Lost Lamb

by M. P. Taylor

  “Emergency information for the Third Blade,” I said, hoping the servitor had some kind of urgency button.

  “Understood...processing information,” I tapped my fingers on the fridge, waiting a good thirty seconds for the voice to return, “Unable to process request.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “The regional sanctuary is under lock down pending the capture of a unknown threat. All communication outside of the facility is forbidden. None may leave until the crisis is resolved and only personal of red status are allowed to enter. All others will be attacked with the full force of the sanctuaries measures. Thank you for your co-”

  I hung the phone up. The last thing I needed was to be thanked.

  Gerald spoke up, “What's the word?”

  I was hesitant to talk in front of Irena, she was a servant of a former enemy of the elders and might use such information against us. My hesitation was quickly destroyed by the geas, “Something's going down at the sanctuary. Where's my blade-Irena where'd you put my stuff?”

  “All bundled up by the doorway dear,” sure enough it was all there. My staff, potions and the sword I was promised. Even the anti-vampire grenade I'd thrown at her last night.

  Made sense, I wasn't a threat to her anymore. She could give me the key to killing all vampires and I'd be about as useful as a wet noodle. Gerald's staff and coat were there as well. I grabbed and tossed them his way. He caught them both with a practiced motion as he forced himself to his feet, a pained expression crossing his face.

  There was no point in cautioning him to stay put and rest. Gerald was a warrior and I had a feeling we were about to go to battle. Besides, I'd need someone with his clearance to get in.

  “Cath. Slow down for a second,” Gerald grabbed hold of me, “Who summoned the spirit?”

  “The same person who attacked you,” I looked him in the eye, showing I was fully serious, “Harold.”

  “Harold? My Harold? The medical student and part time fleshcraft who went out of his way to patch you up on his free time, Harold?”

  “Yes that one,” he didn't believe me. I didn't blame him. Natasha had shown me Gerald's records. He and Harold went back quite a bit. Gerald fought and Harold patched him up. Been that way for at least a couple years. Betrayal like that hurt, more importantly, it was hard to believe.

  “Why would he do that? How would he do it?” Gerald shook his head, “No. He doesn't have enough power or training to bind a spirit.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. All I know for sure is that he had to be the one who attacked you. Who else knew you were at my place? You kept it under the table right? Didn't want the other justicars to know I'd been scrapping off the record,” he nodded, “He probably waited for you to leave and took you out. He's known you for a while right? He knew how to get past your defenses. How to take you unaware.”

  Gerald grimaced, “But why? That isn't like him. He's a healer, a good person, I've seen him stick his head out for others way more times than he needed.”

  “I don't know but, if he was the summoner, it would be the perfect chance to put the blame on someone else. Think about it. A rogue wizard in our city, who's going to suspect number one? A certain girl who may have summoned a demon once. And if a justicar just happened to disappear at my place...Hell, Natasha even knew that we meet up. Harold must have told her, hoping she'd storm my place and put me down.”

  “Why didn't she?” he asked.

  “I called her first, with information about the killings. Ethan and Jessica, two victims of all this nonsense and I...I gave them to Natasha,” my hand clenched into a fist, “Harold. He'd have access to them, wouldn't he?”

  “New prisoners? Maybe, if he was on location and they needed to be checked?” Gerald's eyes widened a bit, “Damn. If he is the summoner...”

  “The eater could be rebound,” I confirmed, “the spirit could be summoned again and set loose past the sanctuary defenses. Dammit. I practically walked a monster in there.”

  “We need to move,” I nodded.

  Gerald turned towards Irena, “You coming?”

  “An invitation to the famous hotel,” she pressed a finger to her lips and looked to the window, “I shall have to pass. Sunlight can be... damning to my complexion.”

  A weaponized smiled aimed itself at me, “Don't disappoint me love. I'd so hate to have to find a new lamb to play with.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gerald was driving. That was good for a number of reasons, mainly because I was a terrible driver and I needed to make a call along the way. By the time I'd finished making backup plans, Gerald had played out the next conversation a dozen times in his mind.

  “So,” Gerald began as we made one of the more awkward car rides of my life, “You and a vampire huh?”

  “Gerald,” I warned.

  “What? I've just never, you know, heard of anyone actually dating one. Well besides in bad romance novels that Tessa reads,” he grinned a bit, “Is it true about the bite. You know, that they came make you-”

  “Gerald,” second warning.

  “Fine,” he let out a sigh and got down to business.

  “How are we going to play this? I can get us into the building but I'm not going to be much for combat. Muscles are burning like fire just sitting here.”

  “It should only be a single spirit unless Harold brought more with him. I imagine he resummoned the eater, bound it into Ethan again and set it loose on the building,” I shuddered and tried not think about Jessica. In all likelihood, she was already dead.

  “He has to have backup. No way that Natasha and the other justicars would be taken out that easily,” I tried not to point out the obvious ease with which he'd been taken out, “Maybe they're just having trouble locking down the eater and don't want it to escape.”

  “There has to be a point to all this. What could Harold gain by attacking now? Maybe he was just waiting for the opportunity to shift blame on me for the killings but what's his goal?”

  “Could just be an enemy. Wouldn't be the first time that someone offered one of our kind something shiny and they turned their back. Maybe that vampire just got hold of Harold, made him a thrall.”

  “No. I overheard Erik, he didn't sound in charge. Harold doesn't have the power or training to summon a spirit right?” Gerald nodded, “That means Harold either isn't Harold or that Harold was hiding his skills from you. An infiltration, maybe by another group of wizards, the Old World?”

  The Old World was the blanket term for the power base in Europe and Asia. They were much less divided than the supernatural elements of the Americas. In our circles, wizards stuck with wizards, shifters with shifters, etc – the only real exception being the dragons who needed all sorts of servants and had the power to make good offers.

  The Old World made empires that embraced interspecies cooperation. It was the opposite of our fractured little power structure. Instead of a thousand different tribes, it was one big power structure ruled by a queen and king. They were the absolute monarchs and among the most powerful beings in existence. At there command were millions of supernatural creatures from undead to holy warriors. It was only their indifference to the Americas, their unwillingness to expand, that had allowed the elders and others to take hold here.

  There were plenty of wizards among their number. Harold being some kind of sleeper agent for them made some sense but the why still remained. Why now? Assuming he was theirs at all.

  Gerald didn't respond to my speculation, apparently lost in his own thoughts about his former comrade. I didn't blame him. Betrayal was never easy to deal with. I placed my hand on his shoulder as he drove. He didn't seem to notice my touch.

  When we rolled up on the hotel, a number of people were waiting outside. They were various member of the supernatural community who undoubtedly had business within. The sanctuary was primarily a place for wizards to hide away when needed, but it was also our business hub. Any other group who wished to do work with our kind, needed to come
here and ask for permission. It was normally basic stuff. A ward here, a divination for lost cat there. In return, the elders gained favors that ultimately led to the exchange of power – the only real currency.

  I felt like a rock star when my dinky little sedan pulled up and we rolled out.

  All eyes feel upon us with a mix of confusion, hope and awe. Gerald slammed the butt of his staff on the ground. It resonated with a terrible force, an aura of power that sent a shiver of primordial fear down the spine of myself and others.

  “Disperse,” he commanded with enough authority to make a civilian salute.

  Most obeyed, scattering down the street as though a lightning bolt had struck the ground in front of them. Those few who stayed, stood aside.

  Just beyond the walls, a number of people stood guard. They were armed with typical weapons of the wizarding trade. Staff, wand and even the occasional blade or two. They weren't justicars. They didn't have the aura of trained and practiced defensive magic, nor the coats that marked justicars. Whomever these wizards were, they were guarding the entrance to the sanctuary.

  Deciding that they might be trouble, I went ahead and brought up a ward and drew my new longsword out from the sheath.

  A ripple of energy raced through the air and I realized that Gerald had done the same. His ward was more complex, layered I such a manner to defend against several elemental attacks as well as kinetic force. I imagine he must have spent a few months perfecting the technique. Being near to it made me feel like a sailboat riding a big wave.

  Gerald spoke to them first, I counted five in total, “Why have you not dispersed as commanded?”

  One of them, a rather androgynous type with elegant hair that feel to his waist, spoke, “That would require your commands being worth obeying.”

  Gerald's face darkened, his features narrowing as though he were now a predator about to strike, “Flee now or I will kill you all.”

  Damn. I knew Gerald had a bit of a rough record but hearing those words made me realize just how brutal he could be when pissed. And Gerald was very pissed off.

  His brutality made the man flinch. For a moment something like doubt crawled across his features.

  “You are outnumbered fool. The master has bid us to kill any who try to enter. If you thin-”

  Gerald attacked the man before he finished his sentence. A quick lowering of his staff, a bit of Latin and a hell of a lot of energy. It came out in a burning inferno of white flames. Such was their swelter that my ward kicked it to subdue the ambient heat. If I hadn't raised mine, I had no doubt I'd have received some kind of burn and I was standing a good few feet to the side.

  He'd gotten better. I'd been semi-possessed by a demon that last time I tasted that heat and this was much more powerful. More pure.

  Our enemy had a ward but it did little good. It flickered, a bubble of dark purple energy, holding for a moment or two. Within it, I saw the man grimace between the dancing of white flames. His skin burst out in sweat. I recognized that reaction. He was focusing everything on his shield and had begun to suffer attrition – he was maintaining a spell with his life force as he'd ran out of innate arcane energy. He screamed when the barrier fell. Then he was silent.

  Not up for combat my ass.

  The rest of enemy's little band had been completely stunned by the display of pure power. Hell, I was, but when I saw one move, I reacted.

  He brought his wand down, aiming at Gerald, but fumbled over the words. I lowered my own staff and sent a lance of razor ice straight at his torso.

  And it hit. It was an odd sight because I'd expected a ward, any wizard with his salt would have a ward, but instead it went right through his chest. The kid looked down at his wound, wide eyed with horror. His hand reached up towards the ice and tried to pull the projectile out from his heart. A moment later he fell to the ground.

  I felt bad, really bad. He was clearly out of his league and shouldn't have been there, but I had no time for mercy. He'd pointed his weapon at my friend. He died, Gerald lived. End of story, every time.

  If only killing was that clean and rational. Taking a life, even those of monsters, could be taxing. That was the first time I'd killed a wizard. One could argue that my actions with the false summoning was manslaughter but this, this was well and truly different. Lance of ice meet body, body meet ground. Yet the worst of it was the thrill of victory. A sensation that brought a slight curving to my lips when I realized I'd not only defended Gerald but ended an enemy. It had been so terribly easy to say the words and see his corpse fall to the ground.

  Another moved, turning to run.

  Gerald acted with more finesse this time. His staff let out a small beam of concentrated light that scorched the ground it touched.

  It burned along her ankle, sending the third of our enemies screaming to the ground. Smoke rose from her wound. Charred flesh and even bones could be seen from where it hit. Burns were bad, I had a few in my day, and that thing looked like hell incarnate. Her screamed hit a crescendo when she looked over and saw her own bones grinding as she attempted to get back on her feet.

  Combat magic wasn't my specialization. Most of what I knew, I picked up out of necessity while doing the odd job for Nomia or the like. You know, helping out those who helped me or the occasional pro bono for mortals who were getting picked up by predators. Instinct and raw power, I bludgeoned my way through my problems. Gerald was much more focused. He'd realized they were amateurs of the craft after he killed the first one.

  Instead of torrent, he used a simple beam of heat energy.

  His expertise also came with situation awareness that went far beyond my own. As soon as his spell was finished, he focused a bit of energy into his ward as electricity arched upon him from one of the last two standing punks.

  Gerald was wounded, having only a few hours of sleep after being tortured, but he was still more than able to nullify the attack.

  Except he didn't just nullify it. He chanted something under his breath, a spell of some kind, and converted his opponents attack into a burst of kinetic energy that completely destroyed the man who'd shot it. His body being literally torn to pieces by the impact force – flecks of bones and flesh skittered on my ward as though he'd been hit by a train.

  A counterspell. It was one of the fundamental concept in wizard combat. To use the enemy's spell against them. I'd never seen it taken to such a literal degree.

  The last of the amateurs stood shaking with his staff, his eyes darting back in forth between me and Gerald. He didn't so much as move while I walked forward, grabbed his staff from his arms, and tossed it on the ground nearby.

  “Talk or die,” I said with no trace of emotion, just facts.

  He gulped down the butterflies threatening to burst from his stomach and opened his mouth, “I...the master. He said to make sure no one disturbed him inside.”

  “The master,” Gerald asked, “He have a name?”

  “No,” he flinched as his single surviving companion, the young woman, wailed at some fresh pain, “He gathered us from the area. I'm from Clark county, Hendrick, he was in a foster home in the south suburbs. He said he could teach us magic and-”

  “And all he wanted was your eternal loyalty,” Gerald said as though he'd heard this tale a dozen times before. The kid nodded.

  A lurching feeling hit my stomach.

  Killing people was never fun, satisfying maybe, but these kids were victims – a bunch of outcast gathered together by the promise of power or just the offer of companionship.

  The elders tried to see to it that everyone with magic in their blood got a mentor but thousands slipped through the cracks. There just weren't enough mentors willing to look after a ward. These kids had probably been left in the dark about their power. Ignorant and frightened till their master appeared and offered a hand. Cults like that were common in the world. Too much ignorance and not enough truth to be found. That rage, misery and loneliness could be harnesses into fanatical servants. Servants who w
ould challenge a justicar because they just didn't know better.

  Just a bunch of stupid kids. Now most of them were dead stupid kids.

  “Gerald. We need to get moving. Natasha and the others might need help. These guys were just a speed bump,” he nodded and lowered his staff.

  The kid blinked, “Y-you're just going to let us go?”

  “No,” I glanced at the wounded girl, “Besides. I don't think she's going to be going anywhere. Swear to me, on your name, that you will stay here, with her, until one of us comes and gets you.”

  He blinked at me, confused about his word being good enough, “Ah sure. I Alex, swear to stay here until you get back.”

  Ignorance worked both ways. The geas kicked in, I could feel the spell's power holding sway over him. I blocked the kid and his fellow from my mind, I couldn't afford the distraction right now.

  Gerald gave me an approving nod and the two of us began walking towards the hotel. A number of wards were active and Gerald made short work of them all with emergency passwords and codes. I tried to not pay attention, those passwords were rather top secret and I wasn't exactly wanting the responsibility of knowing them all.

  Irena didn't give me a choice. The geas compelled me to only fake my disinterest. I was forced to listen to every password and witness every motion that Gerald made. It was information that Irena might wish to know and, as such, it was my duty as her bound servant to observe.

  I wanted to murder Irena then. She had made me abuse the trust of a friend. I was spying on Gerald, my only real family.

  A rational, and perhaps slightly enthralled part of my mind, reminded me that Gerald was only free because of her and that Irena had proven to be an ally so far. Sure she was a little too touchy and she could have killed me a dozen times over, but she hadn't. Irena had played with me, indulged my standoffish nature and ultimately she had beaten me. It was only natural that I serve her.

  That thought rang in my head, loudly.

  It urged me to accept Irena as my master.

  Why not? She was powerful and had a body that no mortal could match. The pleasure she brought just by bringing her fangs to my throat had been unmatched in all my life. Was it truly such a high price, spying on one's friends, for such pleasure?