back against the wall. “Anything you wish… just name it.”

  Theron sprung up with a low growl and bared his terrifying fangs at Kogan, his long tail swiping from left to right.

  Mr. Kogan gasped, his eyes wide, his hands shaking. “And your friends too… What can I do for you all?”

  “My friends?” asked Gunz with an uneven smirk. “Oh yes, of course. Allow me to introduce my friends.”

  He waved at Mrak Delar.

  “Ancient Master of Power Mrak Delar,” he introduced. Mrak Delar crossed his arms over his chest, an ominous smile lingering on his lips. Gunz glanced at the expression on Mrak’s face, mirroring his smile. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Mr. Kogan. The Ancient Master hates slavers and the idea of people wearing collars makes his powers run wild.” As proof of his words, Mrak Delar connected with the power of Earth, and small tremors rattled the house.