Adornments of Glory

by J. Crispin-Ripley

  Out the back door and down an alleyway to an adjoining street. The tall redhead stood on the other side, leaning against a lamppost, a slight sneer on her face.

  "She knows the city," Susan said, quickly looking both directions. "This way... maybe we can lose her in the underground. Less likely to be shot at there, anyway."

  "More likely to be knifed," Feldspar responded, trotting at Susan's side. The girl was keeping up with an effortless lope. "But maybe I can take her out in closer quarters."

  Susan stopped by a door. "Not a good idea. There are cameras in the malls, and security guards. I don't think she'll attack us there."

  "I'm not so worried about her, more her father."

  "But we haven't seen him."

  "Exactly."

  The tunnels were crowded but everyone gave them space. As they walked past a shop Feldspar caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. "Dragon dung! Why didn't you tell me I'm such a mess?" The suit was filthy from rolling on the sidewalk and a sleeve and one knee were torn through.

  "It didn't seem that important at the time until now, but you're right. They probably wouldn't even let you into the Bent-Arm looking the way you do. We're going to have to get you a change of clothes."

  "How?" Feldspar asked. She didn't have any money.

  "Have you forgotten so soon?" Susan asked with a grin. "Charge it! My credit is good, and who knows if I'll still be alive when the bill comes in." She glanced behind them. "She's still there, by the way."

  "I know. She's close enough now I can feel her aura." Experienced as a rippling red power behind unsettled shields. Whether or not her father was around, by herself the girl was dangerous. And arrogant... she wasn't even bothering to hide.

  Sian and Ishtar were approaching the Westshire when Susan called. If Ishtar hadn't lingered at the apartment to primp, they would have already been there. Sian put her phone back into her purse and passed the news along to Ishtar; Feldspar and Susan'd been followed. And Rabid was likely the reason why. He'd betrayed them. "And he's with Roger," she added. "Sorry, but right now that's what bothers me most."

  "Damn understandable... and damn again, I should have guessed about him! Thought he was just a coward, not a traitor. Sorry... but Roger should be okay--you sent him and Rabid off to do something unimportant and safe. Don't think I didn't notice." She paused. "Still, we better go find them, pronto. If Belinda knows our plans, we'll be walking into a trap here at the hotel."

  "You're sure?" This Ishtar didn't sound like the one hell-bent on vengeance.

  Ishtar shrugged. "If Rabid's one of them, we have to take him out. And I intend to do that with maximum pain. We don't need to help Feldspar; she can take care of herself. From the sound of it, so can Susan. Roger can't. Especially if he doesn't know Rabid's an enemy." Another shrug. "I can off Belinda later... no hurry."

  "Why the sudden change of mind? Not that I'm arguing. This way," she added, starting away from the hotel.

  A grin from Ishtar as she caught up. "I figure I'm going to get plenty of action, no matter what. And like Feldspar said, Belinda should be allowed to know the totality of her defeat before she's recycled."

  "At the moment, I'd say Belinda has the upper hand." Sian stopped again to look around. On a crowded Noronto street it was almost impossible to see if they were being followed, or watched--too many people, and they hadn't been thinking it likely so they hadn't paid attention.

  And Ishtar's arrogance remained remarkable. It was dangerous... to them, not the enemy. Ishtar needed to be taken down a number of pegs.

  "How did you miss Rabid's being involved with Belinda?"

  A shrug. "Seems pretty obvious now. Didn't then. We were in a hurry, both horny and I was pissed with Feldspar for that damn vow. Even so, yeah, we should have picked up on it. We even knew his last night on Diluvia he was with two of Belinda's minions. Tell you what I'm putting it down to." She paused. "Fate... or the damn gods again, the ones that have been messing with our auras. No other reasonable explanation... someone or something has been screwing with our minds. I mean, it's not like either Feldspar or me are exactly stupid."

  Ishtar's laugh sounded like an attempt to cover nerves. Was she as self-confident as she made out or trying to convince herself? "By the Unknown," Ishtar continued. "Planetsinger even tried to remove him from the quest party and good as told us we couldn't trust the prick, but we were a couple of headstrong idiots, not paying attention. Of course, she couldn't actually tell us anything, even if she knew it--against the rules."

  "Damn stupid rules," Sian commented.

  "We're still alive so our chances of success remain good to excellent. And don't knock antiquity--it's worked for ages." Her ironic smile replaced the uncharacteristic serious look. "Let's go take one of them out, name of Rabid and further improve our chances. I'm sure if we don't you'll be overly concerned about Roger's well-being."

  "Shouldn't let the enemy know what we're up to." Sian remained convinced eyes were on them. "We'll go in here." The store next to the Westshire was connected to it by a tunnel. "They'll think we're taking an alternate route in to the hotel." She hoped.

  Once inside they doubled back the way they'd come, inside the store rather than out. And came face to face with Vlad and Brad, the gladiator twins.

  "Damn."

  Sian agreed. Both men were well over six-feet tall and heavily muscled. "Retreat."

  They ran back the way they'd came. Ishtar bowled over a woman with parcel as she dashed out the door to the street. Sian hurdled her--no time for manners.

  "Damn!" Ishtar said again, with even more feeling. Down the street stood Caleb, directly outside the door out they'd have taken if they'd been thinking.

  The only clear direction was to the right, back towards the Westshire. No. Sian said a short prayer to the god of traffic. "This way," she shouted to Ishtar and darted onto the road, straight toward the oncoming cars.

  * * * * *

  After leaving Sian's apartment, Rabid had stopped to make a phone call at the first booth they passed. Roger felt mildly surprised. Rabid knew someone on Terra? Knowing him, likely a woman he'd bumped into in the hotel, and he was setting up a date for later. Or some other logical explanation... Roger knew all too well he wasn't in great shape, wasn't thinking too clearly after a day-plus of change and shocks to the system, from meeting the Diluvians, to being arrested, to becoming engaged to a stranger... all of that added up to one numb mind.

  Not much was turning out as expected, at least by him. He'd thought they'd have difficulties finding the address of a celebrity of Maxine Albright's stature. Sian had intended to tap her police sources to get the writer's address but Susan had told her not to waste any favours, gone on line for a couple of minutes and come up with the information that Albright lived in a house in the Woodland district, just off downtown. Roger had always pictured Albright as a penthouse dweller. Just showed you never knew. Especially him. Especially now.

  After getting off the subway, they walked into the Woodlands. From experience, Roger knew bus service in the ritzy districts was spotty at best and walking generally faster. The Woodland area seemed an exception. Three busses, all empty, passed them on their way to Albright's place. Not his day, not at all.

  "Looks like I miscalculated," he said to Rabid.

  "Not to worry. It's not like there's any great rush."

  There wasn't? Weren't the fates of worlds, and all that sort of thing, at stake? "I thought there was."

  "For the other groups... yes. But this is a 'get the guys out of the way so we can do serious stuff' mission we're on, Roger my friend. The slits want to make sure all the acclaim and credit goes their way, not ours. Heck, if you let males do anything important, they might start getting ideas they're equal... useful for something other than transporting penises around so they're conveniently available when a woman decides she wants one."

  "You mean a 'make work' project?"

  "Hey, that's a good way of putting it. See, you're smart... but don't
think Sian, or whoever she passes you on to after she dumps you, will ever appreciate it." Rabid sighed. "But don't listen to me. What would I know? So I've spent four hundred years being a plaything, so what? Know something? You're lucky--at least you'll die before a hundred are done and move on to a better life. Be good in this one and you may even be reborn with big tits."

  If Rabid didn't sound so bitter, Roger would have taken that rant as an extended and unfunny joke, sort of like a TV comedy channel routine. "You're serious, aren't you?"

  "As the great and glorious Ishtar would say, 'Damn right I am.' Diluvia's been ruled by women right from the start, Roger. The Atlantian war was courtesy of the bitch sisters Phoenix and Glory, which was what made the creation of Diluvia needed. And logically, damn Glory got the job of running it straight off. The gods are all female, no other explanation makes sense."

  "Glory... the same one the Adornments belonged to?"

  "Same bitch--ruled Atlantis but wasn't content with less than absolute power--typical woman--the whole world had to do things her way and anyone who opposed her, had to be destroyed, even if she had to pull the whole planet down to do it. Almost did. Of course she came through it just fine, even lived long enough to write endless journals justifying her fuck-ups as genius and enjoy all the toe-licking she could get."

  "And Phoenix was her sister?"

  Rabid nodded. "Another headcase, 'Whoremistress of the Southern Clime' they call her now--of course she lost and Glory wrote the annals of the Atlantian debacle, so they would. Much more reasonable sort, for a female. Until she got dragged in to oppose Glory's warmongering madness, Phoenix headed an order of largely benign earth-loving priestesses. Note I said 'priestesses', not 'priests.' But that good old female bloodlust was in Phoenix's soul and when Glory pushed her, she couldn't hold back. Women." Rabid spat on the sidewalk.

  "I thought you liked women."

  "I like their bodies; I like reducing them to whimpering submission and bruising them along the way. My gift makes me one of the few men who can outlast them. That's another reason they all think they're so damn superior, that they get so much more out of sex. I exist to prove that isn't necessarily so. Tell me, Roger, doesn't that smug smile they get when you can't perform any more drive you nuts?"

  "Sometimes. But how would you know about that? I thought you said..."

  "Other guys talk. And there is one woman who can do that to me... and only because she uses mind-science. What she doesn't know is that once I've let her do all the set-up work, I'm going to prove to her I've been holding back... that I really am her superior. Then things will start being the way they should be, on Diluvia first and then on Terra. I'm not the dumb hole-hiding bunny they all think I am, not me, not Rabid. I'm going to show them all... and soon."

  "Oh." Rabid was... well... rabid. The man... the elf... was insane. And he, Roger O'Brien, was stuck with the madman. As Ishtar would say... damn. But at least Rabid was right about one thing--the task they'd been set wasn't all that important to the quest.

  * * * * *

  Susan couldn't take the threat posed by the lanky redheaded werewolf seriously. All she'd done so far was follow them. Okay, maybe she'd been with Belinda and company at the Westshire. And she might be in contact with the shooters or as Feldspar feared, her father, but in herself the girl didn't seem at all menacing. Matter of fact, she was seriously cute. Besides, if she meant to attack them she could have earlier, under the covering fire from the car.

  And Feldspar needed new clothes if they were going to get into the Bent-Arm; her suit was a write-off. What to buy for her? Susan found herself getting excited at the prospect of choosing another outfit for Feldspar. It'd been a serious thrill shopping with her the first time, as Belinda. Now she could chose something for Feldspar as herself, something that would suit her beautiful dark complexion. And would show off her strong, delicate figure. Susan pushed down the damp thrill she could feel building. Not now, not yet, now she needed to consider where to buy, not what. It would have to be somewhere no one could sneak up on them, just in case Feldspar was right about the girl.

  So... a store that wasn't crowded. Which meant one that was seriously overpriced. Oh well, she had some room on her cards and Feldspar was worth it. Genie Jeans looked deserted... perfect--Feldspar in low-slung jeans and a halter-top... yum!

  "Feldspar? I think we should go in there and get you some new clothes."

  Feldspar glanced back, over her shoulder. "She's still there... but you're right. And from in there we can keep an eye on her. She certainly isn't going to be able to sneak through the crowd and knife me."

  "I don't think she's going to do that anyway."

  "Not if we don't give her a chance."

  Susan guessed Feldspar's size and snagged two pairs of black jeans from a table at the front, and an assortment of tops from racks as they passed and ushered Feldspar back to the change rooms. "Try these on. I'll shout if she comes into the store."

  The werewolf... werewolf? Susan still had trouble accepting the girl was one... such lovely red hair... the werewolf took a seat on the bench in front of the store across from Genie Jeans, met Susan's eyes and gave her a half-smile... gleaming white teeth... pointed? Couldn't see from this distance. She seemed shy. Shy? No, maybe wary. Expressive face... not hard to imagine it twisted with passion... stop that now... don't go there. But hardly the confident killer Feldspar imagined... hold it... not shy… scared--was she as intimidated by them as Feldspar was of her? Susan took a couple of experimental steps towards the girl. She stood and moved to in front of the previous store. When Susan returned to beside the booth where Feldspar was changing, the girl drifted back wait directly across the way. This time she remained standing.

  Feldspar came out of the change room in tight-fitting jeans and a figure-hugging black top. Susan forgot all about the girl. Feldspar was seriously gorgeous. "It's you."

  "Most of me," Feldspar said. A glance outside then eyes firmly on Susan. "I'm beginning to wonder if you like me or just my body."

  "Isn't it the same thing?"

  Another look into the mall. Another at her. "No."

  A loud crash. Susan jumped. "Sorry..." The salesgirl had tipped over a nearby rack. "Pardon me, but you gonna take that stuff or what... it's like, my break time, you know?"

  Any other day, any other time, Susan would have left everything. This day she took out her credit card and didn't even look at the total as she signed. Feldspar had gone out into the mall. Was she angry?

  She was waiting just outside. The girl was nowhere to be seen. "What did you do to her?" Susan asked.

  "Pardon me? Concerned for the enemy? Or is it just you're hot for her too?" A quick smile said Feldspar was only half-serious. Susan's heart went halfway back down her throat. "She went down the hall, that way," Feldspar continued, waving a hand the direction they'd be going. "Could be setting up for an ambush."

  "I doubt that!" It came out sounding far stronger than Susan had intended.

  "So, I was right," Feldspar replied.

  "No, you're not!" Or was she?

  * * * * *

  Sian heard blaring horns and screeching brakes but didn't look for the cars, just ran and prayed. Short seconds later Ishtar and she were on the streetcar median. She glanced back. Vlad and Brad had met up with Caleb and the three were eyeing herself and Ishtar, and the eastbound traffic... which for the moment was even heavier than before. A break in it was coming. So was a streetcar. Should they wait or brave the four westbound lanes? She gauged distances and speed and placed her bet and her life on the streetcar.

  It pulled to a stop and the doors opened. Ishtar and Sian got on. Sian put a five in the fare-box.

  "Hey!" Their pursuers were running for the streetcar.

  With a snicker, the driver closed the door and the streetcar started forward.

  "Hey!" Fists pounding on the door, then the side as the streetcar picked up speed. Saved by the legendary rudeness of the Transit Commission.

 
There were people at the next stop. Vlad and Brad had given up, but Caleb was only fifty feet back.

  "Get ready," Sian said to Ishtar. "When the doors open, dive out." A quick assessment of traffic--hopeless.

  Ishtar put a hand on her arm. "No, we stay on. One I can handle, even him. Especially if he's coming up the steps."

  She hadn't considered that. Caleb had. The other passengers got on and he stood at the foot of the steps, winded.

  "So, you gettin' on or wat?" The driver asked.

  "Fuck you."

  The door closed. "Guess we're free and clear," Sian said.

  Ishtar tapped her arm and pointed. "Think again." Vlad and Brad were in a taxi, in the next lane. As it stopped, Caleb got in. "Think their driver will be able to figure out where this thing's going?"