The Land Beyond All Dreams (6 page)

When I finished, Grover was silent for a moment. I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t, “I will heal your mother’s cancer.”

For a long moment, I couldn’t think or speak. I stared at the phone and managed, “What?”

“I said, I will heal your mother.” His voice was calm, half-distracted, as though he were filing his nails at the same time. “She’ll get to live for decades instead of weeks. And, I’m sorry to say, weeks are all she has. A month at the outside. So, this is my offer—I swear by those things my people swear binding oaths by, I will make her whole and hold your family harmless for one hundred years, if you but stay silent about the trials. Do we have an accord?”

My knuckles went white and the handset made a creaking noise. “That’s a bad subject to be making jokes about, asshole.”

“Oh, I agree completely, but it’s no joke.” He lowered his voice, speaking with slow, measured precision. “Your mother’s life and health, in exchange for your silence. Of course, that can also work the other way, but your mother has so little time left there’s no point in threatening to kill her. So, let’s just keep this a mutually beneficial arrangement. I’ll even make you wealthy beyond your dreams while we’re at it. Why don’t you think on it and call me back?” He hung up without waiting for a response.

I put the handset down and looked at Rose. “He offered to heal my mother.”

Rose pursed her lips. “Not good. Is there any way he could reasonably know about her?”

“No. I’ve never discussed her condition with him or anyone else I work with. It’s just…none of their business.” I stood up and started pacing. “Could he actually do it? Heal her, I mean.”

“We should assume he does, and that means a level of power unknown on this world. It also means he can do a lot of other things.” Rose looked around and added, “Right now the thing worrying me most is scrying. I never shielded the house because nobody from this world is capable of looking in on us. Let me take care of that before we do anything else.”

Rose pulled a crystal sphere out of her extra-dimensional storage space and set it on the table. “This will be painful, but permanent. My mother crafted the spell—all we have to do is pay the price. Grasp the globe, and do not let go. It will hurt, but don’t let go.”

“Ah. Testing how much pain I can take?”

Rose shook her head. “No. You have to want it, to assert your ownership. Just hang on to the crystal, no matter what. Focus on that.” She lifted the crystal up and turned it so the back of her hand was resting on the table.

I took hold of the top half of the crystal, and then released it and removed my belt. I doubled the belt over and bit down on it. I grabbed the crystal again and nodded to Rose. She licked her lips and began speaking in Draconic.

The stone’s surface shifted from smooth to spiky. Scores of needle-sharp spires lanced into my hand, thrusting through bone and erupting out the other side. My head snapped back, screams muffled by the belt clamped between my teeth.

The spikes piercing my hand pulsed and thickened. Bones cracked and split, tendons tore. I pounded my free hand on the desk, shaking my head back and forth. Blood streamed over the crystal, seeping into cracks and fissures to pool in the heart of the stone.

My gut clenched and I doubled over. My belt flew out of my mouth, but I didn’t have enough breath to scream. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rose, pressing her arm into the table with her free hand. Her head was down, shoulders hunched and shaking. Her whimpers escalated into an inhuman keening shriek.

The crystal vanished, but the pain didn’t. It just wasn’t as agonizing. I sat up, gasping, staring at the mass of meat and bone on the end of my right arm. Rose’s hand seemed to have had the skin and much of the muscle flayed off. I closed my eyes and sobbed.

That was when my hand started putting itself back together. If anything, it was even worse. I passed out while screaming.

When I woke up, I had dried blood crusting my eyes and running out of my ears. Rose was on the floor next to me, still unconscious. I rolled over, grasping her hand and pressing it to my chest. I sagged back against the floor and practiced breathing until Rose began moving.

I patted the back of her hand. “Are you all right?”

She smiled. “Yes. Listen.” She looked up at the ceiling, waving her finger in a slow circle.

I listened. At first I couldn’t hear anything, but soon I heard the quiet. All the noises from outside seemed muffled. I could feel a palpable aura of solidity around us. It felt the way I’ve always imagined it would feel to be inside Cheyenne Mountain when they close the vault door—one step short of entombed, but safer than anywhere else in the world.

I pulled Rose to me. “Please tell me we don’t ever have to renew that.”

“No. Bought and paid for.” She held her arm up, flexing her fingers. Satisfied, she muttered a brief incantation and the blood vanished from our bodies, clothes, and the carpet. “Blood creates ownership, just as with your sword. Now we’re protected from scrying, thieves, and wandering salesmen. Anyone who already knows where we live can find the house, but everyone else will just walk past it.”

“So what are the odds Grover is protected from scrying as well? If he’s from your world, would he know how to do the blocking spell?”

Rose shook her head. “I can do a simple scrying spell to test it, but I don’t think he’s from my world. Giving a Human a key to locate Earth is forbidden. Besides, a mage powerful enough to plane-travel wouldn’t have any healing powers. The Humans who can do that sort of healing would have no power once they got here. Different world, different deities. I think he’s something new.”

The phone rang. I took a deep breath and answered the phone. “This is David.”

“You surprised me, David.” Grover had the same, half-distracted tone to his voice. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since someone surprised me. It was… refreshing? Yes. Refreshing. However, since I have yet to meet anyone Earth-born possessing the magical talent of a stabbed rat, I have to assume you are not local. I’m therefore elevating my expectations of you, and you would do well to meet them. By the way, my name is Ingrim Thain. I took poor Grover’s name when I first came to this world. He didn’t need it anymore.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said. “My warning still stands. Once I release the information I have, and it will go out no matter what, the drug trial is over. Whatever you’re planning, the feds will shut it down. You might want to pack up whatever is precious to you and hop on back to the old home world while you still can.”

“I’m sorry, but that is not in the order of things.” He breathed out a long sigh. “You seem a fine chap. It’s a waste to destroy you. I wanted you to know that. Goodbye, David.”

I hung up the phone and looked at the clock. Twelve hours until our findings would be released to the authorities. I’d be feeling a lot better about all this if Thain hadn’t been enjoying himself so much. Like it or not, I had a lot to lose in this fight. I was going to have to change tactics.

Rose came back into the room with a plate-sized mirror made of obsidian. She sat on the floor and placed the mirror in front of her. “This is a very low-power spell, but if he has any protections at all, we’ll find out.”

“His real name is Ingrim Thain,” I said. “For some reason he wanted me to know that.”

She nodded and focused on the mirror. She didn’t move for a minute or so. Without looking up, she said, “I see him. He’s wearing a mask, something Egyptian. It looks like he’s outdoors. Trees. I see lights on water. Near a lake. Something else nearby. Swing set. Playground. He’s…” She shook her head and looked up at me. “He’s across the street.”

I walked to the front window and stared out into the night. Out in the street, there was movement between the glow of the streetlights.

Well, at least I’d been right about the flying ass monkeys.

Zombies in the Park

The figures moving down the street didn’t stumble or shamble, instead, they ran from shadow to shadow, staying out of well-lit areas. They settled into a skirmish line, advancing on the six centermost houses on the street. They looked like normal people, except for the feral attitude and the number of knives they were carrying. I counted almost two dozen—two or three at least for each building. Why weren’t they converging on us?

He doesn’t know which house is ours
. I ran into the kitchen and dialed 911. “Yeah, hi, there are about a dozen guys dressed as zombies out in the street in front of my house. I’d say it was a prank or some kind, but you never know. Exactly, better safe than sorry. Thank you.”

Rose growled at me. “I can go home, change, and be back with both my brothers in a handful of seconds. We can burn them to ashes before the police get here.”

“I know.” I pointed out the window. “But they’re still living people. You can’t just kill them. Besides, if you do, he’ll see you. He’s trying to flush us out. He wants information, so we answer with deception.”

“Oh, subtlety.” She snorted, leaving wisps of smoke trailing from her nostrils. “I guess you can try that. Let me know how it works.” She went into the living room and kicked back on the couch. Thirteen shook his head at her and walked past me toward the front window.

I smiled. “This way you get to stay a surprise and have a big, dramatic entrance when the time is right.”

Rose waved me away. “Let me know if there’s anything the cat can’t handle.”

Flashing red and blue lights flooded in through the front window. I joined Thirteen there, watching the cops assessing the situation. One was ordering the crowd to drop their weapons and the other was calling for back up. Neither saw the guy with the spear until he came up and stabbed the cop who was using the radio from behind. The cop dropped the handset and sagged against the door of his car. His partner turned and fired, putting three rounds in the center of the attacker’s chest. Then he grabbed the handset on his own shoulder, shouting into it as he covered the advancing crowd.

My sense of duty was yelling for me to grab my sword and join in the fray. I suppressed it, because this was only the first skirmish, and we needed information. Duty won out. I dove into the coat closet in the hallway and rooted around until I found the dust-covered two-hander I used to fight with back in my stick jock days. Armed with five feet of duct-taped rattan, I headed outside.

The stabbed cop was on the ground next to his car, with a crowd of knife-wielding maniacs surrounding him. I charged in. The Society forbids attacks from behind and blows to the knees, precisely because they’re so darn effective. One guy tried to swing at me, but my parry broke several of his fingers and sent the knife flying. Most of the others either backed up or broke and ran.

The last three were real trouble. The first had a blood-smeared machete and a police riot shield, while the second carried two hunga-munga knives and moved like a trained fighter. I fell back to draw them away from the downed officer.

Machete Guy attacked with a wild swing at my neck. I stepped back again and planted my feet. While he was off-balance and trying to recover, I swept up and under his shield, breaking his elbow. I dropped to one knee, catching the guy across the shins. Just like in football, one tibia equals two feet. He howled and dropped. He still tried to come at me, but he wasn’t making much progress.

Hunga-Munga had danced off to the side, watching the fight. Instead of closing, he backed up. His knives had three or four short blades sticking out of the handle at different angles, making them excellent throwing weapons. He tried to circle me, blades constantly moving, and completely missed Thirteen’s approach.

The cat erupted from under the police car, sinking his front claws into Hunga-Munga’s upper chest and raking his hind claws across the man’s crotch. Hunga-Munga dropped his knives and tried to grab the cat. Thirteen hissed and struck, ripping the man’s cheek open and leaving bloody furrows across a ruined eye. Hunga-Munga grabbed his face. Thirteen dropped to the ground and slashed the man’s right Achilles tendon. Game, set, and match to the cat.

Bachelor Number Three was a kid. Maybe fourteen, tops. He was holding the officer’s sidearm. His hands were bloody to the elbow and his mouth was ringed with gore. I charged before he could aim.

I swung up and chopped down on his wrist. The gun dropped. I let momentum carry me half around. I turned my head, looked over my shoulder to target the guy, and came around full-circle, catching him in the ribs. He tried to dive out of the way and put his skull into the police cruiser door. He dropped. I kicked the gun under the cruiser, grabbed the wounded cop under the shoulder, and dragged him to the sidewalk. His partner dropped the last of three attackers with the butt of his flashlight and called for more backup and EMTs.

I took a quick look at the downed cop’s injuries. He was in bad shape. Lots of cuts, some deep. Lots of bite marks and missing flesh. I got my shirt off and applied pressure to the worst spots until two more police cruisers pulled up. The attackers scattered, some with cops in pursuit.

I turned the wounded cop over to the EMTs as soon as they arrived, and collected a warm blanket in trade. Wrapped in the blanket, I stood where the OIC pointed and waited to give my statement. The marauders were all in custody, and a good sized crowd was gathering. I started to relax, until I saw the guy walking across the grass toward me.

He was bare-chested, wearing a white linen kilt, gold bracelets, a beaded gold necklace, and a full-head mask of Anubis. His skin was patchy and dry, his clothes decrepit and threadbare. Some bits of him were missing entirely. It had to be Thain.

He looked over the area, ending with the cluster of handcuffed attackers sitting on the ground. Some were still struggling against the cuffs and trying to lunge at anyone who came close to them, but most were sitting still and not moving at all.

Thain waved his hand, and all semblance of them being living human beings vanished. They were partially-decayed corpses—some more animate than others. Thain used his finger to write hieroglyphic symbols in lines of fire on the air in front of him. When he finished, the letters blazed for a moment before vanishing. All the handcuffed corpses fell to the ground and crumbled to powder.