by Doug Burbey
Blood War: Power
Doug Burbey & Mel Todd
Bad Ash Publishing
Atlanta, Georgia
Copyright © 2018 by Melisa Todd & Doug Burbey
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Bad Ash Publishing
Atlanta, Georgia
www.badashpublishing.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com
Cover by http://www.ampersandbookcovers.com/
Power/ Melisa Todd & Doug Burbey. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-0000000-0-0
You wanted Shane, you got Shane. I take no responsibility for his actions.
They're all dead anyhow, they just don't know it.
―Shane Gris
CONTENTS
End of the Beginning
Possibilities
Roll the Die
Cast
A Journey
Force vs Coax
Price of Magic
Air
Door Closes
New Path
Broadening the Mind
Rome
Realizations
Libraries
What Not
Desert
Yes, Virginia
Going for Broke
Door Opens
Learning Hurts
What Angels Fear
1
End of the Beginning
Lieutenant Colonel Shane Gris stood on the top of an armored personnel carrier, binoculars pressed to his eyes as he observed the horde pouring through the portal at Ypsilanti. The smell of blood, brimstone, gunpowder, oil, and death wrapped around him, choking everyone in the area with what it meant. The scents brought with them depression, guilt, apathy, and destroyed any chance at hope.
His mouth felt like a desert had died in it as he focused not on the demons killing and destroying everything in their path, but on the plains inside the portal. Plains covered with tens of thousands of demons waiting for their chance to come through.
We're all dead. They'll never stop coming and we've almost expended all our resources. The damn Artillery is out of those PASKE munitions after trying to hold the horde back at Detroit. We don't have enough mages to make a difference, and we aren't as powerful as the higher level demons without the PASKE.
The Portal Attack Saturation Kinetic Explosives "PASKE" munitions had allowed the military to hold off the hordes so far, but they couldn't produce them fast enough to stop the invasions. Which meant all they did was delay people dying. Shane lowered his glasses and looked around at the soldiers rushing to rearm, fix equipment, and basically prepare to die to stop the incoming horde. And the hordes would never stop coming.
Shane waited for the shock and horror to swamp him or maybe anger and resolve, but there was nothing, just numbness.
That's it. I'm done. We're all dead, and I'll be damned if I die without getting laid one more time, getting drunk, and seeing the northern lights.
He jumped off the armored vehicle and turned, heading towards his stuff. His black uniform with the Special Tactics badge on it seemed to mock him, and as soon as he hit the small tent they'd set up for people to catch naps or change while they waited for the portal to open he started to strip. His mind raced to figure out a plan. Anything to get away from the death that wouldn't stop on its way to overrun Chicago next.
"What's up?" Declan Kenner's voice sounded behind him, but Shane didn't even pause in his actions. There should have been curiosity or confusion or something in Declan's voice, but Shane didn't know if Declan existed any more than the man Shane had been before all this started. Shane Gris didn't exist really, only the shell, corrupted by blood and hollowed out from what he'd been. Similarly, all that was left of Declan Kenner was DK, Demon Killer, a man who would hate him in a few minutes, if he had that much humanity left.
"I'm done. Leaving. You need to come with." He said it even knowing DK would never take it. The man had never learned to bend.
"What?" That got a rise out of DK and Shane glanced over his shoulder to see a snarl flash across his face. "You can't just leave us. You're one of only three mages we've got left. We need you." Anger laced his voice, but DK was a master at controlling his temper. Shane wasn't.
"We're all fucking dead, DK. And if I'm going to die, I'd rather do it balls deep in some woman and so drunk I don't feel it coming." He whirled and gestured in the direction of the portal, pants in a pool around his feet. "We can't defeat them. You know it. So, fuck this, everyone I've know, I've cared about is dead. You're the only person left I even give a damn about, but I'm not staying. We can't win, all we can do is die and we can't even die well enough to make a difference to that damn horde."
DK took two steps towards him. "Fuck you, Gris. If we can delay them even a few hours we can save the people that are fleeing. Give the government time to get some rail guns here and more PASKEs for the howitzers to hit the horde inside the portal."
"Why?" Shane almost screamed it, getting in DK's face. "We're all dead. If not today, then tomorrow, or the next day. You saw the other side of the portal. We're almost out of weapons, we can't produce them as fast as we use them. The military is almost out of people, we've lost almost seventy-five percent of our forces fighting these portals. Hell, Europe and Asia have lost fucking millions of troops and for what? We're walking dead people, they've won. Every one of us can die here and it won't make a difference. Why die to give strangers, people we don't give a damn about, a few more hours of fear?"
Images of the dead the horde left in their wake, and the victims they'd had to kill, flashed through his mind. The people they'd failed. They didn't kill out of anger but because was no way to save them, and a bullet to the skull was the only mercy anyone had left anymore. Hell, in some cases it was a knife to the throat because you couldn't afford to waste a bullet. More than one man or woman had broken and eaten a bullet after they'd slit the throat of a child that hadn't finished dying. Any more, suicide was the easy way out and they all knew it.
"R&D is working on more stuff. The portable rail guns are making a difference already when paired with the PASK-Es. We'll find something that pushes them back," Declan protested, but Shane could hear the lie in his voice as he tried to convince himself.
"Oh, please. They ate fucking nuclear weapons! We killed more of us than them with that dumb assed idea. What the hell are we going to come up with? We're done and you know it."
"Fuck you," the words were spat out and DK was in his face. "This is what we signed up for, remember? To lay our lives down to protect our country, our people. You saying you are breaking your oath? Well, then I'll see you in hell, cause I'll be here doing what I agreed, and if that costs me my life so be it." He took a step back and glared. "I thought I knew you. The Shane I knew would never have turned his back on his oath or his brothers."
Shane sneered. "The Shane you knew hadn't watched people he cared about torn to pieces, their blood being siphoned to fuel a demon horde. The Shane you knew hadn't learned how to take demon blood and let it twist him so he could control fire and kill things that came from our deepest mythologies. The Shane you knew hadn't seen that tens of thousands of demons waiting to come through that portal and kills us all. That man died and good riddance. He was weak and kept thinking he could make a difference. Well one man, two men, hell a thousand can't make a di
fference. All we can do is die. All you have left is strapping suicide vests on wounded personnel and civilians, giving them a heartwarming speech on having to hold the line so others may live. Just more dead souls to your credit in the end. That's all any of us have left."
"Well then, I'll die protecting my country, my brothers, and my oath. Yes, while holding the line as long as I can." Declan snarled at him and turned storming out of the tent.
"FUCK!" Shane screamed and knew no one would even notice. No one even asked about your meltdowns anymore. No one had the time or energy left.
He continued to change his clothes and grab a rucksack, shoving what he'd need to run with. He stepped out the sack on his back, looking around at the organized chaos. He could hear John Reynolds bellowing at someone to get their head out of their ass and get the rounds loaded. He couldn't see DK and guilt whispered at the back of his mind.
No, I'm not dying here, not like this.
He turned and stormed out of the tent and stumbled to a stop as the biggest demon he'd ever seen started to force its way through the portal.
It doesn't matter. I can't run far enough, not from that.
Anger spurred by the blood he'd gorged on washed through him.
Fuck it. If they're going to take us out, I'll take them with me.
Anger, and a hollow in his soul he didn't bother to examine fueled him as he stalked over to the mage area. Only one person was left from his team and he lay crumpled on the ground, obviously exhausted from whatever spell he'd cast last.
Either way, he didn't matter, none of them did. With grim determination, Shane began to sketch. For smaller spells, he didn't need circles, but this, this would take every bit of power he had as well as a bit of luck. His backpack stayed on his back so familiar he didn't even notice it as he prepared a spell to kill everyone.
Standing in the center of his diagram he reached down into the ley line and found the connection to the monster portal the demons controlled, the one that still had a demon that had to be at least 20 feet tall trying to squeeze through.
"I hope you all burn in hell!" he cursed as he grabbed the portal energy and pulled.
It felt like his blood was being yanked out of his body as he pulled on the energy, and screams started around him, but he didn't stop. If he was going to die, so would those damn demons. The portal shifted and he looked at it in front of him, opening up to a world that radiated unformed magic, waiting for his touch, his guidance.
Wha?
The thought wasn't even fully formed as he reached for it mentally, curious as to this strange unformed mass of magic that called out to him. As he reached out to it, his mind alight with the possibilities it snapped down to a pinprick then exploded back outwards. It felt like someone had grabbed him, shoved him into a straw then sucked him to the other side of the universe.
He exploded out of that impossibly compressed state, slamming into something and the world went away.
2
Possibilities
Shane sat, a beer in one hand, his eyes locked on the TV and the signing of the accords. Treaties that would usher in a permanent peace between demons and humans.
"Idiots," he muttered as he took another sip of the beer.
"Did you say something?" The bartender asked. An older woman with a face like the hind end of a moose, which he had verified upon a close encounter with one, gave him a smile that did nothing for her looks. But she served fast, accurate, and always had a smile for people. Could have been worse.
"Nah. What do I owe you, Maggie?" He asked digging in his pocket.
"Same as always, ten for the pitcher, five for the burger." He pulled out a twenty and dropped it on the countertop.
"Thanks," he said as he headed to the door, grabbing his jacket before he stepped out into the bright sun and cold wind of Nome, Alaska.
When he'd awakened from the experience he'd found himself laying in the middle of a clearing that looked like it had been created by a bomb explosion.
He'd been surprised to not only be alive, but relatively unharmed with his possessions still in the bag on his back. Walking out of that had been a pain, but he'd found himself in Alaska near the Arctic circle. In the last six months, he'd found a job, earned a place in the community and waited for the world to end. Drugs, women, booze, he'd done them all, but nothing called to him like the temptation of the potential magic that had appeared for a minute when he'd done his spell. That ate at his mind.
Shane walked back to his apartment, his pack had cash and some valuables that at Nome prices had gotten him an apartment for six months, six months which were about up. He'd originally figured they'd all be dead by now but the armistice surprised him. It wouldn't hold, but it might give him time. Time he'd never expected to have.
His apartment, barely a room with a small fridge, hot plate, sink, bed, and bathroom, had been all he'd needed. Sex had not been as driving as he expected, but he'd noticed the more magic he'd used the less sex mattered over time. Booze still called him, hence the six-pack in his fridge of which he lowered by one.
Time, the one thing he'd thought they'd been out of, he now had. Oh, the demons would still win, but maybe now he could find a way to escape before that happened.
Shane had always preferred to talk out problems and strategize, though usually, Declan had been there to poke holes or add ideas, now he still walked and talked to make sure he had it straight in his mind.
"Trying to collapse the portal, before I could finish grabbing it, something happened, a proto portal, or a potential portal? But what could I do with that? Can I create a new place? The portal didn't go anywhere but it held more potential energy than anything I've ever seen. What could I do with that?"
He drained the beer staring out at the sun hovering over the horizon, the idea of using that magic potential to do something tickled the back of his mind.
"I need more information," he said his eyes narrowed. Most magic had been trial and error, people learning skills while soaked in blood and managing to do something desperate that they survived. A few people, those who belonged to those groups that had been hunted and laughed at for millennia, showed up and gave them some basics. How to use the power inside the blood that unlocked the energy and portals. But they shrugged when asked for more information. Most of those who had known were dead. The only cultures that really used magic anymore were indigenous, mostly isolated from the global society of technology.
"Indigenous, of course. I need to find the people that still use magic and get them to show me the rules. Time, how much time?" The idea of demons adhering to whatever piece of paper they signed was as likely as him ascending to another existence. Though he'd keep that idea in the back of his mind, just in case.
The Inuit, the local people here didn't have any magic like that, he'd already checked. So, he needed to travel and see what other groups might have.
"South America has the best chance, especially given the remains they found there about a year ago. Horde machines that had been abandoned and eaten by the jungle centuries ago. Someone will talk and tell me what I need to know, or they'll regret it."
Shane smiled, his blood singing in a way that neither sex, drugs, or booze had managed.
"I needed to warm up anyhow."
3
Roll the Die
Three Months Later
Shane watched the bartender refill his glass, not taking his eyes off it until it was in his hand, then took a long sip. It wasn't unheard of for white Americans to be roofied and rolled. Sometimes they didn't survive the experience. Smart people kept control over their drinks.
The sharp high proof rum burned as it went down, but even it couldn't chase away the taste of failure from his mouth and he glowered at the dive bar around him.
Three months of chasing stories, following up on rumors, begging people to teach him, and either they pretended to not speak English or laughed at him. More than one or two of those had been whimpering in pain by the time he left. Laughing
at Shane Gris did not usually end well.
A ripple of motion through the bar grabbed his attention as people turned and looked at the man walking in. He radiated beauty, power, and an elegance that Shane had never seen anywhere except on movies. Yet he wore jeans and a t-shirt with a look that reminded Shane of Declan's face those last few days. A face that knew everything had been lost and couldn't be replaced.
Holy shit, is that a fucking Fae? A Fae here?
His mind scrambled as he tried to consolidate everything he knew about Fae, which wasn't much. Magic users from another realm, powerful, reclusive, and arrogant. That covered it.
The man ordered a drink then flowed through the room to a booth in the back collapsing there. Everyone just kind of drifted out of his way, and Shane started to turn back towards his drink when the flavor magic registered. Subtle, like a whiff of orange on the air, and it had everyone looking away.
Oh, I want.
The lust in that thought drove him more strongly towards the Fae than the subtle magic could drive him away. He headed to the bar and flagged down the bartender. The man had a dour look on his face as he stared at Shane, an obvious gringo.
"Si?"
Shane's ability to speak Spanish, Portuguese, or any other South American dialect qualified as non-existent. But he'd found that bartenders worldwide spoke money. He pointed at an unopened bottle of high proof something, probably tequila, and slapped money on the bar, more than the bottle would ever be worth. The advantage of being in this type of hellhole proved itself when the bartender shrugged, grabbed the money and handed him the bottle. Shane leaned over and grabbed two cleanish glasses from the rack then headed to the booth holding the Fae.
Eyes followed his progress for the first part of his journey across the room. He gritted his teeth against the desire to go see what that woman on the other side of the bar was doing. The eyes had all dropped away by the time he got to the booth and the Fae.
