The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series)

by Gosnell, David

  “Stay away from me demoness.” Jalal spouts back weakly.

  Sil’s answer to that that rebuke is to peel her shirt off and slowly press herself against him, rubbing her ample chest against his and curling a leg over his waist.

  “I can’t stay away” she says looking him in the eyes, then slowly, teasingly, takes his mouth.

  Jalal’s eyes are rolled up and he is macking away. Sil, her eyes are open, taking in everything; she was feeling nothing erotic – this is work. Jalal sputters a moment and Sil moves from his mouth and with a tone that is something next to a purr and proclaims “He just made a mess all over me. You bad boy.”

  She takes his ear with her tongue and follows with an, “It’s alright baby, you’ll be doing a lot of that. I want you to do that, to give yourself to me, wholly, completely – over and over and over.”

  She backs away from him, looks at Znuul and says in a now business like tone “Can you lay him on the ground, he’s in a real awkward position to work with there.”

  Znuul replies to her in a weird accent like some old mad doctor assistant, “Jeass Meestress, I weel prepare the veectim.” Then he begins to move to set Jalal on the ground.

  Jalal doesn’t seem to notice, or care.

  And now my succubus turns to stand in front of me, looking at me rather seriously. She unbuttons her pants. “This is the part where you want to go Arthur. You don’t like watching me work them and take of them. Go.”

  With that she drops her pants and then steps out of them with a little dance. Leave it to Sil to take advantage of any opportunity to flash me the goods. She even gives me a little shimmy.

  That of course gets Jalal’s attention from the ground.

  She turns to him and purrs. “I’ll be right there baby.” Then she shifts to her normal succubus form and turns back to me. “Arthur, you go now. Get. Znuul can take notes. My baby lion here will be singing soon enough.”

  She doesn't have to tell me again. It’s not as much the sex thing that is creepy, though there’s something wrong about watching other - its seeing the life flow out of the victim while they’re begging to give her more. It’s seeing them wither away with a smile on their face while knowing on the inside she could just as well be working on a shopping list.

  It’s just a good feeding for her.

  It’s just wrong to me.

  Outside the office, Shey crushes me in a hug and tells me how glad she is I’m not in there taking part in that. Pffiferil apologizes for having finished his pipe and offers me his flask. Vets and Hjuul are patrolling. I walk over to the crate Pffif is sitting on and take a load off, passing on the flask.

  We hear Jalal cry out something to the effect of holy mother of god of all things blessed.

  After about ten minutes or so Znuul opens the door to the office, phone to his ear.

  “Great move putting the succubus on him. He totally cracked and…” His attention shifts to the phone. “I will not leave a message. You tell him Zebedia is on the phone and you tell him now.”

  It’s funny seeing a huge, gargoyle like demon creature rolling its eyes at being put on hold. Again, my life – it’s hardly usual.

  Znuul’s attention returns to me. “Listen on the point of how good your Silithes did, you…” Then his attention trains back to the phone. “It’s about time… hey, shut up. Yes, I’ll burn this phone... If you’d answer your mobile...” He turns to head back to the office. “Listen, we have a situation. There’s a 25 megaton nuke in Yerushalayim…”

  Then the office door shuts.

  I think Vets and I were the only ones to pick up on that. We stare at each other blankly with the realization of the kind of carnage a device like that can produce.

  Jalal’s been a very bad boy.

  Chapter 39

  “How many live in that Yerushalayim,” Vets asks me.

  “Not sure – close to a million, I think.” I wrack my brain for details – what’s the blast radius of a device that size, how many people live there, who in their right mind would do such a thing?

  Vets bares her teeth at my feedback; she’s not a happy Vetisghar.

  Our brief discussion causes a very inebriated Pffiferil to fall of the crate. He scrambles up as best he can. “Did ye just say that a million people ‘r gonna die? Say it ain’t so!”

  Shey says, “Oh my,” with a faraway look.

  “I don’t know anything guys, just what we heard in passing. Let’s wait for Znuul to finish his phone call.”

  The door opens and I anxiously turn around to find out more. But it’s not Znuul - it’s Silithes. And she’s dressed, which is a nice twist, though she’s maintained her real demonic form. That required a little improvised tailoring on her part consisting of a tear in the pants for her tail. No big deal, really.

  Jalal follows. He’s stark naked still and looks like hell. I’m guessing she ate at least 30-40 years off him. Despite that he’s still all smiles, full arousal and all adoring eyes on Silithes.

  “See Arthur, I didn’t kill him – doesn’t that make you happy!”

  Well, it kind of does. I figured him a goner. That’s another mark on my soul avoided.

  “Big surprise Sil. Thanks, I think,” is all I can think to say to that.

  That gets me her best beaming smile.

  “Can I keep him? I’ll feed him and clean up after him. See… he’s all nice now. He can paint my toe nails and do our housework… won’t you my little lion?”

  “Yes mistress, anything you desire.”

  This arrangement, of course, just doesn’t work for me. We don’t keep slaves.

  Shey is all over that remark, “She wants to keep a human slave! Arthur, that’s not right.”

  “Oh, pu-lease pixie… he’s a pet, not a slave. Just like Kitten.” She looks over at Kitten and asks “Being a pet isn’t bad is it Kitten baby?”

  “Being a pet is really great!”

  I would expect no other response from Kitten. All the same, Sil will not be allowed to keep a pet, servant, house attendant or any other label she can come up.

  “Not happening Sil.”

  “Jalal bows up and steps in front of her proclaiming, “Who are you to question the Mistress!” as if he’s her protector. Sort of creepy – a naked old guy with perma-boner telling me to know my place.

  Sil’s hand reaches out to his shoulder. “That’s my master, little lion and you better respect him.”

  “You have a master? You are not mistress of all you survey?”

  He sounds a little let down – aww for him. Silithes does not rule the world.

  The door opens again and Znuul ducks under the door jam in his usual way. He looks over at Silithes and her little lion. “You should have taken him. He’s a loose end.”

  “He’s under control.”

  Znuul smiles at her. “Sure. Hey by the way great job in there. Really good. Unfortunate that I have to do this. You’re a sister of the order, right – the Order of Nilisarna?”

  Sil’s face goes from elated to blank, “Why does that matter?”

  “You are then?”

  She just stares at him as response.

  Znuul turns from her to me. “I don’t often admit I'm wrong. This is one of those cases Arthur. I was wrong, do not whatever you do, put your dick into that succubus. She can hurt you – badly.”

  “How dare you!” Sil is very agitated now. “You dare to come between me and my wielder? I gave you my gifts, you can’t…”

  Again Jalal steps in, “Beast! How dare you affront my mistress. I will keeel you!”

  Znuul gives him the stink eye and then looks back over to me. “Arthur, she’s not your normal succubus. Think about it like this - take a normal human guy. Little paunch around the belly, no fighter training. Now set him against a Spetsnaz soldier, infused with Chuck Norris’s indestructible DNA. That’s the difference between a normal succubus and one of the sisters.”

  Holy shit. I look over a Sil who is basically starting to hyperventilate.
“Is this true,” I ask.

  She looks at me with a desperate look in those green eyes. “Honey, I never lied to you. I just never thought I needed to explain.”

  “I told you she was dangerous Arthur!” Shey grabs my arm. “She broke Maldgorath and made him hers. I told you she was dangerous… I just didn’t know the name.”

  I look over to Sil who is standing straight; a rigid unnatural kind of straight. Her eyes locked on me.

  “Arthur…”

  “Jesus Christ Sil, what else aren’t you telling me?”

  My attention is distracted by the very large dark purple hand on my shoulder. I look up at Znuul. “You’re my brother. You need to know. If you do her you’ll end up like our terrorist friend there. Look at him and imagine yourself.” He turns to Sil. “Sorry, as they say in America – bro’s before ho’s.”

  Sil is shaking, trembling visibly, I can’t tell if it’s rage or fear. Then there’s no question.

  “He’s my wielder! How dare you!”

  Her wings flare, legs flex and she catapults herself upon Znuul, deadly black nails flashing out. Znuul is not expecting an attack and actually takes a step back, arms up protecting himself. Her nails flash again, drawing blue rivulets of blood from his arms and his cheek.

  Sil is screaming madly shrilly, claws swiping. Quickly though, Znuul retains composure. He sweeps one of her arms to the side and thunders a head-butt to her forehead.

  That head-butt stops her; just plain stops her in her tracks. Her legs go rubbery - almost cartoonishly so. Then she falls flat on her butt, sitting on the floor. I can just imagine the little tweety birds flying around her head.

  Suddenly, Jalal is upon Znuul beating him with his fists, kicking him. Znuul pushes him away and Jalal spills across the floor.

  Znuul looks down on her, then regards the slashes on his arm. He touches his cheek and looks at the blue blood on his fingers. Something I can only describe as hatred fills his face and red rattlesnake eyes. He reaches down to Silithes and grasps her by one of the horns on her head, picking her up by it With a violent twist he breaks it off, resulting in her letting out an almost deafening, blood curdling scream and a stream of her blue blood.

  Jalal again jumps to the defense of his mistress. This time Znuul offhandedly grasps him with one hand under the chin lifts him up and turns his head 90 degrees, snapping his neck. Then Znuul hurls his twitching body across the warehouse into the metal wall with a resounding “clang.”

  Sil is panicked and trying to escape. Znuul grasps her by the shoulder and the crotch and plants her on the ground, belly first with extreme prejudice. He steps on the small of her back and his hands take her wing, twisting it until a loud “sploot” is heard – that wing is out of socket.

  Sil screams in pain and tries to thrash herself away. That’s not happening.

  I start to move in to push Znuul away and am grabbed by large Vetisghar arms. “Do not, my wielder.”

  I look back over to see Znuul has raked his own claws over Sil’s de-socketed wing. Then in one brutal twisting move he tears that wing from her in a spray of her blueish blood.

  Sil’s screams of pain pierce the air and our ears.

  I reach to her sigil and send her away. She may be what she is, but she doesn’t deserve that. Who does?

  Znuul isn’t exactly happy about that move of mine. Slowly he turns to me; menacingly is more like it.

  “You will bring IT back here, right now.”

  The emphasis of calling Silithes “it” wasn’t lost on me. But, there’s only one answer.

  “No.”

  A low rumble came from somewhere deep in Znuul. The metal of the warehouse flexed in response to it. A small black aura appears around Znuul and his scrapes begin to heal. His eyes are riveted on me. I notice that I can see my breath now, the temperature has fallen that much.

  “Bring it back now. I will kill it slowly. Then you will bring it back again as I wish. Do NOT test me human. It has shed my blood and I will shed it’s over and over again until I have had my fill.”

  I’m about ready to tell him “No” again when another voice pipes up.

  “Yer gonna hafta pick yer rules, demon.”

  All eyes go down to Pffiferil who is now standing in front of Znuul, jabbing his fingers into his thigh, because that’s about where he stands.

  “What’s it gonna be? Yer old rules… or the new rules taught ye by the Grey. We need to be knowin’ cause if yer with the old rules, we know there be no real friends.”

  The warehouse metal walls flex again in release and I feel the temperature begin to climb. Znuul’s dark aura disappears and his posture deflates a bit. He closes his eyes.

  “Well beasty?”

  “You have some balls Mr. Luchorpean,” Znuul’s eyes open and he trains his gaze on Pffiferil.

  “That’s Mr. Pffiferil ana I take it that be the new rules?”

  Znuul takes a deep breath. “Yes, Mr. Pffiferil, thank you for reminding me.”

  “Needed to be done.” With that statement Pffif pulls out his flask. “Here, pull off this - ye be needin’ it.”

  Znuul obliges, drains it and looks at Pffif. “So, how do you refill it?”

  “Rub the red gem on the front and shake it”

  Znuul does that and drinks the flask down again. Znuul plops down on the floor, cross legged, handing the flask back to Pffif.

  “Sorry about that Arthur,” Znuul says turning to look at me. “She crossed some lines. But, those are old lines as the boss man here reminded me” he says tossing a wink to Pffiferil.

  "It's okay," I say.

  “All the same Arthur, that bitch is no longer welcome on my house.”

  I nod to him my acceptance of that statement.

  “But I have worse news. Jalal didn’t know anything about how to contact the fake Znuul or how to find the walker. We have nothing except knowledge of a nuclear device – one hopefully we’ve averted from going off. That and some really interesting bank account access codes.”

  “Shit for us,” I acknowledge. “But, if that bomb doesn’t go off, it’s still a good day.”

  Znuul picks himself up from the floor, slowly “If that bomb goes off Mr. MacInerny, it’s the beginning of the end of humanity as you know it.”

  Chapter 40

  Znuul elaborated on the end of the world statement as we make our way to the Dubai bunker. He explained that the nuke’s detonation and the retaliations that would follow would as he put it, “shred” the balance of good and evil. Somehow that could lead to Znuul’s home dimension more easily entering ours.

  Our plan is to get to the bunker, rest up and figure our next move. Along the way, we have a body to dispose of and Znuul had thought ahead there too. Jalal’s coffin is a fifty gallon waste drum. It’s a good thing that Silithes isn’t with us, because that drum takes up space in the van. That is until we stop in the middle of nowhere and Znuul chucks it well out into the wilderness.

  The drive is long, but driving keeps us better off of airport security cameras. And it is mostly quiet except for two diminutive females who won’t not stop talking about Sil. One was Shey, wanting me to be crystal clear about what Silithes did to Maldgorath, what she could do to me and basically how she is an incarnate, evil creature. The other was Kitten who was bending Znuul’s ear constantly making the argument that he should cut her a break and let her back in the house.

  “If someone tried to get between me and you – I’d sure try to kill them,” was the crux of her argument.

  Both themes were repeated continually. And Znuul was always made center of it. Shey would call out to Znuul to tell me about Sil’s sisterhood thingy. And of course, Kitten’s pleas were to the man… err, being himself.

  And Znuul was not pleased to have to address them.

  Eventually Kitten wore him down and he conceded - I think it was just as much so he could listen to the radio.

  After all, should there be a devastating nuclear blast in Israel, the news would be a
ll over it. I found myself focused on it as well.

  I took over driving for Kitten after about twelve hours – she was putting up the good fight, but the tired was wining. Ten hours later and no news over the radio. We pull up to a cookie-cutter, identical version of the Znuul bunker in Kentucky.

  Znuul unfolds from the van once in the garage. “Can’t promise you it’s totally furnished, don’t know exactly how well things work here.” He checks the two deep freezers in the garage and gives a sleepy eyed Kitten a thumbs up.

  I take advantage of the time to summon up my hound, who’s been away too long. Shey and Vets are stretching and commenting to each other how nice a bed will be.

  Once inside, I see it’s exactly the same. Even the furniture is approximately the same.

  Pffif and Vets waste no time claiming their rooms and disappearing into them. It has been a long haul…

  “How many of these are you having built?”

  “Six up and ready with another six on the books.” With that reply, Znuul strides to the kitchen area and opens up the freezer, pulling out a bottle of Stoli with a smile. “Kitten, keep the freezer stocked for me, I’ll be on media watch for the next day or so.”

  That gets a doe-eyed “okay,” from Kitten. Kitten turns to me next, "Bring Silithes back!"

  I look over to Znuul who nods and says, “just have her keep her distance.”

  Kitten is bouncing in anticipation. I trace Sil’s sigil and call her forth. The air ripples and there she is.

  Sil meets my eyes for just the briefest of moments and then looks down subserviently. “Thank you for releasing me, master.” Kitten crushes her in a hug, which is mostly unmet.

  Znuul from the kitchen bellows out, “Keep your distance, you and I are not good.”

  “I will.” She glances up briefly at me, then back down. “Which will be your room?”

  I let out sigh, some things never change. “I guess I’ll just take the same one.”

  “Good enough.” With that she turns, and walks over to the bank of rooms along the whole other wall. A flex of the legs and a whoosh of the wings and she’s on the second floor walkway. Then she disappears into her room – one as far away from mine as can be in this place.