Past due, p.47
Past Due, page 47
part #4 of Good Intentions Series
"Wait," Malike groaned. "Hold her." He picked himself up off the floor, shaking his head. "Is that…? Heh. It’s you."
"Who is she?" asked Leanne.
"Always with the same magic. Always with the same look. Even when you’re a man, you fit the same color palate." After a couple wobbly steps, Malike found his footing again. "Wherever you’re born, to whichever people, you’re always this. Dark hair and dark clothes. Always with the mind magic." He tapped his head. "I catch on after a while, you know. You underestimate me just like everyone else, little sister."
Onyx couldn’t bend her wand under Leanne’s grip. Her other hand was free. Apparently, Leanne wasn’t afraid of her going for a weapon. "Took you long enough to learn a mental ward," said Onyx.
"And you have learned nothing since last we met, have you?"
"Oh, I pick stuff up. A few months ago, I read up on how to break a demon binding."
All she needed was a symbolic break in a circle. Her little hoop earring worked just fine, and it came off easily enough. Onyx stomped on it with a heavy boot. The rest came down to focus and willpower.
Her captor twitched, but her grip loosened only by a fraction. Onyx turned her head. "Am I really your problem here?"
"No." Leanne turned her attention to Malike. "You were going to use me as a bullet shield."
He stepped back. "Wait."
"No." Her grip loosened. "No, I think I’ve waited long enough."
"Don’t do it," Malike warned. He jerked the gun from his holster. "Don’t do it!"
Leanne’s features turned from sexy blonde to crimson demon in the blink of an eye. Her tail slashed the gun from his hand and drew blood with its barbed tip while she was at it. Malike retreated, reaching for his sword. Leanne pounced. They tumbled down the hallway, screaming and shouting as they knocked one another against the walls and crashed through decorations.
"Have fun with that," Onyx muttered. She turned back the way Malike and Leanne came, heading aft where glass doors and the backside of a bar separated the lounge from the passageway. A couple of bullet holes marred the glass partitions, but that didn’t worry her as much as the relative silence within. Noises from the continuing battles on the deck below made a bigger racket, to say nothing of the tussling pair down the hall.
The glass door wouldn’t make noise or draw attention. She didn’t bother renewing her spells of stealth and misdirection. Chances were good she would need all possible strength for what lay ahead.
* * *
God damn it. I almost had my sword, thought Alex. The fingers of his right hand still touched the collar of his leather jacket, where sorcery and a little clever tailoring hid his blade. Gerhardt, on the other hand, had his curved sword drawn and held at Alex already. That wasn’t even his biggest worry.
Lorelei pushed against some magical barrier, marked out by red and purple hues in the air around her and a series of glowing runes at her feet. He could hear grunts of pain in her breath. Though within arm’s reach of Lorelei, Teheret showed no sign of concern for an attack. Instead of watching Lorelei, she watched Alex. So did Gerhardt.
They know I’m about to pull a weapon. He held his pose. "Don’t hurt her," he said.
"Such a compelling argument," said Teheret.
"What, you want a monologue? We’ve been fighting here." Alex kept his right hand in place, high and behind his neck where it could threaten and distract. His left stayed low and moved with care.
On the deck outside the lounge, Roman collected himself with a groan. Faint smoke trailed off his enlarged body and ruined clothes. Presenting a much closer danger, Gerhardt lifted his blade to Alex’s chin. "You were so much wittier last night," said the patriarch.
"You wanted to kill him. Get it over with," said Teheret.
"No! Let me do it." Roman, stomped back into the lounge. His eyes turned to Lorelei. It wasn’t hard to guess his motivation. "Give him to me."
"She’s really not into the ‘beat up the boyfriend’ approach," said Alex. "It’s been done."
"We don’t know what’s going on here," said Gerhardt. "He didn’t come alone. He could be of value to us."
"Oh, for—this idiot is mortal muscle," Teheret snapped. "He’s not even a Practitioner! He’s not important here."
"She’s right," Alex agreed. "I can’t work magic. In fact, my best defense against magic is this plain old iron nail I keep in my pocket." The nail was in his left hand now. He flicked it to the one person in the room he couldn’t fool for a second.
Lorelei’s hand closed around the gift the instant it crossed the barrier. Teheret turned in time to catch Lorelei’s fist with her cheek.
The distraction let Alex twist away from the upward jerk of Gerhardt’s blade. He caught Gerhardt’s wrist with his open hand, twisting and extending it. In a single motion, Alex tore his gladius from its hidden back scabbard to bring it down on his enemy’s elbow. He’d ended many fights with this same move in a life long ago. It saved him more than once in this life, too.
Chain mail and sorcery saved Gerhardt’s arm. Gerhardt rammed his free hand up into Alex. Buckled by the blow, Alex couldn’t keep Gerhardt from catching his belt and flinging him halfway across the lounge.
Lorelei couldn’t do much to help. The nail in her hand wasn’t enough to negate her prison, but it mitigated the pain. With Teheret knocked away, she whirled to face Roman’s inevitable reaction. The ward had no effect on him. He reached through the barrier with inhumanly large hands. Lorelei clawed at one leather-thick wrist and wrapped her tail around his other arm, digging the barbed end into his skin.
Though painful, Lorelei’s ploy worked. In his struggle to hurt her, Roman wrenched Lorelei out of the ward. Sorcerous agony tore through her body, drawing a high-pitched growl from her throat. Even with the nail to undercut its power, the ward inflicted greater harm than Roman smashing her into a fallen barstool.
The remaining enemy in the room got back to her feet, tenderly checking her cheek to ensure it wasn’t fractured. Teheret looked upon the resumption of battle with open irritation. Her eyes fell upon a dark weapon on the floor that offered a simple solution. She snatched up the .45 and trained the weapon on Alex. It wasn’t long before he opened up a little space between himself and Gerhardt with another kick.
"Enough of this," said Teheret—and promptly turned the pistol into Roman’s back as she fired off the last two bullets. Roman jerked upright with a roar of pain. Lorelei capitalized on the opening, kicking him in the groin and then slashing through the same spot with her talons. He covered himself with his thick arms and staggered back.
Teheret blinked at the smoking pistol in her hand. She certainly didn’t shoot her son of her own volition. The weapon bore no runes, nor any other sign of enchantment. Her eyes swept the room for some other explanation and promptly found it lurking at the side of the bar.
"Didn’t think that one would work on you," said Onyx. She kept her wand pointed at Teheret. "Figured your wards would be at least as good as Malike’s."
"You’re here," said Teheret. "You’ve stopped running."
"Bitch, I only ran ‘cause you run with a whole mob." Thumps and loud grunts punctuated the blows Alex landed on Gerhardt’s face with the hilt of his blade. Lorelei spun around Roman’s next lunge, raking his side with her claws. Onyx nodded to the chaos. "I stopped because I found one of my own."
"You will not talk that way to me." Teheret’s hands snapped out, hurling shards of ice conjured from thin air. Onyx flicked her wand up to pull the shards in like a magnet. White missiles shattered on contact with jet black wood. Undeterred, Teheret launched another attack before the clouds of frost fell. A palpable but invisible force closed in all around Onyx, threatening to immobilize her until her defensive spell swept the energy into her wand like the frost shards before it.
Tremors of sorcerous power shook the wand, and by proxy left her arm vibrating. The spell did its work. Onyx held on. "Is that all you’ve got?"
"It is already more power than you can control," said Teheret. "If you had stayed with us, you would be stronger than this."
"You mean I could’ve been another megabitch on a megayacht?"
"Childish insults mean nothing to me, daughter."
"That’s not what your aura says," said Onyx. "I’m not your daughter. I’m someone who sees through your bullshit. You’re scared. Like you should be."
Crashes and curses continued across the lounge. Teheret’s eyes narrowed. "And you’re playing for time. Hoping one of your friends will come to your aid, hm? You’ve learned magic to defend yourself, but you’re still no warrior."
Physicality preceded magic this time, but magic remained the real threat. Onyx couldn’t dodge the high kick that came for her wand, but she could predict it. The energy bound up in the ebony made for a frightening burst of flame when Teheret’s foot made contact.
Fire and heat washed over them both. Onyx risked no harm from her own spell. Her only pain came from the kick that sent her wand flying. Teheret turned from the worst of it with her hand up over her face, but the bright flash left her singed and momentarily blinded. She spun and kicked again to open up defensive space while she was disoriented. It didn’t save her from the kick of a heavy Doc Martens boot against her side. Momentum and debris on the floor sent Teheret to her knees.
The loss of her wand left Onyx without her best tool, but she could cast without it. She didn’t have much choice. The blast and the kick only bought her a breath. Teheret whirled back with murder in her eyes and in her aura. Onyx reached for that aura with her hands and her mind, focusing every bit of rage and cold contempt she could muster.
Teheret shuddered and spasmed with pain. Blood dripped from her nose. She crumpled to her hands and knees, but her conscious mind was the real target. Once again, Onyx sensed a ward blunting the strength of her spell. This ward was more casual than Malike’s, but the will behind that ward was stronger than his.
Wounded and distressed, Teheret lashed out with raw magical force in an arc that shattered every bit of glass and finery in its wake. Onyx bore the worst of it, knocked from her feet with an impact spreading from head to toe.
She nearly blacked out. Onyx knew what a broken bone felt like. This felt like thirty, maybe more…until a single hand on her shoulder made it all go away.
"Vicious brat." Teheret pushed herself to her feet. "I gave you power. I gave you life. You had to throw it all away and leave us scattered for centuries. Millenia! All for your precious soft heart and—no," she gasped.
"You’ve hurt her enough," said Joel. He crouched over Onyx, still dripping wet and covered with scars. His trembling hand made her feel better. The angel rose along with Teheret to stare her down with defiant eyes. "You’ve hurt far too many people over far too many lives."
"No, no!" Teheret lashed out with raw force again, battering Joel at a distance and pushing the emaciated angel back. "Gerhardt! Roman! He’s free! Help me!"
Onyx went from relief back to aching pain at the loss of his touch. It was a far better state than crippling injury. She rolled onto her side, unsure if she could muster another spell in this state. Teheret brushed past with another wave of invisible force against the wounded angel, driving him back into the little entryway behind the bar.
Perhaps Onyx couldn’t work magic. She couldn’t stay here on the floor, either. Onyx got to her hands and knees. A fumbling hand found its way into her coat pocket, where Onyx wrapped her fingers around one last ditch option.
"You are a slave," Teheret all but whipped him with invisible kinetic power. She didn’t need to touch him to drive him to one knee. Skin opened up across his shoulder with the impact, red with blood. "You serve me! You belong to me!"
"I was a prisoner," Joel coughed. He blocked the next lash with his forearm, enduring the pain through sheer resolve. "No longer."
"Silence! I didn’t give you permission to speak!" Teheret raised her hand to bring the unseen lash down again, but something flashed behind her head first—something bright and firm.
Brass knuckles drove into the back of Teheret’s head with everything Onyx had left. Reeling, Teheret fell to one knee and turned halfway around to face her attacker. The knuckles fell from their owner, flashing engraved letters: "Love, Molly."
Teheret reached up with another spell. Onyx delivered hers first. She caught hold of Teheret’s head and her soul with both hands, focused all of her rage, and screamed.
This time, mental wards and ancient willpower weren’t enough. Teheret screamed back. Blood erupted from her ears. She went limp and fell lifeless to the floor.
Onyx staggered back, bumping into the side of the bar. Her breath shook. Teheret’s scream held on in her mind. As written, the spell inflicted pain and disorientation, leaving something akin to a migraine at worst. With such talent for auras and perceiving subtle details, Onyx could make the spell far deadlier. It was even easy for her.
She couldn’t block out the final thoughts or emotions of her target.
A hand found hers. The scream fell away in her mind. She felt less alone, and less hurt.
"Joel?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes. You came for me. You remembered."
"The others? Molly?"
"They’re alive."
Her next breath came out in a sob. "I didn’t remember. I couldn’t until now." Tears streamed from her face. "I couldn’t do this alone."
"You did everything right."
"But you…it was so long."
"I was supposed to keep you safe," said Joel. "Now I know those years were not wasted."
* * *
The gun hadn’t worked. The sword only helped him hold the line. With a blade in hand to match his opponent’s, Alex could parry and counter and threaten, but he couldn’t get through the chain mail. Gerhardt was larger, stronger, and every bit as skilled—and no longer underestimated his opponent. Alex wondered how hard it would be to find some grenades for this fiasco. Or maybe a tank. Part of him missed driving a tank.
"Not as good with a blade, are you?" Gerhardt pressed his defenses, forcing parry after parry. A swipe to the left lured Alex into a turn, which Gerhardt exploited with a punch in his already bruised side. Alex parried the follow-through, but had to give ground to do it. "Was it the reach of the spear that made you braver? Or was it the shield?"
Kinda did like having a shield for once, Alex thought, but he didn’t tell Gerhardt that.
The asshole was fancy, too. He came in with a high downward slash and an added spin. Alex got out of the way, but the flourish and dazzle made Gerhardt harder to predict and counter. In all his lives, Alex never learned the fancy shit.
God, even swordfights are all about class disparity. "You’re the one all bundled up in metal," he huffed. "How much of this fight is magic?"
"I told you before, a warrior fights with every talent and every advantage."
Alex timed a feint perfectly, going straight on and then to the right, luring Gerhardt closer to the other combatants passing by to the left. Roman struggled to snatch Lorelei with his enlarged hands, unready for Alex when he swept by with a low cut along Roman’s thigh. The bigger man jerked back and covered up as Lorelei exploited the gap with wicked talons. Her tail whipped over her lover to catch Gerhardt’s head, one barb hooking the side to leave a nasty gash.
"Thank you," called Alex. He stayed low and swung lower. The move took him away from the blade that swung for his face. His strike caught Gerhardt’s shoe. Alex should have hacked halfway through his enemy’s foot, but the effort won little more than a soft flash of magical white light and another grunt of pain.
It was what Alex feared. The chain mail wasn’t Gerhardt’s only defense. Retaliation came in another sword stroke too broad to dodge, forcing Alex to block hard. His blade bounced and reversed, slashing at the leg for one more try. He made contact but still drew nothing. Lorelei’s tail had pierced magic that his sword could not.
Behind them, Lorelei spun out of Roman’s path and let him crash into the bar. Another rake of her talons across Roman’s face left him distracted and stunned. Lorelei darted back toward her lover. "We’ll finish him together," she urged.
The plan made sense. Alex slashed again to press the advantage.
Gerhardt leaped backward and slapped his free hand against the hilt of his blade, shouting out a single accented word: "Grom!" Thunder boomed across the lounge from his hands. The blast of raw force knocked Alex and Lorelei to the floor, blowing out every window and throwing debris against the walls. "Enough!"
Roman pushed himself off the ruined bar. Like his father, he brought one hand to his head and murmured the words of a healing spell to stop the bleeding. Alex rolled off his back. His hand found Lorelei’s shoulder as she touched his leg with the same instinct. They didn’t need the heavy, hulking footsteps of Roman to spur them up, but it helped.
"Enough of this," Gerhardt fumed. "Enough brawling, enough banter." A flourish of his open hand summoned up a bright blue aura of flame. He opened his mouth to say more, but the crash of a flying bottle of vodka against his burning hand cut him off. His eyes snapped to the bar at the front of the lounge.
"I’ve had enough of this," screeched a mocking new voice. Rachel stood by the ruined bar, flipping a bottle of rum in her left hand. "Such a manly man. The second shit turns against you, it’s time for a big, loud tantrum. Whining fuck."
"You lived," Gerhardt seethed.
"Yeah I lived, motherfucker. And I came back to—" Bright light flashed in Gerhardt’s hand, swiftly launched at Rachel as another spear. She reacted with a broad swipe of flame, calling her sword into service in the same blink of an eye to deflect the missile. "Oh, how you like that, shitclown? You think you’re gonna catch me twice with your magic twinklefuck knife-on-a-stick trash?"
Then her eyes turned involuntarily to the flickering, sputtering flame of her blade as it died out. "Aw, shit."
