Princess of Wands

by John Ringo

  “Your binding holds, even upon her,” the man said. “I wrote it well; being a lawyer has its uses. There is no escape. You must keep me alive and make my sales the greatest in the world. Or I am freed.”

  “It was agreed,” the demon said. “But now is the time to act. They are gathered for the slaughter. But you must get more power. At least twenty must die before you can do battle with the White God’s witch. The other is of no consequence; her goddess is weak.”

  “What about guns?” the man asked.

  “They are of no consequence, either,” the demon promised. “I have examined them as well. Simple alchemical properties, easily tampered with. But the White God’s witch is strong. She is your only true enemy. All others will fall before us and then… My Mother will be manifest on earth!”

  * * *

  “Come on, folks, let’s pack up the food and booze,” Leo said, lifting up a case of homemade beer. “If we’re going to be stuck in the restaurant we might as well have fun.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to handle being around all those people for… how long?” Sadie asked, picking up a case of chips.

  “We can wander out,” Don said, picking up a laptop and a bottle of Glenlivet. “To smoke at least. But it’s going to be cold, lass. Best bring as much cold weather gear as we can gather.”

  “We’ll do the S-starship Troopers th-thing,” Baron stuttered. “All p-pile up for heat.”

  “In your dreams, Baron,” Sadie responded, sticking out her tongue.

  * * *

  “Go down the south hallway. When you get to the third floor, just pull the vest out of the bag. Hold it out for two minutes, then walk down the stairs and back to the room.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what are you going to be doing?”

  “Being conspicuously present.”

  * * *

  “What are you doing here, Baron?” Barbara asked as she passed the entrance to the restaurant.

  “I’m on s-staff, now,” Baron said. “I’m ch-checking people in and out. Th-there’s a list. You sh-should go in, m-ma’am.”

  “I’m sort of on staff, too,” Barb said. “Anybody going out?”

  “S-smokers,” Baron said, gesturing down the hallway. “And s-some of the guests won’t l-leave their r-rooms.”

  “Okay,” Barbara said. “I’ll go see if I can round up any strays.”

  “You’re a s-stray, ma’am,” Baron pointed out.

  “Not hardly,” Barb said. “Can I look at your list?”

  “I suppose,” Baron said, handing over the clipboard.

  It had a list of all the con-goers and guests with the few “general” guests in the hotel appended to the bottom. She noticed a group of them, third floor end, that she assumed was the “Black Rose” society, whatever that was. Janea still wouldn’t explain but she said they weren’t the problem. And, demonstrably, they had turned up after the first twinge from the necromancer.

  Most of the con-goers, guests and dealers were in the restaurant, bar and lobby area according to the list. Some of them had been ticked in and out and she recognized a few names.

  “Thanks,” she said, handing it back with a wide smile. “Are you going to get relieved some time?”

  “Yes, m-ma’am,” Baron said. “I’m only really filling in for someone.”

  “Well, I’m going to go try to pry people out of their rooms,” Barbara said. She walked down the hallway to the outside door and looked out. Outside the door were a couple of kids who looked like gamers or LARPers, smoking, and a gaggle of Wharf Rats doing the same. She decided to brave the cold.

  “Hi, Barb,” Sadie said, her hands shaking as she lifted a cigarette. “S… cold!”

  “You sound like Baron,” Leo said, smiling. “It’s not that cold! It was colder at the Inchon Reservoir!”

  “But you weren’t there, Leo,” Duncan chuckled, waving a cigar. “You were barely born.”

  “Okay, it’s colder where I go hunting,” Leo said, shrugging deeper into his jacket. “What are you doing out here, Barb?”

  “I’m sort of on staff,” Barbara said, looking at Duncan. “I’m trying to round up strays.”

  “Just us out here,” Duncan said, shrugging and nodding at her significantly. “And as soon as we hammer a couple of coffin nails we’re going back in.”

  “Okay,” Barb said, nodding back. She still was of two minds about whether he was on the list of suspects or not. She firmly believed he wasn’t a necromancer, but that strange shield bothered her immensely. “Where’s Don?”

  “Dunno,” Duncan said, shrugging. “I knocked on his door but he didn’t answer. Probably sleeping it off. Don’t worry, he won’t freeze to death; too much antifreeze in his system.”

  “I’ll check on him,” she said, frowning at Duncan. He shouldn’t be so flippant with what he knew. But maybe he was still thinking it was all a silly game or something.

  As she walked back the hallway towards the lobby she saw David Krake talking to Baron earnestly. The former was wearing a long, heavy coat and had snow on his legs.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I can’t find Charlotte,” Krake replied, tightly. “She’s not in her room or in the restaurant. She’s not checked in on the list at all.”

  “Can I suggest that you wait in the restaurant, sir?” Barbara said, politely. “I’m one of the people designated to round up strays. I’ll look for her, I really will.”

  “You can suggest all you’d like,” Krake replied, tartly. “But I’ll find her myself, thank you. She said she was going to be here.”

  Barbara looked at the list again, making some notes as he walked down the hall towards the smoking area. She also noted that Mandy, Larry and Angie were missing from the con-goers. Norm and Eric had been checked in, although both had been in and out, apparently. She hadn’t felt anything from the necromancer, so it was unlikely they’d been killed. But there was something bothering her about the pattern.

  “Janea,” Barb said, walking a little bit away from the entrance and keying her radio.

  “Go,” Janea said.

  “Go pry the Black Rose people out of their rooms, will you?” Barbara asked, politely. “And while you’re up there, use the pass key to check 304. Donald Draxon is missing. See if he’s sleeping it off.”

  “Will do,” Janea said. “What are you going to be doing?”

  “I’m heading over to the west wing and see if I can find a few more strays,” Barb answered. “Greg?”

  “Here,” the FBI agent said. He’d taken up position in the manager’s office. It had exits to the restaurant, the outside and the lobby so he could move in any direction to respond to trouble.

  “You got that?”

  “Got it,” Greg said, unhappily. “Be careful.”

  “Of course,” Barbara said, crossing into the deserted atrium. Perhaps from the rumor of a murderer running around, the con-goers really were huddling together like sheep. And something bothered her about that as well.

  She entered the west wing and started to take the stairs, then stopped and pulled out her radio.

  “He’s here,” Barb said. “Somewhere in the west wing. Janea, get those Black Rose people out of there. I don’t care how.”

  She hit the stairs and pounded to the second floor. She could only tell he was somewhere above her and to the west.

  There wasn’t anyone on the second floor and she could tell he was still above her. But as she ran to the top floor the feeling… quit.

  She burst out into the third floor corridor and looked to the end but there was nobody there. She did, however, hear the sound of the fire door closing on the far end.

  She’d done that one before so she ducked back into the stairs and ran down to the second floor, darting out and looking to the far end. When nobody came out she headed down to the ground floor.

  As she burst from the stairwell, she nearly ran down Duncan.
<
br />   “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, sharply. He was just coming in the door from the atrium so he clearly hadn’t been on the top floor.

  “I was getting another coat,” Duncan said, evenly. “I had a spare in my room.”

  “You need to get in with the others, sir,” Barbara said, definitely. “Our friend is somewhere in this wing.”

  “Interesting,” Duncan said, looking up at the wing. “But you said that he couldn’t charm me or whatever.”

  “I don’t know that he isn’t you,” Barb said, bluntly.

  “Well, I do,” Duncan replied, nodding at her. “I’m just going to get my coat, then go back. I’m sure I’ll be around plenty of witnesses if anyone dies.”

  “Damnit,” she snapped, shaking her head. He went to the second-floor corridor and, with nothing else to do, she followed.

  “Making sure I’m going where I said I was?” Duncan asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, tightly.

  Duncan stopped at a room and inserted a key, waving for her to enter.

  “I’ll stay here,” Barbara replied, suddenly not sure if she was following him or guarding him.

  He emerged a moment later with a couple of flannel shirts, a pair of waterproof pants and a Gore-Tex-and-fleece jacket.

  “There, you see?” he asked. “All I said I was getting. Shall we be getting back?”

  “I’ll follow you to the atrium,” she said. “The necromancer was somewhere in this building.”

  When he went into the atrium she watched him cross then shook her head.

  Not knowing quite what to do she walked to the far end of the first floor and looked out the exit door there. It was supposed to be locked, but it wasn’t. The lock had been taped back and there was snow on the floor and footprints outside. Recent footprints, at least since the snow had stopped falling.

  She stepped out into the snow, noticing that the light was failing fast, and followed the prints around the building. They appeared at first to enter the building through the back of the kitchens but on the far side of the loading dock there was another set. It looked like more than one person and she broke into a run. She could feel it in her bones, that something wicked this way comes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It’s done,” the woman said, running up with the bag in her hand. “But you have to stop this! Nothing is worth what you’ve been doing.”

  “Thank you,” the man replied, smiling at her. “And I am going to stop. Very soon. And you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  “Good,” she said, shaking her head. “I love you, you know.”

  “I know,” the man said, sadly. “That’s why I’m going to let you keep your soul.”

  She barely caught the flash of metal as the knife punched up through her diaphragm and into her heart.

  “Remolus said that you must go,” the man said, his face blank. “But he didn’t say that I had to take your soul. This one last thing I do for you, my love.”

  He waited until the light had died in her eyes and then lowered her to the hotel room floor.

  “Now to go kill that witch of the old gods,” the man said, reaching into the bag.

  * * *

  “Damnit, this is serious,” Janea said, shaking her head. “Put on some damned clothes and get down to the restaurant!”

  “Oh, come on,” the man said, waving a whip. “You probably know how to use one of these! Join the fun. We’re keeping warm the best way, through healthy exercise.”

  Most of the adjoining doors in the area had been opened and the rooms were more or less filled with mostly naked people engaged in… healthy exercise. Janea felt it was almost a sin not to join in, but there was a time for love and a time for battle. It did look like fun, though; a few of the men were pretty good looking and a couple of the women were just spectacular. And she had to admit that if they were all dedicated to the goddess, they would be raising some serious energies. She could feel them around her, through her link, and even tap into them to an extent.

  “People, listen up,” she said, summoning a bit of energy and making herself… extremely attractive with a touch of dominance. Even the doms in the room were forced to pay attention to her. “There is a serious problem, here. Not just the heat. I’m a consultant with the FBI. We’ve tracked a killer to this con. He’s already killed seven women and now he’s killed a person at the con. The real reason that we’re gathering everyone in the restaurant is for your own protection. Now, I need you to gather up all your warm weather clothing and get the hell out of here!” The last was delivered in not only her firmest voice but with a hint of the goddess behind her. It promised no nookie for life if they didn’t obey.

  “Well, jeeze!” the gay guy who’d been carrying the timber said, struggling in his chains. “Get these things off of me!”

  Janea shook her head and stepped out into the hall, stopping at the sight of the approaching man.

  “Are you still looking for…” she said then stopped as the man’s eyes began to glow.

  * * *

  Barb felt the power like a bucket of vomit dropped on her head. But her channel opened up, filling her with power as she began to run.

  “Janea!” she yelled, keying the mike. “Janea!”

  * * *

  “The Light and Holiness of Freya fills me!” Janea boomed, her arms and legs spread wide. She could feel her channel filling with power but she blanched when the power of the necromancer hit her.

  “Your goddess is weak,” the man rasped in a voice like wasps. His coat was drawn back to reveal a vest covered in moonstones that glowed red with power. “Remolus calls to you, come to him and your soul will be spared!”

  “Death in battle is my highest calling,” Janea said, reaching behind her to draw her piece. “And even necromancers die from a bullet.”

  But when she pulled the trigger, the hammer fell with a click. She knew it was loaded, she jacked it back in frustration anyway and fired again. Another click.

  “Do you think that my lord cannot overcome earthly weapons?” the necromancer said with a laugh. He made a gesture and the weapon was ripped from her hands. “For that, however, I will take your soul.”

  The man reached out one hand and the stones blazed as Janea felt a terrible drawing on her. She could feel the channel filling the void but it was as if all the power was plunging into a black hole.

  “Remolus is the Soul Devourer!” the man rasped. “Your power simply feeds the blackness, priestess of a weak goddess! Every bit of power you draw, simply weakens your goddess to no avail!”

  Janea could feel herself getting weaker, but she also heard the members of the Black Rose piling out of the doors with screams and gasps as they saw the backlash from the magical battle in the hallway. She fell to her knees and shook her head, crawling towards the necromancer, trying to do battle to the last.

  “If I die to spare one soul, then I die well,” she said, panting as the blackness filled her. “My soul will rest forever in the Shin-”

  * * *

  Barbara burst onto the third floor and stopped, panting, then dropped to her knees.

  There were two male bodies sprawled in the hallway. She didn’t even have to walk up to them to know they were dead. There was the same feel in the air as when she’d found Timson. Janea was on her face further down the corridor. Barb ran to her and rolled her over, hoping against hope that she was alive.

  She felt at her throat and there was a faint pulse, but Janea was barely alive. Barb opened up her channel and reached to the woman, trying to feel what was going on with her.

  There had always been a feeling of great… wonder to Janea. A brightness that was difficult to shadow. Now there was virtually nothing, as if her soul had been almost entirely stripped. Almost, however, was different than completely. And Barbara could feel a trickle of power coming from somewhere. She suddenly realized that Janea’s goddess was keeping her alive. By feeding her soul energies.

  “Lord,” Barb
said, holding her hands over the still body on the floor. “I know that this is not a woman who would be considered of the highest by most of your worshippers. But Your Son said ‘Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.’ And she is a fellow warrior of Light. Please, Lord, give me the power to help her. I’m not sure what I’m doing here, so You may have to guide my hand as well. Blessed be Your name, amen.”

  She placed her hands on Janea’s stomach and reached for her channel, willing power into the woman’s body.

  She could feel the power flow through her, not as much as when she had faced Almadu, but power nonetheless. Janea gasped and arched as if she’d been hit by a jolt of electricity and her eyes flew open as she fell back, limp.

  “I saw the Shining Lands,” the woman whispered, staring at the ceiling.

  “Janea, who did this?” Barbara asked.

  “They were so… beautiful,” Janea replied and then her eyes closed.

  Her pulse was strong but the dancer was out of it. Even a few slaps couldn’t wake her. Unconscious, maybe a coma, maybe sleep. But alive, by all that was blessed.

  Barbara looked at Janea and shook her head. After a moment she dragged her through the nearest open door. There were various… accoutrements set up in the room and a large St. Andrew’s cross by one wall. She finally realized why Janea had been reticent about explaining its purpose when she saw the shackles attached to it. But it gave her an idea.

  The door closed with a thump as she left. Let him get in through that. On the other hand, it was going to be a job for anyone to get in.

  * * *

  “What’s going on?” Sadie asked as Baron came around the building.