"We're a bad influence on you," Nick said. "You're getting a suspicious mind."
"It's a workable theory," I said. "One component left to cover - motive."
"Your sister's right," Jennifer said. "You're a dumbass. Pam covered that before the phone call. Jealousy. Remove the fiance of the rich and famous sex symbol, and the field is open again."
"Crap," I said. "That was a few minutes ago. What's with my memory today?"
"I don't think it was one of the other girls in the car," Nick said.
"Doubt they can pull it off?" Pam asked, an edge to her voice.
"I doubt they'd climb into a rolling death machine as an alibi."
"I'll buy that."
"Who does that leave?" I asked.
"That penthouse was strangely empty," Nick said.
"The publicist," Jennifer said.
"I don't know enough about people to tell if she has that sort of affection for Fabian," I said. Silence fell over us, and we waited for Ixa to return.
Stephanie's scouting trip out to the Barons turned up a lot of pictures of stone walls, hedges, and armed guards. The satellite images from the internet provided more information about the layout of the grounds. Sadly, they stopped zooming in several levels of magnification less than poorer neighborhoods. The houses were all set back from the roads, with as strong of a privacy screen as they could build or grow between themselves and the road. The house of interest has a serpentine driveway leading to a carport or garage on the side of the main building. It had an overall I shape to it, with a large deck in the back filling in the space between wings.
"I was wondering something," Pam said. "Before the meet, you didn't know who was going to show up, but you called Bussard by name. So, how did you know of him before?"
"The magical community isn't that big," Stephanie said. "There are very few practitioners of the High Western Tradition, and one as bombastic as Bussard is fairly well-known."
"'High Western Tradition'?" Pam asked.
"Do you want a long lecture on the various magical traditions?" Stephanie asked.
"Is there a short version of the lecture?" Pam asked.
"Not really."
"Okay, you can explain it some other time," Pam said. "What can we expect with Bussard?"
"Strategically, it'd be a lot like trying to go after me," Stephanie said. "If the armed guards keep us at bay long enough, he'll have woven enough magic around himself that we won't be able to win. We have to avoid detection, preferably for the entire trip. If we get the attention of the guards, Bussard will start weaving defensive spells about himself, so a distraction is out."
"What are the chances he has some sort of magical tripwire rigged up?" Nick asked.
"Pretty high," Stephanie said. "Plus none of these places is without a mundane alarm system either. I'll be on the lookout for wards and other such effects. Travis, you'll deal with the alarms and the locks. Donny, this was your mission, you're coming too. And I want Pam in case things get rough."
"I thought I stood out," Pam said.
"In this case I don't think it will make a difference," Stephanie said. "Let's get kitted up."
The plan sounded too much like winging it to my ears. But, looking at the data we had, there were still a lot of unknowns. It had been a stunningly bad week.
Part 26
The trip up to the Barons reminded me too much of the time we blundered into the Doolittle Club. Fumbling about with a poor plan to recover something from an area where old money congregated. On the upside, we weren't likely to end up trading punches with a member of the Fund Board. On the downside, I wasn't sure how well we'd do against Bussard if he managed to start casting. I suppressed my doubts as we rode out to the Barons. A black mid-range sedan in a stately neighborhood wasn't that out of place. Anyone who managed to look inside would notice the unusual attire of the occupants. Our windows were tinted to the legal limit to avoid that, but it was still too visible. With all the hedges, stone walls and wrought iron fences, the road felt very isolated. We hadn't even left the city but the impression was very rural.
The first sign that our plan was shot before we got to implement it was the iron gate laying in the road. Someone had ripped it from its hinges and casually discarded it. The unconscious guards didn't help any. They were dressed in military uniforms, though if I didn't know Bussard was an ambassador, I'd have never been able to identify the country. "They're not dead," Donny said. "We should keep moving."
"What's the plan, boss lady?" Pam asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"We advance to the house, find out what's going on," Ixa said. This got a nod, and we moved up the serpentine drive to the front of the house. The building proper was made of irregular sandstone blocks, though without a single curved line in evidence. A white lintel mounted the broad porch, and two elaborately carved wooden doors sat askew, partly ripped from their hinges. More guards lay unconscious nearby.
"This does not look promising," I said.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Donny said. A laugh emerged from inside the doorway.
"I know that voice," a deep and rumbling voice said. Its owner pushed back the doors and stood on the front drive. He was twice as wide as a normal person, with a short, broad face and a flat nose. His shoulders were a head taller than I was, and he packed on more muscle mass than the four of us put together. The brown and black hero suit he wore looked like it should be straining to constrain a chest like the front of an minibus. He grinned with crooked and cracked teeth. "You used to wear red and yellow. What gives?"
"Another elemental?" Pam asked.
"Everyone, meet Stoneclad," Donny said. "In case you can't tell, he's the big guy for the Elementals."
"I thought he couldn't fly commercial," I said.
"Jester and I drove out," Stoneclad said. "Pretty boring past the mountains. But we made good speed on the flat desert."
"What's going on?" Donny asked.
"Don't know, don't care," Stoneclad said. "Jester said knock heads, so I knocked heads."
"Really? You're taking your orders from Jester?" Donny asked. Stoneclad shrugged.
"Would you mind standing aside?" I asked. "We need to go in."
"Oh, sure." Stoneclad stepped to the side. Pam stared at me, somewhat gobsmacked as I casually strolled past the giant. Getting over her surprise, she soon followed me.
"How?"
"He never said he was going to stop us," I said, "So it didn't hurt to ask." The atrium of the house had a stone floor inlaid with various shades of marble to produce a pattern which probably made more sense without the throw rug covering it. Hardwoods matching the ruined doors formed trim and the railing of a staircase heading up to the second floor. Several doorways on both floors led deeper into the house. A brass chandelier hung in the third floor airspace. A handful of guards lay scattered about the base of the stairs. A quick check showed them to be merely unconscious. I was about to ask where we should go when a horrified wail drew our attention to the second floor. We rushed up the stairs.
The fat man skidded out from one of the balcony doorways. He halted as a whirl of bronze sank into the railing between him and us. It was a kopesh. The distinctive shape of the blade made it obvious. It looked like the bastard child of a scimitar and a bearded axe. From the way it had sunk halfway into the hardwood of the railing, it had been thrown with great force. Bussard looked at us, looked back the way he'd come, and sank to the floor, cowering. With a metallic clank, something marched out of the darkened doorway.
The sound came from his feet striking the floor. From the knee down, his legs resembled those of a bird wrought from steel. They ended in four-toed feet, with two going forward and two back. These metal feet were not particularly quiet, but were fully articulated, and one grabbed the railing as a gaunt hand ripped th
e kopesh free from the wood. He wore a plain black hero suit that ran from knees to collar, covering the human part of his body. An ornate bronze breastplate hung from his shoulders, reaching to about the bottom of his ribcage. A cartouche of hieroglyphs sat above his heart. His head resembled a stylized rendition of a jackal's, and was covered in short black fur. His upright ears twitched and fluttered, moving to face each new sound, even those I could not hear.
With a growl, Jester of Anubis sheathed his sword next to its twin on his back. He grabbed the front of Bussard's shirt. The fat man whimpered in fear as he ripped the shirt open, sending the first few buttons flying. Jester gently lifted a brass medallion set with five red stones from Bussard's neck. Carefully draping the cord around his own neck, Jester tossed the fat man aside. With clanking footsteps, he advanced on the stairs.
"Move," he said. His voice was quiet, gravelly, forceful, yet perfectly clear. How a jackal-headed man could enunciate, I had no idea.
"I believe that is stolen property," I said. With his left hand, Jester flicked a yo-yo at my face. I caught it.
"Not smart," Donny was saying. Somehow, I was unable to let go of the yo-yo as I was pulled off balance, and Jester's right fist connected with my solar plexus.
"You're in my way," Jester said, shoving me backwards into Donny. We tumbled down the stairs, pulling the rug with us. I coughed a few times to get my lungs back under control, but I'd finally let go of the yo-yo.
"What's his element?" I asked, half-joking.
"Aether," Donny said. A worried expression came to that small part of Ixa's face that was visible. She began pooling energy about herself as Pam moved to block Jester's path. Before either could fully act, Jester of Anubis barked out a series of harsh tones and twisted words which sounded somewhat familiar. A wave of dizziness sent Mini-Uth-sk into a frenzy. Donny slumped against the wall as Pam and Ixa crumpled. I caught the girls before they tumbled too badly down the stairs. As I lay them down gently, Jester hopped the rail, landing with a loud clump. His steel feet chipped the marble floor.
Hopping on Jester's back, I made a grab for the amulet. A powerful, bony hand caught the scruff of my neck and hurled me through the doorway. All I got a hold of were the handles of his swords. The two blades followed me outside. I crashed into the back of the slab of muscle that was a sleeping Stoneclad. Seeing him down told me why I though Jester's incantation to be familiar. It was the same one Ixa had used at 722 Walker, only cast a lot faster. As he ducked to exit the house, I started to realize just how tall Jester was. Though rail thin, he had to be nearly seven feet tall, and that was with his snout pointed down.
"How did you stay awake?" I asked.
"The Rothbart Amulet protects its bearer from magical attack," Jester of Anubis said. My eye went back to the brass medallion and the five diamond shaped red stones set in it. I stood and struck a ready stance, though I wasn't much of a swordsman. Jester held out one hand. "My swords."
"Do you think I'm just going to let you walk away?" I asked.
Jester snapped his fingers, "Stoneclad." The mountain of muscle stirred.
"What happened?"
"The four heroes you let in are causing trouble," Jester said. "Stop this one."
Day appeared to turn to night as Stoneclad rose and his shadow fell on me. I leapt out of the way of a fist the size of my head. Dropping the swords, I fell into a crouch on the grass. Stoneclad was huge, but not particularly quick. Jester scooped up his blades and returned them to their places with a flourish. As Stoneclad charged, I ducked another clumsy punch and delivered a series of jabs to pressure points up his side. I rushed to the other side of the drive as he coughed and sputtered.
Taking a steel bar to the face is embarrassing enough. It was worse when it came in the form of a crane kick from a man with metal bird's feet. Jester was fast, and quite possibly stronger than I was. I crashed to the pavement in a tangle of limbs, Jester's foot pressing down on my throat. I was not tall enough to wrap my ankles about Jester's neck from this position, but I got my legs about his waist and threw him at the hedges. Fortunately, his instinct was not to rip out my throat with his talons. Flipping through a handstand, Jester caught the trunks of two larger hedges in his feet and glared at me.
A glint of brass in the sunlight announced that the amulet had fallen from his neck during the flip. We both saw it and lunged at the same time. Colliding over the small circle of bass, we grappled, punched and gouged at each other for possession. Despite the beating I was taking, I almost had the upper hand. I lost it as Stoneclad's massive mitt wrapped about my ankle and he hauled me across the pavement. Getting his other hand about my neck, he hauled me up to eye level. My feet left the ground and spots swam in front of my left eye.
"Just pass out, little man," Stoneclad said. With my windpipe closed, I couldn't tell him that Mini-Uth-sk wouldn't let me. At the edge of my vision, Jester was starting to stand. I reached out towards him with my left hand, and wrapped him in a force bubble. He looked around in momentary confusion at the mass of red static and its nimbus of shadow. I pulled the force bubble in, using it as a wrecking ball to separate me from Stoneclad. Coughing and hacking, I fought to draw breath through a bruised trachea.
Jester of Anubis ran his finger along the inside of the bubble. Rubbing his fingers together, he drew one of his swords with his other hand. A quick slash, and the bubble popped with a ripping sound. He dropped nimbly to the grass.
"Your bubbles are rather vulnerable to magical blades," Jester said.
"I know," I croaked. "I just hoped you wouldn't figure it out so quick."
Jester sheathed his sword and calmly walked down the drive. Stoneclad barreled at me. Still not fully recovered from the choking he'd given me, I fired my line launcher at the eaves. I hurtled out of his grasp and hung near the roof line.
"Leave him," Jester said. Stoneclad frowned at me and turned to follow Jester. My wrist computer and eye gave me a nice trajectory to land a tracer between Stoneclad's shoulder blades. If he felt it hit, he didn't react. As they left, I lowered myself to the ground. I recovered our car and pulled it up the drive. I carried my teammates from the stairs to the car and carefully backed out. I didn't want to accidentally run over one of the guards. Making sure I hadn't forgot to buckle anyone in, I followed the tracer. It was headed downtown.
"What happened?" Pam asked, groggily waking up.
"Sleep spell," I said.
"You sound like crap," Donny said.
"Jester woke Stoneclad, and he gave me a throat massage."
"Where are we going?" Ixa asked.
"I got a tracer on Stoneclad, I'm following it."
"What makes you think another confrontation is going to turn out better?" Pam asked.
"We don't have to confront them to recover the amulet," I said.
"That actually turned out better than I thought," Donny said.
"What was that thing?" Pam asked.
"Which one?" Donny asked.
"The animal-headed guy. I get the oversized muscle-man."
"Sennofre of Waset was a tomb guardian powered by the Heart of Ma'at," Donny said.
"Don't just start throwing out words I don't know," Pam said.
"He's undead, first made in Ancient Egypt. He was a tomb guardian until the Pharaohs became tomb robbers to refill an empty treasury. They couldn't kill him, so they imprisoned him. Fast forward a few thousand years, Pharaohs are gone, but he isn't. He moved to America and joined the Community Fund. He doesn't make too many public appearances because he tends to cause a panic. I skipped over a lot of stuff, but that's the gist of it," Donny said.
"What was with the yo-yo?" I asked.
"He has an odd sense of humor."
"Odd enough to send my tracer to Sterling Towers?" I asked "Because that's where it is now."
We parked
in the garage and headed up to the lobby. I didn't even have to ask Shiva where Stoneclad was. The giant was seated on a steel bench outside of Mighty Blend. The large paper cup in his hand looked positively tiny. I walked up to him and pulled my tracer off his back. He looked over his shoulder at me. Seated, he barely had to look up to catch my gaze.
"There's no fighting in here," Stoneclad said. "The board wouldn't like it."
"Pro tip," I said. "I can't pass out, so the next time you try choking me, there's no intermediate step between awake and dead."
Gruefield 18 (Tarnished Sterling Omnibus) Page 89
