A Wizard of the White Council (21 page)

Ally groaned and sat up, her eyes glassy. 

“My head,” she muttered. “It feels like it’s going to burst. Oh, it hurts.” She stared at Arran, shaking her head. “Don’t let them hurt me. Please don’t let them hurt me.”

“I swear it,” said Arran. "So long as I have strength left." 

“She’s babbling,” said Mary. “You said she might have a concussion. We’ve got to get her to a doctor.” 

“We will as soon as possible,” said Conmager.

“My blood, Arran.” Ally grabbed the front of Arran’s shirt, her eyes dark and maddened. “My blood is burning. My head’s split down the middle. I can remember, but I don’t know what.” She began to cry again. “My parents. This is my fault. They were coming for me, not for them!” She huddled into a ball and began to sob. 

“Oh, Ally,” said Mary.

Something clanged against the side of the van. The clangs followed in rapid succession, like thrown rocks…

“Bullets!” spat Arran. He stared out the back windows and cursed.

A trio of winged demons soared after them, machine guns in hand. Another volley of bullets clanged off the van. “Conmager!” 

“Shit,” said Conmager, staring out the back windows. “Allard! Faster!” Allard pumped the gas, but the winged demons kept pace. 

“They’ll shoot the van to pieces,” said Arran, reaching for his Kalashnikov. 

Conmager snorted. “Not likely. This van’s armored. The glass is even bulletproof. Look.” He pointed at a skylight in the van’s roof and pressed a button on the dashboard. The window popped open, rising to a forty-five degree angle. “Shoot back at them. We can outrun them once we get into open country.” 

Arran stood, propping the Kalashnikov's stock against this shoulder, and sticking the barrel out through the window. He had a clear view of the pursuing winged demons. Bullets ricocheted off the roof, ruining the paint but inflicting little damage to the van.

Arran took aim and fired. His volley ripped through one of the demons’ wings. The creature roared and spiraled towards the ground. 

###

Goth went rigid, his lips peeling back in a snarl. 

“What?” said Marugon. 

The voices murmured in his mind, just beneath his consciousness. 

“There has been some difficulty,” said Goth, spinning their van around a corner. 

Marugon saw the glow of flames in the distance. “Elaborate.”

Goth growled questions into his microphone. “The reports are confused. It seems some of our foes have been slain. Yet others escaped.”

“Pursue them,” said Marugon. “Kill them all.”

“Someone interfered.” Goth hissed and adjusted his headset. “Two gunmen. And…that cannot be. It is not possible!”

The voices in Marugon’s skull rose in sudden alarm. “What is not possible?”

“A Knight,” said Goth, his fangs grinding. “My kin claim a Knight attacked them with a Sacred Blade. But that cannot be. We slew all the Knights, shot them to death, and their precious Sacred Blades availed them not.” Goth's wings tried to unfold, his seat bulging under the pressure. “And two of the vans have been destroyed.” 

“Two?” Marugon felt the rage boil inside him, his black magic rising in response. He had killed the Knights, killed the Wizards, and laid the High Kingdoms waste. Who could still fight against him? “I have been deceived. They shall regret it, I shall burn every trace of their existence from …”

“Lord,” said Goth. “The Westers’ house.”

“Stop the van.” Goth obeyed, and Marugon got out, staring at the wreckage. Two of Wycliffe’s vans had been blasted to smoldering debris, and the Westers' home burned in a pillar of smoke and fire. The corpses of slain changelings lay strewn across the lawn, their bodies shifting to human form as the black magic left them. 

“How?” said Marugon. “I slew all my foes. I cannot be stopped now, not when I am so close.”

Goth muttered something into his microphone. “Lord. We have found them. They flee to the west.”

Marugon sneered at the burning house. “No doubt they think to leave the city, hide themselves in the vastness of the world. I shall not permit it. Let us…”

Sirens flashed and tires squealed. Marugon turned as a half-dozen police cars skidded to a halt. Their doors burst open, policemen storming out and leveling their weapons at Marugon and Goth. 

“Halt!” barked the leader, a paunchy older man. “Put your hands over your heads and make no sudden movements."

“Jesus,” said one of the younger policemen, staring at Goth. “What the hell is that thing?” 

Another policeman began muttering a prayer. 

The voice in Marugon's head rose in a maddening chorus of fury. He could not afford distractions now. His will hardened within him, summoning the black magic in a storm, and he began to mutter a spell. 

Goth chuckled. 

“That thing’s laughing!” 

“What’s he doing with his hands…he’s got a gun!”

The policemen opened fire just as Marugon finished the spell. Black magic swirled around him, shielding him in a spell of entropy. The bullets vanished in puffs of black smoke an instant before they reached him, their energy and substance atrophied into nothingness. A few of the bullets struck Goth, and he grunted in irritation. 

The policemen ran out of ammunition. They lowered their weapons, staring in growing terror. 

“Goth-Mar-Dan. Kill them all.”

Goth exploded into motion, wings propelling him into the air. He dropped in the midst of the policemen, his black scimitar a blur. Three policemen died before they could react. The others screamed, struggling to reload their weapons. Goth butchered them, slashing with his blade, tearing with his iron-clawed fingers. A few tried to run, and Goth drew his pistol and gunned them down. 

Marugon summoned the Voice and focused on one of the fleeing policeman. “Stop!” The policeman froze as Goth killed the last of the fleeing officers. “Goth-Mar-Dan! Spare this one. You. Come here.”

The policeman staggered up to him, eyes wide with terror. “What are you?”

“That is irrelevant,” said Marugon. “Is there some sort of radio device in your vehicle? Tell me!” The policeman nodded. “Good. You shall report to your superiors that the perpetrators of this heinous crime,” he waved a hand at the butchered corpses, “are fleeing westward in a…Goth-Mar-Dan, describe the vehicle.” Goth growled the description, along with the license number. “Inform your superiors of this via the radio device. Say nothing of our conversation. Then, once you have reported, you shall take your weapon and shoot yourself in the head.”

The policeman shook his head. “No…I won’t…”

“No, you will,” said Marugon. He gestured at the nearest police cruiser. “Go.” The young officer staggered away. 

“The cars have cameras, devices that will record our presence,” said Goth. 

Marugon looked at the bandoleer of grenades over Goth’s armored chest. “Then dispose of them.”

A gunshot rang out, and the young policeman fell out of his car, blood pooling around his head. Goth took to the air and dropped a grenade in each of the cars as Marugon climbed back into the van. Goth swooped into the van, put it into drive, and roared away. The grenades went off an instant later, the police cars ripping apart in spectacular balls of flames, burning debris raining in all directions. 

Goth chuckled, his eyes burning. Few things delighted a winged demon more than wanton carnage. “Where shall we drive, Lord?” 

“Let us join your kin,” said Marugon. “We shall hunt down my enemies and kill them ourselves. Perhaps I shall permit you to kill Lithon Scepteris yourself.”

Goth’s chuckles rose into booming laughter. He drove into the night, pillars of smoke and flame rising behind them. 

Chapter 16 - Find Alastarius On Earth

Anno Domini 2012

Arran jammed another clip into his Kalashnikov, the gun's metal hot beneath his fingers. Another barrage of shots rang against the van’s roof. He ducked beneath the skylight, waited for a moment, then rose up and fired. Some of his shots clipped a winged demon. It shrieked, losing its aim, and Arran shifted his gun, seeking for another target. 

Then the winged demons turned and shot away.

“Wait!” he called. “They’re breaking off.” Arran ducked back into the van and watched the winged demons retreat. 

“What the hell?” said Conmager, twisting around in his seat. “They know where we are. Why would they turn and run?” 

Arran clenched his hand. “I know not.” His fingers felt sore from clutching the gun’s hot metal. “Their attack was ineffective. They must have shot four, five hundred rounds at us without scratching the armor.” 

“Sure as hell ruined the paint, though,” said Conmager. 

Allard whooped. “Hey, another ten minutes, and we're clear.” Arran saw rows of suburban houses flashing past in the night. “Another ten minutes we can turn north, get lost in the back roads. Take the bastards years to find us.”

“Let us hope,” said Arran. He settled against the van’s wall, next to Lithon. 

“My head,” said Ally, her voice a moan. She lay with her head in Mary’s lap. “It’s going to explode. My blood’s on fire.”

“How is she?” said Arran.

Mary glared at him. “Her parents just got killed, and now winged demons with machine guns are chasing us. How do you think she is?” Arran waited, and Mary sighed. “I don’t know. I think she’s still in shock.” She looked Arran in the eye. “We’re going to die, aren’t we, Mr. Belphon?”

Arran grunted. “Everyone dies. But I shall do my utmost to keep us from dying today.” 

“That makes me feel so much…”

“Sir Arran!” Conmager turned in his seat. “Behind us!” 

Arran looked out the back windows. A quartet of the black vans followed them, winged demons circling overhead. The van’s ceiling and walls clanged, and Mary stifled a shriek. Ally moaned and turned her head. 

“They’re shooting at us again!” said Mary. 

“You’d think they would learn,” said Arran. “The van’s armor is too thick.”

“That or they’d get armor-piercing slugs,” growled Conmager. “Let them shoot. Once we get to open country, we can outrun…”

“Regent!” Allard pointed. “Cops!” 

Arran looked through the windshield and saw a half-dozen police cars roaring towards them, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The cars skidded to a halt, forming a barricade across the road. Guns flashed in the night as the police opened fire, bullets whining off the van's windshield and hood. 

“Jesus!” said Allard. “Why are they shooting at us? We didn’t do anything!” 

“You did set Ally’s house on fire,” said Mary.

“That was an accident,” said Allard. “What the hell are we going to do? We can’t crash through them.”

“Wait!" said Conmager. "Turn left…now!” Allard complied and the van shot up a residential driveway. "Hit that fence!” The van roared over a grassy backyard and crashed through a wooden fence, splinters flying in all directions. Allard slammed the brakes, and the van skidded into a narrow alley lined with garages and trash cans. “Idiot! Don’t just sit here! Drive, drive!” The van sped down the alley, taking out more than a few of the trash cans. Garbage slid over the windshield and blew away into the night. 

“Where are we going?” said Allard. Another garbage can exploded over the windshield. “I don’t know where we are!” 

“Just follow this alley,” said Conmager. “Turn left when you come to the street. We can get back to the main roads then. With luck, the police will slow down those black vans.”

“Pity the city guardsmen, then,” said Arran, “for they have not the means to fight the winged ones.”

Conmager sighed. “I know. I know. But we cannot stand and fight. We must get away…”

Gunshots clanged off the roof. 

Arran seized his Kalashnikov. “The winged demons do not need to stand and fight.” He stood and took aim through the skylight once more. Five demons soared after the van, weapons in hand. Arran opened fire. The winged demons scattered, but one plucked a grenade from its belt and flung it. 

The bomb struck the van’s roof, fell through the skylight, and landed at Arran’s feet.

###

Sirens wailed over Chicago. 

Marugon had seen a dozen police cars roar past in the last five minutes, sirens wailing. The entire city seemed roused. The reports coming over Goth’s headset had gotten worse. At least eight of the winged ones had been destroyed, along with twenty changelings. 

Things had not gone according to plan. 

Goth straightened, lifting one hand from the wheel to adjust his headset. 

Marugon sighed. “Now what has gone wrong?” 

“Our vans encountered a police blockade,” said Goth. “There was a battle. Half the police were killed, the other half fled. Most likely they called for reinforcements.” 

“What of our foes?” said Marugon. “Have the escaped?” 

The voices in his head screamed with fury at the prospect. 

“No.” Goth growled a question into his microphone. “No. My kin in the air pursue them. The vans hope to intercept them.” He paused. “There is more. My kin at Wycliffe’s stronghold report. It seems the city has been put on alarm. The commanders of the police believe a band of armed terrorists are loose in the city. Hence they have called their men to arms.” 

“Damnation.” Marugon's head throbbed with pain, pulsing in time to the voices’ shrieks. “Order your kin to arm themselves and join us.”

“All of them?” Goth sounded surprised. 

“Yes, all of them, every one of your kind still at Wycliffe’s stronghold. Lithon Scepteris and this girl with the white magic cannot escape me now. Give them directions, and order them to hunt down our foes.”

“It will throw the city into further uproar,” said Goth.

“I care not!” said Marugon. “I will raze Chicago to the ground if necessary.”

Goth grinned and relayed the orders. 

###

Mary screamed and backed against the wall. Arran dropped the Kalashnikov, his mind racing. He had to get the grenade, had to seize it and throw it outside before it exploded…

“Here!” Lithon threw open the back doors, and Arran kicked the grenade. It flew out the back, hit the alley, and exploded, chunks of pavement raining against the van. Lithon pulled the heavy doors shut with a groan. 

“Good timing, kid!” said Allard. 

“Indeed,” said Arran, picking up his rifle. “We would have been killed.”

Lithon shrugged. “I don’t want to die.” 

“I agree wholeheartedly,” said Allard. The alley opened onto a four lane street. Allard turned left, tires squealing. “In fact…”

The ceiling thumped, and Arran looked up.

A winged demon landed on the roof. It knelt and thrust the barrel of its Kalashnikov through the open skylight. Arran sprang forward, grabbing the barrel and forcing it towards the wall. The demon roared and squeezed the trigger, bullets smashing into the wall. Arran dared not let go, and the demon strained against Arran, trying to bring it weapon to bare. 

Mary grabbed one of the pistols from Arran’s belt, raised the weapon, and fired. The gun’s kick knocked her back, but the bullet ploughed into the wininged demon’s knee. It shrieked in pain, a glimmer of white light flaring over its wound. Arran yanked on the barrel, wrenching the Kalashnikov from the winged demon's grip and pulling it into the van. Mary fired again, missing by a foot, but the demon leapt from the roof, wings flapping. 

Arran yanked the clip from the demon’s gun and dropped it to the floor. “Good shot.” 

Mary stared at the gun in her hands. “It’s…heavy.” 

“Astute observation.” Arran stared out the skylight, seeking the winged demons. “Keep it.”

Mary gaped at him. “But I’ve never fired a gun before.”

“You just did,” said Arran, raising his Kalashnikov to the skylight.

Lithon stood, his bloodshot eyes blazing in his pale face. “I want one too.”

“You?” Had Lithon ever used a gun before. “But…”

“Sir Arran, give it to him,” said Conmager, fumbling with his Uzi. “We’ll need every gun if we’re to get out of this alive. Besides, he is the King.”

“Very well.” Arran shot another glance out the skylight. The winged demons still hung back, guns flashing. Arran fired a few rounds and ducked back into the van. “Watch me, both of you.” He pulled another pistol from the rack and a clip from the box. “This is how you load it…like this…and this. Use the sight on the end of the barrel…you might not hit anything without it.” He held the weapon out grip-first and Lithon took it. “Your Majesty, you’ll probably need both hands. It has a powerful kick.”

“I’ll say,” said Mary.

Arran glanced out the skylight. The winged demons had fallen farther back. “And don’t shoot me in the foot, and for the gods’ sakes, don’t shoot yourselves.” 

A black flicker outside the back window caught his attention.

A winged demon hovered behind the van, only a few feet from the back doors. The creature raised its gun and fired, blasting shots into the windows. The armored doors clanged and rang, and the bulletproof windows shuddered but did not break. Ally whimpered and huddled into a little ball.

“What if they shoot out the tires?” said Mary. “We’ll crash, we won’t be able to run.”

Conmager snorted. “Not likely. I’ve got illegal military treads on this thing, not tires.”

“Then what is it doing?” said Mary. The winged demon jammed another clip into its gun and opened fire once more. 

“Looking for weaknesses,” said Arran. If he opened the back doors to return fire, the other winged demons would shoot him to pieces. “Looking for a way in.” 

The demon slung the gun over its shoulder and plucked something from its belt. It darted closer to the van for a moment, dropped something, and soared away.

“Why did it do that?” said Mary. “It dropped…”

“A grenade!” Arran lunged forward and shoved the doors open, knocking the grenade from the back bumper and into the street. The blast slammed the doors shut and knocked Arran into Mary, throwing them both to the floor.

“Gods,” said Arran, pulling himself up. “Are you all right?”

Mary managed a nod, still clutching her pistol with both hands.

“Another one’s coming!” Lithon pointed at the windows. “It’s got a grenade.”

“Conmager!” Arran staggered to the back doors. “Do these windows open?”

Conmager slapped a switch on the dashboard, and the back windows popped partway open, rising to a forty-five degree angle. Arran dropped to one knee and slid his Kalashnikov's barrel out the window. Mary hurried to the other window and lifted her pistol.

“Wait,” said Arran. “Wait until it’s closer.” Mary nodded. 

The winged demon swooped towards them, a grenade clutched in its clawed hand. 

“Now!” Arran squeezed the trigger and sent a volley into the demon's chest. It howled, and Mary fired, her shoulders and arms jerking. Her third shot plunged into the demon’s head and jerked its head back. Arran shifted his aim, and his spray of bullets tore the demon's right wing to leathery shreds. It fell to the pavement with a thump. 

Mary whooped. "Yeah? How do you like that?" 

A black van ran over the twitching winged demon. 

Four black vans roared after them, drawing close. Gunfire flashed from their windows. The back door clanged. “Conmager! They’ve found us.”

“I see them,” said Allard.

“Then drive faster!” said Conmager. The van’s engine roared ever louder. 

“Jesus, I hope we don’t run out of gas,” said Allard. 

“Good thing we started with a full tank,” said Conmager.

Arran popped back up and fired, sniping at the pursuing black vans. Mary opened fire as well. 

Lithon crawled to Arran’s side. “Let me shoot!” he said, eyes blazing.

“No, your Majesty.” A bullet bounced off the doors a few inches below the windows. “If you die then this has all been for nothing.” Arran glanced at the roof. “But the skylight? Are you tall enough to see out the skylight?” Lithon nodded. “Then watch it for me, tell me if anything lands up there.” The boy hurried to the skylight. 

Their van shrieked around a corner. “Almost there!” whooped Allard. “Another few miles, we get out of the city, we'll hit a long straight length of road and outrun the bastards in a few minutes.” He shook a fist. “Suck our dust, bastards!” 

“God, he’s an idiot,” said Mary. The doors and roof shook from the constant barrage of gunfire. 

The roof thumped. 

“One of those winged things just landed!” said Lithon. 

Arran spun, leapt to his feet, and thrust his gun out the skylight. A winged demon growled at him, and Arran fired, his shots going wild. The gun clicked empty, and the winged demon dropped a grenade on the roof and soared away. 

“Grenade!” yelled Arran. He thrust out his arm and groped for it. It lay just out of reach. “Allard!” said Conmager. “Brakes!”

The van jolted, tires squealing. Arran slammed against the skylight and fell back into the van. The grenade flew over his head, bounced off the windshield, and clattered into the street. Allard spun the wheel and slammed the gas just as the grenade went off. The blast hammered at the armored van, and for an instant Arran feared that they would tip over. But the vehicle righted itself and shot forward into the night. 

Arran scrambled for his Kalashnikov and a fresh ammo clip. He reloaded the weapon and stared out the back windows. The black vans were only a few feet away. A constant stream of gunfire smashed against the doors, the windows shuddering. 

“Gods,” said Arran. “They’ll blast through the doors sooner or later if they keep this up. We need to go faster.”

“I’m trying!” said Allard, gripping the wheel. 

The ceiling shuddered. 

“There’s three of them up there!” shouted Lithon. 

A bullet blasted through the skylight and tore a piece off Allard’s seat. Allard shrieked, the van swerving across the lanes, tires squealing. Conmager cursed and grabbed the wheel.