G.H.O.S.T. Teams: Book 1 - Magic (20 page)

But even as the blade left my hand, I knew that it wouldn’t reach my target in time. He was too far away and his spell was a heartbeat away from being released. My only hope was that my knife would do enough damage to keep him from hurting anyone else. Just as the spell was leaving his hand, a shot rang out. The green lighting went wide, just missing my head, as the sorcerer’s chest exploded. The impact was enough to make my knife miss its mark, but I could tell from the look on the sorcerer’s face, it didn’t matter. He was dead. I turned towards the door to see Visine standing there, the literal smoking gun in his hand.

“Dude, I totally had him,” I yelled.

Visine gave me his best “sure you did” expression. He looked rough. His right arm was a mess and probably matched the hideousness of his right hand, hidden in the glove. I counted at least six bullet holes in his forearm, bicep and shoulder. Blood was dripping to the floor from the tips of his fingers. A wound across his right leg and another across his stomach looked like grazing shots. Judging from the way that he was leaning, I was guessing that he broke a rib or two. He had apparently decided to use his right arm as a bullet shield. I figured that I should say something to cheer him up.

“You look horrible,” I offered.

“I hate machine guns,” he grumbled.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. When we first met, I asked Visine why he didn’t carry huge machine guns. After all, with his strength, it would be no problem to carry mini guns ala Arnold. But Visine had a sort of sniper mentality. His response to me consisted of a lot of head shaking and dirty looks. But the gist of his theory had been that if you need more than one shot, there is something wrong with your aim.

I turned my attention back to Fangs who had managed to get to his feet. He was tenderly putting weight on his right leg and it was clear that I had done some damage. To give him some credit, I had actually kicked his knee several times during my flurry attack and the fact that his leg still held him up at all was impressive. He took several deep breaths and it was obvious that he was psyching up to continue the fight.

I shook my head, “Really? You’re gonna keep going?”

He started stepping towards me, tensing every time he put pressure on his injured knee. Visine raised his gun and took aim at Fangs. I held up my hand to wave him off.

“Why?” Visine questioned.

“I think we want this one alive for questioning,” I smiled, “And Fangs here is too stupid to surrender, aren’t you Fangs?” I asked.

Visine didn’t bother to respond to my comment, but he lowered his gun and started shuffling closer to me. Fangs ignored our banter and kept his gaze fixed on me. He was dragging his wounded leg forward, closing the distance in order to continue our fight. It was obvious from the cold look in his eyes that anger was clouding his better judgment.

“This is the only time I’ll offer Fangs, surrender now,” I said.

Fangs ignored me and continued moving in my direction. Visine wandered over and leaned against one of the stalls. He was obviously taking some of the weight off of his leg and although he looked relaxed I could tell that he was ready to react in an instant if things went bad. Watching Fangs move forward I realized that although I did do some serious damage to his knee, he was obviously moving slowly as part of a feint. As far as fight strategies go, overplaying an injury wasn’t a bad one. My strategy normally consisted of jokes and banter in order to make my opponents believe that I was letting my guard down. People always underestimate the guy who is never serious, but as Fangs was about to learn, my guard was far from down.

I waved him forward in mocking fashion, “Come on limpy, I haven’t got all day. We both know that you are faster than that.”

I saw the edges of his mouth turn up in a smile. His eyes started to turn the color of amber and his nails were quickly becoming claws. He smiled wide, bearing his sharp teeth with pride. I could have sworn that his jaw and nose were starting to protrude forward. But before I could be sure, he lunged at me with incredible speed.

Now I know what you are thinking. Why do I keep taunting him? It was a fair question. While anger can be a powerful ally, it can also be a terrible handicap. Blind rage often makes people more predictable. When you know your opponents only concern is tearing you limb from limb, it becomes easier to guess their next move.

Although he was moving fairly fast on his wounded leg, I knew he wouldn’t chance a kick. His right knee wouldn’t support him enough to let the left leg fly with any power. And judging from the funky-transformation that was taking place, I was betting that the clawed hands were his most likely weapons of choice. I watched his shoulders, waiting for the clue as to which hand would strike first. He stepped up close enough to strike, and I caught the slight movement in his right shoulder before he slashed his claws forward. I waited till the very last minute, making sure that he was fully committed to his strike before I moved.

I stepped just outside of his right hand, so close that one of his claws actually caught my cheek. Then, I kicked his wounded knee a moment before my elbow found his temple. I continued the momentum of my arm forward, hammering my fist into the side of his head. He was stunned and starting to stumble. Because I knew just how dangerous he was, I didn’t let up. I immediately struck the back of his neck with my left hand. This caused his head to lean back and gave me an easy opening to his throat. I struck him hard in the windpipe, forcing his head to dip forward as he started to gurgle for breath. I kicked his injured knee again and then as he bent forward, I drove my elbow into the back of his neck.

He fell to his knees, his body obviously dazed from my attacks. I stepped behind him and clapped his head, striking both of his ears with my open palms. Then I drove the bottom of my fist into the back of his head. As he started falling forward, I sent a kick into his temple with enough force to end our battle. Fangs hit the ground with a thud, completely unconscious. His eyes were closed, so I couldn’t tell you if they were still amber colored, but the claws on his hands retreated back into normal nails. Even his mouth, which had attempted to become more snout like, returned to its prefight form. I checked his pulse, confirmed that he was alive, and after making sure that he had no weapons, I bound his wrists and ankles with ties. Visine made his way over to me.

“Have fun?” Visine smirked.

I rubbed my left arm, which blocked most of his kicks, “Actually that hurt like hell. I’m sure I’ll be heavily bruised tomorrow. This guy was strong and fast and actually had some training. Judging from the claws and amber eyes, Fangboy here was a…” I started.

“Werewolf,” Visine finished.

“Thought so. Is the super strength and speed in human form pretty standard?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Wonderful. At least I get to check werewolf off of my list. You wanna keep an eye on him while I go check the stalls for prisoners?” I asked.

Visine nodded and I headed off. The first thing that I did was to secure the unconscious guard and drag him over to Visine, thereby making it easier for him to watch both prisoners. Then I started at the first stall and made my way down. There were a dozen of them along the wall, and although most were empty, half way down I found one that seemed recently vacated. There were large splatters of what I can only imagine was blood. There was a lot of it and it didn’t appear human.
 
I continued on down the row and found that the last stall, the one the guard seemed to be hovering over, was still occupied.

I was guessing, or at least hoping that it was Benny’s wife. She had a slightly lighter shade of gray skin, longer hair, and seemed about two feet shorter. Although to be honest, it was hard to be sure as she was laying on the ground. Her arms and legs were bound in thick copper colored chains and she looked to be sleeping peacefully. I bent down and shook her lightly, attempting to wake her. When she didn’t stir, I shook harder, still no reaction. She was too big to carry, so I grabbed the chains and used them to drag her over to Visine. Her weight was awkward and I didn’t look graceful as I pulled her across the floor. Visine smiled as he watched me struggle.

“You can help if you like,” I huffed.

“Sorry, my arm,” he smiled.

I grumbled a bit under my breath and continued to drag lady troll over to the center of the floor. We had maybe eight hours until nightfall and we still hadn’t found the head bad guy or the priest ladies. If Benny’s story was true, time was running short. We needed to get the prisoners locked up, figure out our next move, and get going.

“I assume you already called this in?” I asked Visine.

He nodded and kept an eye on Fangs. I looked over the copper manacles on the lady troll’s wrists and didn’t see anything resembling a keyhole. I yanked on the chains a few times testing their strength, confirming that I probably wasn’t going to be able to break them. Shaking the lady troll again proved just as useful as before, in other words, nothing happened. I looked back up at Visine and he met my eyes.

“Sound sleeper,” I sighed.

Visine looked down at the manacles, then over at the sorcerer before meeting my gaze again.

“Magic?” he asked.

“Maybe. But if it’s a sleeping beauty thing, I’m not kissing her,” I stated.

Visine didn’t laugh, but I caught the hints of a smile. I walked over and went thru the pockets of the dead sorcerer. Most of the contents were uninteresting, except for a large copper coin. It was the exact same color as the manacles and appeared to be made from the same kind of metal. I walked it back over to the troll and knelt down by her hands. I glanced up at Visine before I did anything.

“Ready?” I asked.

He nodded and had his gun, or hand cannon if you want a more accurate description, ready to go. I held the coin close to the manacles and there was a small shimmer. A little slit the same height as the coin appeared in the metal and was accompanied by a huge intake of breath from the troll. The cuffs didn’t release, but apparently whatever sleeping spell had been placed on the Troll was wearing off.

I pulled her up into a sitting position, leaning her against the half log that the sorcerer had been using as a chair. Then I stood back a little, having no idea what happens when you wake a sleeping troll. Her eyes started to flutter a bit before they finally opened. She looked a little groggy, but after blinking a few times her eyes finally focused on me. It was obvious that she was frightened and I did my best to keep a friendly smile on my face. She looked from me to Visine and then glanced around the room taking in the aftermath of the battle. Coming back to meet my gaze, she took a deep breath just before a deafening sound emanated from her.

Let me assure you that if you make it through life never hearing a female troll scream in terror, you are very lucky. The sound sent my ears ringing in pain. Needless to say, a creature that size has an amazing set of lungs. The ear piercing tone went on for almost thirty seconds before the exertion got the better of her and she fainted. My fingers were already in my ears, a vain attempt to block the sound, and I wiggled them in the hopes that it would stop the ringing. Visine was flexing his jaw in an attempt to do the same thing.

“That’s not quite how I imagined that going,” I said much louder than I realized.

Visine gave me a look and didn’t dignify my statement with a response.

I patted her face to bring her around, but this time when she woke up, I was holding my badge out so that she could see it. I hoped that a sign of authority would calm her down. She was obviously still scared, but since she didn’t start screaming, I figured we could count that as a win. After looking the room over again, eyeing the dead sorcerer and the bound werewolf and guard, she brought her attention back to me. Looking first at my badge and then meeting my eyes.

“GHOSTs?” she asked.

“That’s right, the good guys,” I said.

Although the badge says SIA, most of the supernatural community understands that it’s a front for the GHOSTs. We are the ones that they come to when they have a problem in the non-magical world. Lady Troll took a few deep breaths and eyed me cautiously. There was worry on her face as she asked her next question.

“Is everyone dead?” she asked.

Unlike Benny’s gruff voice and odd accent, she spoke in careful and concise English. Although I couldn’t quite place it, there was the slightest hint of something Scandinavian in her inflection. Since I still didn’t know if Benny’s story could be trusted, I decided to stay cryptic with any information that I gave out. As her breathing slowed down I figured it was safe to answer her question and start asking a few of my own.

“Those two are the only survivors,” I said, thumbing in the direction of Fangs and Uzi One, “Why, are you worried about someone in particular?”

I watched her bottom lip protrude as the fear and worry covered her face. If this was in fact Benny’s wife, then she had a decision to make. Being under the sleep spell meant that in all likelihood she had no idea if Benny was to be counted among the casualties. But if he wasn’t here and she asked about him, she might be implicating him in whatever evil scheme the bad guys were up too. One of the reasons that most people don’t like to talk to the cops is that no one wants to be put on their radar. I didn’t envy her the decision, but I couldn’t give her any more information until I had some clue that Benny’s story was legit.

“Care to tell me about your friend here?” I asked, a thumb at the prisoners.

She tensed up at that. I could see some of her worry being replaced by anger.

“These animals kidnapped me. And that one used these,” she said, pointing towards the sorcerer and rattling her chains, in that order, “to make me sleep. He slings powerful magic.”

I nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry to hear that. I want to assure you that we will find every single member of this group and they will be punished,” I said, letting my voice trail off.

The expression on her face shifted from anger back to worry. Although there was still a chance that we were being set up, I was starting to feel pretty confident that this was Benny’s wife. It was obvious that she was building up the courage to ask something, so I remained quiet and gave her a chance to get it out.