Club 66 Omnibus

by C. C. Mahon

  24

  The rest of the evening was filled with more lighthearted conversation over a few bottles of our best liquor. I didn’t have the courage nor did I want to leave my team to isolate myself in my loft. I ended up falling asleep on a booth just before dawn.

  My head was pounding, as if a mischievous joker had set up a gong between my ears. I tried to protest and find refuge in a deep sleep, but the gong hits followed me.

  I ultimately decided to open my eyes.

  I was laying on one of the club’s booths, but my face was resting against a warm chest. An arm was wrapped around my shoulders. The air smelled of whisky and pine sap.

  The pine scent came from Nate, who was holding me against him. The smell of alcohol was coming from Matteo’s glass.

  “She’s waking up!” announced Gertrude.

  I pushed back Nate’s arm to straighten myself up, and he let me do so without hiding his disapproval. I held my head in my hands.

  “Does someone have aspirin?” I asked. “I feel like someone’s bashing me over the head with a hammer.

  “Aspirin isn’t going to help,” said Barbie.

  “She’s hitting on the club,” added Matteo.

  “Who’s hitting on the club?” I asked.

  “The blonde,” grumbled Nate.

  “Not possible,” I said. “I saw her jump off the dam.”

  “I believe you,” he said. “That doesn’t change the fact that we saw her too, on the security cameras, before she destroyed them all.

  “I recognized her,” interjected Matteo with a bitter smile. “She looks as crazy as when she broke into my place to pull me out of bed.”

  Nate let out an inaudible growl that I only noticed because I felt his chest vibrate against my ear.

  Which meant he’d pulled me towards him against.

  My bouncer is Care Bear, I thought surreptitiously before pulling away from his grasp again.

  The blows still reverberated, and now that I was more awake, I could tell that they weren’t only vibrating in my skull but in my chest, my stomach, and the rest of the room as well.

  “What do you mean by ‘the blonde is hitting the Club?’ ” I asked.

  Barb shrugged. “We saw her snooping around the door for a minute, and then the cameras all went out.”

  “The strikes started just after that,” added Gertrude.

  The troll was fiddling with a small object between her fingers, as if to reassure herself. It didn’t seem to be working very well, and she jumped at every new blow.

  “She’s banging on the walls?” I asked. “With what?”

  “Mjölnir,” stated Gertrude.

  “Come again?”

  “A hammer,” Nate clarified.

  “As big as her head,” finished Barbie. “Made of metal.”

  “It’s Mjölnir,” repeated Gertrude. “Thor’s hammer. You know, like in the movies?”

  “We think she’s trying to break the protection spells,” said Nate. “The ones your wizard friend is so proud of.”

  “They’re holding for now,” said Barbie.

  “But the blonde doesn’t seem ready to give up,” objected Matteo. “These spells, how long are they supposed to hold out?”

  “They should’ve already incapacitated her,” I said. “I need to talk to Britannicus. Where’s my phone?”

  “We have no signal,” said Nate.

  “Or landline, either,” added Barbie.

  “No Internet as well,” whined Gertrude. “In fact, there’s no power.”

  I noticed the candles placed on the tables and the bar: it was the only source of light in the club.

  “Boss,” said Matteo, “we really need to know who we’re dealing with.”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “I thought she was working for Callum, that she was some sort of mercenary that he’d hired to find me. She claims she isn’t, but I don’t know if I can take her word for it.”

  “Callum is dead,” said Nate. “Is she pursuing her mission even though her client is gone?”

  Matteo shook his brown curls. “According to the wizard, Carver was found three weeks ago, burnt along with his yacht, on Lake Michigan, Viking style. The police had to match the DNA of the body with traces lifted from his toothbrush.”

  “Meaning the blonde would’ve killed Carver before going after Agatha?” asked Barbie.

  “Or Carver faked his own death,” I said. “He’s capable of it.”

  We’d already been over these theories. We were talking in circles.

  “This doesn’t tell us who this girl is,” said Barbie.

  “Or how we’re gonna get out of here,” added Gertrude.

  I stood up, sword in hand. “I don’t care who she is,” I said. “And I’m going out through the big door.”

  My sword was engulfed in flames, and everyone backed away.

  25

  BARBIE SHOT A wary look to my flaming sword and let out a whistle. “So that’s why the lunatic wants this weapon so bad.”

  “And that’s why you stole it from that Carver guy,” finished Nate.

  “Nope,” I said. “I had no idea it could do that. Before last night, I’d never used it as a weapon.”

  Matteo stared at the flames wide-eyed. “Boss,” he asked, “you’re not gonna go confront this crazy person?”

  “You got any other ideas?”

  He shook his head. “In that case, I’m coming with you.”

  “Not a chance,” I argued. “You said it yourself: your powers don’t work on this girl.”

  “Now that I’m…fed, I possess speed and strength superior to regular humans.”

  “And it won’t help you,” I said, “unless you’re hiding another magic sword up your sleeve.”

  He was about to protest, but Nate didn’t allow him to. “I also have strength and speed, and claws on top of that. I’m going with Erica.”

  Matteo grimaced. “Considering the state in which you came back from confronting this girl, I don’t see—”

  “Ah!” exclaimed Nate. “You’re one to talk. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t she put you in such a state that you had to—”

  “Shut up!” I yelled.

  The flames that wrapped around my sword doubled in size, and a shocked silence settled over the Club…until another blow against the magical protections echoed.

  It took sheer strength of will to regain my calm and bring down the fire covering my weapon back down to a reasonable size. “Do you hear that?” I asked. “Every time she attacks our protections, the sound changes slightly.”

  They all listened more carefully. Nate and Matteo agreed, but Gertrude and Barbie looked back at me, puzzled.

  “What does it mean, boss?” whispered Gertrude.

  “That we don’t have time to bicker,” I said. “Anyone who wants to join me can do so. Try not to get yourselves killed.”

  On the first floor, the security lights—the ones the firefighters insisted on—had burnt out. But the walls of the hangar, they glowed faintly where the wizards of the Guild had cast their spells. Different-colored lines formed the magical symbols, one color for each layer of protection, seven total. My hangar looked like a mystical rainbow.

  Another blow echoed, and the protections glowed brighter for a moment.

  Nate and Matteo had followed me and discovered the magical protections, speechless.

  “So that’s your famous secret security system?” asked Nate.

  “It must’ve cost you a fortune,” added Matteo.

  “Do you want to talk interior design, or are you coming with me?” I asked. I unlocked the big door of the hangar. “Matteo, open the door on my mark.”.

  He grabbed the handle and let out a cry. “The metal is burning!”

  “The protections are under immense stress,” I said. “Do you want a—”

  I was going to suggest to Matteo to go get a towel in the kitchen to protect his hands, but the words caught in my throat. The vampire had just taken off his shir
t, revealing a torso that belonged in a museum. He wasn’t as buff as Nate, but his shoulders were wide, his long muscles perfectly sculpted under his alabaster skin. Michelangelo had sculpted torsos like his.

  Matteo balled up his shirt and used it to isolate his hands from the burning handle. “Ready,” he said.

  I turned to see that Nate had regained his animal form. He tried to stand in front of me, and I glared at him. “Women and swords first,” I said.

  I signaled to Matteo, and the door slid to the right.

  The multicolored lights of the spells created a barrier where the door used to be, and I gritted my teeth before passing through it. It was like walking through a waterfall, except instead of cold water, I found myself showered in energies and odors. My skin tingled, tickled, and itched. I thought I could distinguish the smell of sulfur, cinnamon, and humus.

  The curtain was only a couple inches thick, and I quickly emerged on the other side. A cry of rage greeted me, and Goldilocks threw herself at me.

  She had not only one but two machetes and seemed untouched by her dive into the Colorado River.

  I blocked the first machete with my sword and rolled to the side to dodge the second blow. A metallic sound told me that my sword had cut off the end of her machete. Goldilocks stopped just shy of the curtain of luminous spells, pivoted, and attacked immediately. Even shortened, her machete was still longer than my sword. Not to mention her second weapon. I backed up several paces, dodged, and danced out of reach.

  On the other side of the luminous curtain, Matteo and Nate watched the fight, arms hanging at their sides.

  “Guys,” I shouted, “feel free to join in!”

  Nate threw himself at the curtain. There was a flash of light, and my grizzly rolled back, towards the center of the hangar. Matteo offered a gesture of helplessness.

  I dodged another attack from the enraged blonde when a calm voice declared, “The spells have activated their emergency mode. Only you can cross them.”

  A quick look behind me confirmed Britannicus was there.

  Dressed to the nines despite the early morning hour, the wizard was lackadaisically leaning against a shiny 4X4, parked on the other side of the street.

  An abrupt change of his expression warned me of the danger. I raised my sword out of pure reflex, and it intercepted a machete blow that would’ve otherwise cut me from my head to my waist. The sword cut through the machete a few inches from its base. Goldilocks didn’t seem to care and tried to skewer me with her second weapon. I avoided the strike like my krav maga instructor had taught me and added another few steps between me and the furious woman.

  “Do I need a quote to get some help over here?” I shouted to the wizard.

  “Unfortunately,” he said. “And the agreement of the Guild. Especially to get involved in a dispute in which it hasn’t been clearly established who’s in the right.”

  Another attack by Goldilocks, another dodge on my part.

  “What do you mean, ‘not clearly established?’ ” I asked.

  I shot him an incredulous look. He shrugged his shoulders, smiling apologetically, and I saw his eyes widen in surprise. I ducked just in time to avoid a knife that lodged itself in the side of a nearby car.

  “This crazy bitch killed my bartender,” I said.

  The aforementioned crazy bitch had abandoned her machete stump in favor of small throwing knives that she was grabbing from the back of her belt and throwing at me in rapid succession. I rolled on the ground to avoid three of them and jumped over the fourth before continuing.

  “She kidnapped my waitress…”

  I picked up the abandoned machete handle and threw it at the girl’s head, trying to gain a second or two. She swatted the object with a cavalier hand gesture, like it was a fly.

  “…beat up my cook,” I said, “and now she’s going after my club. What more do you need?”

  As for me, I was getting fed up and decided to attack.

  My sword was able to cut through metal as if it were paper, but it was shorter than my opponent’s machete. She was taking advantage of this to hold me at bay, forcing me to cut off the blade of her machete piece by piece, all the while avoiding the flying knives of which she seemed to have a never-ending stockpile.

  Somewhere behind me, Britannicus let out a dramatic sigh. “Alas!” he said. “These methods, while less than diplomatic, only seem to be in an effort to retrieve an item belonging to the lady over here.”

  “It’s my sword,” confirmed Goldilocks with her accent so thick you could cut it with a machete. “I’m only leaving with it in hand and once I’ve destroyed you for daring to touch it.”

  She emphasized this declaration with a kick that connected with my stomach.

  With the wind knocked out of me, I teetered backwards, just managing to hold back my opponent at the tip of my sword.

  A sharp pain in my shoulder told me that a throwing knife had found its mark. I dropped the sword, and it fell to the asphalt. The flames were instantly extinguished. A second knife buried itself in my thigh, and I crumbled to the ground.

  With a victorious roar, Goldilocks threw herself on me.

  I rolled over to reach my sword and caught it in my good hand. The machete buried itself into the asphalt, an inch from my hip.

  “Good God,” exclaimed Britannicus.

  Goldilocks delivered another kick to my injured shoulder, and the pain blinded me for a moment. When I came to, my opponent had pinned me to the ground. Sitting on my stomach, she placed her knee on my shoulder with a sadistic smile. My scream echoed between the street’s warehouses.

  The blonde placed the blade of one of her knives just under my left eye. “For having dared to steal my sword,” she said, “I’ll take this eye.” She pressed the tip of the knife under my other eye. “For refusing to give it back to me, you’ll lose this eye.” The blade then pressed against my throat and slid gently towards my chest and my stomach. “For having dared to wield this sacred sword and using it against me,” continued Goldilocks, “you’ll be gutted like a fish, and your insides will feed the crows.”

  The knife suddenly came back up against my throat, and the blonde leaned in to whisper my ear, “But before that, you’ll watch all you vassals suffer the same fate that awaits you. I will dedicate their deaths to Odin, and their cries of pain will appease my god’s anger.”

  Terror glued me in place better than the weight of this crazy person. Because my opponent was legitimately insane, and I’d learned to fear unpredictability.

  Sirens pulled me from my trance. Not the mythological creature, but the two-toned horn of a police car. It was close, and it was piercing my ears.

  Goldilocks raised her head to see where the sound was coming from, and I took advantage of it to hit her with the sword. In my position, I unfortunately couldn’t impale her with the blade and had to settle for aiming for her temple with the hilt of my weapon. I had to make the most of the situation and hit her with enough force to crack a skull. I didn’t get the satisfaction of splitting her head open, but I managed to stun her for a brief moment. I took advantage of it to push her off of me and pull myself a few steps back.

  Goldilocks quickly bounced back and shook herself off like a golden retriever after a bath. But another sound made her freeze.

  “Police!” King yelled. “Put down your weapons and place your hands on your head.”

  26

  The detective had stopped her car in the middle of the street. Standing, partly protected by her open door, she pointed her weapon towards Goldilocks.

  Goldilocks dropped her machete and, in the same movement, took two knives from her belt. I let out a cry, but the knives were already flying in King’s direction. Mere inches from her head, the blades turned into doves.

  King ducked, and the doves narrowly missed her before performing a sharp U-turn and attacking Goldilocks.

  Having dropped her machete, my opponent only had her hands to try and ward off the birds that were diving towards
her face beak and claws first.

  She took out two more knives, most likely with the intention to use them to slash her aggressors. Unfortunately for her, the knives gave way to another couple of doves that joined the first two in their attempt to blind Goldilocks.

  Britannicus was still leaning against the 4X4, and only his left hand and his lips were moving. But there was no doubt he was responsible for this turn of events.

  A dove had tangled itself in Goldilocks’ long golden hair and was attacking her scalp with sharp strikes of its beak.

  The other three birds took turns gashing the face of their victim.

  King ordered us again not to move and place our hands on our heads, but her focus stayed on Goldilocks and her angry doves. I took advantage of it to slide my sword in the back of my jacket, in the pocket normally intended for my back protection. The guard and the pommel stuck out behind my head, and I adjusted my hair to hide it. Then I placed my good hand on top of my head—my injured shoulder wouldn’t move.

  The four doves succeeded where I’d failed and had Goldilocks fleeing. King’s admonitions did nothing to stop her. The cop swore, holstered her gun, and ran off in pursuit of Goldilocks. I let them disappear between two warehouses and turned towards Britannicus. I had a few thoughts on the quality of his protection services. But the wizard had vanished.

  “Typical,” I grumbled as I tried to get up.

  That’s when I noticed that the two blades that had hit me were still lodged into my shoulder and thigh. I fell back on my ass with a groan of pain.

  “Don’t move, boss!” shouted Matteo behind me. “I have the first aid kit.”

  I turned my head. Without its rainbow lights, my club once again looked like any other gray hangar. Nate had regained his human appearance and his clothes, but Matteo was still shirtless.

  My two employees kneeled near me to examine my wounds. Matteo grimaced. “I’m afraid this goes beyond my skill set,” he said. “The firefighters’ training only covered frequent cooking accidents, but when the blade is in the wound, the instruction is to leave it to the professionals.”