The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series) Read online

  Greg first, steps to the side and then very deliberately stalks towards the driver - frozen from Greg’s perspective - he puts himself in front of the driver, then throws a hammer fist punch to the side of the man’s head. The punch feels like it takes forever to connect moving slowly through what feels like thick jello. When it does make contact, he feels the man’s skull break, cave-in and deform around his fist, which to the rest of the world is nothing more than a blur. Knowing the damage is done; he pulls his fist back and takes six labored steps away from the vehicle.

  Releasing his power he sees the driver’s head explode from the impact and the rear passenger door opens. Cannon man has come out to play. Greg gives him almost the time needed to train the weapon on him before engaging his power. With great effort he stalks around the vehicle, reaching the man and taking grip of the cannon. Releasing his power slightly again, Greg rips the cannon from his hands and takes four steps back before releasing his power completely.

  The gun rips so violently from his hands the shooter screams in pain. Then he looks up to see the flechette cannon trained on him. “Screw you Dzemond killer!” are the last words he spoke before Greg pulls the trigger and reduces him to a dark brown fleshy mass.

  “Damn tainted,” Greg mutters. He drops the cannon and looks about at the eyes staring at him. Then to them, just like that, he is gone.

  But the truth is he has stopped only a block away, breathing heavily from the exertion of having to walk there.

  Chapter 4

  The kitchen is trashed. Piles of broken plates are about the floor along with coffee grinds and scatterings of wheat-Os. Shey told me the plates were like her heart. The rest of it tells me she’s a mess. That’s our girl.

  I hear a sound in the living room and see Hjuul sticking his head over the couch. He must have been there hiding out the whole time. Hjuul is in his wolf form now, in reality he is a 400 pound hell hound and my best buddy. I look back over to him and say, “Really, you just let me endure that?”

  His puts his ears back and makes a “rrrrrr” kind of sound and goes back to hiding behind the sofa.

  Traitor. Well, not really – who would have wanted to deal with that?

  I hear the elevator gate open and know who it is – Vets. I turn back to face the epic mess that is our kitchen. I hear the entrance door open and wait to hear the reaction. A moment passes and it is of course a controlled and deliberate response, because, that’s Vets.

  “The fairy,” she says.

  “Yeps.”

  I turn to look at her, my bodyguard, shock troop and general warrior all wrapped into one huge very muscled package in human form. In her true Vetisghar form, she is a just as muscled feline-humanoid with ebon black skin and tail. “Sorry you missed it,” I tell her.

  “I am not” is Vets response. “I would prefer not to have to clean up her mess,” follows after a moment’s pause.

  That’s my warrior. Short, to the point. She’s come a long way since I first acquired her. A great deal of that comes from her now being considered a being of worth; that is she has her name. A demon, who I think has become a friend of mind, helped us with that out of the blue. I’m glad he did. While Vet’s is still stiff at best, she is now beginning to see life as something other than what she is willing to sacrifice for me.

  “I would prefer not to either,” is my response.

  “That one is not right,” is her observation as she walks away, leaving me to contemplate the mess.

  Not right reverberates with me. I am partially to blame for this. Shey thinks I’ve taken to disliking her. Truth is, I just don’t want the pressure of having to be lovey-dovey and I don’t want to make good on my promise to Sil either. I could care less about the things Silithes says she can do for me; which seems really more like to me.

  Wanting what Sil offers would be more like the me I was before I woke up. Before I was gifted with my summonlings and sobered up. Before I realized that my Dorothy was all I needed. It’s funny, the very things given to me to corrupt me and intended to turn me into a tool of destruction, instead straightened my ass up.

  I figure at this point I should tell Shey what’s really going on. I guess the plate thing was just a bit much for me. I don’t want her heart breaking on my account.

  So, I make my way to her room and knock on the door. No answer. I check the knob and its open, so I let myself in. And there she is. Sitting on the floor, glaring at me.

  “Hey,” I say. “Thought I might explain myself a little. It’s not you. I promise.”

  I hold my arms out for a hug, hoping she will come to me. She stands and stares at me. That’s a start at least. So I close the gap, hugging her. She basically accepts my hug and says, “This better be good.”

  So I tell her the truth. I lay it all out about my promise to Sil in 1958. I remind her of how Sil called “Nexties” in the Cayman Island; and I explain that she meant it.

  I was going to tell her how scared I was of falling victim to her powers of persuasion and becoming the man I used to be, but this is Shey. I never had the chance to say anything.

  “That skanky bitch! I can’t believe she’s ruining this for us!” Her eyes take on some sympathy and she touches my cheek. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to feed yourself to her. You have no idea what she is capable of Arthur, she can change you, make you hers. I’m going to give that bitch a piece of my mind!”

  And with that she bolts out into the hallway to destination known: Sil’s room.

  Crap a brick.

  This is most likely going to end up with one or both of them dead. There’s nothing to do but intervene or run away. I could compel Shey to stop, but I hate interfering with my summonling’s free will; it leaves me feeling like a slave-master bastard. Since I opened my mouth, I guess I should deal with it.

  So I head back to my room, close the door and pick up the book I’d been reading. Time to wait to see if they end up back in the white, that holding place they go when I dismiss them, or get they killed. After about 10 minutes pass, I realize that nobody is going to die, so I breathe a sigh of relief. That is until my door bursts open and Sil enters.

  “Really? I’m the only reason you aren’t laying down with Ms. Pixie Princess?”

  At least with Sil, I know I’ll get a word in. But then I know they’ll be used against me just as well. I take a deep breath, set my book on the table and sit up to address my succubus. She’s in her voluptuous human form, but I don’t let that distract me; I never do. She is quite the demon in her normal form; she is still just as shapely, only with white alabaster skin, punctuated by leathery wings, small horns, sharp teeth, back pointed nailed hands that are almost more like claws, green alligator eyes, and a whip like tail. Of all my summonlings, she is probably one of the most lethal, mostly because of her ability to beguile her prey and get very close. That and she’s just raw-bone strong. But, I don’t have to worry about her killing me though, as she’s my summonling, but I do have to worry about other things; like mind control and addiction to the “pleasures” she is so willing to share.

  “Sil, I am in no way ready to make good on my promise to be with you,” I protest. “So yea, you’re a reason I’m not laying down with Shey. The whole neuromancy thing just unnerves me.”

  Sil’s kind, the Cubati, both succubus and incubus, employ a form a magic that manipulates their victim’s neural processes. That magic requires physical contact to allow connection with the victim’s neural workings. They can make you horny, happy, angry, sad, and more. That while feasting on your life energy, their third, favorite food group. It’s scary, scary stuff. At least to me… even though I’ve been told kings and such have given away untold riches for one safe night with one of them.

  Amazing what people will pay for.

  “I should have never told you about that Arthur,” she says referring to her neuromantic skills. “But still, I thought we were open to each other and past you looking at me as some kind of monster out to eat your soul. I c
ould have had you… remember? You kissed me back, you wanted me.”

  Damn if Shey just laid that one on me too. But with Sil, it’s different – she can make you want her. I’ve seen her make people beg to have their soul eaten more just for the pleasure she made them associate with it. Those are some messed up memories; but then, so many from World War II are.

  “I’m not good with having my head messed with Sil.” That response gets her dander up even more.

  “Really Arthur? Well I don’t like to be used as an excuse for your lack of intimacy issues,” Sil says, squaring up to me. “So, good news! I’m going to solve two of your problems. First, is you worrying about me tempting you. I’ll make my outside look as disgusting as you think my inside is.”

  With that she shape shifts into a hag-like form, complete with liver spots, warts, cataracts on her eyes and sagging everything. She steps in closer and gets in my face and says in a creaking hag-like voice. “Now I’ll solve your second issue.”

  I almost barf for her halitosis. Damn, if she’s isn’t a stickler for the details, she’s got so much more than just the look down.

  “I release you Arthur MacInerny from your promise to me long ago, that I would be the next you’d have sexual intercourse with, should you stray from Dorothy.” She stares at me with her cataract eyes. “So either you tell the damn fairy or I will. I am no excuse for your choice to avoid intimacy. And by the way, your body is screaming for it too. It has been for quite a while and it’s distracting. So, turn off that hundred year old brain and listen to the teenage body for a change. It knows what you need.”

  Dumbfounded I stand there looking at Hag-Sil, not even remotely expecting that response. She tells me to screw myself in so many words and leaves.

  I hear an “Ach!” from Pffif in the hall; he apparently has met the new Sil.

  He sticks his head in the door. “Ye Ok master Arthur?”

  “Yea Pffif”

  “Temptress isna lookin’ too temptin’ is she?”

  “Well Pffif, there’s someone for everyone isn’t there?” I respond.

  “Not for that, master Arthur – toads and snakes she be lookin like one spiteful hag!”

  Pffif and I share a silent moment on that observation, then agree on his assessment with knowing nods. He wishes me well and moves on to his room which leaves me alone to contemplate the truth.

  I am released from my promise.

  I have no excuses anymore, except that I miss my Dory. I wish she was here. If she was here, none of this nonsense would be happening. But then, she and Shey were as thick as thieves. I can hear Dory saying something like, “Why not give her a thrill?” Heck she even gave us “permission.” Not that I took advantage of that.

  So, I know what I have to do. I head back to Shey’s room.

  I don’t bother knocking. I just let myself in and call for her. After a bit she comes from her bedroom and asks me what I need. I tell her, “I have a surprise for you” then take her by the hand down the hall to the kitchen.

  She tells me that’s not much of a surprise and I let her know that’s not the surprise. “You have to clean this up first.” I go to the living room and sit down in front of the television. Apparently there’s been some kind of a terrorist attack in Milan. It sounds strange and bad.

  Time passes and Shey completes her task and presents herself to me, standing in front of the television with her hands behind her back and standing on her tip-toes.

  “What’s my surprise Arthur?” she asks me in a sing song voice.

  I stand and take her by the hand, leading her to the hallway.

  “What? I want to know Arthur, what’s my surprise?”

  I stop, look at my now ever so cute fairy in her eyes and tell her, “Silithes released me from my promise to her. I thought we might take some time in the bedroom.”

  Chapter 5

  The last wave of creatures turn to puddles of ectoplasmic goo from the force of the wizard’s chain lightning spells which careened amongst them. Standing next to the wizard Grey Lightbringer is the beast Ahtsag Znuul who has also taken down his share of the waves of creatures that besieged the two.

  “The coward must be close to bring forth his minions like this,” Znuul notes. He closes his eyes and reaches out with his senses to find the source of the attack –Maldgorath the Collector. Before he can set his senses to his task the doors to the hallway crash open - this time not with summonling demons and devils, but a pair of commandos with automatic weapons.

  Without a moment’s thought, Znuul’s wings flare out and he quickly stands in front of the wizard Grey, taking the onslaught of automatic weapons fire. It doesn't feel good at all to him.

  But Znuul is made of stronger stuff than regular bullets can do real harm to. He takes their fire, then returns the favor with savage mental assault to one of the commandos and a vicious telekinetic attack to the other that literally flings him into and partially through the wall. The commando under the mental assault is curled on the ground, groveling. Znuul stalks forward, reaching down for the man’s helmeted skull.

  “No,” says the wizard Grey. Ahtsag stops in his tracks, telling the commando, “Lucky boy.”

  Grey smiles to Znuul, then instantly becomes serious again; “The Collector… where is he?”

  The large winged creature again reaches out with his senses and finds his prey in the rear courtyard. Then that prey disappears. “He flees us” he says opening his eyes. But his senses are still somewhat extended and he notes a disturbance that shouldn’t be there.

  He looks at the wizard Grey Lightbringer. “Old man, we have at least two military helicopters incoming, five minutes maximum.”

  “Damn.” is the wizard’s response. He makes haste to his desk and tells Znuul to open his safe under the bookcase. Grey produces a small leather attaché from his desk. The safe opened, Grey instructs Znuul to give him the invitation from the Queen of the Fae he received during Arthur MacInerny's trial.

  Znuul hands him the sealed invitation with a scowl. “We have no time to wait for diplomats of one side to approach the other to open a gateway. Must I remind you, that if we went there I would be summarily executed and my head put upon a pike. I die, so do you.”

  Grey takes the invitation from him and beams a smile. “I would never subject you to that. You must get what you can of the staff and campers away. I will pitch a storm and keep the copters at bay. The safety of our charges is paramount. Take this pouch and hold onto it dearly. If the worst happens you will know what to do.”

  This input does not sit well with Znuul, but he takes the leather pouch all the same. “You get them out, I can more than deal with these machines.”

  Grey smiles at his charge, the demon bound to his will, known at one time as the Destroyer of Hope and Devourer of Souls. “We don’t need you showing up on the internet. Trust in me and get our charges out of here.”

  Znuul nods and begins to leave to perform his duties. He is stopped by his master’s voice; “Ahtsag, I believe in you and I trust in you. You know you are as family to me.”

  “Don’t do anything too crazy old man” is the beast’s reply as he ducks under the door jamb to address his duty.

  In the hall he bellows for all to converge on the front portico. He quickly takes wing to the third floor and directs the children to come downstairs. He collects Marthe and anyone else he could find in the house and has them follow him to the garage.

  Storm clouds and lightning began to swell around the chateau and Znuul knows Grey is applying his craft strongly. No helicopter pilot in his right mind would attempt to go through the weather Grey was invoking. He was buying time to get the kids and staff to safety.

  At the garage, Znuul has them pack into the limousine and the suburban. He gives the keys to the limo to Marthe and tells her to follow him in the suburban. He pulls out of the garage and immediately turns into the field of grapes, tearing down the hillside. He blazes a path for Marthe to follow and reaching the end of the vi
neyard, banks hard left towards the barns where the farm equipment is kept.

  The suburban is met with gunfire and Znuul’s response is to lean forward and unfurl a wing to protect the children and staff in the back. The windows shatter and he raises an arm to protect his eyes instinctively. He slams the brakes and takes the hurtful gunfire. When the gunfire ceases he flings the door open, telling everyone in the vehicle to “Take to the floor!”

  There are three commandos. They are reloading. With a moderate amount of concentration Znuul projects a red energy from his eyes that skewers one commando leaving him with two eye sized holes in his chest. Taking two steps forward he plants his feet and with a flap of his wings projects a force wave that scatters the two others to the ground. Stalking forward he rips the gun from the hand of one and uses it to cancel the other commando with two to the chest and one to the head before he can get his bearings. The last commando has the unfortunate fate of Znuul jamming his fingers into his chest and having his life’s essence ripped from him.

  Znuul casts the dried husk of the commando aside and takes a moment to savor the life he just devoured with a smile.

  Grey’s storm is swelling and the helicopters are at bay. But Znuul senses something else. Something coming fast. Something coming from high above. Putting his thumb to his forehead he projects a simple thought to his master – “Danger from above coming, get out now”

  He receives no response, but instead a feeling of lightness. A feeling of freedom.

  A sound roars from above; jet fighters. The chateau explodes under a siege of carpet bombing.

  Ahtsag Znuul reaches out for Grey Lightbringer with all his senses. He finds nothing.

  Marthe, the chateau’s chef leaves the limousine and walks up to the statuesque Ahtsag Znuul staring at the flaming remains of the chateau they called home.

  “Thees is good Ahtsag. You are still steel here, Monsignor Lightbringer escaped. You both still live.”

  Very slowly, the beast turns his head and looks down upon the chef Marthe. “No Marthe, Grey is gone. And I am now unbound.”