An Imperceptible Ruse Indeed (The Gods' Executioner Series) (29 page)

“I love you.” I tell her.

“Don’t get all gay on me, Woodhouse.” Cheza says and kisses me.

She might be having me play as her manservant, but she is letting me act out Woodhouse, the valet from
Archer
.

“But seriously, there are shoes.” Cheza adds.

“No, you threw those off the balcony when I made a mistake whilst making your eggs.” I reply with a smile. Cheza’s face warps into a frown.

“No, your shoes are right there.” Cheza points at the ground. Getting the hint, I grab the polished
black shoes and put them on.

“As for your punishment, I’m going to rub sand in your eyes… so I need you to go out and buy sand. I don’t know if they grade it… but, coarse.” Cheza says.

“Mistress, I’m more than happy to be your valet without playing a character.” I reply.

“Oh, good… I was running out of references.” Cheza responds and gives me a brief kiss.

“Now, give me a foot massage, mongrel; be happy that I’m allowing you to bask in their presence.” Cheza says while lying down on the nearby couch.

“Thank you, Mistress.” I reply as I sit on the couch and get to work.

…

Chapter 28: Farriers and Train Dwarves

Forty-five minutes later, Cheza and I decide to head to the dining car. Cheza wraps her hand
s around my arm and I escort her down the hall, noticing that the way her dress is cut under her breasts has the effect of hiding her stomach quite well. We pass by several windows and I notice that we are in the middle of a frozen tundra; I think we may be in Jotunheim, the frost giant’s plane of Yggdrasil. I hear sounds coming from beyond the door as we approach the dining car.

I slide the door open and Cheza strides in before I follow two steps behind her. In the dining car are a dozen people, all dressed
very ‘high society’ with shiny things, and fancy threads. I can tell that these people come from money when they behave like I’m part of the background while talking to Cheza. I want to scan them and see who I’m dealing with, but that would violate Supernatural Shabbat and Cheza would get angry with me; although, judging by the pointy ears, I do know that some of the people here are elves.

“Oh,
yeeees! This economy has forced me to wear grey fox instead of chinchilla! Can you believe that!?” A slim older woman wearing a fur coat asks with an accent that is reminiscent of the Queen of England.

“You don’t say.” Cheza mumbles
.

“My furrier of forty years even went out of business!” the older woman exclaims.

“Yes, well this economy must be quite difficult on the illustrious horseshoe makers of old.” I chime in and Cheza stifles her laughter while the older woman cocks her head to the side.

“Now, dear, don’t bore the young’uns
with such tales.” An older man says as he walks over from the bar, talking with an accent that also reminds me of English royalty and a mustache that makes me think of Colonel Mustard… or maybe that’s because of the monocle… did Colonel Mustard have a monocle?

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we shall be beginning shortly so if you could all find your seats.” The host announces and leaves the car again.

Everyone makes their way to the dining table and finds their seats that have been labeled with white placards. Cheza’s seat is near the center of the table and her placard reads Chezarei Vaele with “Mistress” written below it. My seat is next to her and reads Woodhouse with “Valet” below it. I look around at the other placards and realize that the subtext is the part that the person plays in regards to the victim, making the positions of Cheza and I coincidental. We take our seats, the host returns, and the generic speech about the murder setup is given involving a train ride through a frozen wasteland that has no stations to stop at until morning.

“Clues can be found throughout the train and it is our duty to discover the murderer using the clues given. However, the murderer will be actively trying to kill you to cover up the crime
. If you are “killed,” simply lie on the ground and give your best blood-curdling scream. Have fun everyone!” The host finishes and a scream is heard from the kitchen.

“What was that!?” the host asks in mock shock, doing a convincing job of playing as a terrible actor.

“Well, this is going to be fun.” I sarcastically mumble as everyone gets up and walks to the kitchen. In the kitchen is a man lying in a pool of blood with a slit throat.

“Oh my gods! Brian!” the host exclaims when he sees the body, doing a much more convincing job of acting the part
by collapsing to his knees in shock beside the woman who must’ve screamed.

The first thing that tips me off is the smell of copper; they used real blood. The second tipoff is the fact that the man is still bleeding. I walk over and inspect the body more closely with another man that is dressed in a suit and appears to be in his late thirties.

“Remember: no powers.” Cheza thinks.

“Yeah, yeah.” I reply.
I look at the throat and notice that it’s been torn open.

“This man is dead.”
The other man announces and mock gasps ring through the crowd.

“No, I mean he’s literally been killed. His neck is still bleeding and that wouldn’t be possible without an elaborate pump system, which…”
the man pauses while rolling the body over and ripping open his shirt. “Isn’t present.”

“It looks like this is going to fun after all!” I exclaim with a smile while realization of the situation dawns on everyone’s faces; Cheza just rolls her eyes at me.

“Get everyone into the dining car. Someone on this train is a murderer and we’re going to find out whom.” The man says. We start walking back into the dining car when the man holds me back.

“This company is known for going all out on these things; it is
hypothetically possible to simulate a recent death by thawing out a body and manually pumping the heart several times. You should probably tell your wife; the extra stress won’t be good for the baby.” The man whispers.

“Thanks, I’m Cole.” I reply and hold out my hand.

“Jacob.” Jacob says and shakes my hand.

“How did you know that
Chezarei is my wife?” I ask.

“The way you look at her
, the rings on both your fingers, and the fact that you’ve spoken tonight; real butlers pride themselves on being unobtrusive. Well, we should get out there!” Jacob replies and we exit to the dining car.

While Jacob seems to think that this whole thing is an elaborate ruse to enhance the experience, I’m not so sure; I’ve seen enough fresh bodies that I’m pretty sure I can tell whether or not the body is old
and it certainly doesn’t seem to be.

“Alright, I think we should split off into our pairs and search for the culprit.” Jacob announces.

“EVERYBODY AGAINST THE WALL!” a high-pitched voice screams.

I turn around and see a dwarf
wearing a ski mask with an MP5 submachine gun as six more like him file into the car.

“Wow, they’ve really gone all out with the story this year.” A woman to my left comments.

I have to admit that this story is getting elaborate; hopefully it won’t get too convoluted. Suddenly the lead dwarf fires the MP5 and real bullets shoot out; I don’t think this is part of the plan.

“THIS IS A ROBBERY! EVERYONE AGAINST THE WALL!”
the dwarf screams; this time everyone shuffles to the wall and sits down.

“For too long, we dwarves have been treated as a lower species!” the dwarf rants.

“Lower to the ground, maybe.” I whisper and Cheza giggles.

“We only get work around the holidays
, when it isn’t outsourced, and we are expected to be servants even when most of us aren’t, unlike this man here!” the dwarf continues and points at me.

“Today, we are taking some of the power back! Hand over your valuables!” the dwarf demands.

“Haha… train dwarves…” I think.

“Just like the gypsy woman said!” Cheza replies and we both start laughing.

“It’s looking right at me with its dwarfy little eyeballs!” Cheza exclaims and we laugh harder.
6

“This is exactly what I’m talking about! We get no respect!
” the dwarf exclaims and fires the gun over our heads, looking rather comical because of the relative size of the gun as chips of wood rain down on us from the walls.

“Put your wallets, jewelry, and purses into the bags! And no funny business!” the lead dwarf
order and another dwarf starts walking past with an open bag.

“Alright Cole, I think it’s about time for you to take them out.” Cheza thinks.

“But what about Supernatural Shabbat?” I ask.

“You’re not Jewish!”
Cheza replies.

“But I’m
Supernatural Jewish!” I exclaim.

“Fine, then I’
ll just do it!” Cheza exclaims.

“
Shiksa! You’re a Supernatural Shiksa! MY WIFE IS A SUPERNATURAL SHIKSA!” I shout through our connection.

“Hand over the jewelry.” The dwarf says to Cheza when he gets to us, but Cheza doesn’t move.

“Either hand them over, or we’ll shoot you! You too buddy!” The dwarf says in his comically high-pitched voice while pointing his Glock 18 at me.

“Fine
Napoleon Complex
.” I mumble as I act like I’m trying to pull the ring off of my left hand.

“What was that!?” the dwarf demands.

“Studies have been done disproving the Napoleon Complex and have found that taller men are more likely to strike back in anger when hit!” another dwarf chimes in.

“They may be on to something
… for example, as a man nearly twice your size, I’m much more likely to get angry when someone is pointing a gun at my pregnant Mistress and asking her to hand over things that are precious to her.” I reply.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it, big boy?” the dwarf taunts.

“I was thinking something like this.” I reply as the blade jettisons from my ring.

I lash out
with my left hand and clip the dwarf’s jugular with the tiny blade. His throat squirts blood and he grabs his neck while I grab the Glock 18 out of his hand and proceed to blow holes into each of the seven dwarves in the room before any of them have realized what’s happened. I listen as the tiny bodies drop, making nearly non-existent thuds on the ground because there isn’t much force behind the fall. I wish I had used a shotgun so that I could see if it was possible to shoot a dwarf across a room; I’m picturing them flying into the walls with each blast of the shotgun like something out of a Tarantino film…

“See? I was able to eliminate the threat without violating Supernatural Shabbat! I deserve extra credit!
” I say to Cheza as I stand up.

Automatic fire from an MP5 rings out and hits me in the back. I hit the ground
with five bullets in my back, bleeding as I turn over and open fire on the three dwarves that are standing in the doorway of the dining car.

(Do you want me to use your powers to stop the bleeding? Wh
at about Supernatural Judaism?)

“Fuck the stupid religion that I made up two hours ago! I’m bleeding out over here!”

(Forgive him Supernatural Lord, for this lamb knows not what he does)

“If this is the same deity that deals in cosmic luck that I made up two months ago, tell him he can go fuck himself!”

(Now he’s saying something about a Supernatural Holy Grail…)

“AIRI!”

(Fine… I was just trying to get a new thing going since our Office bit ended…)

“We can discuss it later, WHEN I’M NOT LYING IN A POOL OF MY OWN BLOOD!”

(So it would be fine if it were a pool of somebody else’s blood?)

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

(Right…)

I feel my back start to heal and
I stand up. I walk over to fallen dwarves and search their equipment.

“I’m going to go sweep the rest of the cars to make sure that there aren’t any more. Does anyone here know how to use one of these?” I ask as I hold up one of the MP5s.

“I do. I spent some time in the military.” Jacob speaks up; I want to ask which military, but I ignore it.

“Good, stay here in case more come from the other direction while I’m searching the other cars.” I say while tossing him the submachine gun.

I grab another MP5, step over the bodies of the fallen dwarves in the doorway, and sweep the hind cars. I don’t find any more enemies in the rear cars so I make my way back through to the dining car.

“So I guess the dwarves were responsible for the death of the actor…” a woman absentmindedly says as I pass throug
h on my way to the kitchen car.

While p
assing by the body, I make my way to the front cars. Judging by the equipment on the dwarves, they can’t have been responsible for that body; that pattern of tearing on the throat is more common with claws… Ah, shit.

“Hey Airi… what are the chances that Loki would send Sydney to kidnap C
heza after Sydney was blamed for the fake kidnapping of Cheza to get me to come here?”

(Well, that would be incredibly ironic… so the chances are probably pretty good)

I suddenly feel Cheza start to get frosty before she stops… which means that it was either a false alarm, or a very bad sign. I sprint back to the dining car and throw the door open.

“Welcome Cole! So nice to see you again! How was your vacation?” Sydney asks
from over Cheza’s shoulder as they stand amid the unconscious passengers.

“It seems that your lovely wife is quite resistant to the magic that affected the others, so I was forced to threaten her into submission with this.” Sydney explains while keeping her Void claw level with the bulge in Cheza’s stomach.

“What do you think will happen if I flood her womb with the Void? Do you think she will give birth to a… what have you started calling them…? Ah, yes; shades. Do you think she will give birth to a shade baby?” Sydney asks.

I picture a shade baby and a chill runs down my spine, but then I really think about it. Having a shade baby could be pretty cool, despite the featureless face… As long as it learned to talk. I’m picturing a shade child with a red baseball cap as we play catch in the front yard. He plays in little league and brings his team to the championships
through psychological warfare by scaring the crap out of the other teams. Father-son bonding moments with a shade child… that’s a sitcom I would watch…