“There,” Kari said as she finished. A red glow spread around the completed
symbol drawn on the floor in the Apostle’s blood, then faded. “That should do it. We both need to stand on the symbol and concentrate as hard as we can on the Apostle when we jump to the next world. That should get us to her and Jonathan.”
“I guess this is goodbye then,” Keir said sadly, handing Kari’s bow to her. “I had hoped that you would be able to stay a little longer. Will you ever return so I can thank you properly for everything that you’ve done for me?”
“I’m afraid that once we leave this world we can never return to it,” Kari
explained. “But on the bright side, I don’t think the Apostle can either.”
“I see,” Keir sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, in that case, thank you both, for everything. I would be dead long ago without you. I’m sorry I couldn’t show much more hospitality in return for all you’ve done for me. Good luck for the rest of your days, and I hope you find your brother.”
Kari smiled warmly, pulling Keir into a friendly hug. Michael offered his hand for a shake instead.
“Take care,” he said, joining Kari on the bloody symbol. “Good luck rebuilding.”
“Goodbye Keir,” Kari said. “Who knows. We may meet again someday.
Anything is possible. Oh, and be careful with this blood. The blood of a Heretic is extremely deadly to humans.”
Pulling her crystal out from where it hung between her breasts, Kari clasped it in her hand. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the Apostle. She felt the symbol take hold and resonate with the power within the crystal. A bright flash of light pierced through her eyelids and suddenly her hair was being whipped by a fierce, foul smelling wind. The ring of blades against each other carried down from above.
Chapter 20: A Lawyer and a Talking Cat Walk into a Bar
Like many other well off and self-important men, Gabriel did a lot of jogging in the mornings just to be seen jogging. In high school, he’d taken state in cross-country running three years in a row, and continued on throughout college. He ran a mile or three every morning to start the day off. Before his untimely demise, he’d thought himself just about ready to try his hand in the next Chicago Marathon.
That meant the mere eight miles it was to the small town built in a minor
depression, while difficult, hadn't taken very long, nor had it worn him down too badly.
He could have made it in less than three hours, but Gabriel had staggered running and walking to conserve strength, expecting a far greater distance.
Though three hours was not exactly a huge amount of time, it was far more than enough for Devileye to have made it home, settled himself, and gotten around to his nefarious deeds with Sam. He’d probably made it back in less than an hour, leaving two hours to do god knows what to her. Gabriel could only pray that something had distracted the man.
Leaning over with his hands on his knees, Gabriel rested for a second to catch his breath. His throat was raw, and what saliva he could work into his mouth was thick and sticky. For the first time since setting foot on Ethos, he couldn’t feel the bone deep cold that was slowly, but surely killing the world. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, and he could smell his own body odor. He certainly wasn’t going to be winning any beauty contests, and if Sam were expecting a knight in shining armor, she’d have to settle for a lawyer in a sweaty cowboy outfit.
His father’s voice ranted about how jogging was a pussy’s sport, and how he
didn’t have the balls to rescue Sam, but he pushed it away with a growl.
The strange sensation of cat paws on his shoulders made him straighten abruptly.
Yowling in surprise at the sudden movement, Mister Mittens almost toppled from his perch. Gabriel didn’t know how Sam could stand the cat draping himself over her all the time. Any movement from the animal made the hair along his spine stand on end, like the spider sense he’d developed in high school to warn him of incoming spitballs and dangerous bullies in close proximity.
“I don’t think I have ever seen a human run so fast for so long,” Mister Mittens said, righting himself.
“I’m too vain to let myself get fat,” Gabriel replied. “How’s your leg?”
“I’ll live. I just hope you were fast enough.”
Looking up at the dark nighttime sky, Gabriel saw alien constellations, and felt a flash of homesickness that he quickly pushed down. Though it would be half day in an hour, for the moment it was dark as any night he had ever seen.
Scattered electric lights lit the town below, with the wavering light of fire from torches mixed in.
“A day’s walk,” Gabriel barked a laugh as he started toward the town. “Not with how long the days on this world are.”
“Are you still going on about that drivel,” Mister Mittens complained.
“Are you still a talking cat,” Gabriel asked. He was too tired to come up with a better comeback.
“What’s the plan, Gabriel?”
“Walk in and ask for Sam back.”
“Oh yes,” the cat said sarcastically, “great plan, that. And when it inevitably fails?”
“I can be very persuasive. Or I may just start shooting people until someone tells me where she is.”
“Are all humans complete morons?”
Glancing at the gemstone imbedded in his right hand, Gabriel wondered if it
needed to recharge or something before being used again. It had only been a few hours since its last use, and he’d never tested how long it was until he could use it again.
“Shut up, cat! Don’t you want her back? I don’t see any other way to do this. I’ll give them the chance to hand her over, but if they don’t . . .”
Ignoring the rest of the cat’s taunts, Gabriel strode onto the central street.
Flashbacks from the westerns his father had constantly watched when he was a kid came to him. He felt like Gary Cooper about to face the outlaw come back for revenge with his posse alone. Like every other town he’d seen in his time on Ethos, this one could have been the set of any number of old westerns. Though he could feel eyes on him, there was not a soul in sight.
Raucous laughter accompanied by horrible music played on a badly tuned piano
drifted from somewhere up ahead. Following the music, Gabriel found himself standing before what looked like an old west saloon. It even had the bat wing swinging doors.
The sign proclaimed the saloon to be “The Haven.”
Steeling himself, Gabriel took a deep breath and stepped through, pushing the
doors aside as he strode into the saloon. The music abruptly stopped and dead silence fell over everything as a room full of armed brutes stared at him.
Ignoring the stares, Gabriel walked across the wood floor, dodging piles of
sawdust that smelled like vomit. His boots made hollow thumps against the wood, and his spurs clicked and rang in the silence.
Approaching the bar, he leaned against it and eyed the enormously fat bartender, who was bald as an egg. His oily scalp shone in the light from a hundred or more candles arranged around the room in ornate candelabras and chandeliers that were really too expensive in appearance to have belonged in such a rundown place. Spitting a stream of tobacco juice onto the floor, the man examined Gabriel with hard, dark eyes. He had no outward mutations, unlike most of his patrons, but his bulk alone would keep him from fitting in anywhere that normal, respectable people gathered.
Gabriel looked at the bartender and the bartender looked at him. Breaking eye contact, Gabriel counted heads. Including the barkeep, there were seventeen. Despite the notable lack of firearms amongst the various weapons the patrons wore, the saloon was no stranger to them, as evidenced by the bullet holes peppering the walls.