The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series) (35 page)

Last time we waited for Maldgorath to show in Houston it took
six days.  We haven’t been so lucky this go-round.  But that’s part of it – waiting.  The waiting is made more pleasurable though with the addition of Christophe Leblanc to our team.  Apparently Znuul’s first stop after leaving the Chateau was to check in on Christophe and his family in the firebombed village of Libourne. 

They were after all virtual neighbors of Grey’s.

Unlike the bunker in Oldham County, there is no training in magics, or firearms as Nosey Daisy is keeping an eye on us – along with all of her neighbors.  Pffif even claims he caught her looking through the windows with binoculars.  Somehow I’m not surprised.  We cos-players probably just don’t fit into her mold of what a good neighbor should be.

Hiro has not been staying with us.  That leaves me uneasy. Greg too, I think.  He shows up occasionally,
checks our progress and leaves.  It feels sketchy.

UPS and Fed-ex
have been regulars, delivering custom weapons and ordinances of Znuul’s design.  I am strongly suspecting Edgar’s involvement. We have bullets of titanium shells designed not to deform, but puncture with very sharp tips. Lead bullets I have come to find aren’t very effective against demon-hide which is very Kevlar-esque.

We’ve scoped out the warehouse that appears to be
Maldgorath’s landing point – carefully of course. Confirming the target wasn’t hard, it was the place with the sign that read, "M-Biologicals."  Entry will not be easy.  There's the loading docks in the back or the doors in the front – either way that gives old Maldy plenty of time to run far, far, away.

I’m at a loss how to sneaky our way in – Vets’ idea of blowing a large hole in the side of the building seems to be the best solution for now. Znuul has gone as far as to say that he’s ordered up some Semtex.
  Sounds like we’ll most likely be making our own door – at least it will be a grand entrance.

While firearm
s and explosive magical training is out of the question because of prying eyes, we still take over the very large garage for sword and martial training each morning. Znuul, Greg and now even Shey join us, which keeps things very brisk and interesting.  Christophe watches and heals any boo-boo’s. After our time in the garage, I’ve taken to having a brisk jog about the neighborhood to clear my head.

Today’s jog includes Shey, Sil
, Vets and Greg.  This is a very nice neighborhood that actually boasts two separate parks and a beautiful water way.  Mr. Znuul did make a very good long term purchase.  We jog our way around, saying very little, instead opting to enjoy this beautiful place. That is until we get back to our street and see our neighbor across the way’s door open and none other than Nosey Daisy herself step out, wave at us, flash that pageant smile and scurry to her mailbox.

“Hey neighbors
,” she starts out in her sickeningly sweet way, “It is such a beautiful day for a run.  But listen, ya know I couldn’t help but notice that y’all been here well over a week and nobody’s mowed your yard.  We do have standards here in Grogan’s Mill.  Here’s a card for our landscape service.  They’re good people.”

She hands the card to Greg, who in turn hands it to me causing her to cast a surprised look to Greg, who in all fairness appears to be more of an adult than I do. “I’ll make sure Ze
b gets this,” I say trying not to breathe too heavily.

“You do that young man
,” she says back to me more than just a little dismissively.  I just smile and nod in between breaths – I’ll take your dismissiveness and raise it with a don’t give a hoot about you.

“Oh, and honey
,” she says taking bead on Sil. “You really need to cover up.  You are practically scaaan-do-loss running around half dressed like that.  That’s no way to get a man, you know?  I’m sure the little boy here likes that, but a real man? Really?”

“Oh shit
,” Greg slips out.

I’m thinking the same thing.
Sil is going to eat her – and not in a good way. Before I can say a word, Sil’s already piping up.

“It’s a jog
ging bra and running shorts.  We’re jogging.”

“Oh honey, just saying maybe you should put something on over it - you’re practically spilling out.  I think you know how
boys are.” Daisy’s words sound like sugar, but man there’s no doubt that’s 100% bitch under all that.

“I’ll be in the house Arthur” Greg says turning to the driveway smiling and waving at Daisy while abandoning me to a chick-fight.  Damn coward.  Sure he’ll fight hell-spawn all day, but this?

“You done?” I hear Sil ask Daisy.

“My aren’t you a sassy one?”

Before I can say something, anything, to get us out of this quagmire little Ms. Sheyliene has to add her two cents, “You are a fucking bitch! You fucking bitch.”

Then Sil piles
more on with, “Make that fucking flat-chested bitch.  Get your rich husband to buy you a set and stop worrying about mine.  By the way, they’re natural.”

I d
idn't look to see if she illustrated the point, but then I didn’t have to, given Daisy’s totally fake look of shock and proclamation of, “Well I never!”

“
Oh, honey” Sil says mimicking Daisy’s drawl to a tee “Your husband must be so sad.”

Daisy stammers at that
comment and Shey laughs uncontrollably, pointing a finger at her.

“
May I be excused,” asks Vets, obviously not amused by any of this.

I’m guessing Daisy was pretty flustered because all semblance of southern grace l
eaves her when she says, “Yes you may – you just go on home man-woman thing.”

Vets’ eyes ha
ven’t left me since asking if she could go.  “May I kill it please,” she asks me. Then her eyes turn to Daisy – and Daisy doesn’t like that. No, she does not care for Ms. Vets’ stare at all.

“You keep
that trans-gender thing away from me!  Did you hear that? She, he, threatened me!  I am notifying the officials.”  With that she turns tail and while not running, certainly makes a bee-line for the front door.

I just shake my head at the girls
turn towards the driveway.  Hard to fault them, but we are trying not to garner attention.  And now Ms. Daisy is going to call the cops and tell them we threatened to murder her.

Great.

At least Sil apologizes a bit, with the codicil, “but you have to admit she is a bitch.”

T
hat, I have no problem agreeing with.

Still, it was nice to get
back inside, leave that horse-hooey behind and get showered up.  Refreshed and reinvigorated, I return to the living room and plop down on the sofa, grabbing today’s copy of the Chronicle.  Greg joins me and I toss him the sports section.

Then the doorbell rings.

Great – the police.  I take a deep breath, look at Greg and say, “get Znuul.”

I trudge to the door, take a deep breath and prepare myself for the
boys in blue.

I open the door and find myself face to face with an angry looking mountain of a man
. Daisy is about two steps behind him looking supremely confident.  Before it all registers, he reaches out, grabs me by my shirt and pulls me outside. 

“So you’re the little shit that said those things to my wife.”

I could try a wrist lock. But this man’s wrist is about the size of my leg.
So instead, I go with pleading. “I didn’t say anything. Nothing at all. Ms. Daisy…” I say looking her way in hopes of some support. “I was polite. I was just standing there. You know that.”

“They said they were goin
g to kill me honey-bear.”

That
declaration gets me some very unwarranted attention.  Mountain man snarls and his eyes bulge.  I’m going to get pounded. I consider my options. Then everything changes.

“Oh my
God! It’s the mad lumberjack Henri Lavelle!” All eyes are on Greg who is looking at this huge, less than gentleman. “Dude, you are like the best GWF heel ever!  I’m Greg Inosanto.”  With that Greg steps outside and holds out his hand to shake.

Daisy’s lumberjack just looks at him. But t
here is the slightest crack in the façade – maybe I’d live.

“Oh, crap
,” says Greg rolling his eyes, “Little Arthur here was just a bystander – trust me it was all girl on girl cattiness.  You know how they get themselves worked up over nothing.”

Lumberjack turns around to Daisy,
while still firmly holding on to my shirt. “This true – you messing with that black haired one you been bitching about?”

“I had to say
something – she’s just scandalous. They did threaten me honey bear.”

I’m brusquely pulled back into his face
. Then we’re distracted by the deep voice of Znuul.

“Would you mind letting go of my brother?”

The mad lumberjack takes a look over as Znuul steps out to the front patio to meet him.  Like an animal sensing a greater threat, I am discarded brusquely to the side and he puffs his chest out towards Znuul.  There stand two huge men.  Only one thing; one isn’t exactly a man and he’s a little more huge.

Lumberjack points at me accusingly – “Your brother threatened my wife – I’ve killed people for less.”

Znuul looks over at me.  I nod, “no.” 

“I’m Zeb, sorry we had to meet like this
,” says Znuul holding his hand out.  The mad lumberjack just looks at his hand with disgust.

“Fair enough
,” says Znuul pulling his hand back slowly. “Listen, your crazy-ass wife says one thing, my wee brother says another.  Given that I know my brother is a man of honor, and your wife spies on her neighbors with binoculars - I think you can get where I stand on this one.”

The mad lumberjack goes ma
d.  His eyes bulge, his lips peel back in feral rage and muscles flex.

Greg
shatters the moment by shouting, “He’s doing the crazy eyes!  He’s doing the crazy eyes!  This is too cool!”

That kind of breaks the moment as Mr. Lumberjack now is sort of busted for putting on airs. Both Znuul and Lumberjack hubby look at Greg, who is obviously having a fan
-boy moment.  That distraction only lasts for a second before they go back to regarding each other.

“What did you say about my wife?”

“You laid hands on my brother.”

This is not going to end well.  “Hey
,” I interject, “Vets was the one who said those things. She was just venting because your wife called her a he-she.”

“Shut up runt
,” Mr. Lumberjack replies.

“Show him who’s the man baby
,” is Daisy’s totally un-needed addition to the tension.

By this point the entire house has shown up.  If the mad lumberjack only had a clue of how screwed he is.  But he doesn’t because
he hasn’t taken eyes off Znuul and he has no idea exactly what these people in reality are.

“Hey, what’s your real name?
I know Henri is like a stage name” asks Greg trying to diffuse the tension.

Mr. Lumberjack looks away from Znuul to Greg. “Mark Jamieson. Why?”

“Just curious. Mark, my friend Zeb here is a special-forces kind of guy and I would really hate to see him hurt you.”

Wrong thing to say Greg…

Mark’s gaze turns back to Znuul, “Special forces are pussies!” Then he moves forward to shove Znuul.

Unfortunately for
Mark, when he moves in, Znuul does too. Znuul meets him first with a an upper-cut blast to the gut that folds him over, takes him off the ground and makes him puke his guts all over the front porch. 

Broccoli and chicken – Mark eats to stay trim.  I try to not to puke in reflex.

Znuul looks over at Daisy who is in shock as her husband is trying to get his bearings. Without ceremony Znuul grabs Mark by the belt and one of his arms, lifts him effortlessly and carries him to the driveway.  Then he pitches him a good six feet.  Considering I’ve seen him throw a large vehicle about 30 yards, I know Mark the mad lumberjack got off easy.

Daisy c
omes running, screaming something about us all being crazy and tries to help her husband up who summarily pitches her to the side and picks himself up.

“Cheap shot
,” Mark shouts. “Come on try that when I’m ready.”  Mark appears to have regained his composure – must give him credit, he does recover quickly.

Znuul’s posture doesn’t change.  I
think I hear him say something like, “You sure that’s what you want?”

Mark rushes back in, fakes a punch
to the head and goes in for a double leg take down.  He just doesn’t count on the well timed knee that crushes into his face. His head snaps back brutally and he falls over limply onto the driveway his face rapidly becoming a dripping crimson mask.

“I’m calling the authorities
,” cries Daisy pointing at Zeb/Znuul.

“You do that
,” says Znuul calmly in that deep voice of his that carries on and on. “And then explain to them why he’s on my property. And how he laid hands on me and my brother. And how you started all of this. Maybe I should call the paparazzi?”

Mark
is starting to stir a little. Groan is more like it.

“Get your ma
n, get the hell off my property,” Znuul continues.  “And yes, I will be speaking to the neighborhood association about all of this and your behavior - spying on us with binoculars… really. Shame on you.”

Based on her response of,
“This isn’t a matter to bother the association with,” I think the threat to go neighborhood association disturbed her more than anything.  Go Znuul.

Znuul turn
s from them and ushers us all inside.

“Damn
,” says Greg, “I’ll never get his autograph now”

Everyone gives him the collective look of “really?”

“Ahem!” breaks our attention.  Pffiferil and Arix are standing near the rear doors across the great room, arms folded.  “Ye mays wish to know that a certain Collector is in town.”