Princess of Wands

by John Ringo

  “A b-bunch of n-naked people j-just ran into the l-lobby screaming about s-somebody fighting on th-the third floor,” Baron said.

  “I wonder what that was all about?” Leo said, looking through the door. “Somebody might need help…”

  “Ah, there you are,” the man said, coming around the corner behind Baron. “I was hoping someone would be out here.”

  “There was someone fighting on the third floor,” Leo said, nodding at him. “Are you okay, sir? You look a bit…”

  “With the power of the priestess, I only need ten more,” the man said, opening up his long coat and revealing a vest of moonstones. “You will be three. Sorry about this,” he added to Baron who was looking at him open mouthed. “You were always helpful. If a tad boring.”

  * * *

  “What are you doing out here?” Barb snapped as she came out the side door. Larry, Eric and Angie were standing outside in the snow.

  “Angie’s smoking,” Larry snapped right back. “And the rest of us are avoiding being in a restaurant that’s been taken over by slope-brow, red-neck science-fiction fans.”

  “People are dead on the third floor of this building,” Barbara growled, drawing her weapon and dropping the magazine. “Did anyone come out here?” She dropped the round out of the chamber and then dropped another one in.

  “No,” Eric said, looking at the gun wide-eyed. “You’re not supposed to have one of those…”

  “Shut. Up.” Barb ground out. She pointed the weapon off to the side and dropped the hammer. But it just clicked. She took the other round and dropped it in, and that one fired. “Damn!”

  “What was that in aid of?” Larry asked.

  “Get into the restaurant,” Barbara snapped. “Now! Or so help me God I will put a bullet in your head. If I see you wandering around, you will be terminated without prejudice. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You’re joking,” Angie said, starting to laugh and then stopping at the look on Barb’s face.

  “There is a killer running around,” Barb said. “I don’t know who it is. It may be you. You are present, here, when a killing has just occurred up there,” she added, pointing up. “Make up your own mind.”

  “You can’t just go killing people…” Larry said.

  “Stop me,” Barbara said, pointing the weapon at his head. “One. Two…”

  “We’re going,” Eric said, grabbing Larry’s arm. “Come on.”

  Barb was marching them down the corridor when she felt the wave of evil sweep over her.

  “Okay, it’s probably not you,” she said, pushing them. “In which case, you’re targets. Now run!”

  She passed them, despite their lumbering run, and turned towards the north side of the hotel. As before, the power appeared, spiked, and then disappeared, just as she reached the back of the hotel and burst out into the open.

  Sadie, Leo and Baron were sprawled by the back door, with Duncan bent over them.

  “Freeze!” she shouted, pointing the weapon at his head. She suddenly realized she’d never seen him with his jacket off. If it was lined with silk, it would mask anything he had under it.

  “They’re dead,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her.

  “I know that,” she said, still keeping the .45 pointed at his head. “Pull out your piece and put it on the ground. Now.”

  “They’re just fucking dead,” Duncan repeated, softly, then turned to the side and vomited on the ground.

  “I said, draw your piece and put it on the ground,” Barbara repeated, sharply.

  “You got it,” Duncan replied, wiping his mouth, then drawing his weapon and setting it in the snow. “Who did this?”

  “I’m trying to decide if it was you,” Barb admitted.

  “Well, decide quick,” Duncan snapped, standing up slowly. “Because in a second I’m going to pick up that piece and go hunting myself.”

  “Guns don’t work,” Barbara said, lowering her weapon and pointing it at the ground. “Janea’s bullets had been tampered with, somehow. They wouldn’t fire.”

  “I take it you’ve decided I’m not the killer?” Duncan asked, turning around.

  “Open your coat,” Barb answered, shifting her feet into a cat stance.

  “What? It’s freezing!”

  “Open your coat,” Barbara repeated.

  Duncan looked at her and shook his head but he unbuttoned the coat and pulled it wide.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Barb admitted, frowning.

  “Can I c-close it now?” Duncan asked, teeth chattering.

  “Go ahead,” Barbara said. “Then turn around and spread your arms and legs.”

  “Oh, good, I’m going to get a pat down from a beautiful blonde,” Duncan replied, but he turned.

  Barbara patted him down, looking for hidden gemstones. He had a lighter and a folding knife, but his only jewelry was his wedding ring.

  “What was that all about?” Duncan asked.

  “The killer has to be carrying moonstones,” Barb said. “Probably a lot. You don’t have any. So you’re probably not the killer. Now get in the restaurant. Let me hunt. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

  “Well, I’m going to go brief the cooler Wharf Rats on what’s really going on,” Duncan said. “And get them to help me move these three. They shouldn’t be just left here. Guns don’t work. Okay. There will be something that will.”

  “Do that,” Barbara said, nodding. “I have to go find this guy before he kills again.”

  * * *

  “Oh, it’s you,” Larry said as the man walked up through the snow. He, Eric and Bob had come back out into the atrium when they couldn’t stand the sight, or sound, of the Wharf Rats’ continuing party. “One of your minions was running around babbling about someone being killed.”

  “My minion?” the man asked, blandly.

  “The blonde, Barb I think her name is,” Eric said, frowning. “She’s one of your type.”

  “She’s no minion of mine,” the man said, smiling in great humor. “Quite the opposite. She’s trying very hard to stop me.”

  “What?” Bob asked, uneasily.

  “I said she’s trying to stop me, you liberal moron,” the man replied, unbuttoning his jacket. “She wants to stop me from raising the power to call my demon. But she’s just about too late.”

  “Holy…” Larry said as the glowing gems on the vest were revealed.

  “No, quite the opposite,” the man said, waving a hand. The three were instantly held immobile, only their eyes moving. “Quite unholy…” he said as he drew the knife.

  * * *

  Barbara hadn’t particularly cared for Larry or his crowd. But they’d died hard; the blood and pieces were splattered all over the white snow. What he’d done to Bob was bad enough and Larry was worse. Poor Eric… well, she was pretty sure it was Eric. The pieces looked about right.

  “He’s toying with me,” she muttered, looking around. The snow had been trampled in the area so she had no idea which way he’d gone. With all the blood from the bodies, he should have been splashed. But there was no blood trail.

  He’d been running her around in circles and she was tired enough to just stop. Which seemed to be the thing to do, stop and think.

  He’d nearly, but not quite, killed Janea. Why leave her alive? Because Barb felt him attack her and got there before he could stop to kill her? Did he not realize Janea was alive? He’d clearly taken his time with these three.

  He was drawing souls. She’d felt the power flows when he’d fought Janea and if he’d simply drawn her soul it would have been over in no time. So he wasn’t drawing souls so much as power. And Janea had had enough power that he couldn’t draw it all?

  Close, she felt, but not quite.

  But if he could simply absorb the power of the priestess, even with a goddess behind her, then simply blasting him with power would fall right into his hands. It would feed him. But shooting him seemed out as
well.

  “Wizards can be killed with a dagger in the back just as well as with magic.”

  She wasn’t sure where she’d heard that, but it seemed like good advice.

  And there was only one thing better than a dagger.

  * * *

  He felt full, suffused, and the power from the gems had barely been tapped.

  It was time for the Great Rite. Time to kill all these worthless fen and take his rightful place.

  He dared that bitch to stop him as he headed for the restaurant.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “It’s a long way to Tipperary,

  It’s a long way to go.

  It’s a long way to Tipperary

  To the sweetest girl I know!

  Goodbye Piccadilly,

  Farewell Leicester Square!

  It’s a long long way to Tipperary,

  But my heart’s right there.”

  “I think the con’s better this way,” Sean said, pouring another glass of beer and looking around at the group in the restaurant. “Just party the whole weekend long!”

  “That’s the ticket,” Duncan replied, frowning. “The only bad part’s the people dying.”

  “Speaking of which, where’s Leo and Sadie?” Mandy asked.

  “Sadie’s probably hiding in a room somewhere,” Sean replied, shrugging. “You know how she is with crowds.”

  “Well, David finally decided to crash the party,” Norm said, waving at the entrance. The writer was unbuttoning his jacket as he entered the heated room. He had a slight smile on his face and his eyes…

  “I think we’ve got problems,” Duncan said, rising to his feet.

  “What’s the…” Sean replied and stopped, mute and staring as the power of the gems on David Krake’s vest blazed out in the room.

  The closest people to the entrance were a group of gamers and Duncan watched as they toppled over. He’d seen a few dead people in his time and they were unmistakably dead. The rest of the restaurant had gone silent as everyone seemed held by some force. He seemed to be the only one unaffected.

  “I see there’s another of you here,” Krake said, still smiling faintly. “I take it you’re one of those Special Circumstances types.”

  “No, just… odd,” Duncan replied. Krake was all the way across the crowded room from him and he knew he’d never get a shot off. But there were other weapons. “I know you’re going to kill me, but can I at least ask ‘why?’ ”

  “Never explain,” Krake said, reaching out a hand.

  “Oh, come on,” Duncan snapped. “You know you want to tell somebody. And, since I’m going to die anyway…”

  Krake appeared to consider that for a moment and then shrugged, looking for the first time slightly ashamed.

  “Demons can give earthly power…” Krake said, then smiled thinly. “Even over book sales.”

  “It’s that damned Robert Nile, isn’t it?” Duncan said, amazed. “You did all this just to… what? Get better sales? Corner the fantasy market?”

  “I’ve been in this business for thirty years!” Krake shouted, his mouth practically frothing. “And the man writes tripe! What’s the justice in that? I’ve worked so hard. And he comes out of nowhere and sells a gazillion copies of complete crap! What’s wrong with my books? What’s wrong with people these days that they want unending series that never go anywhere? Nineteen pages on a harvest? Two hundred pages of every single step of every single character detailed? Are people insane?”

  “So you’re going to kill all these people for better sales,” Duncan said, shaking his head. “I’d thought better of you, David.”

  “Try being near the end of your career, you upstart bastard.” He reached out again and then paused, puzzled.

  Duncan could feel… something. It was like a hand fumbling around in his chest. He stumbled forward, reaching for his knife, as the feeling grew.

  “What are you?” Krake asked, puzzled.

  “A warrior of God you son-of-a-bitch,” Duncan replied, drawing his knife and clicking it open. “Not some demon’s plaything. And I never liked your books! Saint Michael, Patron of Paratroopers protect us!”

  Suddenly the knife flew out of his hands to clatter on the floor as Krake reached behind his back and drew out a pistol.

  “Some warrior,” Krake said, smugly.

  The last thing Duncan saw was the muzzle flash.

  * * *

  Krake finished scribing the runes on the floor and stepped back.

  “Remolus, come to me,” he chanted. “Here is the power, here are the souls, be manifest upon this earth! R’gom h’bameen sul!”

  He reached into Candice’s chest, ripping her living heart out and holding it up as the blood cascaded down his arm.

  “The way is opened, the door is opened, the walls are breached, Remolus, come to me! R’gom R’mula! H’bamen sul!”

  He could feel the stupid FBI bitch. She was nearby but too far away to stop the rite. She’d apparently never been taught how to cloak, and her power shown brightly. But not enough power; he was filled to the brim with the power of the souls he had stolen for Remolus.

  “Remolus, come to me!” he shouted, just as the arrow entered his back.

  He stumbled forward onto the runes, dropping to his knees and turning as another arrow thudded into him. Kay Goldberg, flanked by the FBI agent, was standing in the door of the restaurant. Kay was just fitting another arrow into a bow. She had a distant look on her face and he realized that he could barely feel her. But he reached out his hand and drew upon his power.

  “This is for Benjamin,” the former Shin Bet agent said as she drove the third arrow into his face.

  * * *

  Barbara ran out of the Dealers’ Room and down the hall to the restaurant. She had felt the power and a brief battle, the deaths and the building rite like the prickle before a thunderstorm. But something had interfered.

  As she turned the corner to the restaurant, though, there was a hoarse bellow that sounded as if a billion wasps had all cried out in anger.

  * * *

  Kay stepped back in horror as the body on the ground began to writhe and change. The skin on the writer’s face cracked and split along the line of the arrow, the bones showing through for a moment then being covered with something more like leather than skin. The body swelled, the legs bending and crackling as a mist rose that seemed to be steam swelling from within the body. The arrows blackened as if from an enormous heat, then burst into flames.

  When the mist cleared, what was standing in the runes was not human.

  She lifted the bow but before she could fire, it cracked in her hands.

  “Thank you for opening the way for me,” Remolus said, in a voice like buzzing wasps.

  * * *

  Kay and Greg were sprawled in the entrance to the restaurant as Barb turned the corner. She didn’t have to even check to see if they were dead. Live people had heads attached to their bodies.

  She skidded to a halt, though, when a wave of disorientation hit her. The “restaurant” was gone. The room seemed to shift and her sight zoomed in and out, searching for reality, as the walls faded into the distance. The floor had turned to dark stone flagging and the stone walls seemed to drip blood as distant voices cried out in pain and anger. There was a semicircular open area in the middle with a walkway raised above it about a meter on the back wall. The walkway had a stone railing that reached to about chest height, the balusters of the railing made from deformed statues that her mind recoiled from identifying.

  She wasn’t sure if she was in another reality or if it was some vision of the past, or, horribly, perhaps the future. Faintly, she could see through the overlaid reality the windows of the restaurant with the snow still outside. But when she reached out to the wall beside her, dark stone with worn carvings her eyes, again, refused to recognize, she could feel its solidity. It was warm and buzzing as if from a distant engine. But in the midst of all this unreality, there was one solid form.

&nb
sp; A huge demon was on his knees on the floor, scribbling runes onto the flaggings by the simple expedient of ripping bits off of the nearest bodies and wiping them on with dripping blood. The demon had to be at least fifteen feet tall, humaniform, with skin that looked thick and tough as leather. His legs were odd, they seemed to have an extra knee, and his head was surmounted by several horns. His toes and fingers were tipped with black talons that dripped blood from his harvest. At least a dozen fen were dead and the rest seemed paralyzed.

  Barb darted forward as the demon stood and turned to her.

  “Fight me,” the demon said, his voice a buzz. “Try to draw my power and I will suck your soul to the husk! Bring to me the power of your White God, witch of the Risen One!”

  “I don’t think so,” Barb said, reaching behind her back. She slowly drew the Murasaki blade and took up a butterfly stance. “There’s more than one way to skin a demon.”

  “Mortal blades cannot damage me,” the demon said, his face splitting in a grin that revealed triangular sharklike teeth and long tusks.

  Barb closed her eyes for just a moment and felt for the soul of the sword. Then she opened her channel and poured it into the steel. When she opened her eyes again, the sword was glowing white.

  “What about now?” she asked, springing forward and slicing in a fast X motion.

  The blows should have cut the demon in half but his heavy skin was like iron. They did, however, slice down his chest, leaving a broad green X on his leathery skin. The demon’s ichor glowed faintly in the odd red light.

  The demon bellowed and backed up, picking up one of the bodies on the floor and hurling it at her.

  “The way is open!” the demon bellowed in anger. “You are in my lands, bitch! And I will use your soul to bring forth the Mother of All.”

  Barb rolled away from the projectile, the gamer hitting the far wall and slumping to the ground bonelessly, then ran forward to close with the demon.