Armageddon Rules (12 page)

The murmuring nearly reached a roar, then one of the gnomes pounded on the counter bell until the crowd quieted. “Marissa. It really
is
you.” He looked at my blank stare for a moment, then added. “Petri? From the Kingdom Postal Service?” Then he dropped his pants and mooned me.

There, on his left cheek, was my signature. Exactly how my John Hancock got on the rear end of a postal gnome is a story I’d rather not go into. “Hi, Petri. I have to get going. Lots of important things to do.” I turned to face a solid wall of gnomes.

Petri tapped me on the shoulder using a back scratcher. “We’re honored that you chose to attend.” Then he turned to the crowd. “Tonight, we race for Marissa herself!”

The crowd surged forward, a wave of gnomes rushing toward the back of the building. Each stopped at the entrance turnstile to have their hand stamped in seven different places. Petri perched on the top of one of the entrance booths and waved. “Aren’t you coming?”

I waited for the crowd to thin, and approached. “Coming where?”

“The race! It’s Friday night, and thanks to you, we race every Friday night.” He began to hop up and down in anticipation. Gnomes were weird to start with. I mean, honestly, they ran the entire postal service, but this was beyond gnormal.

“You can’t blame this on me,” I said, hands on my hips. I gave him my very best “Boss” stare.

It was like kicking a poodle, only less fun. The little gnome’s purple hat sagged down on his head. “We don’t blame you, Marissa. You taught us the meaning of living!”

“How exactly did I do that?” I began to suspect Petri had spent the day licking stamps and now suffered from glue poisoning. It was about the only way his scenario made sense. “I ran over one of your cousins. You guys were furious.”

“Yes!” He pumped a walnut-sized fist. “We were. We were afraid. Then we realized, fear is what makes us know we are alive! So we work our day jobs and live for the weekend.” That actually sounded like everyone else.

I turned to leave. “Okay, well—”

Petri leaped from the counter and grabbed my hand. “Hooray! Come on, the races are starting soon.”

I raised my hand, leaving him dangling a few feet off the ground. “What exactly are you racing? Shopping carts? Golf carts? Go-karts?” About that time a roar like the voice of God shook the building. On instinct, I ran for the back exits where the other gnomes had gone, dragging Petri along with me.

I threw open the door, and my mouth flew open just as wide. Monster trucks stood lined up, revving their engines so loud the sound hit me like a punch to the chest.

“Monster trucks are more fun than go-karts.” Petri dropped to his feet and dusted himself off. “Come on. You can have the seat of honor.” I stumbled down steps about three inches wide to a booth that would have been perfect for sitting under if I were the size of a miniature Chihuahua.

Petri bowed, sweeping his hand. “This is where the race judges sit.”

I took a seat. Actually, I took three, because gnomes are somewhat thinner than people. Petri tapped on a microphone to gather the crowd’s attention. “Brothers and sisters. We gather to feel alive! And tonight, we honor the presence of Marissa, Bringer of Death!”

The crowd rose to its feet and saluted me with raised fists. And that is where things got strange. The drivers in their monster trucks began to gun the engines. A gnome stepped out into the roadway, a napkin in his hand, and waved it. In a cloud of exhaust and a roar of thunder, the trucks exploded from the starting line.

They tore down the street toward the end, rubbing fenders and slamming into each other like rockers in a mosh pit. They rounded the corner, still knocking bumpers together and losing that beautiful black paint job. “How many times do they go around?”

Petri watched them hit the far straightaway and smiled. “That depends on the road hazards.” As they came barreling around to our side, I watched in horror as a group of gnomes clad in white wandered aimlessly onto the track, arranging themselves like traffic cones. Petri pointed with his flag. “See? Hazards.”

Each gnome knelt in the raceway, curling into a ball.

“Get them off the track,” I shouted. There couldn’t possibly be time. The monster trucks made it back to the near corner and flames gushed from one’s wheel well. The leaders swerved, weaving among the track gnomes so close the monster tires seemed to almost kiss them. About then I noticed the loser. The front wheel had blown out, and it careened straight for the stands, leaving a trail of sparks and flames.

I threw myself behind the railing as the monster truck slammed into the wall and went sailing. It missed my head by a foot and buried itself in the wall behind the stands.

“You’re going to get someone killed!” I yelled.

“Several someones. It’s audience participation night.” Petri reached under his seat and brought out a box. “Normally these only come with a paid admission.”

Around me gnomes were opening their boxes and taking out small, evil-looking bits of metal, sticks that looked suspiciously like disposable wands, and what I’m certain were illegal bear traps. The three remaining trucks slowed as the drivers exchanged gunfire, then came flying around the track like smoking hell beasts.

I opened my box and took out what looked like a flute. A flute with a trigger.

“Awesome!” said Petri, giving me a grin. “Point and click.” Then he looked down, a little disappointed. “I never get a magic missile launcher.”

Around me, gnomes tossed wicked bits of metal onto the track, while others attempted to hex anything that moved. The drivers, in turn, ceased to race with one another, and came full on toward the stands.

I stood, aimed, and then swung the muzzle down.

“Shoot!” screamed Petri.

I squeezed the trigger and nearly had my arm ripped off as it threw out a trail of smoke, blowing a huge crater in the track. The trucks hit it and dropped nose first into the pit, yielding a heartwarming combination of breaking glass and crushed metal.

The crowd cheered, despite the fact that no one won the race. Then they poured out of the stands, wielding spiked clubs and razor whips.

I plopped down in my seat, taking deep breaths. “What are they doing?”

“Sudden death overtime,” said Petri.

And right about then, a fresh wave of screaming burst across the stadium.

Not the screaming of a gnome on fire (there were several of those). Or of a gnome hit by small arms fire (several more of those), or of a gnome smashed by a monster truck tire (unfortunately, only one of those). This was fear. And if the gnomes thought feeling fear was being alive, they were really, really alive. A green hand the size of a beer keg reached up out of the pit, digging into the track.

“Petri, what were you using to power the trucks? Tell me that’s not an ogre,” I said. “Oh, please.”

He bounced up and down at the railing. “I told you they were monster trucks.”

I dashed for the exit, cursing myself for leaving the pistol back at the office. Petri clung to my back, evading my attempts to elbow him, scrambling away each time I reached for him.

I swiped at him again, and missed. “Tell me you have control collars for them. Tell me that.”

“Yep. They’re in the box you delivered.” Petri leaped onto my shoulder. “Don’t you feel alive?”

I ran through the door into the building, hopped the ticket turnstile, and sprinted for the exit. “If I survive, I’m going to make you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt.” I swear he was smiling. I didn’t pay much attention, because right about then the back of the building blew out, and an ogre came tromping through the hole.

I threw the front door open and swiped Petri from my shoulder. Then I hit the ground and rolled into the gutter. Right behind me, the front door exploded outward, showering me with wood and steel. With one hand, I grabbed a piece of sheet metal and pulled it over us. As it took one thunderous step closer and then another, I held my breath and attempted to squeeze Petri into pulp.

The stench of the ogre smelled like overcooked broccoli combined with sewer and rotten fish. Then it slowly thudded away, stopping only to smash a wagon that got in its way. I sat up. My hands were bleeding where the cobblestones scraped them. I had splinters in my hair and holes in my pants.

Petri rolled on the ground, laughing, even though his face still looked blue. “Aren’t you going after that thing? It’s headed into Upper Kingdom.”

I briefly considered it. Then I remembered a promise I’d made. No opening tombs. No dragging ghouls to dental appointments. No ogres. “Let animal control handle him. I need a drink.”

Petri hopped onto the sidewalk and toddled back toward the smashed building. “Come on. We’ve got a full service bar and field hospital.”

I followed him to what was now an open-seating bar, where another gnome skipped along the bar, taking orders. “Burn ward’s full, but we have draft beer on the house tonight.”

“Something sweet. Red wine?” I slid onto a bar stool, thankful that at least it was normal size.

Petri whispered to the bartender, and he came back with a shot glass of something that looked like brake fluid and smelled about the same. I downed it without hesitation, and to my shock found it tasted just like cherry soda. “Fantastic. I’ll have another. You know, you guys are absolutely insane.”

Petri sat next to me, drinking from a thimble filled with black ichor. “I haven’t felt so alive since last weekend. You know, Marissa, you did us gnomes a huge favor. We learned the meaning of death, and we learned to appreciate life.”

I knocked back another shot, letting liquid calm burn its way through me. My hands no longer shook, and I could easily walk home, as soon as I figured out where I left my feet. “What’s in this stuff?”

Petri looked at it and shrugged. “Dwarven liquor. It’s like, ten thousand proof. Wait, I can’t remember. You don’t have a liver, do you?”

I poured a drop from the bottom of the glass and watched as it burned a hole into the bar top. For the record, I stood absolutely still as the world suddenly decided to spin around me like a top. Fortunately the earth was nearby, and it gave me a nice, hard hug upside the head when it rose up and hit me.

*   *   *

WHEN I WOKE up, my stomach and my bladder were competing to see which could make me evacuate it first. The building was empty. My purse was empty, and it looked like someone had drawn tattoos all over me with permanent marker. I took one of my bead necklaces off and tentatively took a bite. It tasted like ground-up aspirin, which made me want to puke, but my head throbbed and I could hear every noise in the street like it was being screamed in my ear, so I kept chewing.

I left the gnomes a present in their trophy cup, then found an empty bottle with a silver label and put in an emergency call. “Grimm, I could use a little help.”

He tried to flash into the bottle, but it wouldn’t hold his reflection. Then I heard him from behind me. One of the chairs had metal legs, and he was able to form a stable image there. “Marissa, what happened to you?”

He doesn’t actually
speak
. That is, you couldn’t record him on tape, and yet for some reason it still sounded like he was shouting. I put my hands over my ears. “Gnome races. Ogres. Dwarven liquor.”

Grimm sighed. “This simply won’t do. Do you have any idea what day it is? Liam’s flight touched down yesterday. Even with an eighteen-hour layover in Moscow and the drive into the mountains, he’s been on the ground for nearly a day. It’s time for him to begin guarding, and he’s refused to do it until he can talk to you.”

A pang of guilt and fear hit me. What if he had already taken the potion? What if I hadn’t gotten to talk to him, all because I went on some stupid errand into Middle Kingdom? “Put me through to him,” I said.

“No. We’ve got to get you cleaned up. He’s already a nervous wreck and seeing you like that would have him on a plane back in minutes. Can you see yourself?” Grimm faded out. Sure enough, marker tattoos covered most of my face.

“Would he really come home?” I can’t say that the thought filled me with horror.

“Without a moment’s notice, absolutely. And I assure you he would start a new war with the vampires by breaching our deal. Try to keep your tongue in check, my dear. I’m going to tell him you can’t get video reception.”

A moment later, a different presence entered the connection. One I knew. I could almost smell him through the link, and even in my hungover state I smiled. “Hey. How was your flight?”

“M, I’ve been worried sick about you,” said Liam. His voice almost quavered, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry or afraid.

“I’m sorry. I had a rough Friday, and I sort of passed out. I’m not feeling well.” I picked my words carefully. I didn’t want to lie. I also didn’t want to tell the truth.

When he spoke his voice was warm again, that kind, soft baritone that I hear in my dreams every night. “It’s time. These guys are really jumpy, and I’m going to take the potion and get to work. Two weeks, M. Be careful.
Je t’aime.
”

My voice choked up on me, and what came out was a squeak with a croak combined, but I meant “I love you too.” The connection broke, and he was gone. Changed. Probably huge, red, and scaly. I loved him like that too.

I dusted myself off and began the long walk back to the gates. Ari met me in Upper Kingdom, along with Mikey, and to my relief, my car. Mikey rolled down the window. “Ari said I could drive.”

“You did good, but there’s no need to shout.” I slipped into the front seat, shivered at the cold rush of magic as Ari began to chant under her breath. “What are you doing?”

Her cold fingertips brushed my temple, then an electric shock like a tingle ran through me. My eyes still refused to completely focus, but the splitting headache and the noise sensitivity were gone.

“There,” said Ari. “I can’t fix it all, but that should let you function.”

“Can you do anything about the marker?”

She handed me a package of wet wipes from her purse. “Sorry. Haven’t learned how to remove marker yet. In fact, healing in general is hard.”

I had an awful thought, and grabbed my bracelet. “Grimm, Ari did magic on me. Is she going to be okay?”