Queen of Wands-eARC

by John Ringo

  “And what are His time and His methods?” Diller asked, still sarcastic.

  Janea took off her sunglasses and turned to look him in the eye.

  “Wherever Barbara Everette is.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Janea said, rubbing her eyes as she opened the door.

  “I hope like hell you have two beds,” Barbara said, brushing past her, setting down the cat bag and letting Lazarus out. She looked around the room and shook her head. “How long have you been here?”

  “I got here this…yesterday morning,” Janea asked, looking around in confusion. “Why?”

  Janea had a number of habits that Barb found mildly irritating. She couldn’t drive very well. And while Barb understood that sensuousness was part of Janea’s calling, there were times when she took it a bit too far.

  But while Barb had recalled those on the very long drive, she had somehow managed to forget what sharing a room with Janea was like.

  Although it had taken her less than twenty minutes to pack, Barb knew where every single item was in her suitcase. She had grown up as a military brat, and packing was very close to breathing as a skill. If she needed a pair of running shoes, she knew they were at the base of her larger bag, upright, held in place by two pairs of jeans. If she needed pumps, they were in the same bag, left side, middle. Barb had two clothes bags, the larger case and a folding hanging case for dressier wear.

  Janea, on the other hand, had a special method of packing. When she was going on assignment she would grab a pile of whatever was closest and reasonably clean. She would then throw it in up to ten bags along with shoes, makeup at random, and whatever else struck her fancy, including various “toys.” When she needed something, she would then tear through most of the bags trying to find it, tossing everything in her way in random directions.

  There were clothes hanging from wall sconces. Not neatly on hangers, but because that was where they landed. There were clothes on the table, both beds, every horizontal surface including the entire floor. And not just clothes. Adjusted as she was to Janea, and worldly as Barb was, some of the things that were scattered around the room made her blush.

  “Never mind,” Barb said, dragging her cases into the room and finding a spot with not too much in it. She dumped the pile of clothes on the bed onto the floor and shook her head. “It was a long drive. Talk in the morning?”

  “Suits,” Janea said, climbing into bed. “Given who your God is, I won’t ask if you’ve considered switch.”

  “Don’t start, Janea,” Barb said, pulling out her toiletries and heading to the bathroom.

  “I’m just saying,” Janea said, raising her voice. “Cleaving only unto should only be for guys! Girls are just, you know, comfort!”

  “He knows where you live, Janea!”

  “Hey, I’m on the side of light!” Janea shouted as the shower started. “This is like praying for me! It’s holy worship! I’m just talking snuggling, honest!”

  When there was no response Janea snorted and turned off the light.

  “Teach her to run out on me…”

  * * *

  Mike Argyll, the leader of the cave rescue team, was not the smallest person Barb had ever seen, but that was because she had once met a midget. He was under five feet in height, but burly and hirsute with shaggy black hair and beard to match.

  “Now that our second outside consultant is here,” the team leader said, “can we actually do the brief?”

  Although Barb and Janea were still based down by Knoxville, the FBI had more or less taken over a motel near the crime scene as a base station. Still forty-five minutes from the trailer, it was the closest hotel with facilities for meetings. The “Cave Examination Team” was gathered in one of the meeting rooms, going through a hasty brief before the penetration.

  “Go,” Graham said, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Okay, I’m told that this penetration has special issues,” Argyll said. “But caves are caves. Caves can and will kill you if you let them. The answer is to not let them. The biggest thing is simply safety. Caves have sudden drop-offs that, despite your lights, you’re going to tend to miss. That’s why I’ll be leading the penetration.”

  “Nope,” Barb said, sucking at her own coffee. She needed it. “I’m going to have to take point.”

  Lazarus was curled up on the table in front of her, watching the briefing with what certainly looked like lively interest. At the insertion by Barb he mewed as if in agreement.

  “I’m sorry,” Mike said, wriggling a finger in his ear. “Did you just miss what I said?”

  There were dozens of cavers in the local area, and once the word got around that it was possible the “perpetrator” had taken the girl into a cave, all of them wanted to help out. But the FBI, due to the “Special” nature of the investigation, had called in a group they worked with that was national quality. The team consisted not only of Mike but of two assistants, either one of whom could have broken him in half. They also clearly felt she had not been listening.

  The problem being that although it was an FBI team, it was not cleared for Special Circumstances, and higher-ups wanted it to stay that way.

  “As you said, this case has special issues,” Barb said carefully. “The perpetrator of these crimes has special combat abilities. Believe it or not, Janea and I are the people that the FBI considers most capable of handling those abilities. A cave might kill you. This perpetrator will kill you. Which is why I have to be point. If you doubt my abilities, I’ll be happy to throw you, or either Mongo One or Mongo Two, around the room.”

  “Okay,” Mike said. “You have to take point. But there are more issues than safety. Restrictions can be a stone bitch. I looked at the one on the hill. That’s what we call about a three. It’s tight, but you can go straight in. Restrictions go up to seven. At about a five, you’ve got to suck in your breath and then go through something that looks like a corkscrew. Please forgive me, ma’am, but you are…well built. Just those…issues alone are going to make any restriction over a four an issue for you. If I go first, I can usually figure out a way for big people to fit. If not…”

  “I get stuck and you pull me out,” Barb said.

  “Restrictions can be long,” one of the helpers said. “You might be too far in to pull out. That’s the point. We know when to back out. You don’t. And, yes, people die that way.”

  “If there’s a serious restriction issue, we may have to turn over point,” Barb said reluctantly. “By the same token, if you think you are near the perpetrator, you need to get out of there as if all the hounds of hell were on your tail. Do you absolutely and positively understand me?”

  “Listen to the lady,” Graham said.

  “I hear you,” Mike said, looking puzzled. “But you’re not really telling me why.”

  “Because you don’t get to know why,” Diller said. “You just have to get the ladies to the perpetrator and then get the hell away.” He looked at the team leader and frowned. “Look, if I was leading the penetration, that would be how I’d handle it. Cut and run. These ladies may not look like it, but they are professionals at this. You get them to the perp, let them handle it from there. And if you have any questions afterwards, don’t ask them.”

  “Including ‘where’s the perpetrator?’” Graham said. “The perp is unlikely to be coming back. And that does not leave this investigation.”

  “So what are you ladies?” Mike asked, looking askance. “The FBI’s La Femme Nikitas?”

  “If we near the perpetrator, there will probably be a foul stench, like rotting bodies,” Barb said. “If you smell it particularly strongly, back off. Then let us take over.”

  “He keeps his bodies in the cave?” one of the assistants asked.

  “We’ll probably be able to track him by the smell,” Barb continued.

  “Which is good because caves go every which-a-way,” Mike said. “And we both asked questions.”

  “Which sh
e is ignoring,” Agent Graham said. “What else do they have to know?”

  “We’ll brief them in on lights and gear at the site,” Mike said, shrugging. “You want to go all super-spook on us, fine. But what you ladies have to worry about is the cave.”

  “That is correct,” Barb said. “But what you have to worry about is what is in the cave.”

  * * *

  “These ought to fit you.”

  Mongo One’s name turned out to be Thane Dale. Twenty-six, brown hair and eyes, and six foot four inches, he was a college student at University of Kentucky where Mike Argyll was a geology professor. Mongo Two, six two and blond, was Cedar Blackburn, a geology grad student at same.

  The suits Thane was holding out looked something like wet suits with a slick exterior. And far too small.

  “That’s going to be really tight,” Janea said, holding it up. “Tight is fine up to a point, but…”

  “That’s the point,” Cedar said. “They are supposed to be constricting. They’re going to, sorry, flatten you two ladies out. They do the same for beer guts.”

  “I don’t know if I can get that flat,” Barb said, holding up the suit.

  “Try,” Argyll said, coming around the back of the van. He was already suited up. “If you can’t, you’re barely going to be able to make it through the exterior restriction. And we’re going to have to brief on climbing, rappel, and belay. Not to mention lights, lines and various other issues. So if you could kindly get ready.”

  * * *

  It took about two hours to get fully prepared for the penetration. Besides the helmet light, Barb had been issued four more. Three lights was considered a minimum, five was about right. Thane carried seven as well as backup batteries. Cedar was burdened with ropes, climbing gear and a bag of what Barb had referred to as her “necessaries,” and was carrying reels of thin line so they could find their way back. All of them were in the slick suits, hard hats with lights, and pads on elbows and knees.

  “You want to try this?” Argyll said, pointing at the hole.

  Barb was already sweating up a storm in the suit, and the hole looked far too small to fit through. But…

  “I might as well start learning now,” she said, getting down on her knees. “Any suggestions?”

  “Turn your head to the side, stick your arms in and pull,” Argyll said.

  Lazarus gave her a look like “what’s the problem” and walked into the hole.

  “That cat your familiar or something?”

  “Something like that,” Barb said, then did as she was told and slid into the hole like a reversal of birth.

  “Ow,” she muttered as she entered a slightly larger area. The smell was distinct but not strong. The Shambler had gone deeper.

  “What happened?” Argyll asked.

  “Scraped my cheek on the rock,” Barb said. “There’s enough room in here for you and me. I think.”

  “Plenty,” Argyll said, sliding past her and looking around. There was a faint light from the exterior but his helmet light lit it like day. “Two openings,” he added, using a handlight to point them out.

  “Restrictions,” Barb said, sliding over on her belly. There was no standing in the cavern; the ceiling was less than three feet.

  She sniffed at the one to the right but didn’t smell anything except, possibly, a faint animal musk. There were some small bones on the floor, and she realized they were probably in a bear’s winter den.

  The one to the left, however, had some distinct drag marks. She realized it was going to be hard to track the Shambler based on ichor because, surprisingly, the walls of the cave were black. Lazarus was standing by the opening as if wondering what was taking her so long.

  “I thought these were limestone,” she said, pointing to the wall.

  “That’s a slime mold that covers just about every cave wall in the world,” Argyll said. “That’s how you know it’s a pristine cave, it’s got black walls. But something’s been through here,” he added, pointing to the drag marks.

  “And that would be the way we have to go,” Barb said, looking at the restriction. It was tighter than the entrance, but shining her light in, she could see an open area beyond. She tilted her head back and forth.

  Lazarus looked at her again and just walked into the cave ahead of her.

  “Get on your back,” Mike said, shining his light in. “Head to the side again. I’ll brace your boots. Grab on and pull up and to the left as you’re looking, my right. Yo, Cedar! Next victim!”

  * * *

  Barb had been slithering and poking and sliding for what seemed like days and was, in fact, four hours when she finally got to a spot where she stopped.

  “I can’t fit through that,” she said.

  Barb’s impression of caves, she had realized, came from the mine in Snow White. Caves were supposed to be high things where you walked through going “ooo” and “ah!” at the pretty stalactites reflecting the light from your torches.

  Caves were not supposed to be barely negotiable, narrow, dark and nasty tunnels. They had slid through mud twice, ducked under a “sump,” which was a restriction filled with water, and only been able to stand upright in two caverns. And those had neither stalactites nor happy, singing dwarves. And now this.

  The irregular opening was barely a foot across and high. Or so it looked.

  “Eh, you’d be surprised,” Argyll said, cocking his head from side to side. The cave before the opening was no great shakes, being barely two feet high, but it was wide enough the entire team had crowded in. “What I don’t get is, who the hell is this guy? He dragged this girl through all this? Why? How?”

  They’d found not only more scraps of hair but bits of clothing along the way. There was no question at this point that they were on the trail of Loren Cowper. But Barb didn’t expect to find her alive and had made that very clear to the party.

  “Hope you don’t find out,” Janea said. “You seriously think we can fit through there?”

  “I’ve gotten through worse,” Thane said. “Want me to show them?”

  “No, I’ve got it,” Argyll said. “I’ll make sure it’s doable then you ladies can follow. Better tie me off, though.”

  Shane reached forward and slid a rope around the team lead’s ankle.

  “Ready to yank,” Shane said.

  Lazarus looked at her and yowled.

  “Professor,” Barb said, looking at Lazarus. “If it’s doable, maybe I should go first. Heck, maybe Laz should go first.”

  At that, Laz yowled again as if saying, “Not on your life.”

  “No. It’s fine. Right,” Argyll said, folding his shoulders inwards. “You ladies are going to have to do this different, but…gimme a push.”

  Cedar grasped his ankles and slid him forward, and the geology professor slid into the hole like a piston.

  “Right, pull me out, this is a reverse entry,” Argyll said after a moment. He slid out, then flipped on his back. “We’re going up again.”

  Cedar slid him back into the hole to the maximum extent of his arms, then pulled back out.

  “Right,” Argyll said, his voice muffled. “Gonna have to wriggle this one. Ladies, the way that you’re going to have to do this is…” He paused for a moment, then screamed as the rope started flying through Thane’s hands.

  “What the hell?” Thane shouted, grabbing on. But it continued to slide through his gloves.

  The screams sounding from the hole echoed through the cave and were magnified until they cut off abruptly. There was a crunching sound from above and then a stream of blood gushed onto the floor of the cave.

  “Oh, my God,” Cedar said, rolling to the side and retching.

  “I think we found the perpetrator,” Barb said, looking at the hole. “I’m going to need my necessaries.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Now, you understand these things don’t respond to the normal God stuff,” Janea said worriedly.

  “The Lord has dominion over all things, se
en and unseen,” Barb replied, looking askance at the opening. The much smaller professor had barely fit. She wasn’t looking forward to trying to slide up the slot. Much less fighting at the top. Or possibly not even at the top. “I’m more worried about sliding up that damned hole. Refresh me on cold steel.”

  “Shamblers can normally be cut,” Janea said. “But they regenerate tentacles like mad. Cut one, you just get ichor all over you for your trouble.”

  “Thane, I need my bag. Then there’s this chant thing.”

  “A-ku-surgo, ka-ka-gree,” Janea repeated gutturally. “You’ve got to get the inflection on the gree.”

  “Sounds like demon Tongues to me,” Barb said, looking over at the assistant. Thane was pressed against the back wall of the cave, wide-eyed. Cedar had disappeared, probably halfway back to the entrance. “Thane!” Barb slid across the slick floor and grabbed the assistant’s face, pulling it to look at her. “Eye contact! I need you to focus for me!”

  “Sure…” the student said, his eyes still wide. He was shaking from head to foot.

  “I need my bag,” Barb said. “You are sitting on it. You sure power of light won’t stop it?” she added to Janea.

  “With you, no,” Janea said. “But generally you can throw Bibles and holy water at these things all day and nothing happens. They’re not strictly demons. They’re, like, some sort of remnant being. Maybe they were demons for dinosaurs. Who knows. But they sort of predate gods.”

  “God created the world and all in it,” Barb said, taking the bag from the student. She slid towards the opening and slid the bag open, considering her choices. First she pulled out her H&K and buckled it on. It would make moving up the hole harder, but she wasn’t going to face this thing without a gun at least available. Then she pulled out two wakizashi, short, slightly curved Japanese folded steel swords. Last she pulled out a tanto knife of similar design.

  “Except yours, I guess,” Janea said. “But don’t count on God helping you with this one. He rarely gets involved with Old Ones.”

  “Ladies, are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?” Thane asked.