Queen of Wands-eARC (27 page)

Rather than being thrown and possibly joint-locked or choked, Yi followed the motion of the wrist twisting, and rotated his trapped wrist in three dimensions while leaping to his right. He hit on his shoulder and seemed to levitate to his feet. Barb spun on her knees and rose to face him.

“Aikido?” he asked. “Tch-tch-tch.”

Barb waited for the scornful lecture on the true nature of unarmed combat, or the scathing rebuke to remind her that she had asked Master Yi to work with her to polish her Wah Lum skills, not Korean arts. Instead, Yi merely slowly walked toward her. This was bad, very bad.

Yi was completely relaxed as he strolled toward her. Barb moved into a bow stance, a traditional Kung Fu ready posture. Yi stopped in front of Barb, just in range of a hand strike to the body, and stood looking at her. Barb shifted her weight and moved laterally, then rapidly diagonally and backwards. Yi mirrored her moves, seemingly floating across the mat. His hands were folded in front of him, held at waist level. Barb slid forward and threw two punches, one at Yi’s face and one at his groin. Yi did not parry or block, but merely stepped back out of range and immediately stepped back to his prior position as soon as Barb’s second punch began its retraction.

Barb shifted her hips to start a kick, and Yi was suddenly the center of a very disturbed universe of punching, kicking motion. His left foot slid into place beside and behind Barb’s left ankle as strikes whipped out toward Barb. The first strike was to Barb’s ribs, and she deflected it with a downward block as she used the back of her other wrist to ward off Yi’s strike to the femoral nerve complex on the inside of her right thigh.

Yi’s third strike was delivered as he twisted his body and used the spiral motion of his turn to twist his left leg into Barb’s, disrupting her balance. The palm strike was blocked by Barb’s forearm, but Yi snaked his arm around the forearm and drove a traditional Wah Lum relaxed fist into the brachial nerve in her armpit. Yi’s left leg slid forward and drove against Barb’s right knee while his right hand delivered a light fingertip strike directly between her eyes to her “third eye.” Her head snapped back as she started to fall, her balance completely gone.

Yi hit her with a downward elbow and three fingertip strikes before she could hit the ground. As she hit the ground, off balance and in such pain that she barely had the ability to fall properly, Yi slapped a palm against her shoulder while seizing her arm, flipping her to her stomach. Blinding pain constricted Barb’s heart as Yi’s fingertips forcefully struck the
lingtai
, spirit platform, cavity between the thoracic vertebrae. As her vision began to go gray at the edges and her heart went into arhythmia, Yi rolled her over on her back and looked down at her.

“I told you that your knees were too stiff,” said the Master as he pressed on her lower abdomen, and then his fingers did a dance along her nerve meridians to “unseal the heart” and stop the muscles around the organ from contracting and shutting down its vital function. “If your knees were supple, you would have flowed with my force. If you flowed with my energy, you would not have been off balance. If you had not been off balance, you would not have fallen. If you had not fallen, I could not have killed you, as I just did. As the ancient scrolls of Wah Lum teach, ‘The mighty landslide is begun by the action of one pebble.’ You neglected to see the pebble, Laoshi.”

The Master helped her to her feet and said, “Shall we try again?”

Before the word “again” was formed, Barb was airborne. Her left foot snapped out at Yi, and, as he countered with a forearm and began to slide back, she rotated her body in midair and whipped her right shin downward in a round kick that smacked Yi’s arm and opened his centerline. As she landed and squatted down on her heels, her right leg shot between Yi’s legs and slid against his front leg, while her elbow whipped up toward his undefended groin as her spine contorted to provide power for the strike and her body began to rise.

BARBARA EVERETTE!

It was not her name that she heard but her essence, the entire syntax of her soul fitted into a single gestalt. And it hurt. It was unvarnished and unquestionable. Every sin of her life was part of it, a dark fire that seared with coldness. Even those parts of her life which were clearly and unquestionably positive were a raging fire, the sun suddenly implanted in her body.

She had looked upon demons without fear and spoken to angels both in dream and awake. She now knew why it was said that you could not look upon the naked face of God and not be blinded. “Hearing” His voice, unfiltered and direct, was right on the edge of death.

No wonder He usually spoke through a burning bush or something. Direct contact would kill most people.

GO TO THE PRIESTESS OF LOVE.

SHE REQUIRES AID.

* * *

Yi deflected the elbow and launched a seemingly offline relaxed fist strike for the bridge of Barb’s nose. He stopped the strike as he noticed that she had gone rigid. Grabbing her shoulders, he lowered her gently to the mat, and his fingers flowed up the blood-bearing and nerve pathways of her body, seeking any residual damage to Barb that may have been caused by his techniques. Her chi was almost overwhelming, a raging power he had never before felt or even imagined. Satisfied that she was physically healthy—breathing, if shallowly—but that her spirit was occupied elsewhere, he dropped into a lotus posture, placed her head in his lap and meditated.

About five minutes later her body gave a strong twitch and she started breathing at a more normal pace. Then her eyes flickered open.

“I need to call Janea,” Barb said, blinking rapidly. “That
hurt
!”

“Pain is weakness leaving the body,” Master Yi said, holding out his hand.

“That’s not a Zen saying,” Barb replied, sitting up. She took a deep breath and stretched. “Ow.”

“I have a fondness for movies.”

* * *

Janea picked up her phone, looked at it askance, then hit the send button.

“Yo, Wonder-Barb,” Janea said.

Agent Diller looked over at her and then back at the road, grabbing the dashboard futilely as she swerved into the next lane, then back.

“Miss Grisham…” Diller said. “Janea! Pull over and talk or let me drive!”

“Oh, hang on,” Janea said, pulling over to the side of the interstate. “So to what do I owe the call from Soccer-Momasaurus?”

“Where are you?” Barb said.

“Why?” Janea asked. “You want to come along for the ride? Why this time, Barb? Huh? I’ve had three, count ’em, three FBI guys die on me since the last time we
spoke
. Three. One of them left a wife and four children. Where were you then, Mrs. God-Strike? Playing housewife?”

“I was in Chattanooga even if
you
weren’t,” Barb said. “When it’s time, it’s time. And this is time. I need to know where you are and I need to get there before you do anything.… Just wait for me to get there.”

“What? Foolish?” Janea snapped. “What’s so important
this
time? It’s a lousy little Shambler. I can dispel one in my sleep.”

“I don’t know,” Barb said. “But I do know that I have to be there. And I’d suggest you don’t do anything until I get there.”

“How do you know?” Janea asked sarcastically. “God tell you?”

“Yes,” Barb said.

“Wait,” Janea said. “I was joking. Are we talking about the White God? Or just, you know, a messenger?”

“God,” Barb said. “Not the Holy Spirit. Not an angel. Not Jesus. God. In person. And it’s not an experience I’d prefer to repeat.”

“And He told you…what?” Janea asked, fascinated. She’d felt the power of Freya many times, but once, through Barb, she’d gotten a touch of the power of the White God, and it was the difference between a firecracker and a nuclear weapon. She had never had a direct god call, but she’d heard that even with minor deities they could be unpleasant. She didn’t want to think about what a direct call from the Big Guy would be like.

“To go to the priestess of love,” Barb said, sarcastic in turn. “How many priestesses of love do I know?”

“Really?” Janea said, grinning. “The Big Guy said that? About me?”

“Actually, it’s not words, you know that,” Barb said. “It was more like…‘seek she who gives love greatly.’ Maybe ‘quest for.’ It’s… But, hell, He included a picture. It was you.”

“God
knows
me?” Janea squealed.

Agent Diller had been trying to ignore the conversation, but at that he turned his head and frowned.

“God knows everybody, Janea,” Barb said. “Now where are you?”

“On Interstate 75 near Knoxville,” Janea said. “We’re going to meet with a cave rescue team.”

“Why?”

“Because somebody needs rescuing from a cave?” Janea said.

“Don’t go into the cave until I get there,” Barb said. “Seriously. Don’t.”

“We won’t,” Janea replied. “When can you get here?”

“I’ve got to get the kids dropped off and make arrangements,” Barb said. “Then I’ll get on the road. I’ll be there by morning.”

“There’s a girl’s life at stake here, Barb,” Janea pointed out.

“God knows everyone, Janea,” Barb replied. “And He knows the fall of a sparrow. Don’t. Go.”

“Roger,” Janea said. “Barb, seriously, glad to have you back.”

“I’m not sure I am,” Barb said. “But I’m back for this.”

* * *

“So…what was that?” Diller asked as Janea pulled back into traffic.

“That was Soccer-Momasaurus,” Janea said.

“Who is?”

“Barbara Everette,” Janea said. “She strongly suggested, more like ordered, that we wait to penetrate the cave until she gets here.”

“That was the part about ‘There’s a girl’s life at stake.’”

“Yes,” Janea said. “And if Barb says wait, we wait.”

“There’s a girl’s life at stake,” Diller said.

“Remember my thing about ‘Don’t be a hero’?”

“Yeah,” Diller said, angrily.

“Well, that’s the way I am with Barb,” Janea said. “If Barb says wait, or run, or duck, or squat, I run or duck or squat.”

“Why?” Diller asked.

“Because…” Janea said, then paused. “Okay, think of me as a hand grenade. I can take out, well, a Shambler easily enough. I took on a pretty serious incubus, and despite the fact that his powers and mine…overlapped, I managed to avoid his temptations and destroy him.”

“Okay,” Diller said, frowning. “Sorry, but this stuff is still…”

“Yeah,” Janea said. “I know. That was the one where I lost the poor bastard with the wife and kids. Incubi and succubae are the same thing, they just…morph. I told him to run.”

“I remember the lecture.”

“Well, if I’m a hand grenade, Barb is a nuclear weapon,” Janea said. “A big one. A city buster.”

“Oh. What was that thing about ‘God knows me’?”

“That’s why she’s a city buster,” Janea said, pulling off at the exit. “Barb gets her power from what we Asatru call the White God. The only member of FLUF who does.”

“You mean the Christian God?” Diller asked, sarcastically. “Big beard, floating in the sky?”

“Right,” Janea said. “The Big Guy. Mr. Beard.”

“Well, I’ll believe that one when I see it,” Diller said. “God doesn’t drop down and help out. That I
know
.”

“Oh, He does,” Janea said, pulling in at the hotel where they were to meet the rescue squad. “He just chooses His time and His methods.”

“And what are His time and His methods?” Diller asked, still sarcastic.

Janea took off her sunglasses and turned to look him in the eye.

“Wherever Barbara Everette is.”

CHAPTER THREE

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Janea said, rubbing her eyes as she opened the door.

“I hope like hell you have two beds,” Barbara said, brushing past her, setting down the cat bag and letting Lazarus out. She looked around the room and shook her head. “
How
long have you been here?”

“I got here this…yesterday morning,” Janea asked, looking around in confusion. “Why?”

Janea had a number of habits that Barb found mildly irritating. She couldn’t drive very well. And while Barb understood that sensuousness was part of Janea’s calling, there were times when she took it a bit too far.

But while Barb had recalled those on the very long drive, she had somehow managed to forget what sharing a room with Janea was like.

Although it had taken her less than twenty minutes to pack, Barb knew where every single item was in her suitcase. She had grown up as a military brat, and packing was very close to breathing as a skill. If she needed a pair of running shoes, she knew they were at the base of her larger bag, upright, held in place by two pairs of jeans. If she needed pumps, they were in the same bag, left side, middle. Barb had two clothes bags, the larger case and a folding hanging case for dressier wear.

Janea, on the other hand, had a
special
method of packing. When she was going on assignment she would grab a pile of whatever was closest and reasonably clean. She would then throw it in up to ten bags along with shoes, makeup at random, and whatever else struck her fancy, including various “toys.” When she needed something, she would then tear through most of the bags trying to find it, tossing everything in her way in random directions.

There were clothes hanging from wall sconces. Not neatly on hangers, but because that was where they landed. There were clothes on the table, both beds, every horizontal surface including the
entire
floor. And not just clothes. Adjusted as she was to Janea, and worldly as Barb was, some of the things that were scattered around the room made her blush.

“Never mind,” Barb said, dragging her cases into the room and finding a spot with not too much in it. She dumped the pile of clothes on the bed onto the floor and shook her head. “It was a long drive. Talk in the morning?”

“Suits,” Janea said, climbing into bed. “Given who your God is, I won’t ask if you’ve considered switch.”

“Don’t start, Janea,” Barb said, pulling out her toiletries and heading to the bathroom.

“I’m just saying,” Janea said, raising her voice. “Cleaving only unto should only be for guys! Girls are just, you know, comfort!”

“He knows where you live, Janea!”

“Hey, I’m on the side of light!” Janea shouted as the shower started. “This is like
praying
for me! It’s holy worship! I’m just talking snuggling,
honest
!”

When there was no response Janea snorted and turned off the light.

“Teach her to run out on me…”

* * *

Mike Argyll, the leader of the cave rescue team, was not the smallest person Barb had ever seen, but that was because she had once met a midget. He was under five feet in height, but burly and hirsute with shaggy black hair and beard to match.

“Now that our second outside consultant is here,” the team leader said, “can we actually do the
brief
?”

Although Barb and Janea were still based down by Knoxville, the FBI had more or less taken over a motel near the crime scene as a base station. Still forty-five minutes from the trailer, it was the closest hotel with facilities for meetings. The “Cave Examination Team” was gathered in one of the meeting rooms, going through a hasty brief before the penetration.

“Go,” Graham said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Okay, I’m told that this penetration has special issues,” Argyll said. “But caves are caves. Caves can and will kill you if you let them. The answer is to not let them. The biggest thing is simply safety. Caves have sudden drop-offs that, despite your lights, you’re going to tend to miss. That’s why I’ll be leading the penetration.”

“Nope,” Barb said, sucking at her own coffee. She needed it. “I’m going to have to take point.”

Lazarus was curled up on the table in front of her, watching the briefing with what certainly looked like lively interest. At the insertion by Barb he mewed as if in agreement.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said, wriggling a finger in his ear. “Did you just miss what I said?”

There were dozens of cavers in the local area, and once the word got around that it was possible the “perpetrator” had taken the girl into a cave, all of them wanted to help out. But the FBI, due to the “Special” nature of the investigation, had called in a group they worked with that was national quality. The team consisted not only of Mike but of two assistants, either one of whom could have broken him in half. They also clearly felt she had not been listening.

The problem being that although it was an FBI team, it was not cleared for Special Circumstances, and higher-ups wanted it to stay that way.

“As you said, this case has special issues,” Barb said carefully. “The perpetrator of these crimes has special combat abilities. Believe it or not, Janea and I are the people that the FBI considers
most capable
of handling those abilities. A cave
might
kill you. This perpetrator
will
kill you. Which is why I have to be point. If you doubt my abilities, I’ll be happy to throw you, or either Mongo One or Mongo Two, around the room.”

“Okay,” Mike said. “You have to take point. But there are more issues than safety. Restrictions can be a stone bitch. I looked at the one on the hill. That’s what we call about a three. It’s tight, but you can go straight in. Restrictions go up to seven. At about a five, you’ve got to suck in your breath and then go through something that looks like a corkscrew. Please forgive me, ma’am, but you are…well built. Just those…issues alone are going to make any restriction over a four an issue for you. If I go first, I can usually figure out a way for big people to fit. If not…”

“I get stuck and you pull me out,” Barb said.

“Restrictions can be long,” one of the helpers said. “You might be too far in to pull out. That’s the point. We know when to back out. You don’t. And, yes, people die that way.”

“If there’s a serious restriction issue, we may have to turn over point,” Barb said reluctantly. “By the same token, if you think you are near the perpetrator, you need to get out of there as if all the hounds of hell were on your tail. Do you absolutely and positively understand me?”

“Listen to the lady,” Graham said.

“I hear you,” Mike said, looking puzzled. “But you’re not really telling me why.”

“Because you don’t get to know why,” Diller said. “You just have to get the ladies to the perpetrator and then get the hell away.” He looked at the team leader and frowned. “Look, if I was leading the penetration, that would be how
I’d
handle it. Cut and run. These ladies may not look like it, but they are professionals at this. You get them to the perp, let them handle it from there. And if you have any questions afterwards, don’t ask them.”

“Including ‘where’s the perpetrator?’” Graham said. “The perp is unlikely to be coming back. And that
does not
leave this investigation.”

“So what are you ladies?” Mike asked, looking askance. “The FBI’s La Femme Nikitas?”

“If we near the perpetrator, there will probably be a foul stench, like rotting bodies,” Barb said. “If you smell it particularly strongly, back off. Then let us take over.”

“He keeps his bodies in the cave?” one of the assistants asked.

“We’ll probably be able to track him by the smell,” Barb continued.

“Which is good because caves go every which-a-way,” Mike said. “And we both asked questions.”

“Which she is ignoring,” Agent Graham said. “What else do they have to know?”

“We’ll brief them in on lights and gear at the site,” Mike said, shrugging. “You want to go all super-spook on us, fine. But what you ladies have to worry about is the cave.”

“That is correct,” Barb said. “But what
you
have to worry about is what is
in
the cave.”

* * *

“These ought to fit you.”

Mongo One’s name turned out to be Thane Dale. Twenty-six, brown hair and eyes, and six foot four inches, he was a college student at University of Kentucky where Mike Argyll was a geology professor. Mongo Two, six two and blond, was Cedar Blackburn, a geology grad student at same.

The suits Thane was holding out looked something like wet suits with a slick exterior. And far too small.

“That’s going to be
really
tight,” Janea said, holding it up. “Tight is fine up to a point, but…”

“That’s the point,” Cedar said. “They are supposed to be constricting. They’re going to, sorry, flatten you two ladies out. They do the same for beer guts.”

“I don’t know if I can get that flat,” Barb said, holding up the suit.

“Try,” Argyll said, coming around the back of the van. He was already suited up. “If you can’t, you’re barely going to be able to make it through the exterior restriction. And we’re going to have to brief on climbing, rappel, and belay. Not to mention lights, lines and various other issues. So if you could
kindly
get ready.”

* * *

It took about two hours to get fully prepared for the penetration. Besides the helmet light, Barb had been issued four more. Three lights was considered a minimum, five was about right. Thane carried seven as well as backup batteries. Cedar was burdened with ropes, climbing gear and a bag of what Barb had referred to as her “necessaries,” and was carrying reels of thin line so they could find their way back. All of them were in the slick suits, hard hats with lights, and pads on elbows and knees.

“You want to try this?” Argyll said, pointing at the hole.

Barb was already sweating up a storm in the suit, and the hole looked far too small to fit through. But…

“I might as well start learning now,” she said, getting down on her knees. “Any suggestions?”

“Turn your head to the side, stick your arms in and pull,” Argyll said.

Lazarus gave her a look like “what’s the problem” and walked into the hole.

“That cat your familiar or something?”

“Something like that,” Barb said, then did as she was told and slid into the hole like a reversal of birth.

“Ow,” she muttered as she entered a slightly larger area. The smell was distinct but not strong. The Shambler had gone deeper.

“What happened?” Argyll asked.

“Scraped my cheek on the rock,” Barb said. “There’s enough room in here for you and me. I think.”

“Plenty,” Argyll said, sliding past her and looking around. There was a faint light from the exterior but his helmet light lit it like day. “Two openings,” he added, using a handlight to point them out.

“Restrictions,” Barb said, sliding over on her belly. There was no standing in the cavern; the ceiling was less than three feet.

She sniffed at the one to the right but didn’t smell anything except, possibly, a faint animal musk. There were some small bones on the floor, and she realized they were probably in a bear’s winter den.

The one to the left, however, had some distinct drag marks. She realized it was going to be hard to track the Shambler based on ichor because, surprisingly, the walls of the cave were black. Lazarus was standing by the opening as if wondering what was taking her so long.

“I thought these were limestone,” she said, pointing to the wall.

“That’s a slime mold that covers just about every cave wall in the world,” Argyll said. “That’s how you know it’s a pristine cave, it’s got black walls. But something’s been through here,” he added, pointing to the drag marks.

“And that would be the way we have to go,” Barb said, looking at the restriction. It was tighter than the entrance, but shining her light in, she could see an open area beyond. She tilted her head back and forth.

Lazarus looked at her again and just walked into the cave ahead of her.

“Get on your back,” Mike said, shining his light in. “Head to the side again. I’ll brace your boots. Grab on and pull up and to the left as you’re looking, my right. Yo, Cedar! Next victim!”

* * *

Barb had been slithering and poking and sliding for what seemed like days and was, in fact, four hours when she finally got to a spot where she stopped.

“I can’t fit through that,” she said.

Barb’s impression of caves, she had realized, came from the mine in Snow White. Caves were supposed to be high things where you walked through going “ooo” and “ah!” at the pretty stalactites reflecting the light from your torches.

Caves were not supposed to be barely negotiable, narrow, dark and nasty tunnels. They had slid through mud twice, ducked under a “sump,” which was a restriction filled with water, and only been able to stand upright in two caverns. And those had neither stalactites nor happy, singing dwarves. And now this.

The irregular opening was barely a foot across and high. Or so it looked.

“Eh, you’d be surprised,” Argyll said, cocking his head from side to side. The cave before the opening was no great shakes, being barely two feet high, but it was wide enough the entire team had crowded in. “What I don’t get is, who the hell
is
this guy? He dragged this girl through all this? Why? How?”

They’d found not only more scraps of hair but bits of clothing along the way. There was no question at this point that they were on the trail of Loren Cowper. But Barb didn’t expect to find her alive and had made that very clear to the party.

“Hope you don’t find out,” Janea said. “You seriously think we can fit through there?”

“I’ve gotten through worse,” Thane said. “Want me to show them?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Argyll said. “I’ll make sure it’s doable then you ladies can follow. Better tie me off, though.”

Shane reached forward and slid a rope around the team lead’s ankle.

“Ready to yank,” Shane said.

Lazarus looked at her and yowled.

“Professor,” Barb said, looking at Lazarus. “If it’s doable, maybe I should go first. Heck, maybe Laz should go first.”