Hero's Curse (16 page)

The next guy up was huge, six-five and overweight. He took a few quick steps to gain momentum and then tried to use a football tackle to take me down. He drove his shoulder into me at waist height while reaching with his arms to grab me. I dropped and let my butt hit my heels. I met his shoulder with my left hand and his belt buckle with my right. I rammed my body forward at an angle as I straightened my knees and arms. My forward momentum canceled out his and I ended up standing with my legs and arms straight, my stress-relieving volunteer held above me. The guy must have been double my weight, and I lifted him like he was a thirty pound two-year old.

This was more fun than running up walls. Being a paladin sucked, but super strength and super speed were a blast. I was laughing when I dropped Mr. Big-and-Heavy on the ground. He didn’t bounce.

The rest of the gang stood frozen all around me. I jerked forward, “Boo!” They scattered, even the guy with the broken ribs. The only guys left were Big-and-Heavy, who had the breath knocked out of him, and Mr. Bad, who was laying on the ground holding onto his thigh, moaning. His thigh was bent at an unnatural angle. I had broken his femur. Hmm, I hadn’t meant to do that much damage. I really needed to learn my own strength.

Bad didn’t have much fight left. He pulled out a knife but threw it aside, screaming, when I lightly punched his injured thigh. I found his cell phone and his wallet in his jacket. His name was Harry Mossman and he had a Montana license. “Harry, you from Montana?”

He made an agonized groan that sounded like a ‘yes’ to me.

“Well, Harry, I suggest as soon as you can, you get your ass back home. I know where you live and I have the phone numbers of all your friends and family. You do not, repeat DO NOT, want to piss me off. Do you understand?”

He frantically nodded his head.

Harry’s friend was getting up. I went over to him, “How you feeling?”

“I think my tailbone’s broke, man.”

Now that, I had meant to do. “I dropped you on your ass so nothing more serious got broken. You hear what I said to your friend?”

He hung his head, not meeting my gaze “Yes.”

“Same goes for you. Give me your wallet.”

He gave me his wallet and tried to hand me his cell.

I waved off the phone, “No, you can keep the cell to call an ambulance for your friend.”

I drove away with a smile.

Chapter 11: Peacocking

On the way back to my apartment, I passed by Rare Change and Medallions. I hadn’t actually planned on it but I found myself slowing down as I got near. Screw it. I parked my truck. I grabbed the front door; it was locked. I could actually feel a flash of magical energy as the door unlocked to allow me entrance.

When I walked downstairs, the light in the kitchen was on. Aidan and Tim were at the table. If the several empty beer bottles were any indication, they had been celebrating.

I’m not used to apologizing. I wanted to get this over quickly. “Tim, I acted like a jerk earlier. I’m sorry.”

Tim turned into the bright red bird of happiness. For once he was speechless. He waved his hands to let me know he accepted my apology.

Aidan looked a little confused. I guess he hadn’t noticed the earlier pounding on his work room door. Tim clearly hadn’t told him how pissed off I had been when I left. He smiled at Tim’s delight and turned his gaze to me. “Victor, my boy I did not expect to see you until the morning but I’m glad you are here. I have linked your new jacket to the rest of the armor. When you call for your equipment, the default will be for Sanguinis. If you want Obex instead, say her name first. Call Obex and Sanguinis will automatically be sent to the vault and vice versa.”

The leprechaun’s grin got larger like it always did when he got to talk about gear and weapons. “Also, I have hired some dwarves to make ammo for you. We were lucky the Redcaps did not have an immunity to lead like some of the other minions of darkness. Obex and Sanguinus’ bayonet are effective against most creatures, but that is not true for your ammunition. The dwarves are going to make shotgun shells containing buckshot made from iron, silver, wood, holy water, and white phosphorous. The Jotunn will heal from any wound that is not burned into them—the white phosphorus is going to be essential. I also have them making jacketed, fin stabilized and explosive slugs.”

Aidan was talking about things that could save my life. I couldn’t help smiling myself. I asked for more details. “How are you going to make water pellets? Will this mean I’m going to switch out different ammo for each kind of minion or are all my shells going to have all those different materials?”

He beamed at me; his student was asking good questions. “Every one of your three inch shells has fifteen hollow pellets. Eight pellets are filled with holy water, seven filled with white phosphorus. The pellet shells are made out of lead impregnated with wood, iron, and silver. The holy water pellets burst on impact and the white phosphorus pellets ignite. White phosphorus is extremely dangerous; specific spells are necessary to keep them from igniting in your barrel.”

Aidan’s expression changed. He looked hesitant and embarrassed. “Um Victor, you’re going to need these shells as soon as possible. We know for sure there are Jotunn, and more likely than not, there will be other kinds of minions as well. I have taken the liberty of ordering the shells, but we do not have enough money in the Oath Brotherhood’s coffers to pay for them. I am hoping you have the funds? Otherwise, I will have to cancel the order in the morning. Tim and I could make these kinds of shells ourselves, but they are complicated. It would probably take us weeks to make them, and I don’t know if you have that kind of time.”

It figured I’d have to pay for my own ammo. “How much will it be, and do the Dwarves take cash?”

His face brightened—relieved I had taken this news so well. “Fifteen thousand dollars will cover the entire order, and they will take cash, although they prefer gold or silver.”

Now for the tricky question: “What if the cash has serial numbers that are a little hot?”

Aidan guffawed and Tim looked confused. I guessed they weren’t used to paladins who had stolen money. “Victor my lad, one of these days you will have to fill me in on what you did before you became a paladin. Dwarves are long-lived and they don’t use banks. Waiting a decade or two before they spend the cash is not a big deal for them. We will probably have to pay a premium, say twenty to thirty percent.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “Do you have enough to pay the extra?”

I’d been too busy to deal with the ATM cash I had in my truck. Using it to pay for stuff I needed to stay alive was as good a solution as any. “So, how long do you think it will take to get the ammo?”

“Well, there are twenty of the Thorgrin Clan in town, and they are superb artificers. We should have the full order of three thousand pellet shells, one thousand jacketed, fin-stabilized slugs, and one thousand explosive rounds in three days. Just so you know, Victor, the Thorgrins are giving us a huge discount because we are the Oath Brotherhood.”

“I have the cash in my truck. So are we good? I was planning on calling it a night.”

Aidan looked relieved to have the money issue resolved. “I think you deserve a break tonight. Come back in the morning and we will talk more about the Norse minions.”

Aidan and Tim walked me out. I handed Tim all the cash I had in the truck, then handed Aidan the wallets and cell phone I had taken from the bikers. I told him they needed to be kept in a safe place for a bit. Someplace cops with warrants couldn’t easily find. It was remotely possible the idiots I had just dealt with would either call the cops or seek revenge. I didn’t want to get rid of the wallets or cell phone for a while, but I also didn’t want law enforcement to find them on me if it did come up. I’m not sure why, but I trusted Aidan to keep the wallets and cell phone safe. He just accepted them with a mischievous grin, no questions asked. Tim looked even more dumbfounded.

As I got in my truck to leave, Aidan hopped up on the running board. The armorer had more advice for me, “Victor, the Jotunn know this is our headquarters. They are not foolish enough to attack our citadel. We have powerful built-in defenses. For similar reasons, they are not likely to attack the place you are staying. Anywhere else is dangerous. With your anti-scrying spell, they will not be able to find you by magic, but they can track you other ways. Try to avoid taking the direct way home; there’s a chance the Norse will have a lookout or an ambush set up on the direct route from here to there. Please avoid leaving the protected areas until you’ve been fully briefed.”

My instinct is to always reject advice, but what Aidan had just said was logical. I grunted, “I hear you.” The guys headed back in and I put the truck in gear. I was about to drive back to Sugar House when I had another thought. I yelled to Aidan before he reached the door of the shop. “Hey Aidan, how do paladins deal with living expenses?”

The leprechaun turned back and smiled, “The paladin gets a yearly salary of one million dollars, with bonuses for the number of minions killed. You’re going to have a good paycheck in the mail.”

I let out a slow whistle. THAT was good pay. “What about the Brotherhood? Why are you guys so hard up?”

Aidan’s face got pained. My question had brought up bad memories “Enchanted armor and weapons have to be custom made for each warrior. Every brother and sister we lost meant a new set of gear for the next warriors up. Our equipment needs ran our coffers dry.”

I nodded to Aidan and took off. A cool million a year wasn’t bad.

I spend a lot of time on the road, and my mind has a habit of drifting whenever I drive. If I had made a different choice at the second ATM—to drive away rather than continue with the heist—right now I’d be happy and content in Las Vegas. Could have, should haves are a waste of time, but are impossible to avoid thinking about when you’ve completely fucked up. I could have been more cautious; I should have driven away as soon as I saw that fricking customer at the second ATM. I had taken an unnecessary risk and it had bitten me in the ass. The good mood I had gained from kicking biker ass wore off quickly.

I drove through the back streets to the Swenson’s. It was weird having new senses. It was difficult to describe with a language that has no words for it. How do you explain color to the blind, or music to the deaf?

Rare Change and Medallions felt like the magical equivalent of a fortress. It was a massive, foreboding dark block. As I drove past homes, I could feel actual thresholds. To my new senses, they seemed to glow and flicker like paper lanterns; they looked like hearths—some faint, some bright. The threshold around the former paladin’s home was like a lighthouse. I could sense it from over a mile away.

The paladin threshold worked like radiation—the closer to the source, the more intense the effect. Most minions probably couldn’t get within a few blocks of the Swenson home without getting burned; it would likely be unpleasant for them to get within a mile. It was good to know that I would have some freedom of movement when the sun fell. When I got to the house, cars were lined up and down the street and the driveway was full. I had to park a half block away.

Initially, the intensity of the magical protection from the house was almost blinding, but it didn’t take long to get adjusted. As I walked from my truck to the house, there was a noticeable increase in the strength of the protection from the street and the neighbor’s property to the Swenson’s yard, and from the yard to the house.

Kids Andi and Ben’s age were scattered around the backyard. I was a couple feet from the back door when Ben saw me. “Hey Vic, welcome to my birthday party!”

“Happy birthday.”

Ben grinned, looked at his friends—most of them female—and gestured toward me. “Guys, this is our new renter, Victor. He’s responsible for the party. His down payment paid for all the goodies.”

I told him it was good to know my cash was being well spent. They all laughed and Ben introduced me to his friends, taking particular pleasure with a cute girl-next-door brunette and a sassy-with-attitude blonde. He was oblivious to the expressions on the girl’s faces as they made eye contact. Ben’s carefree, inexperienced, stupidity made me smile. I shook hands and stayed just long enough to be polite. It had been a long day. It was time to wind down alone in my room.

I was trying to sneak up the stairs when I heard her voice, “Victor, wait a minute!” Of course it was Mina. She was glowing. She was so hot, even dressed simply in a pair of tight jeans and a loose flowing red shirt that somehow still managed to outline her full breasts. She had on sparkly flip flops she probably thought were cute. Her red-painted toenails actually turned me on. Jesus! I was noticing her toenails? Alright, alright, I’m biologically designed to be in love with her, but really, toenails?

My eyes met hers. I didn't say anything but just waited for her to continue, hating how much I wanted her. She grinned happily up at me, not a clue to what was in my head. “Come with me, tough guy. I want you to meet my date and some friends.”

I allowed her to take my hand. She half-dragged me over to a group of people standing in the kitchen. Everyone was focused on the guy talking in the center of the group. He looked like the stereotypical ‘hot’ professor that dates coeds. He was fairly young for the breed—in his early thirties—wearing the uniform of his type: jeans, button down shirt, a light summer sports coat, and yes, there was even a stem of a pipe peeking out from his jacket pocket. He was entertaining his admirers, but I could see him watching us from the corner of his eye. Man, I did not want to meet her boyfriend.