by Steve McHugh
“That’s never going to happen,” I said.
“That’s a shame, because I don’t want to start killing these lovely people.” His voice was completely calm, and I knew with certainty that he would carry out that threat without pause.
“Okay, let me talk to the guys here and see what we can come up with. You’re going to have to give something though. You’re going to have to give a hostage.”
“You have five minutes. Then I start putting bullets in heads. You get in here, I send out one person.” He ended the call, still sounding calm but certain of the power he held.
“I have to go in,” I said.
“No fucking way,” Mike replied.
“Do you have a better idea? Because in five minutes you’re going to need a lot more body bags for when you finally do get in there.”
Mike stared at me for a few seconds. “If you go in there, we have some rules. Don’t antagonize him, don’t let him rile you, and whatever you do, do not get into a physical confrontation. You get in, you keep your distance, and you get out.”
“Unless he doesn’t want me to get out,” I said, and I noticed everyone pause what they were doing. “You’ve thought of that, I assume. That he wants me here to kill me.”
Mike nodded slowly. “You still okay to go in?”
“Better him shoot me than shoot a bunch of people.”
“Get him a vest,” Mike told a nearby officer, and a few moments later I was passed a bulletproof vest.
“That’s really not necessary,” I explained.
“You know he could shoot you and then kill everyone else. I wasn’t asking you to wear a vest. It’s not open to discussion.”
“Can you dodge bullets?” another of the agents asked. “Because if you can’t you might need one.”
“Point taken,” I agreed.
“Hopefully you won’t need it at all,” Mike said. “This is just in case.”
I put the vest on and glanced at my watch. “Sixty seconds left.”
Mike walked with me toward a nearby barrier, which had two armed police using it as cover to keep their weapons aimed into the massive building.
“We sure he’s alone?” I asked.
“No,” Mike admitted. “Just another reason for you to be careful.”
I turned and walked off toward the four sets of doors that made up the front entrance, pushing one of them open and stepping into the shopping center. I walked up the sloped entrance for about a hundred and fifty feet, passing half a dozen shop fronts, until I came to a temporary kiosk selling pretzels that had been left abandoned, the remains of the last purchases smushed into the tiled floor.
“That’s enough,” a voice called out from ahead. “Turn around, show me you aren’t carrying.”
“You’re the man in charge,” I said as I lifted my vest as best as possible and turned on the spot to show I was unarmed. From where I was, I still couldn’t see whoever was talking, but at least I knew the rough direction he was in.
“Yes, I am,” he shouted.
“Why pick these people? Why here?”
“I fucking hate malls, or shopping centers or whatever the fuck you want to call them. Mindless fucking drones all buying shit to make their miserable lives better for ten minutes.”
“Well, there’s a shop that sells ice cream. That’s pretty good.”
“Funny guy. Now walk toward me, slowly. Keep your hands up.”
I did as he said, and after a few steps I saw the hostage taker for the first time, standing several meters away from the shop he’d taken control of. He was maybe six-two, with short hair, and was clean-shaven. He wore a long, black shirt, blue jeans, and white trainers. In one hand was a gun, which he held aimed at the head of a man kneeling beside him. The man on his knees was weeping softly; a gouge under his eye was fresh and blood was streaming down one side of his face.
In stark contrast the hostage taker appeared calm and relaxed. The splatter of blood on his shirt probably wasn’t his, and his general demeanor suggested he was more than willing to kill someone.
“Stop walking,” he demanded.
I did as I was told. “Where’s the hostage?”
The hostage taker motioned for a girl of about thirteen who’d been standing just inside one of the shops to walk over.
“Go,” the hostage taker demanded, and she glanced at me before sprinting off toward the entrance.
“Call me by my name,” the hostage taker demanded when we were alone once more.
“I don’t know your name,” I explained.
“Yes, you do.”
“You want me to call you God? Aren’t you worried that’s sort of begging for a lightning bolt to smite you? Does God throw lightning bolts? It’s been a while since I read the Bible.”
He raised his gun toward me. “I’ve got something better than a lightning bolt.”
“So, God, how are things going?” I asked. “What do you want?”
The man laughed, the gun wavering for a moment, until he regained his composure. “I want to put a bullet between the eyes of everyone here,” he shouted at the top of his voice, and there was a general cry from the crowd of people still inside the jewelry shop, although from where we were standing I couldn’t see any of them. “But instead, you and me are going to take a walk.”
He motioned for me to walk back the way I’d come and I complied. I hoped putting distance between him and the hostages would give them time to escape, or at the very least give one of the armed officers a clear shot.
We walked until we were about halfway between the front doors and Hopkins Jewelers—where the hostages were held—when he told me to stop. There was about ten feet between us; he’d certainly be able to get a shot off before I could turn around, and tackle him. But I could just blast him with a gust of air, throwing him into the nearest glass window. Hopefully hard enough to hurt. A lot. I went to use my magic and nothing happened.
The man behind me laughed. “How’s that whole magic thing working out for you? I never said I was working alone. I have a void.”
I cursed inwardly and turned back toward the hostage taker and to see that the man who’d been kneeling beside him was now on his feet, a look of concentration on his face. “I assume that’s him.”
“That’s right. This means I could put a bullet in you right now and you’d be dead before you hit the ground. But that’s not what this is about.”
Voids are walking sorcerer’s bands. Meaning I couldn’t use any aspects of my magic or necromancy while in his proximity. There was a limit to the distance their power had an effect, but I had no way of knowing what that distance was, and without my magic, I was as helpless as a human. A less than pleasant sensation. “So what is this about?” I asked.
“I thought about telling you all about why you’re here. About why you’re going to die. But in the end, I think it’s better that you go to your grave not knowing. I find that more entertaining.”
“So, why haven’t you killed me yet?”
“Because we’re waiting for everyone to arrive.”
There was a crack above me, and I glanced up as the dome imploded. Sharp pieces of glass rained down as I dove aside toward the shelter of the nearest shop front. The elemental tracked my movements, but gave no indication that he was going to fire. Then I saw why. A winged figure glided softly to the ground, its huge pawed feet barely even registering the broken glass beneath it. In one talon-tipped hand was a long, golden spear, several feet taller than the griffin that held it.
The bottom of the griffin was feline in nature, a deep mustard-colored fur covered it from the waist down, while the top half resembled a massive eagle, but with black and white feathers. It was a good foot taller than my own five-eight, and I doubted it was there to help me.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” I said, getting to my feet.
“Good-bye,” the griffin said, and lunged forward with its spear. I pushed the weapon aside, and kicked out at the griffin, who staggered back, putting
himself between the armed elemental and me. He swung his spear as I sprinted back into the nearest shop. I ran to the rear, past dozens of expensive suits, through some curtains and into the fitting rooms. They turned out to be a dead end, but I could hear people talking at the front of the shop.
“Why didn’t you just kill him?” asked a man with an American accent. The void, I guessed.
“Because the griffin was meant to,” the elemental I knew as God said.
I mentally reminded myself to ask, when I got the chance, why the griffin got that particular honor, and then searched the fitting area again. When it became apparent that there was no escape, I climbed up onto a small bench, moved a ceiling tile aside, and climbed into the roof space. Me against three killers, one of whom was a griffin, beings considered to be incredible warriors. This was going to be a very long day.
CHAPTER 3
It didn’t take me long to make it across the ceiling and drop down into a shop several spaces up from the suit store. The din the three attackers made as they tore apart the shop looking for me was easy to hear, but hopefully it would take them a few minutes at least before they figured out where I’d gone.
My main concern, apart from being hunted, was that they’d simply go back to the hostages and threaten them again. I needed to act before that could happen. I doubted any of the hostages would run, they’d very quickly be seen. And the shop the hostages were in had an open front, which meant that if they wanted to barricade themselves in, they’d have to use the shutters. Closing the shutters is a slow, loud process, and one that was liable to gain the attention of their captors very quickly.
The ceiling space actually ran for another few hundred feet, but that would have taken me opposite the hostages and I didn’t want one of them to react to seeing me drop down, and give the whole thing away. Besides, I doubted the ceiling was built to support a person, and I didn’t want it to give way while I was directly above them.
A year ago I’d been taught a rune that overrode magic-blocking security systems, allowing me to use my magic for a certain length of time. As a void was basically a walking, talking version of those systems, it made sense to think that it might work. But it didn’t. I’d used some dust on my hand in the crawl spaces to try and get it to work, but it had no effect. Apparently the rune only worked to bypass nonorganic security systems, something that it would have been nice to know about before I’d needed it.
Fortunately, it appeared that while this particular void was strong enough to project a field that encompassed several dozen feet, he wasn’t strong enough to pick out individual targets. That explained why the elemental didn’t just throw fire at me. If the void wasn’t skilled enough to pick out one target, he’d have to blanket the whole area, including his allies, which meant no fire ability for the elemental. That made me feel a little better, but not much, because at the end of the day they had guns. And griffins couldn’t be killed, or even seriously hurt, by magic. My renewed optimism about my situation was rapidly dampening.
My magic returned after I managed to get myself a few feet away from my attackers. I used my air magic to project a thin cushion between the ceiling and me so I didn’t accidentally put my arm through the thin tiles. The art of stealth does not normally include falling through ceilings and making shitloads of noise.
After looking around the stationery shop I found myself in, I discovered that I had a choice of truly dangerous weapons, such as felt-tips and Post-it notes. The pen might be mightier than the sword, but it’s probably not going to end well for you if you bring one to a gunfight.
I had to get the three of them to separate. If I could nullify the void, I figured the elemental would be an easier target, with or without his weapons. The griffin, well, that was a whole different level of trouble. One I could hopefully leave for last.
The trick was figuring out what would split them up. Fortunately, a little bit of luck shone down on me when I heard the sound of footsteps coming my way. There was no way to quietly get back into the ceiling, so instead I crouched down behind a shelf of journals and notebooks, peering through the small slats in the shelving unit to see who was approaching.
It didn’t take long before the elemental stepped into the mouth of the shop, gave the store a quick scan, and stepped back out again. “I’ve got this one,” he shouted to his allies, and then walked cautiously into the store.
The shop itself was made up of several displays toward the front, along with a till and some glass cabinets to show off the more expensive objects. About a quarter of the way into the store, it changed into shelves stocked with all manner of writing aids and stationery. There were three paths he could take, the center one took him right past me, but he decided to pick the left-hand one, and quickly checked behind the till before making his way down the shop.
He didn’t speak while he worked, his concentration was total. I created a small ball of air in my hand, and was immediately grateful I could still access my magic, although I wasn’t going to count on it staying that way.
I crouched behind the shelves three rows back, giving me an excellent view of his approach. He’d be unable to see me until he reached my row. But on the downside, it gave the adrenaline longer to build up. I took some deep steadying breaths, making sure to stay quiet as I moved back from my hiding place until I was against the fourth set of shelves, the last in the store before the door to the staff rooms beyond. I just wanted to put a little more distance between him and the front of the shop before I did anything.
“Have you found anything?” the void shouted from the front of the shop.
I peered through the slats once more, although I couldn’t see either of my attackers.
“Does it fucking look like it?” the elemental replied, sounding very close. “He’s vanished. Where’s our fearless griffin friend?”
“Down the other end, he’s searching some massive clothes shop.”
If it was a ploy to get me to reveal myself, it was a poor one. I wasn’t about to risk fighting all three of them again, especially not in the stationery shop’s close quarters.
“I’m going back to the hostages. I don’t want anyone to think they can run off,” the void told his friend, before turning and walking off. A few seconds later I heard him shouting at several of the hostages, followed by their cries.
“Fucking asshole,” the elemental snapped and then breathed out.
I reached out with my air magic, using invisible tendrils of air to pinpoint the elemental’s exact position; he was one step away from the third set of shelves. I considered using my magic in a subtle way, to drag the air out of his lungs or some such, but he’d likely recognize what was happening and start flailing about, making a big ruckus. Instead, it was going to be fast and nasty.
Once I knew exactly where he was, I slowly wrapped the tendrils around his body. It’s harder than it sounds, making sure to wrap them around him, but not doing it so tightly that the air feels strange to him.
He took one more step, and the sound of his boot landing on the tiled floor was all I needed. I snapped the tendrils closed, throwing one of them down his open mouth to stop him from screaming as I tightened the air around him. I dragged him over toward me, his eyes wide and full of panic, any thoughts of using his own abilities lost in that moment of terror. I removed the gun from his hand and placed it on the shelf beside me as I squeezed the air tighter and tighter, until I heard bones break. He tried to scream once more, but I was stuffing more and more air down his throat into his lungs, until in one moment they reached their maximum capacity, I felt them burst like over-full balloons inside his chest.
After a few seconds, I released the air and he sagged forward, unconscious. I caught him and lowered him quietly to the ground. He probably wasn’t dead, although he’d clearly stopped breathing. Elementals are tough to kill without removing their head or using silver, although I doubted removing the brain’s oxygen supply did them a lot of favors. Hopefully he’d be able to heal any brain damag
e he might suffer so he could answer any police questions. I wanted to know who had sent them and why. The more of them I left alive to answer questions, the better.
But even so, I didn’t want to make it easy for him, so I created a thin blade of air, and used it to cut into his spine, just above his pelvis, severing the bone and cartilage. Being unable to breath or walk would test even the most powerful elemental’s ability to heal.
I searched the body, but found no ID or anything that might tell me exactly who he was. Instead, I found several magazines of silver bullets and a four-inch knife, both of which I took, along with the gun, a Sig 1911 Fastback. Not exactly my choice of weapon, but it would do in a pinch.
Something felt wrong. The elemental was far too easy to take out, even if I’d jumped him. Anyone actively going after me was either going to have a lot of power, or be completely crazy. Neither of those described the elemental. Of the three attackers, only the griffin was a serious concern. I searched through my mind to see if there was anything that might jog a memory of an elemental, griffin, and void working together, but I came up with nothing. There was more here than taking hostages just so they could get me here to kill me, I was certain of it.
Unfortunately, I now had a new problem. If I went after the griffin first—and I had no idea of his exact whereabouts—it would leave me vulnerable if the void decided to get involved. It would also leave the hostages vulnerable. But going after the void first would almost certainly draw the attention of the griffin. I couldn’t walk in with magic, or guns, blazing; I doubted very much that the griffin cared even a small bit about collateral damage.
To be honest, it wasn’t even a contest, and I was soon at the front of the shop searching the outside to make sure it was clear of griffins, before I figured out the best route to the hostages.
I took a step forward as an almighty crash sounded from inside the clothes shop, and a display stand flew out the front of the store, crashing into a kiosk. I ducked back into the stationery store, but no griffins surfaced, so I quickly ran the across the concourse and into a perfume shop. After trying not to cough from the almost visible fog of scents that still lingered, I climbed up onto a display case and back up into the ceiling.
