Speak of the Devil - 05 Read online

  “Mr. Raine?” she asked him. “Hampton wants to know how you would like your eggs.”

  “You see!” the sorcerer shrieked at me, gesticulating wildly. “She calls me ‘Mr. Raine,’ not ‘Woods’ or ‘Woody’ or any other such flapdoodle! Why can’t you do that?”

  “No manners, I guess,” I shrugged.

  But he decided to ignore me.

  “Sunny side up, if you please, my dear,” he said to Lauren, “to reflect my sunny nature.”

  Lauren grumbled something underneath her breath – she was getting pretty sick and tired of being called ‘dear’ – then disappeared again.

  She’s pointed out before now that our town’s a little out of step with the outside world, its fashions and its customs slightly out of date. And I could only take her word on that. But honestly, given the situation that we’re in, what else would you expect?

  What the outside world would make of an oddball like Woody, I could only guess. I stared at him bleakly through the candle-dappled dimness, and he glowered back.

  “How long are you going to be here?” he demanded.

  “How long is a piece of string?”

  “Um – I’ve got a tape measure somewhere.” And he started rummaging through his pockets. “I can tell you that in half a jiffy.”

  “No, Woody,” I sighed. “It’s a rhetorical question. I’m going to be here for as long as it takes.”

  He let out a thunderous groan.

  “Oh, marvelous! Untold hours of your charming presence and your sparkling wit. You know what? I think I’ll take this as the perfect opportunity to get myself some shut-eye.”

  And before I could say another word, he’d levitated five feet in the air, then tipped over till he was horizontal. Crossed his ankles, folded both his hands behind his head. Then closed his eyes, and became practically invisible except for a dim outline.

  Was that real snoring, or was he faking it? It didn’t matter either way. The noise was like a buzz saw, and it started whittling at my nerves.

  So I began to pace the room, the candles wavering as I went past them. There was nowhere to sit down here. There was no place much to even lean. I could head off to the games room, where at least there were some comfortable chairs. But that would defeat the entire object of my being here.

  “Woody, cut that out,” I hissed. “We need to change location.”

  “Sorry, I can’t hear you, since I’m fast asleep.”

  There’s a range of different moods you can find Woody in, but sulky is the worst of them. Maybe he would cheer up once he’d had his breakfast. What was keeping Hampton?

  I was still wondering that, when Raine let out a startled yelp. I glanced back at him, just in time to see him tilt and wobble in mid-air. His hands came flying out, but there was nothing to grab onto. And next second, he went crashing to the parquet flooring.

  “Yow!” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “That’s never happened before! What gives?”

  My Smith & Wesson was already in my grasp.

  “Your magic powers just got negated, Woods,” I told him. “So … those guys that I was telling you about?”

  He blinked, waiting for me to go on.

  “They’re coming.”

  Woods was on his feet next instant, thrashing his arms around in front of him and yelling out the words of a new spell.

  “Shields gather about me now, protecting me from any harm! And kindly gather quickly, since I’m having trouble staying calm!”

  There was no response. Not so much as a faint glimmer on the dim air of the ballroom. Woody gulped with amazement, then started to try again.

  “By my illustrious ancestors! By the power of –“

  I grabbed him by the collar and began propelling him into a corner.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Devries?” he screeched.

  “Trying to protect you, Woods. And mostly from yourself.”

  I dumped him against a paneled wall, then turned around and fought to concentrate on what was happening.

  Found myself staring at a darkened emptiness, at first.

  But then a tall figure popped into view and started moving at me through the gloom.

  It hadn’t come in through the doorway. No, it had appeared out of thin air, without the slightest warning.

  Rather like Woody, it was hard to see. And for the self-same reason. This intruder was all dressed up in dark clothing too. If it weren’t for the few candles, I’d be fighting mostly blind against him. But I could make out his large outline, the bulk of his wide shoulders. A shadowy cowl was draped across his head. As Levin had described, there were no signs of any hands or face.

  But then the candlelight picked out a glitter. A sharp blade.

  And when it glinted, I could see that there were mystic symbols engraved on it, of the same kind that had been gouged into that first body we had found. They seemed to shimmer with a strange light of their own, so I had no doubt they had power. But a knife is still only a knife, and a revolver beats it like a royal flush. This guy had to see the Smith & Wesson in my grasp, except that didn’t stop him coming at me.

  So I aimed and pulled the trigger.

  The hammer came clacking down. But that was the only sound my gun made. It didn’t fire, not even when I tried a second and a third time.

  “Looks as though it’s not just me who’s been negated,” came a voice behind me.

  Shut up, Woods, I thought. I’m trying to save your life here.

  But I didn’t waste my breath on words. I stepped forward, turning the pistol around in my grasp.

  The blade came lashing out. And I could feel my gut shrinking away from it as it went past. Then I struck at the attacker’s elbow with my gun butt. Missed.

  I sidestepped before he could try again. He swiveled around to face me, and his voice came oozing out.

  “You’re not an adept, are you?”

  “No.”

  “So why’re you risking your life this way?”

  “I suppose you could call it a hobby,” I shrugged.

  And he chuckled.

  “A joke? In circumstances such as this? Kudos, dude. At least you’ll be going out with a halfway decent quip on your lips.”

  It was the ‘dude’ part of that little speech that struck me the most forcibly. I’ve faced many evil apparitions in my time, and none of them have ever used surfer-speak. As the judge had said, this was a young voice I was listening to. Which didn’t change the fact the guy was pretty big.

  Next second, he came lunging at me, straight-armed this time. I dropped my piece instinctively, and then managed to grab his wrist.

  Pushed his arm into the air, pivoting beneath it. And, before he could figure what was happening, I was twisting his arm up painfully behind his back. I let go with my left hand, using it to grab his hood and the hair underneath. All that it would take now was a swift kick to the pit of his knee and his leg would buckle, taking him the whole way down.

  And I was about to do precisely that …

  When something hard slammed into my head, and the whole world started tilting.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  My skull was filled with agony and blackness, laced with bizarre swirling patterns that I couldn’t even follow. My sense of self drifted away for a short while. But Ross Devries was still there somewhere, so I struggled hard to find him.

  I was … on the floor.

  I was … on my face.

  I could feel miniscule splinters pressing up against my cheek, where the edges of the parquet tiles had fractured slightly.

  I was barely conscious, hovering right by the edge of an abyss. What stopped me falling into it was that I could hear voices – a pair of them – directly above me.

  “Why didn’t you just stab him, dude?”

  That was the one I had already heard.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” came another, rather deeper voice. “The symbols on these blades were wrought specifically for killing adepts. So w
hy waste them on common blood?”

  I wasn’t sure I cared too much for that remark. But this guy sounded like the one in charge.

  He belted out a savage laugh.

  “Look, I’ve even got his gun.”

  I’d been cold-cocked with my own revolver?

  I could hear as it was tossed aside. And then their footsteps started drifting off. And there was little doubt where they were going.

  “By the Blessed Hand of Belvedere!” Woody was howling. “Go away! Just disappear!”

  He was still trying to use his magic, mostly because there was nothing else he could resort to.

  “That won’t work, old man,” the guy in charge said.

  “Old?” I heard Raine sputter. “Um, er … look here, sport. We can come to some manner of reasonable arrangement, surely? There are many valuable items stored about this mansion. I’ll let you have any of them that you like the look of.”

  His voice had taken on a real gibbering quality. I’d rarely heard the Master of the Manor genuinely scared, but he certainly was by this stage. Who could blame him?

  I tried moving, but my arms only responded very sluggishly to my will. I lifted my shoulders a few inches off the floor. But when I did that, the pain in my head increased.

  “We’re not interested in your possessions, adept,” I could hear number one cloakie saying. “All that we want is to see you dead.”

  “But how can that be possible? I’ve several perfectly lovely silver –“

  And then Raine started yelling with real terror.

  And to hell with this. I ignored the sickening discomfort and shoved myself back to my feet. Could only make out very dim and vague shapes, but I flung myself at those.

  Grabbed both would-be killers round the shoulders, putting every ounce of strength that I had left into hauling them off Woody. I suppose that my advantage was I’d caught them by surprise. They’d thought that I was down for good. Both of them went staggering toward the center of the ballroom. One of them tried swiping backward, and a sharpened blade went flashing past my nose, but missed.

  I retreated a yard, still trying to clear my head. During which time, they had turned around to face me.

  “Got a death wish, doofus?” asked the one who was in charge. “You should have stayed down on the floor.”

  I took in the fact that he was noticeably shorter than the first one.

  “It was cold down there,” I said.

  “Colder in the grave, my man.”

  And then they both started advancing on me.

  One guy with a knife is a considerable problem. Two guys with knives? That goes way beyond ‘considerable’ and into the realms of ‘run as though the hounds of Hell are snapping at your heels.’

  But I knew I couldn’t do that. The moment I was out of here, these jokers would finish Woody. And the last in the Raine line can be a considerable pain, but he has come up fighting for the good guys on occasion, so I wasn’t going to let them do that.

  They were moving apart by this stage, then advancing on me from two different vantage points. Which was a pretty good tactic from their point of view, but not exactly mine. Oh brother!

  The bigger one took a deep lunge at me. I tried to grab his wrist again, but he was ready for it this time. He turned his hand at the last moment, and my thumb made contact with the sharp edge of his blade and came back dripping.

  “First blood,” said the other fellow, with a real smirk in his voice. “But not the last.”

  Then he came rushing at me with a series of wild swipes that I could only back away from. I kept on trying to get a block in with my forearm, but I couldn’t seem to time it right. Keep on like this, and I would wind up trapped against a wall. And that would be the end of me.

  “Over here,” snarled the first assailant, stepping further over to my right-hand side. “Come and get what you deserve.”

  Which meant the other guy was practically behind me now. Sweat was dribbling down my face, and my breathing was ragged.

  But I managed to get out, “Why don’t you come over here instead?”

  “Okay, then,” the big guy nodded.

  Both of them lunged at me simultaneously. I needed to get cut again to do it, but I managed to grab hold of the shorter one’s sleeve and send him slamming into his much larger friend. And I followed that up with what looks like a kick, but is not – it’s called a ‘spurn’ instead. I put the flat sole of my shoe against the shorter one’s back and pushed him with my leg, as hard as I could, sending them both flying. Neither of them hit the deck, but they were thrown off-balance. And so I went charging in, using my fists.

  Caught one guy on the side of his head, nice and hard, making him stumble, except his hood muffled the impact. Tried to punch the other in the throat, but only caught his collarbone. It still had to hurt. And I was just feeling like I was starting to get on top of this, when a blade came in under my swinging arms and almost sank into my chest.

  Which forced me to retreat again.

  Then I noticed lamplight in the corridor outside once more. That had to be Lauren and Hampton, coming with our breakfast.

  They froze in the doorway when they saw what was happening, open-mouthed for a split second. And then bacon, eggs, waffles, and a big pot of coffee flew in every which direction. Lauren seemed rooted to the spot. But it was Hampton’s reaction that astonished me the most.

  His face flushed darkly, his round features puckering up, his eyes becoming very small and his teeth bared with open rage. He began letting out a most peculiar throaty noise, somewhere between a gargle and a howl. And then his stumpy legs propelled his bulk into the room, his arms flailing around like windmills.

  You couldn’t fault his loyalty or courage, but this wasn’t what you’d call a carefully thought-out defense. In fact, I think he’d closed his eyes. He was going to get himself killed like a chicken at a fox convention.

  “Get him out of here!” I yelled at Lauren.

  She unfroze and grabbed him by a back fold of his uniform. Pitched him out into the corridor and slammed both doors in his enraged, red face.

  Drew her gun and tried to fire, with the same result as I had gotten. Cursed and let the Walther fall, and dropped into a fighting stance.

  Two more cloaked figures had abruptly appeared at the dead center of the room. So it was four of them that we were up against now.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  One of the new hooded men went running straight at Lauren, with his weapon raised above his head. My heart almost blocked my windpipe when I saw that happen.

  Lauren stood there very calmly till the blade came flashing down. Then she gracefully sidestepped it, so it passed through empty air. She grabbed the guy’s wrist with one hand, and then her other palm came sweeping up to join it. Her whole body arced to one side, then the other, and the motion lifted her attacker smartly off his feet. And when she let him go, he span through the air and hit a wall.

  Impressive. I remembered that she knew jujutsu.

  And the sight of what had just happened gave real encouragement to someone else as well.

  I heard Woody bellow, “Cavalry ho! Charge!”

  Cavalry what?

  And whirled around just in time to see him throw himself onto the back of one of the attackers. He wrapped his arms and legs around the fellow, and clung there like some giant, gold-eyed spider. And refused to be dislodged, however much his victim twisted.

  Except the guy still had a blade.

  “Woody!” I yelled, and tried to get over to him.

  But one of the others stepped across to block my way.

  “Try to create mayhem in my home, will you?” Woody was shouting in a near-hysterical tone. “Look what you’ve done to my breakfast! Poor Hampton worked very hard on that!”

  The guy underneath him kept on trying to stab backward, but that’s never easy. And his dislodged cowl was blinding him into the bargain. Woody kept on shifting around fluidly and avoiding the knife. I’d no idea he was
so agile.

  “Let’s see who you really are!” he hollered.

  Then he grabbed the fellow’s hood and pulled it back.

  It was a perfectly ordinary face that I was looking at. That of a young man at the tail end of his teenaged years. Short blond hair, a rectangular brow and jaw. There was some excess fat around his cheeks, and more of the same in his thick, pursed lips. His eyes were pale blue, dull-looking. But he was not at all what I’d expected.

  The other hooded figures had come to a halt as well, realizing one of them had been revealed. And Lauren took advantage of that. She went at the nearest guy, kicked the knife out of his hand and then – without even letting her foot drop the whole way back – planted a second fierce kick where his chin ought to be. And he went staggering away.

  “We’re out of here!” snapped the leader.

  All four figures vanished in the blinking of an eye.

  And the next sounds that we heard were a loud thump, then a mumbled “Blast!” as Woodard Raine went crashing to the floor again.

  Some five minutes later, everyone had got their heartbeats steadied and their blood pressure back under control. Raine was floating in the air again, but vertically this time – he claimed it helped relax him. And Hampton – after making sure his master was okay – was cleaning up the messed-up breakfast with a mop and bucket.

  I was sitting on the parquet floor, waiting patiently while Lauren fixed my wounds. She was using a small first-aid kit that Woods had conjured up. Which meant his powers were back to normal.

  I asked if anybody recognized the guy whose face had been revealed. And no one had.

  “You could really use some stitches here,” Lauren told me instead, concentrating hard.

  “It’ll be fine. I’ll get Willets to fix me up.” And I threw her a slight sideways look. “You’re going to have to teach me that jujutsu move.”

  She grinned self-consciously. “Ah, it only takes about ten years of practice.”

  And I have to admit it, my attraction to her grew. But then Raine cut across my thoughts with yet another of his weird remarks.