Mania and the Executioner (17 page)

We sweep through the dining room, finding nothing suspicious. As we enter the foyer, we b
ecome held up by a large grouping of people. Suddenly, I spot a hand reaching toward Natasha’s ass. I reach out, snatch it by the wrist, and turn towards the perpetrator. It’s a white guy, dressed in jeans and a black button-up, who is quite obviously high on cocaine. He’s maybe a year younger, two inches taller, and a bit slimmer than I.

“Touc
hing without having asked is impolite.” I scold him as his face warps into a particular scowl.

*Sigh* I am quite familiar with this face.

“Let’s take this outside so we don’t interrupt these people’s festivities.” I say.

“FINE BY ME!” he shouts, clearly interrupting the festivities of those around us.

I catch Natasha’s eye and nod to her, indicating that she should use my distraction to continue searching. She nods in return, thankfully understanding the situation. I follow the Polar Bear, as I am so cleverly calling him because of his larger stature and his fondness for coke-not-a-cola, out the front door. A gathering of roughly thirty people stand around to watch.

“I’M HERE, JUST TRYING TO HAVE A GOOD TIME, AND YOU ARE FUCKING MY SHIT UP!” The Polar Bear shouts.

“Is the good time that you are referring to before or after you tried to grab my girlfriend’s ass?” I ask calmly. I hear a girl giggle in response.

Polar Bear decides he is done talking and takes a s
wing at me. I dodge and back up while he presses forward and keeps punching at me. It’s apparent that he has been in a few fights, but it’s similar to if Pacquiao fought a child; it just feels like he is moving so slowly. I decide to give these people a show as I duck under one of his punches and pop him in the solar plexus before backing off.

My jab
knocks the wind out of him, but it seems to only make him angrier. He punches at my face; I allow it to get close before sweeping it aside with my right hand, causing it to swish past my ear. I follow up with a quick pop to his jaw with my left hand. He looks a bit dazed, and then he gets this particular smile; the same smile that Dwight had just before his buddy put me in an armlock. I quickly spin as I hear several gasps, and see that Polar Bear’s friend has a knife in his right hand, aimed at my stomach.

I have this negative experience connoted
with knives and my stomach, so all bets are off for Polar Bear’s friend. I dodge to the left as I grab his right hand with my right, and deliver a quick punch to his elbow while prying the knife from his hand.

Pola
r Bear hasn’t moved as he watches in shock at his friend, who is on his knees screaming while his arm wobbles around like a noodle. The friend’s screams make me feel tingly.

(Finish him. Slam the knife through the top of his head and break the blade off in his skull)

It takes a bit of will to resist that. “No, he’s human and I can’t afford to lose my cool right now.”

“Really?
Bringing a knife while you ambush me in a one-on-one fight?” I say as I smack his friend on the forehead with the handle of his knife.

“No! Bad Boy! No!” I scold, like I just caught him piddling on the carpet,
wagging the knife at him for effect.

I walk towards Polar Bear, who looks like he
’s about to take a swing at me.

“Are you fucking kidding me dude? I just mopped the floor with your friend and he had the element of surprise
, not to mention a knife. So you should just take your friend to the emergency room because his screaming is giving everyone a headache. Oh, and give this back to him; I don’t need it.” I say as hand him the knife and walk past him, towards the car. I get quite the round of cheers from the crowd as I walk down the road and get into my car. I watch in the rearview as the president of the fraternity comes out while Polar Bear and his friend shuffle off down the road. I listen in as the president says what I was expecting:

“Don’t let the other guy, the one with the grey jacket, back into the pa
rty.” The guy checking ID nods.

(Swap jumpers and make another move)

“Ah, From the Ritz to the Rubble by Arctic Monkeys. Nice choice.”

I take my jacket off and get out of my car as I watch the president walk back to the party. I walk up to the door and show the guy my ID’s. He clears me through
, but stops me as I pass by him.

“I know that you’re the guy from before. I just want to let you know that I saw the whole thing and I think that you were completely in the right. Where is that girlfriend of yours though?” he whispers.

“Thanks. She had to use the bathroom really bad; that’s where we were headed when that guy tried to grab her ass. I told her to go on ahead, thinking that I might be a little while and she will probably have to wait in line.” I whisper back.

“I see; just head down the hallway on the right and take a right at the ki
tchen.” He says while pointing.

I thank
the door guy and head for the hallway. I pause halfway down the hallway when I see a set of closed double doors, which are possibly suspicious because none of the other doors are closed; even the bedroom doors upstairs appeared to be open from the ground floor. I check to make sure that none of the fraternity members are watching before I slip inside.

The closed o
ff room turns out to be a study with four full bookcases on each side wall, with a fireplace on the back wall. There are two leather lounge chairs by the fire, which include an accompanying ottoman, side table, and lamp. Nothing looks really suspicious. Natasha said that they have been attempting summons…isn’t that something you would need instruction on?

(Yes, it is)

I begin searching the shelves, but nothing really stands out; the title selection is fairly reminiscent of Uncle Eric’s office…no, that is completely coincidental. Then again, this is the only room in the right wing and the doors are in the middle of the hallway, but this room doesn’t seem to span the distance to the front of the house. Well, I suppose I can check.

I walk over to t
he right wall of bookcases and start searching the underneath the bottom shelves. At the cross section between cases two and three, I feel a lever. After pulling that lever, I hear a familiar click. I grab the edge of the case and pull, revealing a winding stone staircase leading down.

Jinkies! When did my life turn into a series of Scooby Doo mysteries? I consider going to find Natasha first, but since my life is
apparently being governed by the laws of Scooby Doo, we would have to split up at the bottom of the staircase anyway! Jason would show up, wearing a white and blue shirt with an orange ascot, and say “Let’s split up gang! I’ll go with the hot one and try to hook up with her in the kitchen while you can take the dog and the homely smart chick, CT!”

So I decide to trek this staircase solo, making sure to shut the bookcase behind me. I get about halfway down before I trip and tumble down the rest of the stairs. Why doesn’t anybody ever spring for lighting on these damn things!?

It’s pretty damn dark down here; the only source of light is a candle on the table to my right. I can barely make out a round, barred cage in the center of the room. As I get closer, I start to see a huddled form with a blanket wrapped around it. I step up to the edge of the cage and the figure starts shaking. I slowly reach my hand in and grab the blanket as the figure flinches. I lift up the blanket a little bit and I see the face of a small frightened girl, possibly of Middle Eastern descent, but it is difficult to tell with the low lighting…hell, this might not even be a girl at all…

(
Surprise!…of the Shanghai variety)

“No I was more thinking along the lines of when they turn the lights on at ‘last call’ and you discover you’ve been talking to a pool cue for the past forty minutes.”

“Don’t be afraid, I’m here to help. I’ll have you out of this cage in a second.” I say softly.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU
DOING DOWN HERE!?” I turn and see two of the fraternity’s members standing by the candle; I recognize both of them from the pictures of the last group of pledges.

“Man, thank god you guys came! I am suuuuuper lost. I somehow found myself in here and I noticed the cages. I knew this fraternity was awesome
, but I didn’t think you guys were this awesome! Can I rush next semester?” I ask as I slowly reach for my switchblade…which is in my jacket pocket. Damnit! I really wish I would have kept that guy’s knife now.

“Suuuure you can rush next semester! First, we really need to show you something, but all the lights have to be out to do it.” One member says as he leans toward the candle. Just before he blows it out, I notice both of the members pull out foot long curved d
aggers from behind their backs.

My ‘combat vision’ kicks on as the candle goes out. I now realize why there is never any lighting in the secret staircases: gods don’t need light to see. The gold of their bodies is illuminated in my vision as they speed towards me. These gods must be on a lower tier, because I’m faster than t
hem. Playing ignorant as their blades slash towards my neck, I duck under their blades and stick my right wrist into the air, allowing one of the daggers to slice some skin off. I quickly start the draw for my Mu-cutter. They’re smart enough to start coming in at different elevations, so I run around the rather large secret basement.

The Mu-cutter connects as the two gods
come at me from the front and back, so I wait until the god that is rushing in from behind gets closer. I duck down and spin backwards and to the left, horizontally bisecting the god as I spin around him. I use his hunched over form as a springboard to launch myself up in the air for a vertical slash on the second god. The other god is able to recover from the shock of seeing his comrade cut in half quickly enough to get his dagger up in a defensive position. The Mu-cutter just slices through the god’s dagger, into his head, and through his body as if they were made of warm butter.

The horizontally bisecte
d god is screaming his head off, sounding like a beautiful melody, but I don’t have time to get lost in it; I walk over and vertically bisect the upper half to cut off the screaming. I have to keep my priorities straight, my priorities being: free the girl, find Natasha, and get the hell out of here. Worst case scenario, the entire last pledge class is comprised of gods and there are nine more.

“LOOK OUT!” I hear shout
ed in a high-pitched, singsong fashion that is far from mocking.

I look over and see
a petite girl in the cage, standing naked, and pointing behind me. However, I’m a little distracted by the pearlescent center of her aura; oh, and the wings on her back…it might solely be the wings that I’m distracted by. This girl is either an angel or a fairy. A Middle Eastern angel fairy? No wait, she’s a Peri: a Persian fairy. Sara told me that when Islam came around, people believed them to be fallen angels because of their white, feathered wings. However, before Islam they were regarded as figures of light. They were often captured and put in iron cages by the…Daeva. Fuck me; I’m fighting Persian reject-gods that are supposedly the personifications of every imaginable evil…And I’m guessing that roughly half a dozen are behind me, right?

I turn around and see that it isn’t half a dozen; it’s three quarters of a dozen Daeva and the fraternity’s
golden-aura‘d president. Oh and look! It’s the president of the fraternity and two others thrusting scimitars into my chest! And lookie there! They’re leaving the blades in.

‘Well fuck!’
I think as a blade pierces my heart and I crumple to the floor.

“Sorry Cheza…it looks like we aren’t going to be having that ‘little chat’ after all, hehe.” I say aloud
and cough up some blood as my body starts to go numb.

My vision blackens as I fade away.

(You are not allowed to die just yet Cole)

“Airi?”
I ask as the voice overlaps and lowers in pitch.

(You are still a necessary piece)

The voice lowers and overlaps again. Now it sounds as if a dozen differently pitched voices are speaking in unison.

(Since the Daeva are our responsibility, in a manner of speaking, we will help you just this once)

I feel my hand reach up to the back of my neck before my fingernails scratch the skin open. Suddenly this silver liquid envelopes my head and then solidifies. There is a red slit in this…thing…that allows me to see the entire room as clear as day. I stand to my feet and cup some of the blood that is flowing from my chest with each hand. I start laughing using the creepy ‘overlapping people’ voice as I hold my two handfuls of blood out at shoulder level before clapping both of my hands together.

As I pull
my hands apart, two, clear, Talwar scimitars form in each hand. The Talwar is a curved, single-edge blade of Indian origin that is easily identified by the unique disc hilt.

‘
I am not a fan of single-edge blades.’ As I think that, the blades each morph into clear, straight, three inch wide, double-edge blades. The hilt is the same as it is on my new Sic dagger at home, but the diamond on the cross guard is complete without a sheath. The five sides of the diamonds unfold outward in three layers.