Undead Chaos (10 page)

The horned creature became a blur, and a loud crack echoed within the room. I blinked in shock as the bartender collapsed to the ground. He groaned and blood seeped from his snout.

“Three against two,” the Dwarf said. “My kind of odds.”

Jones hiccupped as he stared off into space.

I eased backward just a little. “You know, there’s no need to get violent. If you want the gold, I don’t mind giving it to you.”

“Oh we want the gold,” the human said through rotted teeth. “But it’s no fun if we just take it.”

“Shocking,” I replied, wiping the moisture from my free palm.

The Dwarf made the first move. With a drunken roar he heaved the hammer over his head and brought it down on me. I sidestepped in time to avoid being crushed, but the maul caught the edge of the table. It shattered into a hundred splinters, flinging coffee and empty bottles in every direction.

Jones stared into the distance with vacant eyes.

I snapped the sword upward, swiping it through the flame from the candle. The heat touched my senses through the sword with an energy that crackled and popped. I was grabbing element with my Skill, nudging air into the hungry flame with a simple wind spell. The fire swallowed the oxygen, crying out in giddy appreciation as the steel of my blade exploded with orange light. I swiped it warningly in the direction of the Dwarf. He yelped with surprise and staggered backward.

“That be a Council spell,” he snarled. “I hates the Skilled Council.”

“You and me both, buddy.”

The Dwarf cocked his head, then scowled and swung the hammer again. I hopped backward and felt the iron maul brush against my stomach. The Dwarf stumbled, off balance, and fell to the floor.

His two friends attacked the second he went down. The human charged with a sloppy boost of speed from his Skill and an impressive Hollywood-style war cry. I flicked a blast of wind at him, knocking him off balance. He lumbered past me at full speed and crashed into the wall. He bounced off, then collapsed with a clatter.

The man-bat, however, came at me with surprising speed and precision. I raised my sword to deflect a taloned hand, but he stepped sideways and swept my feet out from under me. “Batman” stood over me and drove a fist downward. I grabbed his ankles and jerked, propelling myself under and behind him.

His fist slammed into the ground where my head had been with bone-jarring force, cracking the wooden planks around it.

I rolled around him and popped upright. Batman swung his snout back and forth. He emitted a click, then snapped his head around to face me.

“Sonar?” I asked. “Are you kidding me?”

I sensed movement behind me and dropped low as the human pounced. I gripped his right arm with my left hand, stood, and twisted. I used my assailant’s momentum to lift him off the ground and hurl him toward Batman. The beast clicked and spun out of the way, allowing his partner to sail past. The man landed several feet behind the creature, sliding along the floor and crashing into the far wall.

The Dwarf recovered once more and came at me along with Batman. They attacked as one, and I almost had my head caved in by the hammer. It nicked my shoulder, but didn’t break anything.

I wasn’t so lucky with Batman. His fist collided with the left side of my hip so hard I felt the vibrations throughout my entire body. I doubled over as Batman tore at me with razor-sharp claws. They cut my flesh and ripped my favorite Huey Lewis and the News T-shirt.

Thankfully I’d been able to maintain my grip on the sword. I rotated away from Batman and allowed gravity to pull me to the ground. As I fell, I whipped the blade upward. It connected with Batman’s forearm, severing meat and bone with barely a whisper.

The creature recoiled, screeching in agony. He staggered backward, gripping his stump with his good hand. Black blood poured through the talons and splattered onto the dirty floor.

I scrambled to my feet and sprinted toward Jones. Skidding past his chair, I shoved my sword into the sconce once again. This time, however, I grabbed the entirety of the flame. It leaped from the candle and shimmered down the blade, igniting the steel with yellow-orange flames. I whirled the flaming blade around and pointed it toward the trio.

Everyone froze. The Dwarf and human stared in shocked silence, looking from my flaming sword to their wounded companion. I threw my backpack on, grabbed Jones by the back of his collar, and lifted him out of the chair.

“We’re leaving,” I growled as he stumbled to his feet.

“We are still in danger,” Jones murmured.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I said, yanking Jones toward the door. I held the burning blade in front of us as we backed slowly toward the exit. The two humanoid attackers followed at a safe distance while their freakish comrade wailed in pain against the far wall.

We’d almost made it to the door when my foot bumped into something. I glanced down to find the Minotaur struggling to push himself upright.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. What happened?”

“You got owned.” I said, snapping my eyes from him to our attackers and back.

The bartender rose unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled sideways a pace before recovering his equilibrium. He pinched his nose, then wiped his bloody hand on his pants.

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” he said, wiping his palm on his trousers. He blinked several times, then surveyed the broken table, the severed hand on the floor, and the two wary combatants. The third had ceased wailing and stared daggers at us.

The bartender stared back. “We can take them.”

“Maybe, but we have the upper hand at the moment. I think it’s smarter to leave before we lose it.” I waved my blade at the limb on the floor. “Pun fully intended.”

The Minotaur eyed our attackers with caged fury. “You saved my life, so I’ll follow your lead on this one.”

We backed out through kitchen and into the main bar. The trio followed us. I bumped into the counter of the bar and turned.

On the other side of the counter were the rest of the inebriated patrons. Several were barely able to stand. All of them held a makeshift weapon.

“Garrowmere mentioned there might be a payday,” one of the filthy Skilled said, glancing at the Dwarf. “Guess he was right.”

I turned to the doorway we’d just come through.

“We’s gonna tear you to pieces,” the Dwarf named Garrowmere said. “And Vale here gets first dibs.”

Batman took a step forward, hissing menacingly.

I opened my mouth to tell Jones and the bartender to duck, but Jones was half a beat ahead of me. He grabbed the Minotaur around his wide midsection and pulled the beast down with surprising strength. As the pair fell behind the bar, I swung my sword overhead and drove the blade into the wooden countertop. It sank halfway and I shoved on the flames as hard as I could with my Skill.

There was a deafening boom as fire exploded in a circle around me. The blast blew tables, chairs and patrons with slow reactions across the room. Several ducked in time to avoid the flames, but the concussion knocked them off their feet.

The blast also destroyed the shelf of booze. Bottles shattered and the liquid contents ignited. Seconds later the shelving went up like a Roman candle.

The moment the shockwave subsided, I yanked the sword out of the counter and vaulted over the bar.

“Move!” I shouted as the wall behind us was engulfed in flames. The Oracle and Minotaur joined me as I drove into the pile of recovering attackers.

Clubs and knives came at us from all sides. A thin Troll with a long knife stabbed at me, but I stepped inside his reach and threw an elbow to his chin. His jaw broke with a snap and he dropped like a brick.

His buddy, a tall Ogre half-breed, was equally unlucky. As he pounced, the bartender lashed out and caught him in the chest with a boot. The massive green creature sailed across the room, crashed through a window, and landed in the dirty street outside.

“Look out!” the bartender yelled as a female Gnome—no more than knee high—slashed at me with a dagger. I avoided her blade, then brought the hilt of my sword down on her head. She let out a squeak and dropped unconscious.

“What the hell kind of place are you running here?” I yelled to the bartender over the roar of the growing fire.

“They were paying customers until now!” he snapped back. He stomped another attacker and we moved several more feet toward the door.

We were nearing the exit when something slammed into my back, throwing me to the ground.

Claws tore at me with insane rage as I rolled onto my backpack. Batman shrieked and slashed at me as black blood oozed from his damaged arm. Red lines appeared on my chest, and I clenched my jaw in pain. I stabbed at him, but his foot stamped on my wrist, pinning it to the floor.

He reeled back to strike when a bottle of whiskey smashed into his head. It shattered on impact, dousing him with liquor and knocking him forward enough to free my hand. I yanked it from under Batman’s foot as another bottle broke against him. He clicked and snapped his head around.

With his attention diverted, I drove the burning blade into his gut and encouraged the flames upward. There was no response, and I feared I’d finally run out of juice, but a moment later the flames lanced higher, igniting the splattered alcohol and engulfing Batman’s upper body. He screeched, spread his burning wings, and vaulted into the air. He rammed into one of the walls before flying through the exit and disappearing into the Underground.

I struggled to my feet, coughing as smoke filled my lungs. The bar was nearly consumed by fire and most of the attackers had already retreated into the alleyways. The few that remained lay motionless on the floor. Among them were the Gnome lady, the thin Troll, and Garrowmere the Dwarf. The last one had a large dent in his forehead.

“Help me get them out of here,” I called to the bartender.

“Why bother?” He heaved another bottle in the direction of the fleeing patrons, missing one by inches. The bottle shattered by the entrance.

Instead of answering, I shoved the Gnome under my arm and grabbed the Dwarf by the foot. I yanked, but he didn’t budge. Jones stood next to me, staring at the fire.

“Get her outside!” I said, handing him the Gnome. He took the body, but stared at me with vacant eyes.

“Jones,” I snapped but there was no response. I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

“Ow!”

“Take her and wait for me across the street.”

Jones blinked and looked down at the tiny lump in his arms. Then he stumbled toward the door.

I tugged on Garrowmere with all my might and successfully moved him an inch. The heat from the fire nipped at my skin and my heart raced with panic. I closed my eyes, searched inside for all the Skill I could muster, and pulled.

The load lifted and I fell backward. I opened my eyes and saw the bartender with the unconscious Troll draped over one arm. He held both of Garrowmere’s arms with his free hand.

“You going to get his feet or what?” he asked. I nodded, stood, then heaved the Dwarf’s leather boots to my waist. Together the bartender and I half carried, half dragged the wide humanoid out the door.

The cool air stung as we dragged Garrowmere across the road. Jones sat in the dirt with the Gnome in his arms, but his attention was focused on the burning building. We dropped the Dwarf unceremoniously in the muck near the Oracle. The Minotaur dumped the Troll into a large pile of rubbish next to Garrowmere and spat at the pair.

“Can’t believe we saved them,” he huffed.

There was a loud shriek and the roof of the bar exploded upward in a shower of bricks and shingles. A skeletal, griffon-like animal burst through the smoke. It gave an inhuman screech as it flapped its wings and pulled itself into the afternoon sky.

“What is that?” I asked as the thing arced into the air.

“Tonight’s dinner special,” the Minotaur replied. “The fire must have reached the kitchen and weakened the hinges of the storage room door.”

We watched as the creature grew smaller in the sky. Within moments, it was gone.

A small crowd started to gather to watch the destruction of The Golden Teacup, but the majority of passersby barely paused before moving on. Only in the Underground would people not care about a raging inferno.

One person cared, however.

“Aw man,” the bartender said as fire belched from the hole in the roof. “All my stuff’s in there.”

“You live there?” I asked in surprise.

“I
used
to,” he growled.

“Oh.”

His shoulders slumped. “So much for my Sinatra collection. Original LPs too.”

“You listen to Frank?”

“Who doesn’t?”

It was a valid question.

“Here,” I said, handing the Minotaur the sack of coins. “This may not cover everything, but it should help. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The Minotaur snorted, then examined the bag. His eyes roved over the small sack for a moment before he shoved it roughly into his tunic.

I held out my hand. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

He glared at me, then cautiously swallowed my hand with his.

“Steve.”

“Steve?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

He glared at me. “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, it’s just not what I expected.”

“I’m a wellspring of mysteries, jackass,” he grunted.

Behind us, Garrowmere began to stir.

“We should get out of here,” I said.

“And go where?” Steve asked, hotly. “In case you haven’t heard, the Underground isn’t big on hospitality.”

“How about we leave the Underground?”

He shook his head. “Maybe you can get by in the human world, but I can’t.”

“But the truce extends to paranormals as well.”

“That’s just a piece of paper, man.
You
may think that the Normal and Skilled communities are kosher with our existence, but you can’t erase thousands of years of fear and prejudice with a little ink.”

I hated to admit it, but he had a point.

“In that case,” I said, “I know a place nearby where we can bed down for a while.”

There was a horrific boom from the burning building as the roof collapsed. Seconds later the rest of The Golden Teacup shuddered and folded in on itself. Hot embers lifted into the sky and a wave of heat warmed our faces.