Robert Weinberg - A Logical Magician

She paused for a second, drawing in a deep breath and setting Jack’s pulse racing. “Dietrich was bragging how powerful he was going to become once the ceremony took place. According to him, the Old One promised that he would have complete control over Chicago and all the Midwest.

“I remember thinking to myself that that would make life here in the mall insufferable when he launched into this long tirade about how incredibly stupid you humans were. Since that’s one of his favorite themes, I tuned out most of what he was saying. However, one line stayed with me. The Huntsman was mocking the police. I remember his exact words. He said, ‘The fools hunt desperately throughout the city for my captives, while all along the ones they seek are right beneath their feet.’ Then, he changed the subject and never mentioned the women again. Does it make any sense to you?”

Jack frowned. “Not instantly. His headquarters can’t be located in the subway system. All of the tunnels are in use. None of them have been abandoned. Maybe he’s using the basement of an old warehouse?”

A stray thought about tunnels tickled his consciousness. Jack recalled his conversation with the taxi driver a few centuries ago. The cabbie mentioned that all of the women who vanished had disappeared from the buildings in the Loop. Again, the notion touched a strand of memory. Anxiously, he tried to wrestle the notion to the surface.

“Underground tunnels,” he muttered, eyes closed tightly shut as he concentrated. “Tunnels. Passageways. Corridors. Beneath the Loop corridors. Old railway tunnels …”

A black ball of fur exploded through the secret doorway of the nymphs’ lair. Moving with astonishing speed, Sylvester shot across the glade and into Jack’s arms. Immediately, all of Jack’s mental groping about old abandoned passageways collapsed.

“Cassandra sent me to fetch you two,” the cat gasped out, hardly able to speak. “She senses evil approaching. Amazons possess a talent for that. No more time for talking. We gotta run.”

“Von Bern and the Gabble Ratchets,” said Simon. “It must be them.”

The changeling grabbed Jack by the arm, sending Sylvester tumbling to the floor. “Sorry to kiss and run, girls,” Simon said, “but we’re history. And if the German catches us, we’re dead history.”

Her face twisted with worry, April escorted them through the magic door and into the mall. “Be careful, Jack,” she said, holding him tightly for an instant. “For all our sakes.”

“Thanks,” said Jack, reminding himself that this stunning young woman attracting the attention of every male in the immediate surroundings was over three thousand years old. “I plan to be back.”

Eyes damp with tears, April let him go. Then she grabbed his shoulders before he could move. “I just remembered! Late last night, long after you were gone, we felt an abrupt rip in the outer darkness. Something massive, something ancient, entered our world. Entered nearby.

“May and June are certain it’s one of the legendary Great Beasts. Ask Simon about them. He knows their history. My sisters think von Bern, or his master, summoned the Beast to destroy you. It’s out there, somewhere, waiting for you.”

“Damn,” said Jack. “I wish I justified all the attention these fiends are wasting on me. I’ve yet to prove myself much of a threat to their plans. April, thanks again for everything. Keep your fingers crossed that von Bern and company are right and I’m hell on wheels. See you soon.”

He dashed after Simon and Sylvester. As he ran Jack wondered what horrors hid behind the title “Great Beast.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

They burst out the doors of the mall together. Cassandra had the car pulled up to the curb, thirty feet away. She waved at them frantically, urging them to greater speed. But, before he could take more than a few steps, Jack heard the howling—the howling of the Gabble Ratchets.

For an instant he froze, his gaze sweeping across the parking lot searching for the Corpse Hounds. It didn’t take long to find them. Their fearful baying attracted more attention than a malfunctioning car alarm. There were three of the monsters, heading directly at them from the west. As of yet, there was no sign of their dread master.

Jack tore his attention away from the beasts. Running, he could reach the car long before the hounds arrived. Trying to stay calm, he dashed wildly for the auto. And tripped over the motionless body of Sylvester the cat.

The familiar was frozen stiffer than an icicle. Eyes popped out of its head, fur standing on end, it looked like a prop from an old horror film. Jack swore as he hauled the beast up into his arms. The unearthly howling of the Gabble Ratchets had completely immobilized Sylvester.

The cat was surprisingly heavy. Stumbling, Jack staggered for the car. Never once did he consider leaving Sylvester behind. The supernatural beast was part of his team. Abandoning it to the mercies of the Corpse Hounds was out of the question.

The Gabble Ratchets were less than twenty yards distant and closing fast. Jack knew he would never make it to the auto. Desperately, he dropped the frozen cat at his feet and stood waiting for the monsters, hands clenched into fists. Jaws dripping slaver, eyes burning with unholy light, the three hounds bayed in triumph as they hurtled forward.

“Out of the way, Jack,” said Cassandra, seeming to appear out of nowhere. Calmly, she shoved him behind her and raised her staff as the three Gabble Ratchets launched themselves into the air.

The Amazon whipped her walking stick around faster than the eye could follow. One end caught the first of the hounds square in the throat. A quick flick of the wrist sent the beast flying in the air over their heads and into the mall wall.

Meanwhile, the other silver cap pounded the second dog right in the nose, smashing it to ruins. Shrieking in pain, the hound scrambled backwards, blood gushing from its face.

The third Ratchet, its jaws spread wide, almost made it to Cassandra. Just when it appeared impossible that she could avoid the monster’s fangs, the Amazon slammed the center of her staff into the beast’s mouth. The hound’s teeth clenched together, but on wood, not Cassandra. Releasing her grip on the walking stick, the Amazon let the dog fall to the ground. Twirling on the balls of her feet, she kicked it in the throat. Choking, the hound released the staff and collapsed.

“Watch it!” shouted Jack, as the first dog Cassandra faced charged her for a second time. Howling madly, the beast leapt for her throat.

The Amazon dropped like a stone, letting the hound sail right over her head. Before the dog could recover, Cassandra was on her feet again, both hands gripping one end of her staff. She swept it around in a short, vicious arc ending with the Gabble Ratchet’s skull. With a crunch of bone, the monster dropped unconscious to the pavement.

“Bravo!” exclaimed a voice that Jack recognized instantly. “Poetry in motion.”

Dietrich von Bern stood less than ten feet distant. By his side whimpered the second Gabble Ratchet, blood dripping in bright red droplets from its crushed nose. In one huge hand, the Huntsman held his terrible sword.

Parked behind von Bern, less than a dozen feet away from their Buick, was the Huntsman’s black limo. Leaning against the car, arms folded in disinterest, was Charon. The sight of the ancient Greek ferryman reminded Jack of the insurance nestled in his pocket. Tonight he would learn if his hunch concerning the items was correct.

“A magnificent fight,” declared von Bern, taking a giant step forward. Effortlessly, he raised his massive sword shoulder high. The blade glowed with a sinister light. “I doubt that anyone else in the world could defeat three of the Gabble Ratchets unaided. Too bad you struggle for a lost cause, Cassandra. As always.”