We were standing in the middle of a grassy field, trees surrounding us on three and a half sides. No way to tell which way something was going to come from. If a nasty beast of some type came out of the trees at speed, we’d have only a couple of seconds to react.
Fox appeared in my hand. I saw that Gwen’s bat had also somehow found its way into the open. We’d all worked ourselves into a small circle, facing outward. I heard Dan muttering something to my left but didn’t want to shift my focus that way. Nothing was going to sneak up on us.
I noticed that in contrast to the previous several days, I wasn’t nearly as jumpy as I had been. Either I was getting used to being terrified for my life, or my system was just so shell shocked that it was in a permanent state of anxious aggravation.
Seconds ticked by, and the psychic silence that Gwen and Babd had sensed turned into real silence. The light breeze died. The sounds of traffic were now muffled, sounding like they came from a distant underground roadway.
“What’s going on?” I said. “This must be drawing an awful lot of power.”
“Yep,” said Dan. “If a Praecant tried to cast something like this, they wouldn’t have a chance. Must be some kind of serious artifact doing it.”
“Like the kris?”
“Like the kris.”
“I think,” said Brigit, “that someone is about to nuke us, and they don’t want anyone else to know.”
“Maybe we should be making our way out instead of just standing here?” said Gwen.
“Follow me,” said Babd. She began to slowly move toward the gap in the treeline that would take us to the trail and the parking lot.
A tall figure appeared in the gap, followed by a bunch of others. He wore a black t-shirt, tight jeans, and had on strange black boots with chrome panels on them. His hair was greying, and he had a for-real stomach-length grey beard. Of course he did.
“Guster,” said Dan.
The others with him—more than ten but less than twenty—had on blue blazers that fit or didn’t to varying degrees. A couple of the blazers were black. One was tweed. They all came past Guster and formed into a line in front of him, spreading out a bit until they covered maybe a quarter of the arc around the clearing.
And other than what Dan had just told us, and my instant book-cover evaluation of the guy, I had no idea what kind of person we were dealing with. A powerful Praecant, to be sure. Like any politician, he was probably somewhat ruthless and almost certainly clever, which meant…
“Keep an eye on Mr. Mistoffelees over there,” I said. “Someone needs to watch our backs.”
I faced the other side of the clearing. If I were Guster, I’d try to get our attention focused on him and his giant posse, then bring in a couple of heavy hitters from behind.
“Got your back, man,” I said.
“And ladies,” said Brigit and Gwen, almost at the same time.
“And ladies,” I said.
Babd began circling us tightly, throwing off random growls.
“Put down your weapons,” said a voice so close to me that it made me jump. It was Guster. I threw a quick glance over my shoulder, but he was still at the edge of the clearing behind his pack of goons.
“You are under arrest.”
“We put down anything,” said Dan, “and we’re dead. Eat shit!” he shouted.
Guster gave a command, and his goons started to spread out further around the clearing, advancing on us a bit as they went. A couple of them started raising their hands.
“They can’t throw anything at us from that distance,” said Dan. “They’re going to have to touch us.”
“So how about we don’t let them,” said Gwen. She was beside me and gripped her bat tightly. She was breathing heavily already, and her eyes were a bit wild.
This was really, really bad.
“It’s okay,” I said to her, trying to sound calm. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Obviously,” she said and tried to laugh, but it kind of caught in her throat.
And right on cue, two more figures emerged from the woods directly across from us. The flanking maneuver. Clever Praecant.
“Fox,” I said, sotto voce, “incendiary rounds.” I dialed up my Command Voice.
“Listen up assholes!” I said. I aimed Fox at the ground about twenty feet in front of the two sneaky snakes coming out of the woods and squeezed off two rounds. A satisfying BOOM and a wash of heat and fire followed. Yeah.
After a second, the smoke cleared, and I could see the two standing behind it. They looked a bit put out.
“That’s right! Lincoln can reach out and touch you.”
I kind of hated myself for referring to myself in the third person, but it had really seemed like the right thing to do only milliseconds before. Oh well.
“That’s as far as any of you get to us. Anyone takes another step, and I’m going to turn you into Praecant flambe. Got it?!”
I glanced around. Brigit was perfectly calm. Dan had a crazy smile on his face. Babd paced. Gwen had a look in her eyes that… I don’t know. I still can’t read her.
I saw Guster make a motion and waited for some kind of magical attack, but it didn’t come. What did happen was that about a third of the goons in the jackets reached into those jackets and pulled out guns.
Shit.
I hadn’t seen that coming.
Which was really stupid. Why wouldn’t they carry firearms? Any goon squad worth its salt should be armed.
While this terrified me, it somehow brought me into focus. All of the crazy magical things that could happen to me were just a part of my imagination–the incident with Carol Dee notwithstanding. Just imagination. Horrible, horrible imagination, but none of it seemed real. Guns, on the other hand, were quite real, quite within my conscious comprehension and could punch leaky little holes in me and mine from a distance regardless of the environmental iron count.
The focus helped me to start noticing some things that I hadn’t a moment ago. First of all, these people were moving strangely. They certainly weren’t moving like a trained, practiced team. They kept shooting each other glances to make sure they were doing the right thing. About half of them looked scared out of their minds, and only two of them looked like they were at all comfortable holding a gun.
What the hell?
“Told you,” said Dan. “They’re not here to bring us a plate of muffins.”
“Mmm muffins,” said Brigit.
“Fox,” I said. “Kinetic force.”
The gun pulsed in my hand.
I aimed between the two who, despite their obvious fear, were still slowly advancing toward where the grass flickered and smoldered.
“One of you two want to go first?” I said.
The one on the left looked particularly scared, almost ill. I pointed Fox at his buddy and squinted my eyes, drawing a tiny picture with the front site and his center of mass.
I squeezed the trigger. The guy did a backflip like he’d been thrown by a professional wrestler, landed on his face and stopped moving. The one to his left promptly dropped his gun, turned around and ran into the woods.
Okay then.
“Steady!” came Guster’s voice from behind me.
“We okay?” I said to Gwen.
“Okay,” she said.
“Holla if anyone comes out of the woods.”
“Right.”
I turned to face front.
The rest of them had stopped advancing. A couple seemed to have taken a few steps back. They clearly weren’t one-hundred-percent up for what we could dish out.
“How about the four of us-”
“Five,” said Babd through a snarl.
“The five of us just slowly walk out of here to our cars, and we’ll be on our way,” I said.
“No Lincoln,” Dan said. “They’ll just come after us again.”
Seriously man. Right now?
“What do you suggest we do? Fight them all?”
Dan stuck out his jaw.
“Maybe.”
I raised my voice again.
“We’re walking out of here, and you’d do best to keep your distance.” I threw my head back in the direction of the man I’d dropped. He’d have bruised ribs and maybe a broken nose, but they didn’t have to know that. “Keep your distance, or I’ll crush your ribcages just like I did to Mr. Wizard back there.”
A woman peeled off from her position in the arc in front of us and disappeared into the trees.
“Let’s go, guys,” I said.
We started moving toward the exit of the clearing, Babd circling us the whole time.
A few of the goons, maybe three or four, looked like they actually wanted to be there. I could tell by their eyes that they were trying to think tactically. If things went to shit, those were the ones I’d need to watch.
As we moved slowly, the goon squad backed away from us. But Guster didn’t.
He stood right dead center on the exit path.
Dan was in the lead, and we stopped maybe ten feet from Guster. Babd flanked Dan on the left, and Brigit stood to his right. I was behind them, trying to cover the receding crowd with Fox. I could feel Gwen’s elbow against me as she kept watch on the rear.
Somehow, we could make it to the cars and then… I don’t know. Run for it? Where would we go? Execute a fighting retreat? What if they’d disabled/crushed/destroyed our cars? I hadn’t thought of that.
Well, if they did, they had to have gotten here somehow, so we’d take their cars. Or brooms. Or whatever. We’d figure it out.
But that avenue of thought was a dead end as long as Guster stood in our way.
“Hey, turd,” said Dan.
“Daniel Thurman,” said Guster. “You are under arrest for four counts of murder, misuse of a magical artifact, seventeen counts of Abuse of Sentistry and aiding and abetting the violation of the Third Compact.”
“I love you too,” said Dan.
“Put down your weapons,” said Guster.
Dan drew the kris from his pocket. It flared into a foot long blade of purple fire.
Guster reached behind his back and pulled out a small black pistol. He pointed it at Dan. His hands were shaking.
“Put down your weapons,” he said.
“Bite me,” said Dan.
It looked like Guster was about to cry.
“You murdered my best friend,” he said, and I saw that in fact, he was crying.
And the shit hit the fan.
There was a rush and a roaring sound, and Babd launched herself at Guster. She bowled into him, all muscular hundred pounds of her, and his gun went off into the air. An instant later there was a sound like the kind of fireworks that are only a giant flash, and Babd went flying past us. She rolled out of control on the ground for about ten yards, tried to get up and then collapsed.
A bunch of things happened at once, and I was only aware of a few of them.
It seemed like most of the goons charged us, shouting like William Wallace’ troops. I pointed Fox at the lot of them and just started squeezing the trigger. Some went down, but others didn’t and things started getting crazy. I knew some of them had guns, but it really seemed like they were reluctant to use them.
That aside, I felt that if they got close enough to touch me, I was going to really regret it, and by regret it I meant “be dead.”
I heard Gwen grunt behind me and turned around. She swung her bat at a man charging her and connected, even though he tried to get out of the way. He backed off, holding his elbow, then started circling her.
I brought Fox up at him, waited for a clear shot and pulled the trigger. At least, I tried to. At the last second, I felt something fall on me from behind, and a hand brushed the back of my neck. I pitched myself forward, but it was too late. A wave of crushing dizziness overcame me, and the world went sideways.
Someone was on top of me, reaching for my face. I couldn’t stand up and couldn’t focus my eyes, but I could certainly push Fox against them and pull a trigger.
They went away.
I tried to stand up, but the ground reached up and grabbed me, hard. Someone had hit me with a contact spell and screwed up my equilibrium. Why they hadn’t stopped my heart, I don’t know.
Whatever.
In my spinning vision, I saw Gwen trying to hold off two people, a man and a woman, but then it was gone. I shook my head violently.
Sounds were swirling too.
I gripped Fox tightly.
“Fox,” I said, clenching my teeth, “Dispel.”
He twitched.
I pressed his muzzle against my chin. That felt wrong. So, so wrong. But it was necessary, and he wasn’t going to be putting a bullet through my head. Although, if I’d screwed up the software or the AI glitched, I guessed I wouldn’t even be around to know it.
I pulled the trigger.
Something like a static shock shot through me, and all of the sudden my head was clear.
And not just of the dizziness. It felt clearer than it had in a long time.
Disturbing.
I got to my feet, and the motion-induced nausea fell away like flecks of charred paper.
Things were happening behind me. I glanced around.
In the very, very old days when feuds were settled by duels with edged weapons, it was a very touchy affair. It wasn’t about fencing and clashing your swords together so much as just trying to get in and gash the other person’s arm without getting touched yourself. You’d then hang back, let your opponent bleed until they got lightheaded, then run them through.
Dan, Brigit, Guster and the only four remaining goons were engaged in something very similar. They would dart in, trying to get close but also trying to stay wary of not being touched. If you got touched, it was the worst game of tag you’d ever play. I didn’t see any more guns. I don’t know what happened to them, but I’m pretty sure Dan would have made that a priority to deal with.
They could take care of themselves, it seemed.
Only four, plus the two on Gwen. A lot of others were on the ground all around us.
Gwen. Swinging the bat. Her eyes were kind of gone now, as in not much thought left. She was just reacting on instinct. I brought Fox up on the man and woman trying to get in close on her.
Click. Nothing happened.
“Shit,” I said. “Fox, kinetic force.” I’d left him on dispel.
I squeezed the trigger again, and the woman jockeying for position with Gwen rocked back on her heels. I’d mostly missed. She shook her head and turned toward me, which was impressive. Another pull of the trigger, and she went down, a sledgehammer of force folding her in half.
That distracted her goon teammate, and Gwen swung the bat crazily, connecting with his head. He fell like he was dead. I hoped he wasn’t. Kind of.
Gwen was freaking out.
“Hey!” I said. She was shaking her head.
“I can’t,” she was saying. “Lincoln, I can’t do this.” Hyperventilating.
“Hey hey, it’s okay,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder while keeping an eye on everything else for a second. Her muscles felt like rocks.
“Run for the woods,” I said. “Get out of here.”
“No, I-”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Go. I’ve got your back.”
“Okay,” she said. Then, “okay okay” to herself.
“Come on.”
“Okay.”
She moved toward the treeline, slowly at first, like she was forcing her feet to move. After a few steps though, she started running. I scanned past her, left and right. She should be able to make it.
Where was Babd? Over there. She had managed to get up and was making her way toward where Brigit and Dan were outnumbered.
I turned again, and everything exploded into a swarm fireflies in front of me. My vision tunneled, and I realized I was on my knees. I wanted to say “What?” but my mouth didn’t make any sound. Instead, I started to get sick.
Someone strode around in
front of me, hoisting Gwen’s bat. She must have dropped it on her way to the woods.
My head felt like it was exploding. They must have clocked me with the bat from behind.
Concussion. I must be concussed because nothing was working right.
I couldn’t bring Fox up, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. This wasn’t magic.
This guy was big and, unlike a lot of the other people who’d entered the clearing, looked like he was in reasonably good shape. Not that you have to be particularly strong to crush someone’s skull with a ball bat, but still. He held the bat in front of him like a sword and shoved it hard into my chest.
I fell over backwards.
My hands were numb, or I’d have at least tried to squeeze a blast off at him on my way down.
He had a nasty look on his face, and it got even worse when he smirked.
And then all of the sudden he went away in a blur of black and teeth.
I blinked hard and tried to clear my head. It maybe worked a little. Where was the guy? Someone was yelling.
Oh, there.
Babd had him on the ground, tearing the shit out of his face.
Good girl.
Even though it felt like my muscles were made of cream cheese, I pushed myself up. I suppressed the urge the barf.
“That’s enough,” I managed to say.
But at that moment, the man reached up and grabbed Babd by the sizable scruff of her neck. Her fur smoldered for an instant, then she burst into flames.
As she fell to the side, burning, twitching, I didn’t see Babd any longer. I saw May, doing the same thing. That wasn’t a thing that had ever happened, but I saw it right now in front of me. It was her. It was both of them.
A sound came out of her, and I don’t know if it was real or just in my mind.
The nausea and the confusion and the adrenaline turned into something entirely different.
The bat. I needed it.
The man tried to get up, his blue jacket smoking. I manage to put my boot in his bloody face. He had dropped the bat, and now I had it. Still on his back, he put his hands up in front of his face. I brought the bat down, aiming for his arms.
There was a loud crack. Maybe it was the bat.
His one hand bent at an odd angle.
I hit him again.
Lincoln, Fox and the Bad Dog Page 14
