A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters

by Greenberg, Martin H.

  I sat for a bit after my business and stared at the floor of my Green Bay Packer themed bathroom without really seeing the yellow and green of the bathmat. Magical necklaces . . . ninja rats.

  And what about McDougall? He’d stitched up my hand in ER and then rescued us, throwing lightning around, his stethoscope still around his neck. Those sharp grey eyes, warning me from leaving the protection of his wards. Where did he fit in all this?

  This was nuts. Well and truly unbelievable. Wise One, chosen by the Elemental Forces. It was just crazy.

  But then again, so was the idea of a talking mouse.

  I rolled my eyes, sighed, and went to wash my hands. I needed to know more. I needed to listen to the talking mouse. To Wan. Without throwing up my hands and exclaiming my disbelief. It was far too late for that. I’d passed the intersection of Crazy and Sane a long time ago, and I’d turned down Crazy Street the minute I had rescued Wan from my koi pond. There was no turning back now.

  I looked up at the mirror and sighed. Why did “wise” always seem to really mean old and wrinkled? I thought adventures happened to the young, the lovely, the pure of heart?

  But in that instant, when the dragon had looked at me—at me, as is, as I was—

  It saw me. Not just me, it saw through me somehow, right down to my soul and I shook as I hung there, pierced by its gaze. Then it threw its head back, and shook its mane, and laughed.

  The heavens resounded, and the earth trembled with the sound, as if all of creation shared the joy of this being. For it did not mock, nor was it threatening. It was a joyful sound, and my heart shared in its delight.

  That joy . . . that happiness. I hadn’t felt anything like that in years.

  I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and threw open the bathroom door.

  “There is much you will need to learn,” Wan said as he paced back and forth on the dining room table. “But we will start with the very beginning.”

  “A very good place to start,” I warbled, back on the sofa with the two dogs at my side.

  Wan gave me a puzzled look.

  Heh. Score one for popular culture. “The necklace?” I prompted.

  “No, Kate.” Wan shook his head. “The very beginning. Of the world.”

  “Oh. Of course.” I tried to keep an interested look on my face, but inside I groaned. The whole thing? He was going to tell me the whole thing?

  “To begin, I will provide you with an overview of the major dynasties.” Wan started pacing, and his voice took on the same droning tone of some of my old professors at UT. “Now, in your modern time scale, the Hsia Dynasty was formed in 2000 BCE—”

  Crap. My brain twisted in my skull. Four thousand years? He was going back four thousand years?

  “Arising along the banks of the Yellow River. Founded by Yu the Great, who—”

  If this were a marital arts film, there’d be an attack about now. I glanced over at the sliding door to see if, by chance, there were any ninja rats in the backyard.

  No such luck.

  “Yu was a feared and cruel Emperor, who bound the petty warring states—” Wan was pacing, his tail in his paws as he moved, intent on his words.

  I ever-so-casually moved my hand and poked Itty’s butt. With any luck, my little dog would wake up and need to go outside.

  Itty yawned, and rolled on her side to show her tummy. She never even opened her eyes.

  I scratched her belly, and slumped into the cushions. Doomed . . . I was doomed. My eyes started to roll back into my head. Doomed . . .

  “The next dynasty arose in 1523 BCE. Scholars differ as to whether it should be known as the Shang or Yin Dynasty. My studies have led me to theorize that—”

  I stifled a yawn, and looked out the sliding glass door again. Maybe McDougall would appear again to rescue me from this horrible fate. He was damned good looking, with those sharp grey eyes. Those grey eyes that—

  “Kate!”

  I jerked my eyes open.

  Wan was glaring at me, his little paws on his narrow hips.

  “Wan, I—” Desperation born of pure boredom forced me to speak. “I might have some books in the attic.”

  The attic stairs creaked as I pulled the chain, lowering gently to the floor. Wan was on my shoulder as I set my foot on the first step.

  I’d always loved fantasy from the moment I learned to read. Magic, swords, dragons . . . I read every book I could get my hands on, and when that wasn’t enough, I made up stories in my head. I discovered gaming in college . . . role-playing games that let me be the characters I’d dreamed of. I never looked back. Computers, LARPS, MUUDS, SCA . . . my life and friends revolved around those wonderful imaginary worlds.

  Then I tried to write my stories to share with the world. And all my wide-eyed innocent hopes had been shredded, one after the other. Until the 53rd rejection letter, when I’d woken up to reality. Seen the truth in all its sweaty, hopeless, ugliness.

  So I’d walked away from old friends, and quit all my gaming groups. I’d left SCA and closed my online accounts. I’d cleaned out my bookshelves and donated everything fantastical to the library. I’d wiped my hard drive, expunging my folly with the press of a key, reformatting my life and goals with a stroke. I’d taken my rejections, my manuscripts, my characters, my worlds, and stuffed them in a few boxes in the attic.

  I didn’t want to climb those stairs, didn’t want to open those boxes. Too much damn pain, too much failure contained within. I didn’t want to do this.

  But I didn’t want to listen to the entire history of China, either.

  The attic was unfinished, so I’d have to watch my step. I pulled the chain on the light and looked around. The beams made it hard to stand upright, and I reached for one to balance myself. The wood felt rough and dry under my fingers. I breathed in dust and disuse and tried to remember the last time I’d been up here.

  “Which boxes, Kate?” Wan asked, his nose twitching.

  “Over there,” I said, moving carefully on the plywood. “In that corner.”

  They were piled in one corner, isolated from the boxes of Christmas ornaments and college memories. Sealed with duct tape, with my shaky handwriting on the sides in black permanent marker. The lettering was hard to read, but then I’d been crying at the time. Sobbing my eyes out, to be exact.

  I reminded myself to breathe and kept moving.

  Wan bounded down from my shoulder, his sword slung over his shoulder, red tassel dancing from the pommel. “What is in this one?” He asked, scrambling through the opening that served as a handhold.

  “Hell if I know,” I grumbled, my stomach knotting. Probably from drinking too damn much coffee. I started moving the boxes, looking at the sides. “There should be one that says ‘gamemaster’ on the side.”

  I could hear him rummaging around, talking as he did so. “There are gemstones in here, Kate. With numbers on them.” His voice was muffled, but I could hear his excitement.

  “Those are dice,” I said absently. I’d found the box I was looking for.

  I had to work at the duct tape, and then gave up, tearing the cardboard off the top, just enough so I could look inside. Just as I expected, it was filled to the brim with . . . worlds.

  Adventures, campaigns, epic quests, and short side distractions designed to strip a character of gold, money and magic. My throat closed at the sight of three-ring binders, folders, and plastic envelopes.

  I reached in and dug past those things to find my source books. I knew full well that I had kept some of those, unable to bear the idea that someone else would use them.

  “Kate, what is this?”

  Wan was peering at me from the handhold, his paws extended into the light. He was holding a small metal figurine.

  My breath caught in my throat at the sight.

  Her plate was still as shiny silver as the day I had painted her. Her long blonde hair trailed out behind her, a few strands covering her face. Those had been a bitch to paint. Her eyes were wide, he
r mouth turned up in an open-faced smile as she lifted her halberd to strike. Pole-arms were highly underrated as weapons. Useful from the second rank, giving me an extended reach over the meatshields in front. “No helmet, Katling,” Gerald used to tease, his blue eyes—

  I swallowed hard, then forced the words out. “Put it back, Wan.”

  His paws pulled the figurine back into the box. “Very well,” he said, his voice muffled as he turned away. “But there are many more, and they are well painted. This other one has lost its sword, but still—”

  “Wan,” was all I could get out.

  His face appeared from the depths of the box, his gaze steady as he considered my face. “My apologies, Kate.”

  “I found it,” I blinked quickly as I pulled the book from the box.

  Wan crawled out of the box. I reached out a hand absently and he crawled up my arm to my shoulder. He peered over at the book in my hands. “Legends and Lore?” he asked doubtfully. “Gaming materials?”

  “Sure,” I opened the book and rifled the pages. “Here we go, ‘Chinese Mythology.’ ”

  Wan stiffened.

  “Er . . .” I quickly turned the pages. “Look, here is a summary of the history and an explanation of a some new spells . . .” This wasn’t going the way I had planned. Especially when the next few pages listed stats and hit dice for the various avatars.

  Wan crossed his paws over his chest and gave me a flat look. “And where are the combat statistics for Holy Mary, Mother of God?”

  I closed the book, and shoved it back into the box. “Okay, bad idea.”

  “Perhaps instead we could use original source materials,” Wan said firmly. “I have many scrolls and—”

  I stood up and reached for one of the beams as I headed to the stairs. “Hey, Wan. Remember what I told you about Wikipedia?”

  I’d forgotten that we hadn’t cleaned up the office.

  Wan’s small library, which sat on the top of my computer hutch, was a mess. His tiny white scrolls, tied with red ribbons were scattered about the teak floor. Wan jumped from my shoulder to the hutch, placed his sword on its rack, and started to pick them up, using paws and tail. The whole prehensile thing still freaked me out, but in comparison to evil possums, it didn’t rate a second glance.

  I sighed and looked at my computer. I’d used my ergonomic keyboard to whack at the rats and it cracked right in half. I might have an old one in the closet, but my wrists would let me know fast if I used it for any length of time. Lovely. I’d have to order a new one. I dug out the info as Wan was muttering curses to himself. I snorted as I dialed, resigning myself to dealing with New Delhi and an hour on hold.

  I got American English. I almost dropped the phone.

  “Oh no, ma’am.” The clear voice chirped. “Your keyboard is covered completely by the warranty. I’ll have a new one overnighted to you immediately.”

  “What’s that cost?”

  “No cost, ma’am. Part of the service on your account. Has your address changed?”

  “No-no . . .”

  “You will receive it by early morning delivery tomorrow. Anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”

  I stared at the dial tone coming out of the handset.

  There was a soft cough, and I looked up to see Wan facing me, a scroll in his hands.

  “Wan, the strangest thing . . .”

  “What is needed will be provided, Wise One.” Wan’s eyes were gleaming with excitement.

  “Really?” I thought about that for a moment. “Because I really need to lose weight.”

  Wan sighed. “What is needed, Kate. There is a difference between needs and desires.” Wan held up the scroll, letting it unroll to dangle before me. “As K’ung Fu-tzu says—”

  I squinted at the scroll. “That’s Lao Tzu, not Confucius.”

  Wan smiled. “You are certain?”

  “Wan,” I growled. “It’s the Tao Te Ching, Chapter 1. ‘The way that can be spoken of is not the constant way.’ ” I rolled my eyes. “Which is not particularly helpful, if you ask me.”

  Wan rolled up the scroll looking rather smug.

  “Wait,” I considered my self-satisfied little scholarly friend. “I didn’t think you wrote in English.”

  “I do not,” Wan said, turning to replace the scroll. “It would appear that you can now read the original source materials.”

  Oh, hell. His miniature library was stuffed to the gills with those tiny scrolls. “Wan, I am not reading—”

  “Oh, but you are.” Wan said over his shoulder. “The more you read and learn, the less your adversary will know.”

  Crap.

  Itty came into the room, yawning and stretching. Bitty was right behind her, making the familiar whining sound. I reached down to pet them both. “Need to go out, my babies?”

  They both barked, and raced for the living room.

  “Wait for me, Kate.” Wan picked up his sword and slung it over his shoulder, then leapt for mine.

  “The doctor warded the backyard, Wan.” But I waited until he was on my shoulder until I headed for the great room.

  “Still, we should have a care,” Wan said. “Once the foe knows that you have taken on the role of Wise One, their anger will be a thousandfold.”

  I slid open the glass door and the dogs raced out ahead of us. The day had been a nice one, but the clouds had gathered now, dark and heavy, and the breeze was picking up. I grabbed up the koi food, and moved to the side of the pond to feed them. “They still want the necklace.”

  “Their goals will have changed.” Wan was scanning the sky. “Now they will want to—”

  The dogs howled.

  I jerked my head around to see them at the fence, pawing and clawing, trying to get at a possum sitting on the post. Not any old possum, either. This one was sitting there, holding its walking stick, glaring at them. Old Ugly-Stinky, who had tried to kill me in my own kitchen.

  It raised its head and stared at me.

  It knew.

  I don’t know how it knew. I don’t know how I knew it knew, since the possum’s face didn’t really change all that much. His teeth were already bared and he was hissing like a cobra. Except now, the hatred in its eyes was palpable. I took a step back, but didn’t let my gaze drop.

  The possum’s nose wrinkled up even more, and it reached out with its staff. There was a flash, and he pulled it back, its tip charred and smoldering.

  “The wards,” Wan said. “Still . . . call the dogs, Kate. We need to get back into the house.”

  “Itty, Bitty,” I called out, shivering as the wind picked up. I called again sharply, but both my babies were two intent on their target to pay much attention. I whistled. Itty turned and ran a few steps toward me, but when Bitty didn’t follow, Itty tore back for her fair share of the barking.

  “Fool dogs,” I muttered, starting toward them.

  “No, Kate.” Wan pulled his sword from its sheath. “Go no closer.”

  Now, Wan is an impressive fighter, but the whole two-inch-high-defender thing made it just a little embarrassing. “The wards will hold.”

  The possum lifted its stick, and started chanting in a voice like fingernails on a chalkboard. The dogs whined and backed off, looking at me, then up at the animal in confusion.

  “Itty. Bitty. Right here, right now,” I commanded, and they came tearing over to me. They whined at my feet for a moment, circling around, begging to be petted.

  “Come on, my babies.” I bent to pet them.

  Wan grabbed at my shirt collar. He was eyeing the possum, who was starting to get louder and shriller, if that was possible. “Inside, Kate. Hurry.”

  “Okay,” I stood, taking a last look at the sky. The clouds were getting thicker and darker fast. The wind was picking up and . . .

  The possum cried out in its horrible shrill voice and thunder boomed through my bones. The dogs yelped and ran for the house. I cringed, then looked up. There’d been no lightning, what was—

  He was floa
ting over the fence, his arms outstretched as if poised for flight.

  His long blond hair floated around his head like a cloud. His armor was black and gold. His face was angled and mysterious, with a scar that ran over one eye and down his cheek, and his eyes . . . his dark eyes burned like fire over my skin.

  Pure desire lanced through me, the warmth flooding between my legs and surging up into my chest. My knees wobbled, and went weak. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of my heart.

  One corner of his mouth quirked up, and he reached out his hand. I watched as those warm supple lips started to form my name. He wanted me, desired me, and my skin rippled, anticipating his touch. My nipples tightened, as if his fingers were already—

  Pain—something cut into my ear. Something yammering in my ear, making frantic noises. I reached up and brushed it away. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered except lying skin to skin with my lover. I took a step, and then another, reaching up to unzip my sweatshirt, tear off my clothes and—

  Something sliced into my ankle.

  I stumbled, looking down to see blood pouring from a cut. Wan was standing next to my foot, his sword in one hand, its pommel hanging open. He had something in his other hand, and when his gaze caught mine, he screamed against the rising wind, and threw it at me.

  It arched up . . . something small, that grew larger as it rose up higher, something white . . . no . . . mother-of-pearl. I reached out and caught the medallion, letting the necklace warp around my wrist.

  It felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in my face.

  The man was now a corpse, floating in midair, grinning at me with horrible teeth, holding out its decaying hand, gesturing.

  Desire went to revulsion in two seconds flat. I fell to the ground and heaved up everything in my stomach. Let me tell you . . . Michigan Cherry’s not so good the second time around.

  “Up, Kate. Up, and in the house.” Wan was in the grass, keeping well back from the splatter. “Hurry.”

  “Wan,” I gasped, trying to clear my mouth. “What is that thing?”

  “Now you want lessons?” Wan asked. His sword was in his hand, the pommel closed. “Move! I will hold them off!”