John Ringo - Princess of Wands

“They’re dead,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I know that,” she said, still keeping the .45 pointed at his head. “Pull out your piece and put it on the ground. Now.”

“They’re just fucking dead,” Duncan repeated, softly, then turned to the side and vomited on the ground.

“I said, draw your piece and put it on the ground,” Barbara repeated, sharply.

“You got it,” Duncan replied, wiping his mouth, then drawing his weapon and setting it in the snow. “Who did this?”

“I’m trying to decide if it was you,” Barb admitted.

“Well, decide quick,” Duncan snapped, standing up slowly. “Because in a second I’m going to pick up that piece and go hunting myself .”

“Guns don’t work,” Barbara said, lowering her weapon and pointing it at the ground. “Janea’s bullets had been tampered with, somehow. They wouldn’t fire.”

“I take it you’ve decided I’m not the killer?” Duncan asked, turning around.

“Open your coat,” Barb answered, shifting her feet into a cat stance.

“What? It’s freezing!”

“Open your coat,” Barbara repeated.

Duncan looked at her and shook his head but he unbuttoned the coat and pulled it wide.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Barb admitted, frowning.

“Can I c-close it now?” Duncan asked, teeth chattering.

“Go ahead,” Barbara said. “Then turn around and spread your arms and legs.”

“Oh, good, I’m going to get a pat down from a beautiful blonde,” Duncan replied, but he turned.

Barbara patted him down, looking for hidden gemstones. He had a lighter and a folding knife, but his only jewelry was his wedding ring.

“What was that all about?” Duncan asked.

“The killer has to be carrying moonstones,” Barb said. “Probably a lot. You don’t have any. So you’re probably not the killer. Now get in the restaurant. Let me hunt. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

“Well, I’m going to go brief the cooler Wharf Rats on what’s really going on,” Duncan said. “And get them to help me move these three. They shouldn’t be just left here. Guns don’t work. Okay. There will be something that will.”

“Do that,” Barbara said, nodding. “I have to go find this guy before he kills again.”

“Oh, it’s you,” Larry said as the man walked up through the snow. He, Eric and Bob had come back out into the atrium when they couldn’t stand the sight, or sound, of the Wharf Rats’ continuing party. “One of your minions was running around babbling about someone being killed.”

“My minion?” the man asked, blandly.

“The blonde, Barb I think her name is,” Eric said, frowning. “She’s one of your type.”

“She’s no minion of mine,” the man said, smiling in great humor. “Quite the opposite. She’s trying very hard to stop me.”

“What?” Bob asked, uneasily.

“I said she’s trying to stop me, you liberal moron,” the man replied, unbuttoning his jacket. “She wants to stop me from raising the power to call my demon. But she’s just about too late.”

“Holy…” Larry said as the glowing gems on the vest were revealed.

“No, quite the opposite,” the man said, waving a hand. The three were instantly held immobile, only their eyes moving. “Quite unholy…” he said as he drew the knife.

Barbara hadn’t particularly cared for Larry or his crowd. But they’d died hard; the blood and pieces were splattered all over the white snow. What he’d done to Bob was bad enough and Larry was worse. Poor Eric… well, she was pretty sure it was Eric. The pieces looked about right.

“He’s toying with me,” she muttered, looking around. The snow had been trampled in the area so she had no idea which way he’d gone. With all the blood from the bodies, he should have been splashed. But there was no blood trail.

He’d been running her around in circles and she was tired enough to just stop. Which seemed to be the thing to do, stop and think.

He’d nearly, but not quite, killed Janea. Why leave her alive? Because Barb felt him attack her and got there before he could stop to kill her? Did he not realize Janea was alive? He’d clearly taken his time with these three.

He was drawing souls. She’d felt the power flows when he’d fought Janea and if he’d simply drawn her soul it would have been over in no time. So he wasn’t drawing souls so much as power . And Janea had had enough power that he couldn’t draw it all?

Close, she felt, but not quite.

But if he could simply absorb the power of the priestess, even with a goddess behind her, then simply blasting him with power would fall right into his hands. It would feed him. But shooting him seemed out as well.

“Wizards can be killed with a dagger in the back just as well as with magic.”

She wasn’t sure where she’d heard that, but it seemed like good advice.

And there was only one thing better than a dagger.

He felt full, suffused, and the power from the gems had barely been tapped.

It was time for the Great Rite. Time to kill all these worthless fen and take his rightful place.

He dared that bitch to stop him as he headed for the restaurant.

“It’s a long way to Tipperary,

It’s a long way to go.

It’s a long way to Tipperary

To the sweetest girl I know!

Goodbye Piccadilly,

Farewell Leicester Square!

It’s a long long way to Tipperary,

But my heart’s right there.”

“I think the con’s better this way,” Sean said, pouring another glass of beer and looking around at the group in the restaurant. “Just party the whole weekend long!”

“That’s the ticket,” Duncan replied, frowning. “The only bad part’s the people dying.”

“Speaking of which, where’s Leo and Sadie?” Mandy asked.

“Sadie’s probably hiding in a room somewhere,” Sean replied, shrugging. “You know how she is with crowds.”

“Well, David finally decided to crash the party,” Norm said, waving at the entrance. The writer was unbuttoning his jacket as he entered the heated room. He had a slight smile on his face and his eyes…

“I think we’ve got problems,” Duncan said, rising to his feet.

“What’s the…” Sean replied and stopped, mute and staring as the power of the gems on David Krake’s vest blazed out in the room.

The closest people to the entrance were a group of gamers and Duncan watched as they toppled over. He’d seen a few dead people in his time and they were unmistakably dead. The rest of the restaurant had gone silent as everyone seemed held by some force. He seemed to be the only one unaffected.

“I see there’s another of you here,” Krake said, still smiling faintly. “I take it you’re one of those Special Circumstances types.”

“No, just… odd,” Duncan replied. Krake was all the way across the crowded room from him and he knew he’d never get a shot off. But there were other weapons. “I know you’re going to kill me, but can I at least ask ‘why?’ ”

“Never explain,” Krake said, reaching out a hand.

“Oh, come on,” Duncan snapped. “You know you want to tell somebody . And, since I’m going to die anyway… ”

Krake appeared to consider that for a moment and then shrugged, looking for the first time slightly ashamed.

“Demons can give earthly power…” Krake said, then smiled thinly. “Even over book sales.”

“It’s that damned Robert Nile, isn’t it?” Duncan said, amazed. “You did all this just to… what? Get better sales? Corner the fantasy market?”