Ibenus (Valducan series) (12 page)

"Can you invite Sam in?" Allan asked.

"I can nominate her, but the mod will have to decide."

Sam's nose curled like she'd just caught a whiff of something foul. "TommyD?"

"You know him?"

"Oh yeah," Allan said. "Nutcase. Used to post videos all the time. Claimed we were UN-sanctioned Men in Black or whatnot, covering up for aliens."

"Well he still uploads videos, but most of them he posts here now. At least the ones dealing with you."

"Us," Allan corrected.

"Us. But even if I nominated one of Sam's personas, he wouldn't approve it. She's not a believer."

Sam brushed her hair back over her ear and shrugged. "Then I'll make a new one. A real zealot."

"Good," Allan said. "Start two. Mask the IPs. Don't make them friends."

"Easy enough."

"Until then…" Allan leaned in closer, bringing that spiced vanilla scent. "Victoria's got a door open. So let's see what we have to work with."

#

"Again."

Keeping his knees bent, Gerhard stepped, pulling back and thrusting the weapon into Luc's kidney-shaped mitt as his front foot come down on the floor.

"Again."

Gerhard stepped again, drawing and jabbing the blunted keris into the pad as Luc stepped backwards like a dance partner.

"Keep your elbow down. Again."

They moved this way from one end of the training room to the other, Gerhard catching glimpses of themselves in the mirrored wall beside them. The practice keris was a close approximation to Umatri, though blunted, its tip a rounded bulb. The handle was wrong somehow. Yes, it might match Umatri's in every microscopic dimension, it didn't feel right. It was a thing, a tool, a poor counterfeit that could never deceive Gerhard's hand. Once they reached the far end, they moved back, Gerhard retreating, and Luc advancing, each step proceeded by Luc's bark, "Again."

"Stop watching the mirror," Luc said once they finished the set. "Watch me. I'll watch you."

Gerhard nodded. His shirt clung to him as the sweat began to flow. The room had felt so cold when they'd first entered.

Luc dabbed his glistening bald head with the back of his hand. "You don't want to get tunnel vision by focusing too much. You should be able to see yourself without moving your eyes. Just be aware of the movement. It's tricky, but once you become accustomed it will be second nature. Now, switch hands, start again."

They continued, the sweat now streaming down Gerhard's back. It gathered along his forehead, threatening to run into his eyes but he continued to the big man's cadenced orders. Once finished, they changed, Gerhard now thrusting in and up from the side, back and forth with each step.

"You're getting weak," Luc said as they completed the final set. "We need to practice until your final attack is equally as strong as your first."

"It's my first day," Gerhard said.

"And if a demon attacked you tomorrow, is that what you'd tell it?"

He didn't answer.

Luc grinned, and pulled off the mitt. "You think we're crazy."

"No. I don't think that I—"

"Of course you do." He motioned to the wall of precisely organized practice weapons. "Unless you're crazy. Are you?"

"I don't believe so." Gerhard set the impersonating keris on its pegs, happy to be rid of it.

"We all think that at first. I did. Now we practice kicks."

Gerhard's legs were still tired from the morning's run, but he chose not to mention that. He'd already heard what Luc's response would be. His karate lessons he'd taken as a youth, a hobby that had lasted less than a year, came back to him as Luc walked him through front, side, and back kicks.

"These are the main ones you'll need," Luc explained once they were finished and Gerhard's legs felt like jelly. The final set had been particularly pathetic. "Should you decide to stay, we'll cover more, but these are the essential ones. You'll need to practice them often."

"You don't think I'll stay?" Gerhard asked, dabbing his face.

"I don't presume." He picked up his belt, the iron mace hanging from a black ring. "My job is to teach you."

Gerhard nodded, meeting the big man's eyes. He appeared sincere. "Why did you stay?"

Luc licked his lips and smiled. "Me?" He cinched the belt on over his damp-stained workout clothes.

"How did you come to be here? You said you didn't believe at first."

"That's a good question." Luc scratched his chin. "Most of us didn't at first. Master Turgen did. His mother was a knight. He grew up with it. But me, I played rugby for RCT. Had a girlfriend. She wanted to go to a museum together." He shook his head. "I wasn't a museum person, but I went. We were looking at a display of crusader artifacts. She was examining cases of helmets and armor, but I was looking at the weapons." Luc's eyes focused on something above Gerhard's head. Distant somewhere. "That's when I saw her. This beautiful mace and I just…stared at it. I'd start to look at something else, but then I would come back to it. My girlfriend asked what it was and I just told her I didn't know. I just…liked it

"Next weekend she asked, 'What do you want to do?'"

Gerhard grinned at Luc's terrible impersonation of woman's voice.

"I said, 'Go to a museum.' She thought I meant another one but I wanted to go back to the same one, though I didn't say I wanted to see Velnepo again. I just said I wanted to have more time there. By the third time, she didn't want to go. She said, 'Luc, there's other museums.' So…I started going and not telling her. Every day. Then one day this old man strolled up." Luc shrugged. "You can guess what happened next."

Gerhard nodded.

"So I go to the chateau. Meet with Master Turgen. Everyone says, they could tell Velnepo would choose me. All of her protectors were big, even the women. All of them big and strong. They showed me the paintings, all these big people holding my mace. I thought, 'That's weird.' But demons…" He snorted. "I think they're crazy. Some cult. Probably going to kill themselves next time a comet comes by or something."

Gerhard smiled. The thought had occurred to him as well, though he wasn't going to mention it. Not to a believer.

"They showed me pictures. Told me stories." He shook his head. "My uncle tells me stories. All kinds of things. All bullshit. Can't fool me, I think."

"So what convinced you?"

"Velnepo."

Gerhard's brow creased. "How?"

Luc sniffed, the grin withering to cold sincerity. "Holy weapons are blessed with divine power. Once you understand that, believing in a demon is easy. Master Turgen is desperately hoping to show you a monster so that you believe us. The only proof you need is in the weapons. Umatri is trying to speak to you. Listen to him and believe."

#

"Flying lessons?" Victoria asked in a scared but excited voice.

Leading her down the western first floor hall, Allan casually ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to show how much he loved her growing smile. After six hours of scouring Cryptozoo and nearly a dozen other sites Victoria had known, and even a couple she hadn't, they'd gone to the city on a three-hour shopping spree for toiletries and other essentials. Having missed supper, no big loss he assured since Sam was cooking, they shared a simple meal before heading home. Now, it was time he started her real training, the part he was dreading. "Being my student means that I'm obligated to teach you everything I know. And I'm one of the Valducans' pilots."

"Airplanes?" she asked as if still into believing it.

"Well, one plane. It's an old Fokker Friendship. She's rough, tough, and old as hell, but she's good."

"So what's its name?"

"The plane?" Allan opened a door to a waft of old sweat, and vinyl masked below one of Master Turgen's bouquets.

"No, your cock. Of course the airplane."

Allan coughed a laugh and turned to meet a flat eye roll.

"Everything we've talked about and a dick joke is what surprises you? I was a copper." She stepped into the practice room, immediately cutting toward the mirrored wall, interrupted by a long ballet bar running its length. "Dance lessons?"

"Stretches."

She ran a fingertip delicately along the dark wood rail. "Brings back memories." She eyed him through the mirror as Allan hung his sword belt from one of the hooks near the door. "You still didn't answer my question."

"
Réflexion.
" He pulled off his shoes, tucking them beside the door and walked barefoot across the cool wood floor.

Victoria was inspecting a battered punching bag hanging in another corner, its surface scarred with duct tape.

"Since you've had experience with the basics," Allan said, stretching his arms above his head, "let's start with a warm-up, see what you know, then move on to weapons."

"Now we're talking." She slipped off her sneakers and joined him.

After some stretches, and practice moves, they pulled on padded mitts and boots.

"You're never going to win a hand to hand fight with a demon," Allan said, circling her.

Victoria's foot shot around toward him.

Allan stepped back, allowing it to pass before closing in with two solid hits to her ribs and stomach. "But familiars, followers, even the occasional policeman, you have to be ready." He jabbed and Victoria launched in like a cat, knocking his arm aside. Her glove made a hard
thop
as a back fist connected with Allan's chin. Her foot looped up behind his as she pushed and Allan went down, catching himself on one hand.

"I think I—"

Allan swept her legs before she could finish the sentence and Victoria came down hard. Grinning, he stood and offered her a hand. "What was that?"

Her hazel eyes narrowed on his extended hand. Allan could almost smell their desire for vengeance, but then she accepted it.

"I was saying that I think I got the idea."

"The idea, yes. But cops are trained to subdue. You need to incapacitate. Familiars don't fear. They don't have a sense of self. You can't interrogate them. They need be considered absolute threats at all times until their master is killed. Even then, be leery of them."

Her lips tightened as if about to say more but she simply gave a weak nod.

"I can't stress that enough," Allan said flatly. "They may look human. They may plead, cry, beg, but you can't for a single moment forget what they are. They'll come after you until they're dead, or rendered absolutely unable to. Many knights have been injured or killed because they forgot that."

"I understand."

Allan only hoped that she did, but chose not to beat it into the ground. "Good." He peeled the pads off his hands and feet, a trepidatious dread welling with each piece he removed. "So let's start what really matters." He handed her the pads. As she put them away, Allan retrieved Ibenus from her scabbard and returned to the practice floor, the sword at his side.

"We don't have any practice swords for her," he said, glancing to the racks of weapons mounted against the walls. "So we'll be using other ones to train. Still, you must become familiar with her."

"All right."

Allan tightened his jaw and offered her the sword. If he hesitated as Victoria accepted it she made no response.

She bounced it in her hand. "It's lighter than I would have thought."

"She's a hacker," he said, forcing a calm tone. He loathed anyone holding her. He felt naked without the blade but…Victoria was his student.
Better get used to it
. "More like an axe than a sword. The first six inches there past the handle before the blade bows, it's not sharp at all. For a good swing you can grab the haft there," he mimed the movement, terribly conscious Ibenus wasn't in his hands, "and bring her down double-handed."

"I see," she said, squeezing the haft in her off hand.

"Most of the time, though, it's just one handed."

Victoria twirled the khopesh one side, then the other and hacked at some slow moving invisible enemy.

"So we'll have to train you with both swords and axes to get the full effect."

She spun, decapitating her imaginary foe, then took Ibenus in both hands, hacking down. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" She watched him in the mirror's reflection.

"N…yeah." Allan sighed a breath. "I've never let anyone touch her before. It, uh, will take some getting used to."

"Never?"

He shook his head.

"Because she's your wife, sort of?"

"Sort of."

She nodded, the amused grin melting away. "So why me?"

"You're my student. To train you I have to trust you with her."

"Thank you. I didn't realize…what that meant. I'll take care of her." She rolled it in her hand feeling the balance but without the playful air she'd had. "How do you make her blink?"

"I can't make her," he said, moving behind Victoria to adjust her grip. "That's her decision. I just have to trust that she will when I need her. But she won't do it for you."

"Why not?"

He guided her arm through a swing. "Holy weapons only work for their protector."

"So as long as you're around…"

"Don't be getting ideas, now."

She chuckled. "Never crossed my mind. Now that you mention it however…"

Allan smiled. "Then if you plan to bump me off and run off with Ibenus, let me show you how to use her."

"Good plan."

They practiced for over an hour, trading possession of the khopesh until Allan no longer counted how many times he had relinquished it. They moved through routines with wooden sabers, repeating the steps like dancers.

"I think this'll do for tonight," Allan said finally.

Victoria practiced the one-two step, wooden sword before her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Got another run early in the morning."

"Oh. There's that."

"Always is."

They strolled back upstairs, chatting and walking a little slower than necessary. Allan rested a hand on Ibenus' handle as he went, enjoying the comfort of her back as his side. He'd need to clean off the fingerprints before bed, but that was nothing much. Truth was that he enjoyed cleaning her, polishing the bronze to a shine. She'd been in the hands of another. It was going to require some getting used to. He wondered if he ever would.