Vampire a Go-Go

FIFTY-THREE

“I realize I’m a little late to the party,” Fay said. “And what I’m about to say isn’t very original, but I’m afraid the philosopher’s stone is coming with me. I’d say something too about standing aside or getting hurt, but the fact is, I have absolutely no problem hurting every single person here.”

Zabel said, “I don’t know who you are, dickhead, but you just bit off a mouthful of trouble.”

“But I know who you are, Mr. Zabel,” Fay said. “You are a sad, second-rate magician with delusions of grandeur. What do you think you would possibly do with the stone? You’d only hurt yourself. You make a good living as a hired spell-peddler. Stick with what you know.”

Allen watched, held his breath.

“Okay, you know who I am,” Zabel said. “Now tell me your name. I want to be able to tell everyone who I killed.”

“My name is Jackson Fay.”

“Uh…” Zabel slowly turned pale. “Yes. I’ve heard of you.”

“Nothing unflattering, I hope.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zabel said. “I’ll pit my skills against yours any day. Still, maybe we can talk this out, eh?” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his fingertips. “So tell me. What do you think of this?”

He flicked his fingers at Fay, the sweat droplets flying through the air. Harsh syllables spilled from Zabel’s mouth, and the droplets elongated and hardened, became flashing silver blades, slicing through the air toward Fay’s face.

Fay spat words in return, blew a puff of air when the blades were six inches from his face. The blades jerked to a halt, transformed into silver butterflies, which flapped harmlessly away.

Fay laughed. “Not even close.”

But Zabel was already running toward one of the torches on the wall. He tossed a pinch of dust into the torch flame, followed by elaborate, arcane hand gestures. The flame shot up into an arc and poured itself onto the floor between himself and Fay. The fire formed itself into a flaming bull.

Allen belly-crawled to Father Paul, put two fingers on his throat. A weak pulse. He glanced up, saw Amy trying to get to Penny. Maybe they could all sneak out of here while the wizards dueled.

The flame bull snorted, charged Fay.

Fay cast a spell at the stream that ran to the waterwheel. A giant hand emerged from the stream on a long column of water, reared up like a snake. The palm was ten feet wide. Fay made a swatting gesture, and the hand came down hard and flat on the flame bull.

The water hand exploded on contact, obliterating the bull in a hiss of steam. A ton of warm water surged across the cavern floor, knocked into Allen and Father Paul.

The priest opened his eyes, coughed. “Allen.”

“It’s me. Hold on. We’ll figure out something.”

Father Paul’s chest rose and fell with a wheeze. “Everything’s all wrecked inside me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Allen couldn’t think of anything comforting to say.

“Take this. Maybe it’ll come in handy.” The priest slipped something cold and heavy into Allen’s hand. “You’ll only have a few… a few seconds…” His eyes rolled up.

And Father Paul was no more.

“Thank you, Mr. Zabel,” Fay said. “You’ve been amusing. I liked the bull. I’d have formed it into a minotaur. That would have added a little flare, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you.”

Fay frowned. “Time to end it.”

Fay gestured with both hands at the waterwheel, spoke the words. The waterwheel shook, broke loose from its base, and lifted into the air. It started to spin, faster and faster, then flew straight at Zabel.

Zabel threw up his hands, screamed the words to the counter-spell. The waterwheel halted a foot from his face. He pushed back, sent the waterwheel flying at Fay.

“No, you don’t!” Fay grunted as he willed the waterwheel back toward Zabel.

Allen watched the two wizards struggle, the waterwheel hovering a dozen feet in the air between them. Now was the time.

He dashed toward Amy and Penny, his footfalls splashing water. He was relieved to find Penny still breathing.

“She’s unconscious,” Amy said. “Can you lift her?”

Allen lifted her, put her over his shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“What about the stone?” Amy asked.

“Forget it. I don’t want to be under that waterwheel when it comes down.”

They ran back toward the dam. Two seconds later a cataclysmic crash echoed though the cave, wood splintering, stone crumbling.

“Keep going,” Allen shouted.

They climbed the stairs up the side of the dam. When they reached the top, they paused to look back.

“Oh, hell,” Allen said.

Jackson Fay hovered ten feet in the air, green light glowing around him. He flew toward them, arms outstretched, a maniacal expression twisting his face.

“We’ve got to hurry.”

“No,” Amy said. “He’ll come after us. He’ll follow us and kill us. We’ve got to end this now.”

Fay floated closer.

Allen said, “Unless you’ve got a Sherman tank in your pocket, I suggest we haul ass out of here right now.”

Amy leaned in close, whispered in his ear, “You know how you don’t think I have any magical powers?”

Allen nodded.

Amy grinned. “Well, you’re right.”

She jogged out toward the dam.

“What? Come back! You’ll get killed.”

Amy picked her way along the top of the dam until she stood in the very center. She faced Fay and waited. He floated to within twenty feet of her, then stopped and hovered there.

“You defeated Zabel,” Amy said.

“Yes,” Fay said. “I must admit he was somewhat more formidable than I had anticipated. Good thing I disposed of him. He might have actually been able to do something with the stone if he’d obtained it.”

“I talked to Margaret,” Amy told him. “You’re a traitorous bastard.”

“Margaret?” Genuine surprise in his voice. “Well, the old bat had one last trick up her sleeve. Interesting.”

“You got past Zabel,” Amy said. “But you won’t get past me.”

“I’m sorry, but are you high or something?”

“I’ve been studying my craft. I’m more powerful than you think. Much more powerful than Zabel.”

Fay held his belly and laughed hard. He wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, yeah. You’re one mighty sorceress. Just like your friend Clover. You should have seen the surprised look on her face when I killed her.”

Amy went red, fury boiling within her.

“Tell you what,” Fay said. “I’ll just float here. You go first. Seriously. You cast your mightiest spell.” He laughed again. “I mean it. Let’s see what you got.”

“Okay.” Amy raised her hands, formed an arcane gesture. “You asked for it.”

“Let’s go,” Fay urged. “Cast away.”

“Right.” She reached behind her under her shirt and came out with the.50-caliber Desert Eagle. “Suck on this, motherfucker.”

She squeezed the trigger, and the pistol bucked and thundered. Blood and flesh erupted from Fay’s shoulder. He spun in midair, screamed.

Fay tried to right himself, twirling slowly in midair like some lazy weather vane. He reached out with one hand and flayed Amy with a weak blast of blue lightning.

Amy contorted, spasms of shock spreading to every inch of her body. She threw her head back, eyes shut tight. The electricity dissipated, and Amy went to her knees with a splash, barely catching herself before falling back into the pool of icy water.

Fay had stabilized, floated toward Amy with both hands outstretched, hellfire in his eyes. “Bitch! That’s cheating.”

Amy lifted the heavy pistol, closed one eye, sighted along the barrel.

She fired twice more, flame flashing from the gun. The slugs smacked into Fay’s side, exploded out his back. His mouth fell open in a noiseless gasp; eyes wide with disbelief. He crumbled and plummeted, trailing blood in the air. He landed with a splash and a crunch.

Amy turned and ran from the dam to join Allen on the narrow path that led back up to St. Vitus Cathedral. She stumbled, fell forward.

Allen barely caught her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, panting. “Just a little woozy. Let’s get out of here.”

“One more thing,” Allen said. “Can you take her? Are you strong enough?”

Amy grabbed Penny under each armpit, dragged her up the path. “Hurry.”

Allen went to the edge of the dam, peered over. Fay lay at the bottom, still moving. The wizard looked up and saw Allen. “You… little shits. I’m going to h-heal. Going to heal up and then I’ll d-drink wine out of your f-fucking skulls.” He coughed, flecks of blood covering his bottom lip.

“I don’t think so,” Allen said.

He pulled the grenade Father Paul had given him from his pocket, jammed it into a niche between two stones. He pulled the pin and ran.

He just made it to the passage back to the daylight when he heard the explosion behind him.