The Fiddler's Dagger

by W H Lock

  Fox-Del fled back towards the front door. She became more fox-like and less human with every step. Eno spun to a stop. His claws dug tracks in the hardwood as he spun. He charged after her, becoming less man-wolf and more wolf-wolf with each stride. Del turned again and ran up the stairs. She took to all fours and shrinking in size as she ran. As she fled up the stairs, Quinn noticed that she had three tails.

  Quinn thought Eno looked more like a half-bat half-wolf when Eno was in the middle form. Eno didn’t have that classic elongated wolf snout with the baleful yellow eyes. Eno’s wolfman face was much shorter, maybe a third of the distance of a normal werewolf snout. Eno’s ears were more on the side of his head than on the top, and much wider and longer than normal. His teeth were needle-like rather than the savage looking fangs one would normally see in a werewolf. It didn’t help that the teeth jutted out at odd angles. Also, the spotty coverage of fur left large sections of Eno bare. The fur grew on Eno’s back, his arms, and on the back of his head. Thankfully, from the waist down Eno was covered in a dense, dark fur. Other than those patches, Eno’s wolf-man form was largely hairless.

  After a moment, Quinn said out loud, "I'll just be downstairs if you two don't mind."

  Eno roared. Something heavy smashed.

  Quinn nodded and made his way back to Gartrell's hidden treasure room. Once he passed through the wards of the door, he could feel the beast in the pedestal pushing against its restraints. It wanted out. It wanted to kill. It wanted a piece of the action happening upstairs. No, Quinn thought. That was wrong. The barghest just wanted to kill.

  He picked up the satchel and the fake dagger. Quinn licked his fingertips and rubbed them with his thumbs.

  "Stay," Quinn said in Infernal. The hellish word befouled the air as he spoke it.

  When nothing happened, Quinn plucked the dagger from the raised platform. He held his breath for a moment. The beast trapped in the spellbinding doubled its rage blows against its prison, but it stayed in place. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. He put the fake dagger in place, carefully putting it in the exact spot the original had been. If you were going to do something, Quinn felt you should do it right.

  He slid the original dagger into the secret compartment and sealed it against the outside world with the magic Karen had built into it. He kept the other fakes in the bag. There might be a use for them later on. With a wink and a two-fingered salute to the barghest in the pedestal, Quinn walked back up to the hall. The battle between Eno and Del continued. It sounded as if they were making their way through the entire house, demolishing the mansion room by room.

  "Okay, I'm just going to let myself out." Quinn shouted to the upstairs combatants. When no one answered, Quinn shrugged his shoulders and walked out the shattered remains of the front door.

  Rube pulled up to the front just as Quinn shut the short iron gate of the front yard behind him. Quinn tossed the satchel in the back seat and slid in next to it.

  "How did it go?"

  "Well enough, I suppose. I've got the dagger," he said with a shrug.

  Rube put the car in drive and pulled away from the house. From the sound of the sirens, the police and the fire department were not far away.

  "What about Del and Eno," Rube asked over his shoulder.

  "Eno knows what to do and Del," Quinn said without looking back. "She knows how to take care of herself. She always has."

  Chapter Forty

  The double front doors to the team's headquarters flew open. A bank of white fog rolled in and spilled across the floor. The unmistakable opening cords of Michael Jackson's Bad sounded in the empty retail building.

  Quinn stopped in the door, silhouetted by a backlight. He snapped his fingers in time to the music. Perfect duplicates of himself, each one dressed like stereotypical street gang members from the Eighties but still carrying the yellow satchel danced in around him. Unlike his duplicates, Quinn wasn’t dressed for the part. He was still in the tweed he’d worn to Gartrell’s. Quinn adjusted his fedora at the right time in the song. Quinn stepped into the storefront, doing the moves from the Bad video in perfect step to the music. His doppelgangers didn't mirror his movements but rather went through the routines of the backup dancers from the video. They even shouted and hollered at the right times.

  Quinn sang along with Michael. Unlike Quinn’s dancing, his singing was carried more by enthusiasm than by any talent. When the song hit the crescendo with the prolonged shout, Quinn spun and tossed his fedora across the room. The hat spun, arcing straight at one of the outstanding arms of the hat stand someone had thoughtfully placed for him.

  The hat hit the post and flipped over the rack. It rolled around in a few lazy circles before coming to a rest with the crown-side down.

  "Damn it," Quinn said. He waved his hands at his magical circle. The music faded as the circle dimmed. The doppelgangers all placed their satchels near where they stopped as the song came to a quiet end. They faded away to nothing, leaving behind the yellow satchels.

  A slow clap cut the silence.

  "You should switch to a pork-pie hat, Quinn. You'll never make that throw with a fedora," Oscar said as he stepped out of the darkness.

  "Yeah, that's what I hear," Quinn said. He carefully placed the satchel he had on the round table in the room’s middle. "Of course, I don't listen to people who don't know what the fuck they're talking about."

  "Is that how it's going to be, Quinn?"

  “Yeah.” Quinn laid a possessive hand on the satchel. "That’s how it’s going to be."

  "I don't want to make this harder on you than it already is. I get it. You're upset. But the sooner you hand me the dagger, the sooner we can move on."

  "We? What's this we you're talking about," Quinn asked "I just pulled a major job and you… what? You slow-clapped your way in here?"

  "I could have taken that dagger any time I wanted," Oscar said, putting his hands on his hips.

  Quinn stood up a little straighter and said, "Yeah? I bet you would have done something stupid like blow a hole in the side of his house or maybe tunneled underneath it? No. I'm wrong. You’ve always wanted to repel in from the ceiling and balance in the air, so you don’t touch the floor like in that movie you made me watch a dozen times. You were going to do that, right?"

  "You know the best way to steal something?"

  "Yeah, I think I do." Quinn patted the satchel with a great deal of pride.

  "You go to the easiest place to take it, and you take it." Oscar gestured at the empty retail space. "And here we are. I'm here to take what's mine."

  "Come, and fucking get it," Quinn said. With a flick of his hand, he summoned his Wind Blade into existence. He raised it up in the classic guard position.

  "Quinn, don't be cute. I’m a better fighter than you are. I'm a better magician than you are. I like you. I don’t want to hurt you. Just step away and I'll take what's mine."

  "You wish you're a better fighter than me,” Quinn said. "But I'll give you the magician bit. I wouldn't be caught dead as a magician, but that doesn't matter."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "I have Karen, and she's way better than you are. KAREN!"

  Karen floated in. There was at least two feet of empty air beneath her flowing black robes. Red lightning arced between her outstretched hands. Over the black robes, Karen wore what looked a ceremonial vest with lots of intersecting lines and angles. It was black silk with golden runes embroidered into the trim. With a quick gesture and snap of her fingers, Karen summoned a repeating square that opened to a fiery vortex in the middle. A human-shaped flame pulled itself up out of the squared circle.

  "Cute," Oscar said. "I see your Karen and raise you a Gwen. Gwen, dear."

  From the blackness behind Oscar, light flared. It traveled up from the floor as if it were unzipping the darkness. Gwen emerged from the darkness. As always, she was in white. Gwen was dressed like the nun that Quinn had met at the Vatican. But where that woman had worn black trimmed in blue, Gwen was in white with b
lue piping. She even had the sash with the embroidered Celtic cross tied around her waist. She looked at Quinn for a moment, trying to meet his eyes. He refused to look back at her. She slumped in sorrow. When Gwen looked up, she was lost in a beatific smile and her eyes focused on the far beyond.

  Crucifixes of light flashed into and out of existence as Gwen’s light spun across the room. Where the light touched Karen's summoning of a spirit of fire, it blew the fire lines away like chalk dust in the wind. The fire spirit flickered and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Gwen smirked and changed her hand position as if she were supporting her fist with the other hand. Gwen rose into the air; her white cassock fluttering in the wind.

  "Cyprians. I hate Cyprians," Karen muttered. With practiced ease, she snapped her fingers and pointed up. The burning circle under her feet lifted her in the air to be at the same level as Gwen.

  "Don't you get it, Quinn? Everything you've done since you left LA is what I wanted you to do. The dagger is here because I wanted it here. Anything you could think of, I already have an answer for. So let's make it easy on everyone and hand over the dagger. Come on, buddy, what do you say?" Oscar held out his hands. He looked like he felt bad for Quinn.

  Quinn hefted his weightless blade and said, "Come and take it."

  "I don't have to. I can have Andre take it." Oscar looked over his shoulder and said, "Andre!"

  Out of the darkness, a fully armored Knight Templar strode. He wore the full assembly of the Armor of God. The shield of faith, the sword of the spirit, the tabard of truth, and the helmet of something. Quinn couldn’t remember what the helmet was supposed to do.

  "Andre will get it for me. Won't you, pal?"

  Andre said, "Si." He slapped the visor down on his helmet and hefted his sword. He advanced on Quinn like he meant to kill him rather than take the satchel.

  "Nice. But I've got a witch. And they hate Templars. Like really hate. Elly? He's all yours."

  A lightning bolt arc through the open doors and hit Andre full in the chest. The armored man flew back several feet. Elly walked in, swirling her wand in the air. The air rushed through the empty storefront, sweeping papers up as it went. They came swirling in around Elly in response to her wand gestures then streamed out at the recumbent Andre.

  Oscar watched the Witch tear into the Knight with a tornado of paper for a moment before turning back to Quinn. “What’s up with Wednesday Addams? How did you hook up with her?”

  Quinn didn’t respond.

  “I asked around about her. Do you know what she was doing in Detroit a few months ago? You should be careful who you work with, Quinn.”

  Midnight darted out from the rafters to claw at Antonio’s face, his talons clawing at the eye holes of the helmet. Elly used the distraction to point her wand at the shabby leather couch the team had brought in. The wand burned with magic and the couch animated. The cushions of the couch opened as if they were a mouth. The couch roared as snapping sounds came from inside the piece of furniture. It arched in the middle and used the sides to crab walk forward. The back cushions furrowed as if they made the brow of an angry beast. It walked towards Antonio.

  “There’s a lot about her you don’t understand,” Quinn said.

  Oscar laughed and said, "I have the better hand, Quinn. You know that. Why do you have to make this so hard? Come on, you and me, buddy, I'll take you out for drinks. In like a week we'll be laughing about this just like always. All you have to do is admit that I'm better than you are."

  "Admit you’re the best? Hardly. I’m the best there is. Better than you will ever be."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." Quinn dismissed his Wind Blade. He picked up the satchel, hefted it in his hands for a moment. And with a word that only he understood, Quinn tossed it towards Oscar. The yellow satchel came up short and hit the ground. It slid to a stop and immediately duplicated itself. Then each one of those duplicated again. In the blink of an eye, there were almost a dozen identical yellow satchels in addition to the ones already placed around the room by Quinn’s doppelgänger dancers.

  "I'm the best at illusions. And I know what you're thinking," Quinn said with a grin. "You're thinking, hey, all I have to do is remember where he threw it down. It'll be easy. But the question you have to ask yourself; did he throw the real one down?" Quinn held up his hands, and he was once again holding a very convincing yellow satchel. "Or did he leave it on the table and never really had it to begin with?"

  Quinn looked over at the table where he had originally placed the satchel. There was now one more satchel sitting on the table. Then Quinn pointed to the yellow satchels around the room, the ones that had been placed by his doppelgangers just moments ago.

  "Or maybe he never really had it and it’s somewhere in here? So, what is it, Oscar? It’s your guess. How’s your luck holding, punk?”

  "Why am I going to have to guess, Quinn? I know you! You've got the inside of that satchel locked down. I bet you did a cute little dance move. You pointed at Karen and said something ‘Make this sexy, Karen!’ I bet you did a false bottom thing… but that’s not you, is it? No. You love sleight of hand too much. You want people to watch while you take something from them. You need them to see you do it. So, I bet there’s a false back, and you did all this complicated stuff with fake daggers, didn’t you? I bet that anything inside that satchel is completely invisible to the world. Karen’s good. I know I won’t be able to find the dagger. But you know what?”

  “No, smart guy. What?”

  “I don't need to find the real dagger. I need to find the real satchel. Because Karen is also a sloppy drunk. She forgets the little details. She’s Ordo Cogito and the only job she can get is working with you or teaching algebra in a community college in rural Wyoming."

  Oscar nodded at the array of yellow satchels around the room. He rolled up his sleeves and clapped his hands together. He whispered as he drew lines of fire in the air. A burning triangle that multiplied itself again and again until a circle formed in front of Oscar. It lay in the air at a slight angle as if it were resting on a pedestal. Matching triangle circles appeared below the various satchels around the room. They disappeared and reappeared in a random order. Every time a circle appeared there was an accompanying game show beep. The circles went faster and faster. The beeps matched the speed of the circles to make an energetic beat.

  "No whammies, no whammies, no whammies," Oscar said with excitement. He clapped his hands and bounced with the game show music. After a moment, Oscar slammed his hand down on the circle floating in front of him. “Circle gets the Square!”

  The blinking circle kept appearing beneath satchels until it came to a slow stop under one satchel. The one satchel directly in front of Oscar. It wasn’t more than a few feet away from him.

  "You're adorable," Oscar said. He picked up the satchel.

  "You better hurry, pal. You're on a time clock," Quinn said.

  Oscar looked at Quinn quizzically.

  "Because this thing had a guard dog attached to it and Eno should have let it free twenty minutes ago. It should be here right… about… now…," Quinn checked his wrist as if he were wearing a wristwatch.

  Nothing happened.

  "Right about… now!" Quinn gestured theatrically at the front door.

  Nothing happened.

  "You over complicate this shit, Quinn. That's your problem. Keep it simple. One day, you'll be as good as I am--"

  The glass front doors shattered as the raging Barghest smashed into the storefront. It roared in a triumphal challenge.

  "Hey! There it is!" Quinn crowed with delight. "I was getting worried. Whew, huh? Now, that barghest is supposed to keep that dagger safe, so I imagine you will want to deal with that real fast."

  Oscar wasted no time and summoned a shield in the air as the massive beast pounced on him. The great dog creature from Hell wrapped its massive body around the shield and ripped at it like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. The satchel slid away as Oscar and the beast rolled
away.

  "Yeah, those things are a bitch. I tricked one into thinking I was locked in a box once. It ate the box. That seemed to work out well," Quinn said as he watched the Barghest tear at Oscar's shield. "Of course, I don't think you'll have that luxury. You’ll figure out something, right? Now, I’m going to go where it’s easiest to take that dagger and… take it."

  Quinn skipped to where the real satchel had dropped. He made a Mick Jagger-like kick move before bending over to scoop up the satchel.

  He looked up to see that Karen and Gwen were still engaged in their duel. They had abandoned summoning spirits from other realms and dispelling them. Karen commanded a swirling array of burning abstract mathematical shapes. Gwen was responding with glyphs drawn in the holy script. The burnished red-gold lines she willed into existence tried to banish Karen's fire. But she was losing ground to Karen. Gwen sank a little in the air as her concentration was slipping.

  Elly had driven Andre back; the papers that had flown around now formed a set of chains that pulled at his arms. The leather of his boats had grown tendrils and was holding him fast by rooting into the ground. His shield and sword lay on the ground behind him. The couch monster was in shreds.

  Quinn smiled and looked back at Oscar. "Well, you two look super busy," Quinn said. "I'll just get this out of here if you don't mind."

  From the central skylight, a glorious and pure white light filled the room. The white light drowned out the shadows and smothered the sounds of combat. A kind of peace forced its way into the room, causing the fighting to stop.

  The skylight shattered as something massive came through it. The glass sparkled as it shattered into a million pieces and rained down upon the combatants. The world fell into a respectful silence as the figure stood. It stretched its massive wings as the light collapsed within its perfect figure.