Barbara hadn’t particularly cared for Larry or his crowd. But they’d died hard; the blood and pieces were splattered all over the white snow. What he’d done to Bob was bad enough and Larry was worse. Poor Eric… well, she was pretty sure it was Eric. The pieces looked about right.
“He’s toying with me,” she muttered, looking around. The snow had been trampled in the area so she had no idea which way he’d gone. With all the blood from the bodies, he should have been splashed. But there was no blood trail.
He’d been running her around in circles and she was tired enough to just stop. Which seemed to be the thing to do, stop and think.
He’d nearly, but not quite, killed Janea. Why leave her alive? Because Barb felt him attack her and got there before he could stop to kill her? Did he not realize Janea was alive? He’d clearly taken his time with these three.
He was drawing souls. She’d felt the power flows when he’d fought Janea and if he’d simply drawn her soul it would have been over in no time. So he wasn’t drawing souls so much as power. And Janea had had enough power that he couldn’t draw it all?
Close, she felt, but not quite.
But if he could simply absorb the power of the priestess, even with a goddess behind her, then simply blasting him with power would fall right into his hands. It would feed him. But shooting him seemed out as well.
“Wizards can be killed with a dagger in the back just as well as with magic.”
She wasn’t sure where she’d heard that, but it seemed like good advice.
And there was only one thing better than a dagger.
He felt full, suffused, and the power from the gems had barely been tapped.
It was time for the Great Rite. Time to kill all these worthless fen and take his rightful place.
He dared that bitch to stop him as he headed for the restaurant.
Chapter Eighteen
“It’s a long way to Tipperary,
It’s a long way to go.
It’s a long way to Tipperary
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly,
Farewell Leicester Square!
It’s a long long way to Tipperary,
But my heart’s right there.”
“I think the con’s better this way,” Sean said, pouring another glass of beer and looking around at the group in the restaurant. “Just party the whole weekend long!”
“That’s the ticket,” Duncan replied, frowning. “The only bad part’s the people dying.”
“Speaking of which, where’s Leo and Sadie?” Mandy asked.
“Sadie’s probably hiding in a room somewhere,” Sean replied, shrugging. “You know how she is with crowds.”
“Well, David finally decided to crash the party,” Norm said, waving at the entrance. The writer was unbuttoning his jacket as he entered the heated room. He had a slight smile on his face and his eyes…
“I think we’ve got problems,” Duncan said, rising to his feet.
“What’s the…” Sean replied and stopped, mute and staring as the power of the gems on David Krake’s vest blazed out in the room.
The closest people to the entrance were a group of gamers and Duncan watched as they toppled over. He’d seen a few dead people in his time and they were unmistakably dead. The rest of the restaurant had gone silent as everyone seemed held by some force. He seemed to be the only one unaffected.
“I see there’s another of you here,” Krake said, still smiling faintly. “I take it you’re one of those Special Circumstances types.”
“No, just… odd,” Duncan replied. Krake was all the way across the crowded room from him and he knew he’d never get a shot off. But there were other weapons. “I know you’re going to kill me, but can I at least ask ‘why?’ ”
“Never explain,” Krake said, reaching out a hand.
“Oh, come on,” Duncan snapped. “You know you want to tell somebody. And, since I’m going to die anyway…”
Krake appeared to consider that for a moment and then shrugged, looking for the first time slightly ashamed.
“Demons can give earthly power…” Krake said, then smiled thinly. “Even over book sales.”
“It’s that damned Robert Nile, isn’t it?” Duncan said, amazed. “You did all this just to… what? Get better sales? Corner the fantasy market?”
“I’ve been in this business for thirty years!” Krake shouted, his mouth practically frothing. “And the man writes tripe! What’s the justice in that? I’ve worked so hard. And he comes out of nowhere and sells a gazillion copies of complete crap! What’s wrong with my books? What’s wrong with people these days that they want unending series that never go anywhere? Nineteen pages on a harvest? Two hundred pages of every single step of every single character detailed? Are people insane?”
“So you’re going to kill all these people for better sales,” Duncan said, shaking his head. “I’d thought better of you, David.”
“Try being near the end of your career, you upstart bastard.” He reached out again and then paused, puzzled.
Duncan could feel… something. It was like a hand fumbling around in his chest. He stumbled forward, reaching for his knife, as the feeling grew.
“What are you?” Krake asked, puzzled.
“A warrior of God you son-of-a-bitch,” Duncan replied, drawing his knife and clicking it open. “Not some demon’s plaything. And I never liked your books! Saint Michael, Patron of Paratroopers protect us!”
Suddenly the knife flew out of his hands to clatter on the floor as Krake reached behind his back and drew out a pistol.
“Some warrior,” Krake said, smugly.
The last thing Duncan saw was the muzzle flash.
Krake finished scribing the runes on the floor and stepped back.
“Remolus, come to me,” he chanted. “Here is the power, here are the souls, be manifest upon this earth! R’gom h’bameen sul!”
He reached into Candice’s chest, ripping her living heart out and holding it up as the blood cascaded down his arm.
“The way is opened, the door is opened, the walls are breached, Remolus, come to me! R’gom R’mula! H’bamen sul!”
He could feel the stupid FBI bitch. She was nearby but too far away to stop the rite. She’d apparently never been taught how to cloak, and her power shown brightly. But not enough power; he was filled to the brim with the power of the souls he had stolen for Remolus.
“Remolus, come to me!” he shouted, just as the arrow entered his back.
He stumbled forward onto the runes, dropping to his knees and turning as another arrow thudded into him. Kay Goldberg, flanked by the FBI agent, was standing in the door of the restaurant. Kay was just fitting another arrow into a bow. She had a distant look on her face and he realized that he could barely feel her. But he reached out his hand and drew upon his power.
“This is for Benjamin,” the former Shin Bet agent said as she drove the third arrow into his face.