Gun Mage 3: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth

by Logan Jacobs

  The Irishwoman giggled, stopped, and then cocked her head.

  “Did you hear something?” I asked as I started to run a finger up and down the mage’s spine.

  “Just making sure Helga and Leonard aren’t about to burst in,” Sorcha murmured. “They seemed very upset when I mentioned we had slept together, even though we’re not married. Their god apparently disapproves of that.”

  “I don’t think I like this god of theirs,” I replied as I started to knead her breasts with my other hand. “He seems to have a lot of rules.”

  “And we all know how well you follow rules,” Sorcha laughed quietly as she arched back to give me better access to her breasts. “Oh, that feels so good.”

  Her own hands were slowly working their way toward my shaft, and I was hard just from the tease before she even made it to my penis. She gave me a smirk when she finally grasped my rod, then started another slow tease along its length with her tongue that left me panting in anticipation.

  When the mage was ready, she positioned herself over my rod, then slowly lowered herself down. I groaned as I felt her wet warmth wrap around me, and then she started to slide up and down, slowly at first, and the friction of it burned me to the core. As she started to move faster, I felt her own excitement and need crash into mine and soon I couldn’t separate her rising urges from my own.

  I grabbed her waist with both hands as she ground against me as hard as she could, her weight balanced on my balls. The pressure set off another wave of intense pleasure, and I felt it ripple through me, then spread through Sorcha. She arched back as my ecstasy moved up her spine and a long, low growl escaped her lips.

  “Take me,” she demanded as her whole body started to shake. “Fuck me good.”

  It was my turn to move her along my shaft, and I started to pound against her as she swayed to my rhythm. I hit all her favorite spots, and the tension in her body grew with every dig. And then came the moment when she grabbed my arm and refused to let me move her. I was pressed against one of her most erotic spots and she clenched tight around me. I could feel her climax rise through her, and then it was in me as well.

  She let out a joyful yell as my seed poured inside her, and I could feel my release as I pumped and pumped, yet I could also feel her body welcome my cum, and the pure pleasure she felt as we climaxed together in one long, slow-moving explosion.

  “My stallion,” she cried out when she finally unclenched and sank down on top of me.

  “My goddess,” I replied as I pushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from her face.

  “I think Helga and Leonard will be saying many prayers for our souls in church tomorrow,” Sorcha laughed.

  “I can live with that,” I declared. “As long as they don’t interrupt.”

  “Mmmm,” the mage murmured. “You know, this whole town wakes up early. If you intend to be back before the family knows you’re gone, you won’t be able to stay the whole night.”

  “But we do have time for at least one more round,” I replied as I rolled on top of the blonde woman.

  “Oh, at least one more round,” Sorcha agreed as I started to kiss her throat.

  It turned out to be two more rounds, with some pleasant snuggling in between, and I would have been willing to do more, but Sorcha glanced out the window, then pushed me from the bed with a sigh. I managed to pull my clothes back on, despite the fingers she kept trailing along my back and chest. With one long, lingering kiss, I finally said good night and slipped back outside.

  It was still dark outside, but I spotted more lanterns as I made my way along the street, and I had to duck into the shadows twice to avoid men who were heading out to start the day’s chores. I made it to Frederick’s back door without being caught, but when I eased it open, I could hear someone moving around the kitchen.

  Cursing my bad luck, I closed the door, then moved around to the window for the sewing room. I was happy to discover that the Amish disdain for locks also applied to windows, and I was able to slide the pane of glass up with only a minimal amount of noise. I clambered over the sill and dropped head first into the room and nearly knocked over the sewing machine in the process. I was able to keep the machine from crashing into the floor, but I hit the planks with a thud. I heard footsteps in the kitchen pause for a moment, and I held my breath until I heard them start moving again.

  I replaced the sewing machine, closed the window, then flopped onto my bed. Somehow, I managed to remove my jacket, boots, shirt, and pants, but then I rolled over and fell asleep even as the house started to fill with noise. I didn’t wake again until someone tapped politely on the door, and Frederick’s long face peered around the edge.

  “Thought you might want a wake up call,” Frederick jested. “Sun’s up.”

  “Oh, thanks,” I murmured as I squinted at the sunlight that spilled into the room through the window.

  “You can take your time in the bathroom,” Frederick added. “The rest of us have already taken care of our morning ablutions.”

  “Sure, okay,” I said as I finally sat up and stretched.

  Frederick’s face disappeared, but he left the door open, a not-so-subtle hint that I needed to drag myself from the bed. I could smell fried potatoes and maple syrup and hear at least one of the girls in the kitchen with Sarah. I sorted through my bag and found clean clothes for the day, then ventured into the kitchen with the quilt wrapped around me.

  “The bathroom is just through there,” Sarah prodded when she saw me hesitate in the door. “We have potatoes with tomato gravy, pancakes and granola for breakfast.”

  “That sounds delicious,” I replied as I shuffled toward the bathroom under Sarah’s watchful eye.

  I winked at the daughter, a ten-year-old with large, cornflower blue eyes. She giggled, then smothered it at a raised eyebrow from her mother. But as soon as Sarah turned back to the stove, the girl smiled at me and gave me a wink of her own.

  The freezing cold water in the shower didn’t encourage me to linger, and I bathed and shaved as fast as I could. Despite that, I was still shivering when I finally turned off the water, and I had to wrap myself in the quilt for a minute once I’d toweled off. When I felt like I wasn’t about to turn into an icicle, I pulled on my clothes with one hand while I held the quilt with the other. Dressed in the heavy denim pants and the felted shirt Sorcha had grabbed for me at Neiman Marcus, I started to feel human again.

  I shuffled through the kitchen again with the quilt still wrapped around my shoulders, much to the amusement of the daughter, and returned to the sewing room. I folded the quilt and returned it to its spot on the end of the bed, then packed my bag and pulled on my boots. Sarah tapped on the door as I tried to untangle my hair and gave me a nod.

  “Breakfast is on the table,” she announced.

  I stepped into the kitchen, and Sarah pointed me toward the large table that sat near the stove. A single plate of piping hot food sat on the table, next to a large bowl and a steaming cup of coffee that I could smell from the door to the sewing room. I smiled as I took in the familiar scent, then quickly crossed to the chair and sat down. The plate was loaded with the promised fried potatoes smothered in a bright red gravy, three fluffy pancakes smothered in maple syrup and a melting pat of butter, and a small pile of dried peach slices. The bowl held hot granola in milk, with more peach slices on top.

  “This is wonderful,” I announced as I sampled the potatoes and then the pancakes.

  Sarah smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen. I caught her glance my way a few times as I demolished the breakfast, but she didn’t say anything else until I had lapped up the last of the granola.

  “I thought I would see you earlier than this,” Sarah commented as she removed the empty bowl and plate from the table. “I could have sworn I heard you moving around in your room before dawn.”

  “Oh, that?” I asked innocently as I tried to come up with a story. “I rolled too close to the edge of the bed. I managed to catch myself, but then I almost kno
cked some of your sewing supplies over.”

  “Ah, that must be it,” Sarah replied with a nod, though I wasn’t sure she really believed me.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked as I tried to change the topic. “I can wash the dishes.”

  “Frederick will be back soon,” she said as she shook her head. “He wants to walk with you to the church and see you and your friends off.”

  “Well, thank you for your kindness,” I added. “I’m not sure we would have escaped from the mu--I mean demons, if you hadn’t helped.”

  “God teaches us to help strangers in need,” Sarah stated.

  “That he does,” Frederick agreed as he stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning, Hex. I’m glad to see you up and about. Your friends will meet us at the church, and Timothy will lead you to the next trail. I’m afraid you’ll still have to travel through the forest, but as long as you stay on the trail, you’ll be safe.”

  “I guess that was the mistake we made last time,” I mused. “We left the trail to find a place to camp for the night. Though they didn’t attack until the next morning when we were back on the trail.”

  Sarah and Frederick exchanged a quick glance that I couldn’t interpret, and then Frederick shrugged and smiled.

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he chuckled. “If we leave now, we could spend a few moments at the kennel first.”

  “I’d like that,” I agreed. “Let me just grab my stuff.”

  I darted back into the sewing room and picked up my satchel, which I slung over my shoulder. A quick glance around the small space quickly confirmed that I had all of my possessions, and a quick swipe with the sleeve of my jacket removed the trace of dirt that my boots had left on the window sill. Satisfied, I returned to the kitchen where Frederick and Sarah were holding a quiet conversation. Sarah looked up and gave me a guarded glance, but Frederick smiled and waved me toward the front door.

  Outside, the air was still cold, but the sun was out and most of the ice on the roads had started to melt. It was far busier in the town than it had been the night before, and our trip to the kennels took longer as Frederick stopped to talk to almost everyone. I smiled and shook hands when they were offered, but I had little to add to the conversations since most were conducted in the Amish language.

  Simon was out front when we arrived with a pack of Weimaraners on leashes. Two other men were nearby, both with bows and quivers, and they seemed to be debating which dogs to take. Frederick waited until the men had selected four dogs, which they led away down the street before he approached Simon.

  “Yes, yes, you can see the puppy,” Simon sighed as he stepped back inside with the four dogs that hadn’t been chosen.

  “That’s Barnaby,” I noted as I picked out the dog I’d met the night before. Despite the fact that the dogs all had the same silvery coat, I recognized the canine immediately.

  “Yup,” Simon agreed as we moved through the office and into the yard and the kennels beyond. “They’re looking for smaller animals today, though, and Barnaby’s not always the best to take on those trips. He gets bored with chasing down rabbits and the like.”

  “Walked himself home one time,” Frederick added. “Just up and left in the middle of the hunt.”

  “Well, hunting rabbits isn’t very exciting,” I suggested as Simon unleashed the dogs.

  “Tell that to the rabbit,” Simon chuckled as he and Frederick walked to the second building with the other three dogs.

  Barnaby and I stared at each other for a moment, and then the silver dog stepped toward me and offered his chin again. I leaned over and scratched in the designated spot until Frederick reappeared.

  “Barnaby, you old lug,” Frederick snickered as he saw the two of us. “You’d best get inside before Simon realizes you’re missing.”

  Barnaby waited a moment, then sauntered slowly toward the open door.

  “Too smart for his own good,” Frederick added as Barnaby stopped halfway in the door to look around the kennels.

  “Good luck, Barnaby,” I called out as Frederick and I turned back toward the office. Barnaby looked back at me and wagged his tail, the first time I’d seen him do that, and then stepped into the kennel.

  The visit to the kennel successfully completed, we turned our steps toward the church. In the morning light, I could study it more closely and I was a bit surprised at how plain it was. It was little more than a long white building with a spire just tall enough to serve as a watchtower. There were no windows with colored glass or carved figures along the roofline. Except for the steeple and the sprawling cemetery to one side, it could have been just another place of business.

  We walked up the steps, and Frederick opened the door to the church. We stepped inside, and I stopped for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the sudden gloom. Despite the narrow windows and the small oil lamps near the front of the church, it was dark inside and hard to pick out much detail.

  The only real burst of color was at the front of the church, where a life-sized statue had the place of honor beneath the giant “T” I usually saw in these old religious sites. The “T” had some sort of significance and usually featured a man with curly hair, beard and mustache. The man always looked sad, or dead, probably because he’d been nailed to the “T” for reasons I could never understand.

  In the Amish church, the “T” was empty and the man with the curly hair stood below it, dressed in a pale yellow robe with a red sash, held in place with a giant red heart. The statue was winking and smiling, and one hand pointed toward the empty pews while the other hand gave a thumbs up.

  “What--?” I stammered as I stared at the statue. “I’ve never seen one like that before. They’re usually sad, and, well, sad.”

  “A gift from the Angel Michael,” Frederick replied as he moved up the aisle toward the statue. “He says it is named Buddy Christ and is to remind us that God is there for us.”

  “It’s amazing,” I said as I joined Frederick by the statue. “I wonder why they didn’t make more happy statues like this? All the other ones I’ve ever seen showed him dying.”

  “I do not know the answer to that,” Frederick admitted. “But I like this version. It makes me feel that he is indeed looking over us.”

  We admired the statue a few more moments until we heard the door to the church open again. We turned around as an elderly couple and Sorcha walked through the doors. The elderly couple moved forward without hesitation, but I saw Sorcha hesitate as I had as she waited for her eyes to adjust.

  “Helga, Leonard, you had a quiet night, I hope,” Frederick said cheerfully.

  “Eh?” Leonard asked as squinted at us. “Freddy, that you?”

  “It is,” Frederick assured him as he stepped closer to the couple. “And this is your guest.”

  “This is our guest,” Helga declared as if Frederick hadn’t just said that. “Sa.”

  I glanced at Sorcha, who shrugged and helped Frederick guide the couple to one of the pews. When Helga and Leonard were safely seated, and Frederick started to talk to them, Sorcha walked quietly to the front of the church to stand by my side.

  “What is this?” she asked as she took in the statue.

  “Frederick said the Angel Michael gave it to them,” I replied. “It’s called Buddy Christ. It’s to remind them that God is looking out for them.”

  “Or trying to pick up women,” Sorcha snickered.

  The door opened again and we all turned to see four kids, an Amish man with wild hair, and our last two companions step inside. Frederick and the Amish man shook hands as the kids scattered around the church. Freya and Darwin stopped to greet the others, then Darwin looked our way and an expression of amazement swept across his features.

  “It’s Buddy Christ!” he called out as he walked toward us with Freya on his heels.

  “Um, it is,” I agreed. “You know this statue?”

  “It’s from Dogma,” Darwin replied as he took in the life-sized statue.

&nb
sp; “Dogma?” I repeated.

  “It is indeed a representation of our dogma,” Frederick agreed.

  “No, I mean the movie,” Darwin explained. “Buddy Christ was the Catholic Church’s attempt to be cool again.”

  “Ummm,” I murmured as I glanced toward the Amish, who seemed offended at the mention of the Catholic Church.

  “Do you have Mooby Calf as well?” Darwin demanded as he looked around the church.

  “Mooby calf?” Frederick asked as he glanced at the other Amish. Helga and Leonard remained blissfully unaware of the conversation, but the other man and his children were all listening. They looked stunned that Darwin had recognized the statue at first, but that was slowly giving way to a more offended look the more Darwin talked.

  “Hey, can you believe how late it’s getting?” Freya blurted out. “We need to hit that trail if we want to be out of the woods by nightfall. Timothy, you little scamp, are you ready to show us the way?”

  “Let’s go!” the eldest child yelled out as he bolted down the aisle and threw open the door.

  Freya tugged Darwin toward the door as Sorcha and I followed. We stopped to thank our hosts once again, then scrambled after our guide. We stepped back into the bright sunlight, where a few more of the Amish had stopped to bid us farewell. The horses, I was happy to see, stood patiently in the street, and I managed to squeeze through the small crowd and reach the two bays before I could be drawn into any more long goodbyes.

  Timothy was anxious to lead the way, and he tugged on Freya and Darwin impatiently as they worked their way through the crowd. Finally free, the four of us waved to our hosts one last time, then started to follow Timothy along the street.