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Chapter Seventeen

It's done," the woman said, running up with the bag in her hand. "But you have to stop this! Nothing is worth what you've been doing."

"Thank you," the man replied, smiling at her. "And I am going to stop. Very soon. And you won't have to worry about it anymore."

"Good," she said, shaking her head. "I love you, you know."

"I know," the man said, sadly. "That's why I'm going to let you keep your soul."

She barely caught the flash of metal as the knife punched up through her diaphragm and into her heart.

"Remolus said that you must go," the man said, his face blank. "But he didn't say that I had to take your soul. This one last thing I do for you, my love."

He waited until the light had died in her eyes and then lowered her to the hotel room floor.

"Now to go kill that witch of the old gods," the man said, reaching into the bag.

* * *

"Damnit, this is serious," Janea said, shaking her head. "Put on some damned clothes and get down to the restaurant!"

"Oh, come on," the man said, waving a whip. "You probably know how to use one of these! Join the fun. We're keeping warm the best way, through healthy exercise."

Most of the adjoining doors in the area had been opened and the rooms were more or less filled with mostly naked people engaged in . . . healthy exercise. Janea felt it was almost a sin not to join in, but there was a time for love and a time for battle. It did look like fun, though; a few of the men were pretty good looking and a couple of the women were just spectacular. And she had to admit that if they were all dedicated to the goddess, they would be raising some serious energies. She could feel them around her, through her link, and even tap into them to an extent.

"People, listen up," she said, summoning a bit of energy and making herself . . . extremely attractive with a touch of dominance. Even the doms in the room were forced to pay attention to her. "There is a serious problem, here. Not just the heat. I'm a consultant with the FBI. We've tracked a killer to this con. He's already killed seven women and now he's killed a person at the con. The real reason that we're gathering everyone in the restaurant is for your own protection. Now, I need you to gather up all your warm weather clothing and get the hell out of here!" The last was delivered in not only her firmest voice but with a hint of the goddess behind her. It promised no nookie for life if they didn't obey.

"Well, jeeze!" the gay guy who'd been carrying the timber said, struggling in his chains. "Get these things off of me!"

Janea shook her head and stepped out into the hall, stopping at the sight of the approaching man.

"Are you still looking for . . ." she said then stopped as the man's eyes began to glow.

* * *

Barb felt the power like a bucket of vomit dropped on her head. But her channel opened up, filling her with power as she began to run.

"Janea!" she yelled, keying the mike. "Janea!"

* * *

"The Light and Holiness of Freya fills me!" Janea boomed, her arms and legs spread wide. She could feel her channel filling with power but she blanched when the power of the necromancer hit her.

"Your goddess is weak," the man rasped in a voice like wasps. His coat was drawn back to reveal a vest covered in moonstones that glowed red with power. "Remolus calls to you, come to him and your soul will be spared!"

"Death in battle is my highest calling," Janea said, reaching behind her to draw her piece. "And even necromancers die from a bullet."

But when she pulled the trigger, the hammer fell with a click. She knew it was loaded, she jacked it back in frustration anyway and fired again. Another click.

"Do you think that my lord cannot overcome earthly weapons?" the necromancer said with a laugh. He made a gesture and the weapon was ripped from her hands. "For that, however, I will take your soul."

The man reached out one hand and the stones blazed as Janea felt a terrible drawing on her. She could feel the channel filling the void but it was as if all the power was plunging into a black hole.

"Remolus is the Soul Devourer!" the man rasped. "Your power simply feeds the blackness, priestess of a weak goddess! Every bit of power you draw, simply weakens your goddess to no avail!"

Janea could feel herself getting weaker, but she also heard the members of the Black Rose piling out of the doors with screams and gasps as they saw the backlash from the magical battle in the hallway. She fell to her knees and shook her head, crawling towards the necromancer, trying to do battle to the last.

"If I die to spare one soul, then I die well," she said, panting as the blackness filled her. "My soul will rest forever in the Shin—"

* * *

Barbara burst onto the third floor and stopped, panting, then dropped to her knees.

There were two male bodies sprawled in the hallway. She didn't even have to walk up to them to know they were dead. There was the same feel in the air as when she'd found Timson. Janea was on her face further down the corridor. Barb ran to her and rolled her over, hoping against hope that she was alive.

She felt at her throat and there was a faint pulse, but Janea was barely alive. Barb opened up her channel and reached to the woman, trying to feel what was going on with her.

There had always been a feeling of great . . . wonder to Janea. A brightness that was difficult to shadow. Now there was virtually nothing, as if her soul had been almost entirely stripped. Almost, however, was different than completely. And Barbara could feel a trickle of power coming from somewhere. She suddenly realized that Janea's goddess was keeping her alive. By feeding her soul energies.

"Lord," Barb said, holding her hands over the still body on the floor. "I know that this is not a woman who would be considered of the highest by most of your worshippers. But Your Son said 'Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.' And she is a fellow warrior of Light. Please, Lord, give me the power to help her. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, so You may have to guide my hand as well. Blessed be Your name, amen."

She placed her hands on Janea's stomach and reached for her channel, willing power into the woman's body.

She could feel the power flow through her, not as much as when she had faced Almadu, but power nonetheless. Janea gasped and arched as if she'd been hit by a jolt of electricity and her eyes flew open as she fell back, limp.

"I saw the Shining Lands," the woman whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"Janea, who did this?" Barbara asked.

"They were so . . . beautiful," Janea replied and then her eyes closed.

Her pulse was strong but the dancer was out of it. Even a few slaps couldn't wake her. Unconscious, maybe a coma, maybe sleep. But alive, by all that was blessed.

Barbara looked at Janea and shook her head. After a moment she dragged her through the nearest open door. There were various . . . accoutrements set up in the room and a large St. Andrew's cross by one wall. She finally realized why Janea had been reticent about explaining its purpose when she saw the shackles attached to it. But it gave her an idea.

The door closed with a thump as she left. Let him get in through that. On the other hand, it was going to be a job for anyone to get in.

* * *

"What's going on?" Sadie asked as Baron came around the building.

"A b-bunch of n-naked people j-just ran into the l-lobby screaming about s-somebody fighting on th-the third floor," Baron said.

"I wonder what that was all about?" Leo said, looking through the door. "Somebody might need help . . ."

"Ah, there you are," the man said, coming around the corner behind Baron. "I was hoping someone would be out here."

"There was someone fighting on the third floor," Leo said, nodding at him. "Are you okay, sir? You look a bit . . ."

"With the power of the priestess, I only need ten more," the man said, opening up his long coat and revealing a vest of moonstones. "You will be three. Sorry about this," he added to Baron who was looking at him open mouthed. "You were always helpful. If a tad boring."

* * *

"What are you doing out here?" Barb snapped as she came out the side door. Larry, Eric and Angie were standing outside in the snow.

"Angie's smoking," Larry snapped right back. "And the rest of us are avoiding being in a restaurant that's been taken over by slope-brow, red-neck science-fiction fans."

"People are dead on the third floor of this building," Barbara growled, drawing her weapon and dropping the magazine. "Did anyone come out here?" She dropped the round out of the chamber and then dropped another one in.

"No," Eric said, looking at the gun wide-eyed. "You're not supposed to have one of those . . ."

"Shut. Up." Barb ground out. She pointed the weapon off to the side and dropped the hammer. But it just clicked. She took the other round and dropped it in, and that one fired. "Damn!"

"What was that in aid of?" Larry asked.

"Get into the restaurant," Barbara snapped. "Now! Or so help me God I will put a bullet in your head. If I see you wandering around, you will be terminated without prejudice. Do I make myself clear?"

"You're joking," Angie said, starting to laugh and then stopping at the look on Barb's face.

"There is a killer running around," Barb said. "I don't know who it is. It may be you. You are present, here, when a killing has just occurred up there," she added, pointing up. "Make up your own mind."

"You can't just go killing people . . ." Larry said.

"Stop me," Barbara said, pointing the weapon at his head. "One. Two . . ."

"We're going," Eric said, grabbing Larry's arm. "Come on."

Barb was marching them down the corridor when she felt the wave of evil sweep over her.

"Okay, it's probably not you," she said, pushing them. "In which case, you're targets. Now run!"

She passed them, despite their lumbering run, and turned towards the north side of the hotel. As before, the power appeared, spiked, and then disappeared, just as she reached the back of the hotel and burst out into the open.

Sadie, Leo and Baron were sprawled by the back door, with Duncan bent over them.

"Freeze!" she shouted, pointing the weapon at his head. She suddenly realized she'd never seen him with his jacket off. If it was lined with silk, it would mask anything he had under it.

"They're dead," he said, looking over his shoulder at her.

"I know that," she said, still keeping the .45 pointed at his head. "Pull out your piece and put it on the ground. Now."

"They're just fucking dead," Duncan repeated, softly, then turned to the side and vomited on the ground.

"I said, draw your piece and put it on the ground," Barbara repeated, sharply.

"You got it," Duncan replied, wiping his mouth, then drawing his weapon and setting it in the snow. "Who did this?"

"I'm trying to decide if it was you," Barb admitted.

"Well, decide quick," Duncan snapped, standing up slowly. "Because in a second I'm going to pick up that piece and go hunting myself."

"Guns don't work," Barbara said, lowering her weapon and pointing it at the ground. "Janea's bullets had been tampered with, somehow. They wouldn't fire."

"I take it you've decided I'm not the killer?" Duncan asked, turning around.

"Open your coat," Barb answered, shifting her feet into a cat stance.

"What? It's freezing!"

"Open your coat," Barbara repeated.

Duncan looked at her and shook his head but he unbuttoned the coat and pulled it wide.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Barb admitted, frowning.

"Can I c-close it now?" Duncan asked, teeth chattering.

"Go ahead," Barbara said. "Then turn around and spread your arms and legs."

"Oh, good, I'm going to get a pat down from a beautiful blonde," Duncan replied, but he turned.

Barbara patted him down, looking for hidden gemstones. He had a lighter and a folding knife, but his only jewelry was his wedding ring.

"What was that all about?" Duncan asked.

"The killer has to be carrying moonstones," Barb said. "Probably a lot. You don't have any. So you're probably not the killer. Now get in the restaurant. Let me hunt. I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"Well, I'm going to go brief the cooler Wharf Rats on what's really going on," Duncan said. "And get them to help me move these three. They shouldn't be just left here. Guns don't work. Okay. There will be something that will."

"Do that," Barbara said, nodding. "I have to go find this guy before he kills again."

* * *

"Oh, it's you," Larry said as the man walked up through the snow. He, Eric and Bob had come back out into the atrium when they couldn't stand the sight, or sound, of the Wharf Rats' continuing party. "One of your minions was running around babbling about someone being killed."

"My minion?" the man asked, blandly.

"The blonde, Barb I think her name is," Eric said, frowning. "She's one of your type."

"She's no minion of mine," the man said, smiling in great humor. "Quite the opposite. She's trying very hard to stop me."

"What?" Bob asked, uneasily.

"I said she's trying to stop me, you liberal moron," the man replied, unbuttoning his jacket. "She wants to stop me from raising the power to call my demon. But she's just about too late."

"Holy . . ." Larry said as the glowing gems on the vest were revealed.

"No, quite the opposite," the man said, waving a hand. The three were instantly held immobile, only their eyes moving. "Quite unholy . . ." he said as he drew the knife.

* * *

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.

 

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