Feet of Clay_An Urban Fantasy Novel

by J. A. Cipriano

  While John might not have known me from any other chiseled-chin, ruggedly handsome guy, he knew an opportunity when it flashed before his eyes. His trigger finger, mighty itchy after Lambert’s little bit of dick-waving, pulled tight, unleashing a clean, tight three-shot burst right at Rollie’s pointed little head.

  Yeah, it bounced off of a shimmering magical shield, but it gave the old bastard a start. He might have been a powerhouse wizard, but he obviously had no real world combat experience. Not that he needed it with his little group of trained badasses.

  Even before the hostages hit the ground, Luna’s soldiers moved as one, the front three dropping down into neat crouches to brace their rifles, while the back ranks broke into the same tight, regimented spellcasting I had seen Richter perform. We would have been torn up by the first volley of return fire if Abner, mouth still full of the Cube and who knew what ooze and slop, barreled through us to form a walking wall.

  Bullets thumped into his clay form, while bolts of energy and gouts of flame washed over harmlessly. The poor guy’s smock was a lost cause though, blown to shreds by the onslaught. As it fell to the ground, I thanked God Joseph hadn’t felt the need to make his son anatomically correct.

  While John took a few potshots from behind our walking cover, I took advantage of the situation to hunt for the next level of magic to take down.

  Unfortunately, the sight of a rapidly-knitting, wildly multi-colored tapestry filling the air. It seemed to be erupting from every point around us, to the point where I wasn’t sure if it was Tabitha’s doing as she chanted rapidly or Roland’s or Luna’s. Whatever it was, it was a big whammy.

  I didn’t even have time to shout a warning before it went off.

  There was an all-encompassing pulse of golden light, punctuated by a thunderous echo of a voice. I don’t know what it said or the language, but it struck a primal chord in me. That voice, that language was terrifying, awe-inspiring, and deeply comforting all at the same time, which doesn’t sound possible, but it happened. I would liken it to being in the presence of God and, in the end, I think that might have been at least half right.

  See, it was unlike the magic streaming from Tabby, Rollie, and the rest. When the golden light cleared and the thunder ceased and reality reigned again over our little quarter of the universe, we were no longer confronted by a group of outrageously well-armed soldiers and their immensely powerful wizard leaders.

  What stood before us were rapidly transforming statues of salt, loose bits already starting to crumble from the most changed. Luna was already gone, expression locked into one of fear and despair, and I couldn’t stop it from hitting me right in the heart. Say what you will, she and Richter had both been good soldiers and had paid the ultimate price for it. It wasn’t something to be happy about.

  None of our own, not Molly, Max, or Gabriela, were the least bit scratched. Before I could even get my mouth to work, Rabbi Krakowski waddled through the collection of Whites-turned-saltlicks. He stopped before the mostly-transformed Roland and the still-dull-eyed Max.

  “I’m sorry if I was a little late, folks,” he said with his usual beaming smile. Pretty ice cold for what just happened, but if he thought it was divine retribution, who was I to complain about it?

  Roland’s eyes searched blindly as his doom approached, and he tried to gasp out something. I think his lungs were half-salt by then, but I still managed to make out wheezes that sounded a lot like “I shouldn’t have trusted" something, but it devolved into a gurgle before ending altogether as the rest of his upper body gruesomely finished its march to salt.

  Just like that, with one bit of a miracle, it looked like everything was finally over. Not just the whole magical war shit I had been stuck into, but every good thing too.

  Why did I think that? Well, as you might expect from a guy who hadn’t seen his wife or his son in over a year, John dropped his rifle and ran for them both. He got to Gabriela first, almost sliding on his knees to be there by her side as she tried to pick herself up. It was going to turn into a beautiful reunion at any moment. My breaking heart didn’t want to see it, and I didn’t trust my more cynical side from making a scene. I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t going to fuck up that reunion.

  Instead, I made for Joe and Max. The kid still looked like he was in la-la land and that helped distract me from the joyous/heartbreaking reunion about to take place beside me. Abner was hot on my heels, no doubt overjoyed to see his father safe. At least he knew where his parental unit was, unlike me, who still had no clue where Mom was. Yeah, everything was coming up bust for old Frank Butcher, a return to old form. After all this effort, doing everything I could to be the best Frank I could be, this was the reward? Seriously? To say I was feeling just a little bit fucked by it all was a massive understatement.

  “John, by the Great Spirit, you’re … no, you can’t be …” Pain plus confusion plus utter surprise were all easy to read in Gabby’s voice. I wanted to switch tracks, to try to comfort her, but that wasn’t my job anymore. I can’t tell you how much that hurt, even with my turquoise-and-gold heart.

  Thankfully, I managed to ignore John’s attempts at explanation as I opened my own big trap. “Rabbi, man, you really saved our bacon there. What the fuck just happened, sir?”

  Joseph winked up at me. “Oh, Frank, I think you know already. A little crass and flashy I admit, but sometimes we need a little miracle to make it through the day.” He glanced at Abner. “Ah, what a mouthful you’ve got, bubbi! Please spit it out for me, and I’ll take things from there.”

  Abner, ever the dutiful son, disgorged the Cube, a bit diminished but still badly cracked, into his hands. Behind me, I could hear Tabitha calling out with her magical-amplified voice for help, while confusion was starting to melt into acceptance between Gabby and John.

  I arched an eyebrow as Abner held the Cube out to Joe. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but that thing is dangerous as shit. Shouldn’t we leave it in Abner where it’s safe until the Peacekeeper here can tell us out to disarm it or whatever the fuck we need to do to fix this?”

  Joseph clucked his tongue as he took up the Cube. Its tendrils lashed some, but it didn’t go back to swelling and cracking as it did before. “Oh no, it’s quite all right. There’s nothing to fix, after all. This is all going as the natural order intends it.”

  If I had a Spidey-Sense, it would have been going off like a fire bell. Fortunately, I didn’t need one to know things had gone sideways. The odd thing was Abner seemed to sense it too.

  “Father, what are you saying?” Now, I had seen a lot of shades of Abner at this point, but this was the first one that sounded like a confused puppy. “We must restore order and reseal the prison.”

  “The only way to restore order, or more properly the cosmic balance, is to let things return to as they were, before the hubris of man started to meddle.” Joseph turned toward Max, who moved in unison with him. Yeah, it hadn’t been Rollie who had the kid under a spell and now it became blindingly obvious as to how a small group of Whites, even these badasses turned salt-shakers, managed to beat down the doors of the well-fortified Pendleton Building so easily.

  The seemingly all-good and wise Rabbi Joseph Krakowski had let them in. Dammit, just when I start to like a wizard-type, they have to get all back-stabby.

  Abner might have been struck confused, but I sure as hell wasn’t. I knew crazy talk when I heard it, but I didn’t unleash Bullet Hell on the Littlest Rabbi. How could I with Max so close? Instead, I swung the rifle butt around, trying to crash it into Joe’s outstretched hand holding the Cube. Call it a hunch, but I didn’t want Max anywhere near that thing.

  I wasn’t the only one roused to action. John was in mid-turn, having finally caught on to what was going on, while the doc’s eyes lit up in fright. She had to have been out of juice, otherwise she’d have thrown up a wall or something to protect her kid.

  My swing was great, dead-on. It wasn’t even like Joseph was trying to dodge it. Unfortunately, it
was like hitting a steel girder. Shit, the steel butt of my rifle actually bent askew and the vibrations up the metal-and-ceramic body sent a shock into my elbows. John lunged and grabbed the rabbi’s wrist, but it didn’t do a lick of good either. It had to have been like trying to stop the Terminator and even Peacekeepers are only human.

  A second later, the Cube stretched out close enough for Max to reach up to it. His finger touched the cracking shell and, with a tremendous explosion of cacophonous sound and psychedelic color, the last barrier between the unfathomable Old Ones and our world turned into so much dust.

  The shockwave threw everyone save Joseph and Max around like bowling pins. Those poor fuckers turned to salt were simply blown away, covering the entire hallway with bits of their corpses. My skull cracked against a closed door.

  As I started to fall into blackness, Joseph's sickeningly sincere voice filled my ears. “I really am sorry, my friends, but the only way to bring Yahweh back is to bring them all back.”

  I clawed at the veil of unconsciousness as I spit back, “I’ve been in that thing, seen what these bastards are like. You’ve fucking doomed us all.”

  I managed to focus on the asshole. He looked way too serene, even though he was covered in corpse salt, strings of primordial goo, and bits of glass. He had an arm around Max’s waist as he produced a wooden icon from his pocket, almost identical to the doo-dad he had given Abner to get us out of the Cube. “Not if you let me do my work. But you people are shockingly stubborn, so I have no choice but to take the boy with me. Think of it as an exchange of hostages, one son for another.”

  I tried to move, but wound up falling back down on my ass. No one else was doing any better. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway as Joseph smashed the little piece of wood in his hand and disappeared with Max in tow.

  In the space of a second, we’d gone from victorious to fucked. Still, Momma Butcher didn’t raise a quitter. Even as I slid into unconsciousness, I swore to myself that despite everything, I was going to nail that little guy to the wall.

  Thank you for reading Feet of Clay. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review.

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  Visit J.A.'s blog at JACipriano.com. Visit J.B.'s blog here.