John Ringo: Princess of Wands

Barb leapt off the railing into the center of the evacuating room, landing in a crouch and taking up a guard position.

“Okay, you wanna dance, let’s dance,” she snarled.

“When I have killed you, I will take your soul,” Remolus said, striding forward. “One of many to summon my Mother. No heaven for you, White Witch. No heaven for any in this room and Hell will be manifest on earth!”

“First you’ve got to kill me,” Barb said, sliding forward gracefully. “I’ll take my chances.”

The demon hammered the sword downwards, slamming into hers and she knew she had a fight on her hands. The beast was incredibly powerful and the blows were so fast she could barely block them. Each blow struck sparks from the blade, flickering away like silver lightning. She backed across the room, her feet searching for solid purchase in the red blood on the floor, but the demon followed her just as fast or faster, raining down blow after blow. He didn’t have much finesse, but with his reach and power he didn’t need it.

She was being backed into a corner and she knew it. She was more than halfway across the blood-strewn main floor and if she went much farther her back would be to the raised walkway. She also couldn’t do anything about it. The only good news was that the gathered fen had streamed out of the room like a herd of gazelle and the only people left in the room were herself and dead bodies. At the very least, he wasn’t going to be able to gather enough power to summon Tiamat.

She needed to either circle or get up on the walkway. Neither appeared possible, however. Each time she tried to dodge to either side, she found herself blocked by the demon’s long sword. And clambering up onto the walkway with him behind her… wasn’t an option.

Suddenly the demon bellowed and turned, clawing at his shoulder which had seemingly grown an arrow.

Janea was standing in the hole he’d made, a bow in her hand, just nocking another arrow.

“Freya fill me,” she whispered, pulling back on the string shakily. “Guide my eye and arm and bring to me the power of the gods!” The arrow sprang from the bow and left a trail of white light as it flew unerringly to impact on the demon’s side.

It was the best opening Barb was going to get. She cut down, slicing the demon’s hamstring, then up, taking off his right hand. The black blade clattered to the floor as the demon stumbled down to one knee, howling in pain and clutching at his wrist, which was spurting glowing black blood.

“In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ,” Barb said, hefting the glowing sword like a batter, “I banish thee back to the Hell which birthed you!”

Remolus’ head leapt from the spurting stump of his neck and rolled down the stairs. It rolled through the half-finished runes on the floor, smearing them into illegibility and only stopped when it hit the far wall.

Barbara again felt that disturbing shift in reality and dropped to her knees trying not to retch as it felt as if her insides were being twisted so they were out sides. She propped herself on her sword and closed her eyes, only opening them when the feeling passed. When she opened them, the room was, again, a hotel restaurant. With bodies and body parts scattered around it. The demon was still there as well, but already it had started to fall apart, turning liquid around the bones and then slumping into a putrid, stinking, mass.

She looked up at the doorway and was amazed to see Don Draxon standing in the door with one arm around Ruby and the other clutching a half empty bottle of scotch.

“Good Lord,” Draxon said, looking around at the blood-spattered room and the demon deliquescing before his eyes. “Ruby, my dear, I think we should go back to warming ourselves. This looks a bit too warm.”

But Ruby had fainted dead away.

It’s another fine mess you’ve left us to clean up,” Augustus Germaine said, looking out the window.

“Hmmm,” Barbara said, musingly. “The press are going to be all over it like… smell on poop.” She didn’t seem particularly worried and didn’t quit what she was doing.

“Mass murderer at science fiction convention,” Augustus said, shaking his head. “News at six.”

“And the people who saw Remolus?” Barbara asked.

“It’s amazing what people can ignore,” Augustus replied, turning away from the window. “And do you really think that the news media is going to believe a bunch of science fiction fans who say they saw a demon? Besides, there are ways to make people… forget.”

“I wish you’d do it for me, then,” Barb said, shaking her head and still not looking up.

“If I didn’t mention it, you did well,” Augustus said, sitting down across from her. “You and Janea. I had not anticipated a full manifestation.”

“Demons come, demons go,” Barbara said, still not looking up. “Do you think, with him dispelled, that any of those who died have a chance…”

“Heaven’s inscrutable about such things,” Augustus said, shrugging. “But… no. Whether their souls are in the service of Hell or not is unsure. But they are not going to be entering Heaven short of the Second Coming. Long may that day be forestalled.”

“Lord grant that in the end of all things they may find peace,” Barb replied, sighing. “I would that I’d been more able. No soul should be lost to that… thing. Can he… come back?”

“When he was banished, he lost all the power he had gained,” Augustus said, thoughtfully. “The moonstone vest was shattered, so all of that power was lost as well. Pity, I’d have liked to find out what spell they used. If it was not entirely bound by evil it might come in handy. And I’d love to know where Krake found it.”

“Apparently he was a pretty serious researcher,” Barbara said. “But I think it might have something to do with Timson.”

“Timson?” Augustus asked.

“He was the first person that Krake killed here,” Barb replied, shrugging. “Janea said that he was extremely knowledgeable. And Duncan said that he’d been collaborating with Krake on research. I think, if there’s anything to find, it’s going to be in Timson’s notes. If you can find them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Augustus said, smiling slightly. “How much longer are you going to polish that?”

“I’m not polishing it,” Barbara said, running the silk cloth down the length of the Murasaki blade. “I’m sharpening it.”

Barb set her bag down by the door to the garage and took a deep breath. Home.

“Mom!” Brandon yelled, charging down the hallway followed by Brook.

She hugged her two younger children and looked around for Allison. She was probably pouting in her room.

After greeting the kids she walked through the kitchen and looked in the family room. Mark was installed in front of the big-screen, watching a replay series on ESPN.

“Hello, dear,” she said, smiling. “Miss me?”

“Yeah,” Mark said, not looking away from the TV. “How was your conference or whatever?”

“Enlightening,” Barb replied, her eyes dark with memories.

“Great. What’s for supper?”

Keep your eye on the ball, Allison!” Barb screamed as her daughter swung and missed. “That was way to the outside!”

“You really get into this,” Cindy Hudson said, grinning at the overwrought mother. Her own daughter had just struck out to a mild “Better luck next time, honey.”

Cindy was as short and dark as her friend was tall and fair. They knew they made an odd couple but up until the last winter they had spent most of their free time together, their families even taking combined vacations. But since Barbara’s trip down to the bayou and her car accident, Cindy had noticed a change in her friend. Sometimes she’d shiver as if from more than cold and get a distant look that was strange and hard. Something more than a car accident had happened on that trip but Cindy had never found it in her to ask what. She was afraid her friend had been raped, but there were simply things that nice Episcopal women, close friends though they were, didn’t ask.