Modern Sorcery: A Jonathan Shade Novel (5 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

As I approached the door to Naomi’s house around five o’clock, I felt lost.
 
What do you say when someone’s folks pull the old murder/suicide?
 
“Sorry” just didn’t seem to cut it.
 
So when she opened the door, I didn’t say anything; I simply embraced her.
 
She held me tightly, and for a few seconds, there was nobody in the world but us.

“Come in,” she said when she let go.
 
She wiped tears from her cheeks.
 
From the smeared mascara and swollen eyes, I could tell she’d been crying a lot.
 
It hurt to see her like that.

Her house was tastefully decorated with an Oriental flare.
 
We sat on the sofa in her living room beneath two paintings of Chinese symbols.
 
I don’t read Chinese, but I knew they meant peace and tranquility because I’d given them to her when we were a couple.
 
I remember that when she hung them up, she told me that if someone came in and told her they actually read
Stupid American
that she’d have to get even with me.

“So I’m guessing you heard about my father,” she said.

I nodded.

She looked away and I took her hand in mine. “Did you learn anything today?”

“Nothing good.
 
I’m sorry.”

She shook her head.
 
“So he was guilty.”

“I wish I could tell you something different.”

The doorbell rang.

She reached for her purse on the glass coffee table.
 
“I hope you’re hungry.
 
I didn’t feel like cooking, so I ordered some pizza.”

“I’ll get this,” I said.
 
I stood and headed toward the door, pulling a twenty out of my wallet.

I opened the door, and a tall man punched me in the face.

I staggered backward, stunned.
 
The man had long, black hair and dark sunglasses and wore a black leather trench coat.
 
He looked like he’d stepped out of a heavy metal video.

He didn’t have a pizza.

Before I could recover, he bolted through the door and punched me again.
 
This time I fell, but my training chimed in, and I tried to kick his feet out from under him.
 
Unfortunately he moved too fast, and I kicked air.

Naomi threw her hands out toward him, and the air shimmered.
 
As I mentioned, Naomi is a low-level wizard.
 
From the energy blast, I’d say she’d gained some ground in the past half decade.
 
The blast knocked the attacker back a step and gave me time to get to my feet.

He punched Naomi before she could summon up another blast.
 
She hit the wall hard, cracking the drywall and knocking the paintings askew.

I raced over and grabbed the man around the neck from behind.
 
He grabbed my hands and pulled them away from himself.
 
The son of a bitch was strong.
 
I drove my knee into his kidney, but he barely reacted.
 
He twisted around, folding my arms over themselves hard and fast.
 
I flipped sideways and crashed through the glass table.
 
The glass hurt a little, but when I landed on my side against the metal table support, that hurt a hell of a lot more.
 
I couldn’t breathe.

The warrior grabbed Naomi by the throat and lifted her off the floor. “Where are the crystals?” he asked.

She tried to speak, but all that came out were a few guttural choking noises.
 
He drove her into the wall, further cracking it and knocking one of the pictures down.
 
I don’t know if it was “peace” or “tranquility,” but I don’t suppose that matters much.
 
He relaxed his grip on her throat.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Don’t lie to me, bitch.”
 
He slapped her across the face.

I struggled to get up.

The warrior turned to look at me.
 
“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

Blood dripped into my eyes as I pushed myself to my feet.
 
My side throbbed.
 
I held my ribs and wondered if they were broken.
 
It hurt to breathe.
 
I didn’t get a chance to throw any one-liners at him about how it’s not nice to hit a woman or anything.
 
As soon as I was up, he dropped Naomi and spun around.
 
He moved so fast, I had a hard time blocking his roundhouse kick.
 
But I did block it.

Well, the first one.

The second kick came so fast, I didn’t even see it, and I found myself on the floor again in more pain.
 
I wished I’d worn my shoulder holster.
 
I could have just shot him.
 
But no, my gun was back at the office.

Naomi moved to blast him again, but he caught her hands and held them apart.
 
Energy danced on her fingertips, but she couldn’t direct it toward him.

I grabbed a shard of glass from the table, rolled over, and got up.

He looked back at me. “Not very bright, are you?”

“I have my moments,” I said, taking up a fighting stance.
 
“Come and get some.”

“I’m not here for you.”

I knew he couldn’t let go of Naomi’s arms or she’d be able to blast him again.
 
I also knew he had incredible speed and the only way he could attack me right now was to kick me when I came close enough.
 
I figured I’d catch the kick and slice open his femoral artery.
 
Hey, it was a plan.
 
It wasn’t a practical plan and certainly not a plan I ever got to put into action.

He didn’t kick me.

Instead, he threw Naomi at me.

She hit me like a battering ram, and I crashed backward into the flat-panel television.
 
Mr. Metallica might have thought the energy flowing from her hands would hurt me.
 
It would probably have killed a normal person.
 
While in most respects I am a normal person, I do have one advantage when dealing with wizards: magic doesn’t affect me.
 
It’s the reason I can handle cases such as Naomi’s.

The warrior grabbed Naomi by the leg and tossed her aside as if she weighed no more than a pillow.
 
She crashed into a silver lamp beside the sofa.
 
I didn’t see her land because by that time, the guy had grabbed me and hurled me through the front window.
 
Magic can’t hurt me, but glass sure can and so can a hard landing.

I hit the ground in the front yard as the pizza boy walked up the driveway with his red oven bag in one hand.

“Holy shit!” the pizza boy said.
 
He took a step back.

About that time, I heard another energy blast, and the warrior flew backward out the window, landing a few yards past me.
 
I couldn’t catch my breath or move, but he rolled right to his feet and reached into his trench coat.
 
He pulled out a sword, a katana like the one David used to kill Kathy.

“Holy shit,” the pizza boy repeated, doing his best John Belushi.

The warrior ignored the boy and stepped over me as he stormed back to the house.
 
Another blast of energy sent him reeling over me again, and I looked up to see Naomi jump through the window, hands glowing.

“You’ve really pissed me off now,” Naomi said and blasted the warrior again.
 
He rolled right to his feet as if he were simply performing a choreographed dance and started toward her again.

Only now Naomi’s hands weren’t glowing and she looked ready to pass out.

I lost track of the pizza boy, but I suspect he started toward his car.
 
Meanwhile, the warrior moved to step over me, but now I had my breath back, and I launched a solid kick up into his testicles.

It only knocked him back a few steps.
 
He looked down at his crotch then over at me as Naomi helped me to my feet.

“Nice kick,” he said.
 
“I almost felt that one.”

Almost?
 
We were facing a eunuch?
 
Wonderful.

He started toward us again, sword in hand.

“Plan?” Naomi asked.

“Run,” I said.

Naomi and I ran toward the driveway.
 
I figured if we could put her car between him and us, we’d have a chance.
 
We bolted around the BMW.
 
I saw the pizza guy trying to start his Ford Escort on the street.

The warrior leaped over the BMW.
 
So much for that idea.

The pizza guy pushed open his passenger door.
 
“Get in!” he yelled.

Naomi and I raced toward the Escort, warrior behind us.

Naomi jumped into the car.
 
I made a sudden stop, planted, and side-kicked the warrior.
 
It was like trying to kick a freight train, but it did stop him.

“Go!” I yelled to the pizza guy.
 
“Get her out of here!”

“Very noble,” said the warrior.

I faced him, ready to fight as the Escort tore off down the street.

“But as I said, I’m not here for you.”

He swatted me aside like an annoying insect and took off running after the car.
 
There was no way he could catch them, of course.
 
I ran toward my car.
 
Every step sent pain stabbing through my ribs, but Naomi was safe and that’s all that mattered.

I climbed into my car.
 
Then I saw the Escort’s brake lights flare.

“Just run the stop sign, you moron,” I said.

A semi truck barreled through the intersection, and the Escort screeched to a halt.
 
I started my car and gunned the engine.
 
The tires barked as I raced toward them in my Firebird.
 
The Escort started to make a left turn, but the warrior leaped onto the roof.
 
I kept racing toward them as I watched him raise the sword and drive it through the roof of the car into the pizza guy’s head.