by John Ringo
“George, get the door,” Folsom said, gesturing with his chin. When the Wharf Rat was standing by the door he nodded. “Wharf Rats… present!”
Just about everyone in the room reached behind a back, to a hip or into a purse and came up holding a weapon. And then everyone started checking and clearing them for safety. Barbara knew she was staring but it was a bit much. Especially when bags started being dragged out and the assault rifles started appearing.
“I asked if you were comfortable around weapons,” Folsom said, setting an H K SOCOM identical to the one in her purse on the table.
“I am,” Barb said. “When they’re in the hands of people I know are trustworthy with them.”
“Everyone who just drew a weapon has a concealed carry permit,” Duncan said. “In one state or another. And they all meet the minimum criteria to carry around everyone else in the room.”
“They all cleared their weapons?” Barbara asked, dipping into her purse and drawing, clearing and setting down the H K next to his.
“A lady after my own heart,” Duncan replied, grinning.
“Perhaps,” Barb said, picking the weapon back up, loading it and setting it back in her purse. “Could we talk for a moment, alone?”
“With you?” Duncan said, getting up. “Any time.”
“Where?” Barbara asked.
“The adjoining room,” Folsom said, gesturing. He led her into the room and shut the door. “You’re not bothered by that, are you?” he asked, cautiously, gesturing at the door.
“I’d be more bothered if you hadn’t asked,” Barb admitted. “Do you know Timson?”
“Can’t say the name rings a bell,” Duncan said. “But I’ll admit I’m lousy with names.”
“He was the head of the Hunters in the LARPers,” Barbara said. “He’s been found dead. Overdose, apparently.”
“Oh, I know who you mean,” Duncan said, his eyes lighting. “He’s a friend of Krake’s.”
“Really?” Barb said, surprised.
“He was on a panel with Krake on research in writing,” Duncan said, nodding. “He and Krake had been thinking of doing a series together since Krake’s specialty is Greek and Roman history and that guy… Timson? He’s an expert in really ancient writings, all the way back to cuneiform from what Krake said.”
“Well, there’s not going to be a series now,” Barbara pointed out. “He’s most sincerely dead.”
“And there’s a rumor,” Duncan said, his eyes narrowing, “credibly traceable to you, that there’s a serial killer at the con.”
“The body had no indications of violence,” Barb said.
“And what would a homemaker know about that sort of thing?” Duncan asked, exasperated. “I’m sorry, the next thing you’re going to tell me is that your name is Miss Marple.”
“What?”
“Agatha Christie? Never mind. Look, I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing around with-”
“I’m a consultant with the FBI,” Barbara said, throwing up her hands. “Okay? You know Greg Donahue is an FBI agent, right?”
“But he’s on leave…” Duncan said then paused. “He’s not, is he? He’s actually on assignment, isn’t he?” His face had gotten very blank.
“Yes, he’s on assignment,” Barb said, sighing. “And, yes, we spread the rumor to try to get the killer to bolt. But instead he’s changing MO. Timson looks like an OD, we’re… not sure how he was killed.”
“And you’re not a very good liar,” Duncan said, angrily. “Somebody already tried to call out and we can’t. Now you’re telling me we’re playing Ten Little Indians?”
“If you mean he’s hunting us, yes, it looks like it,” Barbara said, unhappily. “There’s an HRT team on standby at the Roanoke airport. But we can’t call them in. We can’t even get a sheriff’s car in here.”
“Shit,” Duncan said, standing up and pacing back and forth. “Herding cats…” he muttered.
“What are you talking about?” Barb asked.
“How to keep people alive,” Duncan snapped. “Greg’s worried about catching the perp and so are you, although from your eyes ‘catching’ probably isn’t what you’re thinking. Me, I’m trying to figure out how to cut down the casualties. And the first thing we need is solid police response. We need to get in contact with that HRT and get them in here. Get sheriff’s deputies in here. Seal this place down, vet every single person, pull out all the suspects and find out which one did the killings. Which means we need to get back in contact.”
“The roads are packed,” she pointed out. “And it’s a half mile to the nearest intersection. And there’s no guarantee that there will be anything there. Trying to move through this snowstorm is suicide.”
“We’ve got, among the Wharf Rats, a half a dozen people with serious cold-weather training and background,” Duncan said, shaking his head. “This isn’t a horror movie. We just get the experts in and let them run wild. And to get them in we send out a team with all the gear we can make or scrounge. If they take a few hours, if they take all night, whatever it takes. I’m thinking about what happens in the meantime.”
“What if he attacks the team?” Barbara asked.
“Hah!” Duncan laughed. “Let him. None of these guys learned about hiking by taking happy little walks in the woods. They’re all former military and they’ll all be armed. We’ve got, among the Rats present, at least six former infantry, two former Special Forces and a SEAL. And before you ask, if he’s one of them it won’t matter. They will be fully briefed. By Agent Donahue. There’s no way that he could take all of them out. Even if he’s on the team. They go to a phone, pass on Greg’s message and HRT gets in here if it takes calling out the National Guard with armored personnel carriers.”
“Well, actually…” Barb said, cautiously, just as there was a furious knocking on connecting room door.
“Miz Goldberg,” Duncan said, raising his eyebrows at the slight Jewish woman he saw when he opened the door.
“Where is she?” Goldberg said, striding past him and into the room. “You stupid-”
“I know,” Barbara said, shaking her head. “You don’t have to beat me up, I’m already doing that. All three of us are.”
“Whose stupid idea was it to try to flush him?” Kay said, ignoring the oblique plea.
“I think that throwing around recriminations is a bit late,” Duncan said, sitting back down in his chair after closing the door. “We need to get ourselves out of this cleft stick and then throw around recriminations. But, never fear, the Wharf Rat Rangers are prepared to go as far as necessary to find a phone. At which point we can call in a Hostage Rescue Team and we’re all saved.”
“That’s what you think,” Goldberg said, looking at Barb. “Are you going along with this?”
“I was just trying to figure out a way to explain,” Barbara admitted, sighing.
“It won’t work,” Kay snapped. “If he wants to take down your team he can. The only reason he’s not going straight to mass murder is either Barb or her friend.”
“Excuse me?” Duncan said, frowning. “Barbara’s a charming person, but…”
“Shut your fool mouth, youngster,” Goldberg snarled, her accent clearly Hebrew. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”
“Clue me,” Duncan said, seriously.
“Who are you?” Barb asked, looking directly at Goldberg.
“That’s nobody’s business, but…” Kay said, frowning.
“Barbara Everette,” Duncan said, nodding in her direction and waving at Goldberg. “May I make your acquaintance of Lieutenant Colonel Hega Moshen, Israeli Defense Force and later Shin Bet. I believe your highest rank in the IDF was, in fact, major, correct, Colonel?”
“You were a colonel in Shin Bet?” Barb asked, surprised. She’d thought the tough little Jewish woman was probably a former sergeant or low-level Mossad agent.
“Yes,” Kay said after a long pause. “I was the Shin Bet commander for Israeli Special Circumstances.”
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“Okay, I got all of that except that last bit,” Duncan admitted, waving his hand vaguely. “Hell, I knew all of that except the last bit. What’s Special Circumstances? Serial killings?”
“Special ones,” Kay said, looking at Barbara. “She’s SC,” she added with a jerk of her chin at the homemaker. “American SC.”
“Who was Goldberg?” Barb asked, quietly.
“Does anybody want to actually answer my question?” Duncan said, plaintively.
“My husband,” Kay said, just as quietly. “He was our top adept.”
“Ok-aaay,” Duncan said, shaking his head. “I did not just hear you say that. No, tell me I didn’t just hear you actually say he was an adept. Please?”
“Special Circumstances is the term used for supernatural investigations,” Barbara said, sighing and still looking at the old Jewish woman. “This person isn’t just a serial killer, he’s a necromancer. The reason there aren’t any marks on Timson’s body is that he ripped his soul right out. Pull the soul out and the body stops working.”
“Oh, I dunno,” Duncan said, trying to catch up. “I had this manager one time…”
“She is not joking,” Kay said, brutally. “I am not joking. If you send out a team, they would have no defense against the necromancer.”
“They would if one of us went with them,” Barb pointed out.
“You any good at hiking?” Duncan asked, smiling. “And if you’re gone, who’s going to protect me?”
“You’d accept me protecting you?” Barbara asked, grinning. “What was all that about women and children first?”
“I also said something about if a woman is a warrior,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I’m still working on the assumption that you’ve both been smoking too much peyote. But I’m also not willing to trust my skin on it. I’m attached to it. Very attached.”
“You would probably survive,” Barb said, looking at him carefully. “You’re… you’re not protected by your faith like I am, but you’ve got something. I’m not all that experienced, but I can tell that you’re powerful in some way.”
“You’re just seeing my natural sexual charisma,” Duncan said, avoiding her eyes.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Kay asked, sharply.
“It’s stupid,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I don’t believe in hocus-pocus.”
“Do you believe in God?” Barbara asked.
“Oh, maybe,” Duncan said, shrugging again. “I’m more agnostic. But…”
“But?” Kay asked.
“I’ve had a few girlfriends, before I was married,” he added, looking up at Barb. “Some of them were into witchy stuff. I didn’t pay it any mind as long as they were good in bed and didn’t nag too much. But one of the ones that… I suppose if you’re not joking she might have really been strong I guess. She’d never let me be around when she was doing a rite. She said I was something like a natural power sink. She called me black silk.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” Barbara said, uncertainly. “I’m really new at this. But I don’t think the necromancer could just rip your soul out. He might be able to kill you, but…” She paused and looked at him. “Can I try something?”
“You can feel free,” Duncan said. “As long as it’s not pulling my heart out and sending my soul to hell. I hate heat. I’ll take the Ninth Level, though. All that lovely ice…”
“No,” she said, reaching into her power base. She had found that there were two sources of power, one that was her channel and the other she supposed was just in her. She had a hard time figuring out exactly what to do, but after a moment she decided that God wasn’t going to condemn her for trying a compelling charm. She’d been told how to form one in class, but never tried it because it seemed intrusive. Now she just reached out and tried to compel him to draw his weapon and set it down.
“That was an odd feeling,” Duncan said, his face wrinkling. “Is it cold in here?”
“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” Barb said, desperately. “Colonel, could I…”
“Go ahead,” Kay said, nodding. “I’ll be the control if you wish.”
When she had tried to compel Duncan she had thrown power at him and had it simply… disappear. This time she just tried to compel the colonel to bend down and pick up a pen. Instead she hit something like a wall. It was strong but she knew she could overcome it if she tried.
“I could push past your resistance,” Barbara said, opening her eyes.
“I could feel that,” Kay said, opening her own. She looked worn. “Lord Yaweh, you’re powerful. Was that coming from your channel?”
“No,” Barb said, taking a deep breath. “Duncan, I don’t think anyone on earth could compel you.”
“You could,” Duncan said, smiling and batting his lashes. “Just by smiling.”
“I mean magically,” Barbara said, sighing. “It’s like punching fog.”
“That’s me,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I guess it’s because I’m never really in the present.”
“I’d love to know what it actually is,” Barb said. “I doubt it’s that simple. But you could make it out and be safe from the necromancer.”
“Unless the necromancer just killed him,” Kay pointed out. “A bullet kills you just as dead as being soul drained.”
“That would be who was faster on the draw,” Duncan argued. “I’ll take that chance.”
“He could use power to take your gun from you,” Kay said. “To make the bullets not work. To pull it apart. I’ve seen it, had it done to me. It’s… annoying. Stakes just aren’t my favorite weapon.”
“Oh,” Duncan said. “I wasn’t looking forward to a long walk in the snow anyway. Heart condition, donchaknow. Too many cigars.”
“You should quit,” Barbara said, automatically.
“That’s what my doctor keeps saying,” Duncan said, shrugging. “But chicks really dig it. We’re wasting time, here. We need to figure out some way to get people to cluster so we can keep an eye on them and protect them. The only problem with that is that a convention is like…”
“Herding cats,” Barb said. “You said that before.”
“And the way that you herd cats,” Duncan said, smiling, “is you offer them treats where you want them to go and then shut the door. Another thing a girlfriend taught me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Yes, Miss Ruby,” the manager said, waving his hands at the power outage. “The hotel is not with power. Most of the guests are with your convention. To be telling them we will open the restaurant and bar for occupancy. We have heat to heat those rooms, but all other rooms will be no heat.”
“This is insane,” Ruby said, tearing her hair then stopping and trying to be composed. “I’ll start circulating the word, but it will take time to even get the staff up to speed. When are you opening the dining room?”
“Now,” the manager said, waving his hands. “Is open! But should bring blankets, pillows. Is no maid service, none come to work today.”
“I keep saying we need to move this thing to summer,” Ruby muttered, darkly.
When she was gone the manager went back behind the reception desk, where angry guests were already lining up, and into his office.
“Is done,” he said, shaking his head. “My cousin is cutting power to all the wings. Is only power here in the lobby and in restaurant and bar.”
“Open the bar,” Greg said, the shook his head. “Not free but open the bar. That will give them even more reason to stick around. But we need to get people centered in one area.”
“Then, we hunt,” Barbara said, standing up and walking out the side door.
She stopped when she was out in the snow and looked up at the sky. The snow was just barely coming down, now, but it was thick and deep in every direction, mounded up in drifts along the north sides of the buildings. They’d be lucky if they could get out of here in a week.
“What are you doing?” Janea coming through the door behind her. “It’s freezing out here!”<
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“Thinking,” Barb said. “Why hasn’t he struck again?”
“I dunno,” Janea admitted. “He might be resting after the kill, sometimes that’s necessary depending upon the spell. Or he might be communicating with his demon.”
“We’d feel that,” Barbara pointed out. “Wouldn’t we?”
“Not if he’s using a circle,” Janea said. “And within it, which I wouldn’t do with a demon. But I don’t know how he’s dedicated himself. We don’t even know where he found the spell to build this much power. Usually with necromancy, you lose most of the power. There’s a rush that you can use, but then it fades. From that stone, he’s found a way to store it.”
“What’s he going to use it for?” Barb asked, frowning into the distance.
“A major summoning,” Janea said, shivering from more than the cold. “A really big one.”
“How many souls?” Barbara asked, sadly.
“Lots,” Janea said. “If it’s Tiamat, lots and lots. And after that…”
“All hell breaks lose,” Barb said, softly.
* * *
“You have to get me out of here,” the man said, turning away from the image of the demon.
“You will escape, that is our bargain,” the demon rasped. The sound was like the buzzing of wasps. “And you will live. If it is in my power to support you. But you must act. Now.”
“There is no way I can do this and not go to prison,” the man snarled, angrily. “There’s evidence, you stupid beast!”
“It can be changed,” the demon responded. “It has taken me time to research the new skills of this world. But it can be changed. Another will be made to be the killer. You will be one of the survivors. And you will be famous, which will make your sales even higher.”
“Myself and my friend,” the man said.
“No, only yourself,” the demon snarled. “The other will be a binding. I guarantee your survival but only if your… friend is gone. That is a liability. End the liability.”
“Agreed,” the man sighed after a moment’s hard thought.
“And a few will survive, besides,” the demon mused. “And the one who will be chosen to go to prison in your place. The minds of the humans will be changed, computers will be changed, paper will be changed. With the power that you will gather, there is nothing that cannot be done. My Mother will return.”
