Lady of Blades

by Saje Williams

  This was so strange for her. He wore the form, and spoke with the voice, of the man she trusted more than any other on the face of the planet—but rather than humanity hiding behind his gray eyes, she saw nothing but emptiness.

  This man was not the Deryk Shea she knew. It was as plain on the nose on his face. He had Shea's confidence, though, that inexplicable charisma he wore like a radiant cloak. “I hate to put it so bluntly,” he said, “but we're going to have to invite you to remain our guests until we have no need of you anymore."

  "Then what?"

  "Then we will release you, of course."

  Why don't I believe that? Jaz pegged Thoth as the lesser threat, so turned her attention fully on the one she considered the more dangerous of the two. “And I'm supposed to trust you?"

  "You don't really have a choice. You can't take me—the best you can hope for is to get out of here without leaving any of your people behind."

  "We don't leave our people behind,” she said. “And I'm willing to bet that we can take both of you down long enough to get out of here."

  "You may be right,” he said carefully. “But are you willing to bet you can get out of here without losing a couple?"

  She glanced around at her team and saw not even the slightest hesitation on their part. They were willing to chance it.

  She was too, as long as she could take care of Thoth. The fact that he'd fooled so many people for so long made her just a bit crazy about the subject. She would have preferred to take him back home for questioning and to undergo a real trial for treason.

  That, it seems, isn't in the cards for him.

  She flashed a hand-sign behind her back to Ben, indicating that he should be the one to challenge Shea. Other than herself, he probably had the best martial arts training out of any of them, but she would rather see to Thoth herself. Not to mention that a lot of her training had come from her Deryk Shea, so this one would most likely recognize her style quickly enough to counter anything she could throw at him. Ben was a different story—his trainer had been a former special forces op turned PAC agent.

  "Now!” She yelled. She hurled herself down the hallway at Thoth, who squealed in terror and pulled the trigger. Her katana, coming free of its dimension pocket while she was still in the air, intersected the first bullet by sheer chance. The sword let out a dull gong and abruptly reversed direction. She landed less than ten feet away from Thoth, who scrambled back toward the elevator door, pulling the trigger as fast as he could.

  A gun is only dangerous if you're standing in front of the barrel, she remembered someone telling her. In his panicked mode, Thoth wasn't bothering to do much in the way of aiming. She sidestepped the first couple rounds and brought the edge of her blade down on the end of the barrel, splitting it down the center.

  * * * *

  Ben sprang at Shea, landing in a perfectly balanced crouch just outside his range. He smiled and winked. “I've always wanted a rematch,” he said.

  This version of Shea didn't know what he meant, but he didn't look particularly upset by it. He tilted his head and made a come-hither gesture with one hand. Ben shook his head and echoed the gesture.

  Shea lurched forward, snapping out a roundhouse kick toward Ben's ribs. He was fast. Ben barely got his knee up in time to block. He spent the next thirty seconds parrying for all he was worth—he now knew how much Shea deserved his reputation as the greatest hand-to-hand fighter who ever lived. Only the physical density generated by his lycanthropy saved him from broken bones in the process. There seemed to be no doubt Shea was quicker than Ben. It was all he could to defend—launching an attack seemed out the question.

  He finally kicked out in time to jam up an attempted side kick, using the split second reprieve to retaliate with a straight right hand that crashed into the immortal's jaw and spun him halfway around. Shea threw up a back-kick, aided by the momentum of his spin, narrowly missing Ben's shoulder as he twisted aside.

  "You're pretty good, old son. But you're nowhere near good enough for me.” Shea stretched his arms above his head and eased back down into a fighting stance. “I have to admit ... this is the most challenging exchange I've had a in a long time.

  "I might not even kill you. You're worth keeping around just as a sparring partner, if for no other reason."

  "I don't talk and fight at the same time,” Ben growled, actually starting to get angry now. Keep him as a pet—as a sparring partner? He didn't think so. The thought gave birth to a fierce pounding in his skull.

  A shudder ran through him, followed by a fiery itch that crawled up his legs and over his back. He grinned, revealing a mouthful of no longer quite human teeth.

  Shea took a half step back, frowning. “Those are quite big teeth you have there,” he observed cautiously.

  Ben let a laughing growl escape his throat. “All the better to—” He felt a spasm begin in his lower back and pass upward. He heard his shirt tearing and struggled to say something more. “All the better to—to—” The words trailed off into an inarticulate howl. “Chew your fucking face off!"

  His wolfen form seemed to explode out from within his human body. Suddenly Shea found himself facing a very pissed off werewolf, several hundred pounds of muscle, fur, fang, and claw. He backpedaled rapidly, shooting an irritated glare down the hall at Thoth, who had problems of his own. “You didn't tell me he was a werewolf!"

  "Surprise!” Ben snarled, and hurled himself at the immortal. A kick caught him in the chest with bone-snapping force, but the werewolf barely felt the impact. His claws swept across, snatching at the tendons behind the immortal's knee.

  He jerked Shea from the floor and hurled him into the nearest wall. He rebounded, sliding down into a stunned puddle at the base of the wall. Still apparently dazed, he shook his head and tried to stand, using the wall for support.

  Ben crossed the intervening space in one long loping motion, his long, ape-like arm sweeping out and snatching Shea's feet out from under him. The immortal hit the floor and tried to roll out of the way, smashing himself against the wall instead.

  "Keep fighting,” Ben suggested, the words butchered by his inhuman muzzle. “It makes the taste all the more sweet.” He raked Shea's legs, shredding his slacks and leaving long, bloody trails down his thighs.

  His jaws opened, rows of huge teeth glistening with saliva. The massive head dipped down as he sniffed at the wounds he'd inflicted. His thick black tongue lashed out, slaking itself on the blood running freely down the immortal's legs. “Immortal fear tastes so good."

  "Ben! Enough!"

  He glanced over his shoulder and growled at the little blonde woman tugging at his nub of a tail. “Leave me alone!” he roared.

  She slapped his muzzle and he yelped—as much from shock as from any pain it might have caused. He snapped at the hand as it withdrew. She slapped him again.

  He whirled angrily, intending to teach this little human a lesson. To his great surprise, she held her ground, glaring up at him with her hands on her hips and no sign of fear whatsoever. He raised one massive paw and felt himself hesitate.

  She was just a human—why not just crush her?

  "Orcus,” she said, “take care of Deryk Shea. I think he's got a concussion."

  Ben growled softly at the black and white giant as he lumbered past and lowered his front paw to the floor. “Amanda?” he said, in what sounded like half whine and half growl.

  "He's bloodied a little, but no concussion,” Orcus pronounced, inspecting the injured immortal carefully.

  "Then give him one,” Amanda ordered. Shrugging, the giant lifted the dazed Shea off the floor and slammed his head into the wall a couple of times before dropping him back to the floor.

  "Did I hurt you?” the werewolf asked his wife, his human brain beginning to reassert control.

  "No, Ben. You did good.” She reached up and stroked his muzzle affectionately.

  * * * *

  Jaz marched Thoth back up the corridor, sword resting comfortably on
his right shoulder. He was limping, with a long ribbon of blood winding its way down from his left ribcage down the outside of his pants. His robe lay in tatters in front of the elevator doors where she'd left it. “I'm really getting a bad feeling from all of this,” she told the others. “First the ridiculously incompetent guards, now these two lame immortals."

  Ben aimed a lupine glare in her direction. “Easy for you to call them lame—you weren't the one fighting this bastard.” He jabbed a claw at the semi-conscious Deryk Shea. “He's a tough monkey, that's for sure.” The words were guttural, barely suited for a human throat, but they emerged more or less recognizable.

  "I'm not sure you would've been able to defeat our Deryk Shea even in wolfen form,” Jaz told him. “Something isn't quite right here."

  "Something like what?” Amanda asked, scratching her husband behind the ears. The werewolf groaned and pushed against her with his muzzle before turning a quizzical gaze on Jaz.

  "This isn't the universe this Thoth came from, is it?” She twisted the blade of her katana just slightly, allowing it to bite into the flesh of his shoulder. “I said—you're not from this universe, are you, Thoth? This was just a way station and a means to distract us, wasn't it?"

  "Not quite,” Loki said with a sudden grin. “That's part of it—but the other part is that he wanted us to disrupt the security here so he could go after something he wanted.” He walked over and crouched next to Shea. “Does this guy work for you?” he asked.

  "What? No. I wouldn't hire Thoth to clean toilets. He's not trustworthy."

  "Then why is he here?"

  "He showed up to warn me that we were about to be attacked by a bunch of renegades from another universe—monsters, mages, and immortals from another timeline would pretend to negotiate while stealing our secrets."

  "But you've had dealings with him in the past?"

  "Unfortunately, yes.” He struggled to sit up. “Never fought a werewolf before.” He looked down at his pants and grimaced. “These were five hundred dollars slacks.” He glanced back up and shrugged. “A cheap price to pay to learn something about werewolves."

  He rose to his feet, gingerly, at first, but with increasing confidence as he realized he was no longer in pain. “I am Deryk Shea. This is my building. I assume you—” he leveled his gaze at Jaz “—are the leader here?"

  "Good guess,” she said. “Now I'm very glad I didn't kill any of your guards. I know who you are. An alternate version of yourself is my foster father."

  He smiled, a much more attractive smile than his alter-ego's. “Then it is nice to make your acquaintance. You are...?"

  "Sorry. Jasmine Tashae. My friends just call me Jaz."

  "Jaz.” He seemed to taste it on the end of your tongue. “Fitting—considering that jazz is the music of improvisation and I see that it is improvisation that is one of your best attributes."

  "I'd never quite looked at it that way,” she said.

  "Of course not. You are of a generation that scorns jazz, not realizing that a lot of the musical styles you listen to evolved into what they are because of jazz. A pity, really.” He turned to look at Thoth, who looked just about ready to explode from internalized anger.

  "These people are thieves and murderers! They stole your computer!"

  "The one called Amigos?” Other-Shea shook his head. “It wasn't mine to begin with, and it asked to be taken. That, in my mind, was not theft."

  "What about the symsuit? Due to his incompetence—” He jabbed an accusing finger at Loki. “the symsuit chose that little blonde witch as a host."

  "Which presents an interesting opportunity to study how it affects a mage, wouldn't you say? Or, rather, how it and the mage affect one another...” He turned to Jaz again. “My apologies if you were inconvenienced. This idiot here thought to use both of us, and it seems he stuck his own foot in the bear-trap."

  "Coyote bites his own tail,” Loki murmured, half to himself.

  Deryk Shea glanced over at the Trickster and grinned. “It's good to see you again, old friend.” He reached out a hand.

  Loki just stared at him.

  "You guys aren't really friends where we come from,” Quickfingers put in, shimmering into existence in their midst. “You think he's an impetuous flake and he thinks you're a stuffy pain in the ass."

  Of all people, Ben was the one who snickered at that.

  "How unfortunate. I, for one, have always appreciated the little bit of chaos Loki has brought into any venture. Without chaos, genius is impossible. I will gladly call you friend, Loki.” He shifted his gaze from his hand back up to Loki's eyes.

  Loki took his hand, still looking a little shocked. Deryk slapped him on the shoulder stepped back, turning once more to Jaz. “If you'd please come with me—I'm sure you're hungry. I have a banquet room on the next floor. I can order in just about any meal you might desire."

  She looked at the others. Poor Orcus looked like he was certain he'd die of starvation if she didn't take him up on the offer. Ben wasn't much better. With her own stomach adding its own rumbling voice to the mix, she decided that a decent meal sounded too good to pass up. “Sure. Lead the way."

  He gave a spare nod and strode up the hall toward the elevator bank. Orcus and Ben carried Thoth along behind Jaz, while Amanda and Cecil brought up the rear. Shea did something with the control panel and the elevator doors opened.

  "Mr. Shea!” Someone came running up a side corridor. “We've had an accident in the lab. We need you there immediately. Lori is hurt."

  He turned toward Jaz and her team. “Do you mind? Just take the elevator up to the next floor and go to the end of the hall. You'll see the banquet room."

  "Not a problem,” Jaz said. “Thank you."

  With a final nod, Shea jogged off behind his employee.

  "He seems a nice enough guy,” Loki observed as they all piled onto the elevator. “Wish our Deryk Shea was as friendly."

  The doors closed and they felt upward momentum. “Do you smell something weird?” Ben asked.

  "Weird how?” Jaz asked, then paused. “Sweet. Not like perfume, like...” She crumpled. One by one they all sank to the elevator floor, snoozing peacefully.

  "Well,” said Quickfingers, materializing once again. “Isn't this a pickle?"

  * * * *

  "How could I be so fucking stupid?” Jaz paced the width of her tiny cell, trying desperately to call one strand of mana to her hand. Except there weren't any. She couldn't even see her spell web. Magesight still worked, but there was simply nothing to see. Somehow magic just didn't work inside this cell.

  Sitting on the lower bunk hung off the side of the back wall, Amanda stared up at her morosely. “We fell for the oldest trick in the book."

  "Is it the oldest? Either way, it should have been obvious. It was all too goddam easy."

  "It was a setup. A con. And a very good one, at that."

  Jaz let out a wordless scream and kicked the door. It didn't even dent. “Well, shit."

  * * * *

  "Well, spank my ass and call me stupid,” Loki muttered, sitting in front of the rectangle of unidentifiable black metal that obviously served as a door. “No lock to pick from this side."

  "You're wasting your time. There's no way out of here.” Orcus sat in a corner of the cell, unable to fit on the bed at all. “We're screwed."

  "Who's we, kemo sabe? Got mouse in your pocket? Loki never gives up. Loki never says die!"

  Even to him it sounded a little half-hearted. With a sigh, he walked back over to the bunk and threw himself onto the top one. “I miss Renee."

  * * * *

  "This is torture,” Ben growled. “If you don't sit down and shut up, I'm going to put you to sleep again."

  Cecil jerked to a halt and glared at him, stroking his mustache with his knuckles. “You can't talk to me like that. I'm not afraid of you!"

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "Hah! You may be big and strong but I'm fast and strong. I'd run around you so fast
you'd be like Dorothy—go to Oz on a tornado!"

  Ben grumbled and laid his head down on the cot. “I don't have the energy for this."

  * * * *

  "Nice work, Deryk,” Thoth said. “You pulled that off so smoothly even I wasn't sure what was going on."

  "Prejudices can run both ways, you know. Appear to be someone they already like and trust, and they're already halfway in your hand."

  Thoth snickered. “And now?"

  "And now I can make use of every single one of them. I'll make my own werewolves. And a few of whatever that giant is. They'd make remarkable bodyguards."

  "Like you need them,” Thoth pointed out.

  "Hey—to protect my clothes.” Shea tugged at the lapel of his blue silk suit jacket. “I don't need these threads torn up like that damn wolf tore up my slacks."

  "So I brought you what you asked for—did you offer a reward?"

  Shea's eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you hitting me up for money, Thoth?"

  "No, sir. But it was an expensive journey ... I had to spend a lot of my own gold."

  "Ah, yes. How much did you spend?"

  "Almost six kilos,” Thoth replied.

  "Living rather lavishly, were you?"

  "Gold isn't worth as much there."

  "Ah—you fell victim to the exchange rate. I understand. So I will repay your six kilos and add another two on for your troubles. Does that sound adequate?"

  "More than adequate, sir."

  "Good. Now let us talk of more ... civilized ... things than money."

  "Yes, sir."

  Deryk Shea was the boss and he didn't like having to remind people of that fact. Hopefully he was enough of a micromanager that he'd want to see to the security protocols himself.

  He paused. “On second thought ... you may go now."

  "Yes, sir.” Thoth scurried away like the rat he was.

  Shea pushed a button on his desk. “Lilly, send up Captain Jorgensen ... I'd like to go over security plans with him."

  "Yes, sir, Mister Shea, sir."

  Fifteen minutes later the Major, clad in a U.S. Army uniform, came in the door after knocking twice. “You asked to see me, sir?"