Authors: Jack J. Lee
If they hadn’t, I’d be in Brigham City with Drew and Tim when I found out for sure that Mina was dead. There’s no way I’d have turned back. I would have gone after Signe and the rest of the Jotunn. Tim, Drew, and I would have gotten Signe for sure and a few of the other Jotunn before they killed us.
Michael and Samael gave me no choice but to play it safe. I had to stay in Salt Lake City. I had to wait for my mercenaries to arrive. I had to wait for the Jotunn come to me. The cosmic irony of Michael and Samael accidentally saving my life was side-splitting. My glass shattered in my grip. As I tore the table in front of me into pieces, I promised myself that one day I would thank them properly.
After I destroyed the table, I sat on my bed staring out my window until I saw Tim and Aidan pull into the driveway. I was heading downstairs when my phone rang. It was Father Mallory.
“Yes?”
“Paladin…” I could tell he was stumbling over saying Paladin Paladin.
“Yes, what is it?”
He sounded excited. “Have you been watching the news at all?”
“No.”
“I suggest you turn on your TV to channel 5. The Salt Lake City local news stations are all broadcasting stories about your fiancé’s kidnapping. A silver 2009 Subaru WRX sedan was found on the side of I-15 right outside of Snowville. By chance, Channel 5 just happened to have a news crew right there.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.” I ended the call, ran to the living room and turned on the TV.
A female anchor was saying, “We’re waiting to talk to John Sanderson, who is on I-15 just outside of Snowville at the scene of the abandoned vehicle that is thought to be the one used in the kidnapping of a Salt Lake City resident, Mina Swenson. Her kidnapper, who has been described as a tall, blonde woman, was involved in a head-on collision with Ms. Swenson’s vehicle earlier today. Ms. Swenson’s brother and sister, Benjamin and Andrea Swenson are both reportedly dead as a result of this accident.” The anchor paused and nodded her head, “John, what’s the situation there?”
Tim and Aidan walked in. I motioned to the TV. They stood and watched with me. The screen showed a reporter standing next to a guy wearing a Caterpillar cap and a blue mechanic’s coverall. “This is John Sanderson, reporting to you live from Snowville, Utah. I’m talking to Bob Sanger of Mel’s Towing. Bob, please tell us what you know.”
“Well, I was driving back from a job when I saw this here Subaru.” As he pointed, the camera panned over to a silver sedan. Parked next to it was Utah Highway Patrol car with its lights flashing but the siren off. The camera panned back over to Bob. “I pulled over to see if I could help. Nobody was in it but I saw blood on the front seats, so I called the State Troopers. They got here about fifteen minutes ago and called for backup and then headed down that there ravine.” Bob pointed, and the camera panned over to a dirt trail that led into a deep ravine.”
John asked, “Do you know why the Troopers went down there?”
“They said they saw some tracks.”
“Bob, can you show us where they went?”
Bob looked at John like he was crazy. “It ain’t part of my job description to look for no killer. Listen there,” faint sounds of sirens could be heard. “I’d caution you to wait for the police.”
I saw fear war against ambition on John’s face. I could see him thinking that if he waited for much longer, the cops would cordon off the area and he’d have no chance of catching the kidnapper on film. Ambition won. “Well then, it’s our duty to investigate. Someone may need our help” The camera crew followed the reporter into ravine.
“Oh my GOSH!” John shrieked going soprano, “There are two dead troopers here!” The camera shook as it panned on two bloody figures on the ground. They were both in Highway Patrol uniforms. One trooper had been decapitated. His head had rolled a couple feet away from his body. The other’s head was split down the center from the top of his head to his sternum. The blood splattered around them still looked fresh. John screamed, “Get out of my way!” and ran toward the camera. As he passed, the picture jumped, whirled, and then went dark.
A couple seconds later the female anchor was back on. “We are experiencing some technical difficulties at this moment. We are in the process of trying to contact John Sanderson.” She fidgeted in silence for a few more seconds and then touched her ear. She smiled, “We were able to reach John by phone. John, what happened? You had us quite worried.”
John’s voice came on, “Wendy, It was a disturbing scene but I had the situation under control at all times. My crew and I were in the process of getting back to the highway when the camera received some minor damage. The camera is currently being repaired and it should be operational shortly.” Sanderson went silent. “Okay, I have breaking information, Wendy, six Utah Highway Patrol cars are pulling up now to the scene. They’ll need my eye witness report on the murdered troopers. For now, this is John Sanderson signing off.”
The anchor, Wendy Nelson then announced a commercial break. I switched to the other local TV stations. All of them had their news crews talking about Mina’s kidnapping, but they had nothing new to report.
I turned back to channel 5 and waited for the commercial break to end. They repaired the camera, because John Sanderson came back on the air. He said that the cops were looking for the killer, but so far there were no signs of her or Mina. Blood hounds were on the way. After that it was all crap. John and Wendy kept repeating what they knew.
I asked Aidan, “I have a police scanner. It doesn’t have the range to pick up the State Troopers a hundred miles away in Snowville. Can you tweak it so we can hear what’s going on?”
He nodded soberly, “I see no reason why I can’t.”
I went out to my truck and brought the scanner in for him and Tim to work on. While they worked their magic, I cleaned up the mess I’d made in my apartment. I was almost certain that Signe and her warband were no longer in Snowville, but I still wanted to hear what the Highway Patrol had to say.
I sent a text message to Father Mallory to thank him and to let him know I no longer needed his help.
Aidan and Tim were still working on the scanner and I was back watching TV when Drew got back. On the way home, he’d stopped by a Utah State Liquor store and picked up a case full of scotch and bourbon. Without a word, Drew handed me a full glass and sat on the couch next to me. It was Jim Beam—our drink of choice as kids. I thought of all the reasons I had not to drink. I still had the scanner to monitor and the TV news to watch, but I knew there wasn’t much chance that human cops would catch Signe.
Signe probably wouldn’t attack during the night; the house’s defenses were strong enough to hold against a single Jotunn, no matter what weapon she’d stolen from the Norse Gods. And if it came to it, I could use magic to instantly remove all of the alcohol from my system.
I clinked my glass with Drew’s and we both slugged back our drinks in one swallow. As he filled our glasses again, Tim and Aidan entered the room. Aidan turned on the scanner and we heard the State Troopers. The Troopers were hunting for a cop killer; they were pissed and highly motivated. They had nothing.
A thought occurred to me. While Drew poured bourbon for Tim and Aidan, I asked, “Guys, why aren’t reporters swarming all over us?”
Tim answered, “The protection spells on this house prevent enemies or irritants like reporters from finding us.” He tried a weak smile, “That’s why this house has never been visited by Mormon Missionaries or Jehovah Witnesses. None of the human databases have the correct address. Even if reporters got the right address, unless they had the power to defeat the protection spells, they’d keep getting lost.”
Aidan raised his glass, “Lads, I’d like to propose as toast to Mina, Ben and…”
I interrupted him, “Aidan, we’ll mourn them after their killer is dead—not before.” Our eyes met. His were sympathetic. I knew mine were ice cold. He nodded his head. Tim and Aidan left after two drinks each. Over the next few hours, Drew and I talked about old times and we finished off a 1.75 liter bottle of Jim Beam.
After Drew passed out on the couch, I went upstairs to my room and wrote in my journal about Mina, Ben, and Andi. This time, I didn’t leave anything out. I wrote about every moment I spent with Mina from the time I first met her to the time she left for the gun range. I even described the night we tried to have sex. I wrote about my love for her. After I was done, I wept and then went to sleep.
Chapter 30: Revenge
I woke up when a chunk of drywall fell on my face. I opened my eyes, and saw the entire ceiling collapsing. I didn’t have time to get out of my room. I rolled off the bed, scooted underneath it, and said, “Azam-shay.” I wondered if Salt Lake City was being hit by an earthquake.
A huge, birdlike foot tipped with two-foot-long talons smashed into my room and answered my question. Claws snagged my desk, chair, and bed. As my furniture got yanked out of my room, I bounced up, took the door off the hinges with my shoulder, and jumped down the stairs. I hit the floor feet first and then rolled into the kitchen to shed momentum. Drew rushed in from the living room as I got up.
He turned to the window which revealed the scaly underside of the thing that was destroying the house. “Vic, is that a fucking dragon?”
That was as good of a name as any I could come up with. The house shook, groaned, and creaked as the dragon ripped through the roof and smashed down all the walls in the top floor. Since I couldn’t do anything else for them, I hoped Tim and Aidan were okay.
The thing was tearing down walls with just one swipe; Drew and I didn’t have much time. “Drew, where’s the M85 and the LAW rockets?”
“They’re still secured in my van; I never took them out.” Like me, Drew kept his most important equipment in locked steel cases in his vehicle.
“Where are Tim and Aidan?”
“Don’t know, didn’t see them.”
Through the window, I saw more of dragon as it shifted position. Its metallic scales reflected the moonlight, and its head sported a spiky, armored frill. The dragon was at least a hundred feet long; it filled the yard as it sat on its hind legs and tail and used it’s forelimbs to tear the house apart. I had a strong suspicion that Sanguinis and Obex wouldn’t be enough for a hundred feet of magic lizard. I needed more powerful weapons—MUCH more powerful weapons. We’d never get the M85 and the LAW rockets out of the van in time.
Thank God, I’d studied and memorized the escape routes out of Salt Lake City when I’d first gotten here. “Drew, go by highway straight up Parley’s Canyon toward Park City. Mountain Dell golf course will be on your left, about ten miles from here. You should be able to get there in ten minutes. I’ll take city streets and go up Emigration Canyon—that’s a twenty-six mile route to the same place. When we get there, I’ll be coming from the east and you’ll be coming from the west. If things work out right, you’ll get there about fifteen minutes before me. Set up something nice for Puff.”
Drew grinned, “It’s a change from tangos and drug runners.”
I shot back at him. “You have to admit, when you hang with me, it’s never boring.”
I called Harley into the kitchen and gunned it, opening the kitchen door by going straight through it. I must have been going forty when I sailed off the back porch and roared through yard directly at the cedar fence that separated my yard from my neighbor’s. Cedar is a relatively soft wood; it was easier going through the fence than the kitchen door. I barely felt the impact.
I hated being bait again, but I had to make sure the dragon followed me. I exploded through the fence, skidded to a stop, and sprayed it with half a drum of fin stabilized slugs. I saw its scales ripple and I heard the slugs impact, but couldn’t tell if they penetrated. Puff roared, and jerked its Volkswagen-sized head in my direction.
I jerked back on my throttle. My rear tire spun in place digging deep through the grass and into the soft dirt below. Something hot and gooey hit my back. The impact smacked my head into my handlebars. I was barely able to keep my bike upright.
Getting hit had a silver lining; Harley got pushed forward and finally got traction. I was on asphalt going about thirty, weaving back and forth, when a ball of flame just missed me. I then realized that I was on fire; the dragon was spitting burning balls of mucous at me. Being the focus of murderous intent was nothing new—pretty much the story of my life. Having something try to kill me with a gigantic burning loogie—that pissed me off.
Dragon flame was a lot like napalm. Flaming snot covered the back of my helmet, jacket, and left thigh. My left thigh began to hurt as the mithril strike plate heated up; the back of my head felt warm. My jacket protected me perfectly and Harley was fine. I checked my spell bar. I had twenty percent of my soul left. On the bright side, I didn’t feel drunk and I didn’t have a hangover.
I sped through the deserted residential streets; I guessed it was around three or four in the morning. I was threading a fine line. I had to keep the dragon close enough to stay interested, but still stay out of range of its spit wads and claws. It takes a while to set up a M85. The more time I gave Drew the better.
I was going about forty when I glanced in my rearview mirror. I saw the dragon take wing. It closed fast. I slammed on my brakes and went into a controlled skid; the dragon overshot me. It threw its wings open to air brake, over-corrected, stalled, and belly flopped on the pavement. Unfortunately, it didn’t look badly hurt—just surprised and a little stunned.