Courts and Cabals 3

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Courts and Cabals 3 Page 31

by G. S. D'Moore


  “You are what you eat,” Lark replied. “As the Cull drew on, the Aesir champions lost their individual identity to the identity of the uncountable conquered, and they all took on their distinct flavor.

  “The Trickster,” now it made sense why Ymira called my half-brother that.

  “Ahh, him. He feasted on the devious, those who worked from the shadows to kill their enemies. He is by no means the strongest of the Aesir, but he is the slyest of the family.”

  “And me?” I gulped. After everything I’d heard, I wasn’t looking forward to my diagnosis.

  “You’re something new,” Lark frowned. “You didn’t come to power during the Cull, but I do imagine that you are being influenced by the events since your power started to awaken. When exactly was that?”

  “Shit started to get weird after I got struck by lightning,” I thought back.

  “And since then?” he prodded me to finish the line of thought.

  “I joined Lilith’s harem, and it’s kind of been nothing but training, fighting, fucking, and generally trying to stay alive,” I didn’t dive into those recent memories. I wanted to sleep tonight.

  “Sex and violence,” Lark’s voice was tinged with sadness. “The parasitic Aesir power in you is taking on the attributes of what you’ve been doing since it awakened.”

  “That’s just fucking fantastic. Look out world, I’m the next Ted Bundy,” I deflated back to the ground, and just lay there on my back. The Aesir didn’t like me being unprepared for a surprise attack, but I told it to fuck off.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Lark took a seat, “but you do have some advantages that your half siblings don’t.”

  “What?” I sat up so quick I got a head rush.

  “You’re not a full Aesir. The parasitic nature of your gifts has given you other options. You don’t always have to rely on your Aesir power to get the job done. You have your Fae gifts, which I’m committed to growing and sharpening with you. You’ve also displayed a talent for mortal magic. I’m sure Morgan will want to tutor you as well.”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about Morgan le Fay, the woman Merlin himself had decreed a blood witch, teaching me magic. Don’t get me wrong, I’d do it, because the only way to get a better teacher was to have the Merlin himself instructing me; but something told me the old geezer wouldn’t go for that. The whole Aesir thing might be a bit of a hold up to those who knew about it.

  “Well, variety is the spice of life,” I looked on the bright side.

  “That’s the spirit,” Lark clapped me on the back. “We’ll confront your uniqueness moving forward for the good of the cabal.”

  “At least I’m going to be a filthy rich big shot,” that made me smile.

  All this talk of the Aesir, Fae, and human threesome shitshow going on inside me was something I didn’t need to worry about right now.

  Never tempt the universe. No sooner had I thought it, then the ground rumbled beneath my feet, and an alarm started blaring. I didn’t ask questions; I just took off after Lark as he made for the elevator.

  Remember, I’m the type of person who runs toward danger now; especially when it’s happening in my own house. The Aesir in me was ecstatic. It might get out to play again if shit was bad enough.

  Chapter 16

  “Shit . . . shit . . . shit . . .,” Aveena cursed as she ran through the door.

  She didn’t open it. There was no time for that. She ran through it. The entryway to the 7/11 bathroom exploded like a plywood claymore. Shrapnel flew everywhere, but the clerk at the counter hardly flinched. The glazed-over eyes of the young man wouldn’t have been surprised if an army of sharktopuses descended on the store with a sudden slurpy urge. He was baked out of his fucking mind.

  Despite the extreme inebriation, the guy still pointed and gave a “whoa” that would make Cheech and Chong proud. It says a lot about the male mind when an explosion isn’t what catches the eye, but the bare ass of the girl running through it does.

  Aveena would be more embarrassed about running o’natural through a rest stop convenience store if her life didn’t depend on it. She’d been on the shitter, minding her own business, fulfilling a universal need, when a hand appeared out of the mirror and threw a hex at her.

  Hexes were more a mortal magic thing than a Fae thing. They were a ready-made magical attack that you could unleash upon an opponent. It might be a pre-made potion you threw, or an already-powered spell that just needed an incantation. Only the most powerful mages could throw non-elemental hexes around. Of course, that was exactly what Aveena was talking about.

  The hex hit the bathroom stall and cut through it like Paul Bunyan facing off against a sheaf of college-ruled paper. It missed her head by a couple inches. Thank the gods she wasn’t a guy, or it would have cut her in two. Also, thank the gods she’d finished taking the Browns to the Superbowl. She was able to get the hell out of there before a certain wicked witch could finish climbing through a mirror; creepy Ring style.

  Honestly, the mirror thing explained a lot. There were many human myths and legends that attributed power to mirrors. For all Aveena knew, the Van Helsings could have been the Bloody Mary that teenage girls invoked during that stupid game. Even if the ancient family of mages didn’t spend their time frightening clueless, mortal girls; suddenly appearing in a place Aveena had let her guard down was frightening as fuck. She did the only thing she could, she ran.

  A fireball singed her ass on the way out the bathroom door. A wail echoed behind the Fae as she ran through the stacks of chips and soda and straight for the front door. It was a miracle the smoke detectors even worked in a place like this, but at least it would keep the growing fire from spreading. There were gas tanks nearby, and the last thing anyone needed was an even bigger explosion.

  “Get the hell out of here!” Aveena yelled at the clerk as she sprinted out of the building. Again, she went through the door. Ain’t nobody got time to pull in a life-or-death situation, and she wasn’t going to slow down for a nanosecond.

  “I was so close,” she steamed as she ran for the semi. She’d boosted it outside Denver. The driver had gone in to take a shit. She swiped his keys, hopped in, and took off. “Could this have happened twenty minutes later.”

  In twenty minutes, she might finally be safe from the living hell of the last few days. Being hunted sucked donkey dick.

  She sensed the next attack coming, and hit the deck. Subaru said that ninety-seven percent of their cars sold in the last ten years were still on the road today. Well, they could scratch one off the list. The Outback sailed over her head, barely missing her. It landed with a crash of groaning metal and breaking glass. For some reason the rear window held together, so she got to see the family of stick figures, and read that whoever owned the hunk of junk was the proud parent of an honor student. That was all she saw before she scrambled to her feet and ran for it.

  She shouldn’t have looked back, but couldn’t stop herself. Van Helsing stood just outside the doorway to the 7/11. She held the clerk by the scruff of his neck, glared at him, and then tossed him aside. He landed in a heap, and didn’t get up.

  “That’s new,” Aveena gulped as the wicked witch’s silhouette was enhanced by the fire eating away at the building behind her. It was like looking straight into the jaws of hell.

  The Van Helsings had always been champions of mortals. Their entire, zealous purpose for the last few millennia was standing between humans and the supernatural abominations of this world. It looked like the witch was a little too hyped up to look after the little guy. That’s what happened when you got drunk with power.

  Aveena’s eyes snapped down when she caught the flash of purple power as Van Helsing refocused her attention. She didn’t want to get into a mental judo match with the woman. The Fae wasn’t sure she’d win. That was a sobering thought, so she ran like hell around the back of the building toward the semi parking section.

  The rest stop was a busy one, and if she could just get to her rig, she c
ould get lost in the sea of commerce. A growing chuff chuff chuff of something moving toward her, made Aveena hit the ground for a second time. It was really fucking up her stride to take a dive every hundred feet, but thank the gods she did.

  Van Helsing’s staff flew by in the blur of a demented walking stick. A military attack helicopter would be jealous of the rotation speed of the staff as it nearly took the Fae’s head off. Even worse, as Aveena started to get up, the staff circled around and came back at her like a boomerang. This time, she wasn’t fast enough. It clipped her shoulder and she screamed as pain numbed that entire side of her body. So much for getting to her rig. She couldn’t even get off the ground as she saw stars.

  By the time they’d cleared, Van Helsing was close enough Aveena could smell what she ate for breakfast. The power radiating off the witch was intense and familiar, which only hammered Aveena’s already fragile emotional state. It was like she was about to get shot with her own gun.

  “Fuck this,” she growled, and stepped.

  The world dissolved into the dull monotones of between, and she gingerly pulled herself to her feet. Her injuries were starting to heal, but it would be a while before she could throw a punch. She tried to remember where she was parked, judged the distance, and stepped appropriately to get her the hell away from her fervent stalker.

  She took too long. There was a dark blur, and then more pain fountained from her leg. She screamed and went down kicking, but she might as well be fighting the concrete foundation of a parking garage. The malk finally had its teeth in its prey, and it wasn’t letting go.

  Falling on her ass probably saved her life as the second malk soared over her head. Its fangs would have taken her in the neck, and that would have been all she wrote. The fat lady would have sung. El Fin. Instead, she was only in a horrendous amount of pain, but still able to make a decision.

  She heard the hoofbeats of the Wild Hunt’s steeds approaching, so she had to act fast. Both choices sucked, so she took the easiest path. She stepped back into the real world, right back to where she’d left. Van Helsing loomed over her, but now they had another party guest. The malk snarled as it sensed the threat, and released Aveena.

  Van Helsing was faster, she brought her staff down on the malk’s back, shattering its spine. The creature howled in agony, but it couldn’t have happened to a better Fae. Even with a broken back, the malk wasn’t out of the fight. They were a race of survivors. Van Helsing turned her back on the crippled creature to focus on Aveena, and paid for it.

  Razor-sharp claws raked across the witch’s back, and her scream lit up the night like fireworks. Aveena would have laughed if she wasn’t hobbled, and bleeding like a stuck pig. She struggled to her feet, and put as much distance between her and the battling duo as she could. The fight was never in question. The witch was going to win; so, Aveena needed to make the most of it. It was her last chance to get out.

  She still heard the sounds of battle as she reached the rig, and barely pulled herself inside. The first thing she did was smash anything with a reflective surface. All the mirrors were discarded. She didn’t give a fuck if she didn’t see the family minivan while she merged lanes. If the witch came through one of the mirrors while Aveena was driving, that really was going to be the end.

  “Come on,” she prayed as she turned the key and the beast rumbled to life.

  She threw it in drive and peeled out as much as any semi could, which wasn’t much. It was more of a lurch as she joined the flow of traffic. She heard sirens in the distance, and saw lights as she got back on the interstate. Nothing ever went kaboom behind her. Gas tanks were buried deep in the ground for just this type of situation, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t driving on the edge of her seat. Even when she came over the rise, and saw the city splayed out before her; she didn’t ease up on the gas. She knew better now. She wasn’t home free.

  Blue lights and sirens came up behind her, but she didn’t care. “Just try and pit me, motherfucker,” she goaded as she blew past an iconic sign where tourists were taking pictures. It was midday, so traffic wasn’t terrible, but that didn’t mean not-existent.

  She laid on the horn as she swerved to avoid cars stopped at a red light. To her, red lights were a suggestion she could avoid. She blasted through the intersection to the squeals of protesting breaks. She clipped a Kia, and sent the little, foreign import fishtailing wildly. She didn’t stop. She sped up.

  Her blood loss had slowed to a trickle, but the clutch was still slippery, and she nearly missed a shift to pick up speed. Humans were getting out of her way now, and cops were flooding the area to divert traffic.

  “Thank you, emergency planning,” she praised the city’s law enforcement as she committed every moving violation in the book.

  She squinted against the midday sun, saw her destination up ahead, and gunned it. A couple cops lined the road ahead of her, and started throwing spike strips. She didn’t bother trying to avoid them. She felt the tires blow beneath her, and the steering went to shit. It didn’t matter. Displacement divided by change in time equals velocity. Thanks, Big Bang Theory.

  Down to rims, and shooting sparks out behind her, Aveena hit the ramp up to the covered overhang. Attendants were trying to move cars out of the way as fast as possible with the help of sheriff’s deputies. Not fast enough, and not for the reason you’re thinking.

  A young, pimple-faced valet nearly shat himself as a bloodstained woman stepped out of the side mirror of the Bugatti he was jumping into. He stood there, open-mouthed, and completely forgot about the semi hurtling toward him . . . and the half-million-dollar sports car.

  Aveena didn’t even try to hit the brakes. She smashed her foot down on the accelerator, and hoped for the best. Van Helsing didn’t even flinch as she angled her shoulder against the oncoming truck.

  “Oh shit,” Aveena gulped, she’d seen this movie before.

  Man-made ingenuity met magically-reinforced bitch and lost. The hood crumbled as the semi came to an abrupt stop. Unfortunately, that’s not how physics worked, and Aveena had forgotten the cardinal rule of driving: putting on your seatbelt.

  Who could blame her? She usually just walked anywhere she wanted to go. This time, it totally fucked her. The windshield might as well have been made from bubblegum. It provided zero resistance as she sailed through it. Still, despite glass and metal tearing apart her glamour like an over-caffeinated kid on Christmas morning, it got the job done. She was able to extend her middle finger to Van Helsing as the woman tried to untangle herself from what remained of the engine, and braced for impact.

  The front doors of Caesars Palace felt like putty as she smashed through them, rolled three of four times, and smacked into the base of a big-ass fountain. Was it ironic this was virtually the same place the cops had bagged Cam and tased his ass? Fuck yeah it was!

  With her glamour gone, the tourists got a hell of a lot more than a Vegas show. It wasn’t everyday people got to see an emaciated frost giant leaking silver blood all over the expensive, imported marble. It became even more interesting when two dozen people in body armor and machine guns streamed into the lobby. If anything, people screamed more at the sudden show of force than the naked Fae using the edge of the fountain, trying, and failing to get to her feet.

  The bravest of the armored guys, or the commander, walked right up to Aveena and put the barrel of the rifle against her temple.

  “Give me a reason not too?” he growled; with a hate no one could possibly have for someone they hadn’t met before.

  She mumbled two words.

  “What?”

  Aveena worked her jaw and spit out a couple of teeth covered in blood.

  “Sancta Familia,” she repeated, and the guard groaned.

  “Ha! Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?” was all she was able to think before her brain decided it was time to shut off the lights and take a little nap.

  ***

  The alarm continued to blare as we rode the elevator up. No matter
how fast it went, it wasn’t fast enough for me. Lark was pumping out power like a nuclear plant in full meltdown. When you were as strong as the old satyr, you needed time to bring your full power to bear. If I was human, I’d probably have acute, radiation poisoning right now; the full Nazi face melt from Raiders plus a side of shitting blood. Good thing I wasn’t.

  Instead, it felt fucking awesome. The white ball of fire in my chest accepted the power leaking off the more powerful Fae in some sort of weird symbiotic action that I didn’t understand. I really didn’t care. I was operating at one hundred and ten percent right now. It was the best I was going to get without going full-on Son of Sam and letting the Aesir out to play.

  The bell dinged, and I fell in behind the powerful Fae. The marshalling imps felt it to, and parted like the Red Sea; and there were a lot of imps. This was the cabal HQ, where the queen bee laid her head; so, of course there was a small army living here. I counted close to fifty, and more were streaming in from their stations around the resort.

  Two older, and particularly mean-looking gentlemen yelled at everyone else from the door to the armory. That’s right. There was a really thick door with physical and magical countermeasures right off the lobby of a major Las Vegas casino. It was the NRA’s wet dream, and gun right’s advocates would have gone into epileptic fits if they knew the firepower sitting that close to check in. Lark didn’t head for the cage-like door with the senior imps, but I did. I’d learned the hard way over the last few months that I wasn’t the king of the hill, and to be the king, was a step I wasn’t going to take unless absolutely necessary. So, I’d take all the help I could get.

  I stepped in front of the imp at the front of the line and grabbed the shotgun in the armorer’s outstretched hand. The imp didn’t complain. I might be leaking a little power too.

  This wasn’t the pump-action piece I’d had back in Mexico. Don’t get me wrong, the twelve gauge had been great. Every day you get to shoot a blood-sucking asshole in the dick is a win; but that was weak sauce for Vegas. The weapon I grabbed was an AA12 automatic assault shotgun. If that sounds badass, it’s because it is.

 

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