Author: Derek

Anne

The quartet of orcs bellowed as they charged the two. Anne raised her sidearm, but Erik pushed it down with surprising force. Anne glowered at the strange man. What the hell was he playing at?

“Don’t bother with that,” Erik said, “Your pistol isn’t going to be enough to take down an orc. Run to the street. Wait for a van driven by a blond-haired German named Kurt. Go with him. Tell him I’ll catch up.”

“Are you insane?” Anne demanded, “I need to call this in before these things kill a bunch of innocents.” She pulled her radio off her belt. The radio was ripped out of her hand by an unseen hand. What the hell?

“Don’t,” Erik said, holstering his own pistol. With a flash, he had a thick-bladed dagger that reminded Anne of a Bowie knife in his left hand. In his right was a massive stainless revolver. “Your police will just get slaughtered if they try to take on the Dark Towers. Run, now!” An invisible force pushed Anne towards the entrance of the warehouse. Forget who this Erik person was. The question in Anne’s mind was what was Erik? Anne stumbled a couple of steps before sprinting towards the entrance.

“Arem!” she heard Erik yell before she ran out of the warehouse. Then came a thunderous roar that could only be that revolver. Forty yards until she hit the entrance to the docks. The unearthly snarl to Anne’s left startled her enough that she tripped. Stars and pain blossomed as she hit the asphalt. Her sidearm clattered across the ground. Anne turned over as her vision cleared. What she thought was two dumpsters unfolded into two towering monsters. Each stood nearly twelve feet tall with dark, gray rough skin. They looked like much larger versions of those monsters Erik stayed to fight. Instinct took over and Anne slipped her hand down her her boot and drew the small Ruger LCP. A small red dot appeared on the closer monster. Anne squeezed the trigger. Blossoms of dark blood appeared on the monster’s chest, but all the little .380 bullets managed to do was enrage it further.

Screeching tires drew Anne’s and the monsters’ attention to the entrance of the docks. A white van darted into the dockyards before pulling an amazing skew turn to stop maybe ten feet from Anne. The two monsters stood still, trading perplexed looks with each other. Maybe they’d never seen a van before? The side door of the van slid open. A tall, lanky, blond man stepped out holding some kind of belt-fed machine gun. The two monsters didn’t seem to surprise him. If anything, the new man looked resigned. This must be Kurt. He pointed the machine gun at the monster that Anne wounded.

“Nice grouping fraulein, but trolls need more than small bits of lead and copper to take them down. Cover your ears. This is going to be a bit loud,” Kurt said. Anne quickly grabbed her ears a moment before the machine gun’s roar filled the dockyards. She could barely hear the monster’s howl of pain as its chest was torn apart by the machine gun’s bullets. Was there small gouts of flame coming from it? The first monster fell, and Kurt quickly turned the gun on the second. It didn’t last any longer than its companion. The silence was deafening as the machine gun stopped firing.

“Come, fraulein,” Kurt said loudly, “We need to get you and Erik out of here.”

“He said he was going to catch up with us,” Anne managed to say as she leapt into the van. Guns of various sizes were locked in racks on the sides of the interior. Kurt gave the detective a quizzical look as he locked the machine gun into one of the racks. “He was fighting off some orcs and someone named Arem.”

“Arem?” Kurt asked, “Who’s Arem?”

“Tall guy, brown hair and scary eyes?” Anne asked, “He was leading the orcs. I think that’s what the other guy called them.” Kurt’s normally handsome features contorted into a grimace.

“Schiesse,” the German cursed, “Hold on, this is going to get a little rough.” Kurt deftly wheeled the van around and darted out on to the street. He sped down the boulevard for a few blocks, took a right, and blended into traffic.

“Where are you taking me?” Anne asked.

“To my employers,” Kurt said, “They are the ones that normally deal with the dunkle Turme.”

“The what?” Anne asked.

“Sorry, the Dark Towers,” Kurt answered, “The monsters across the gate.” Anne didn’t look any less confused. Kurt shrugged his shoulders. “They will explain it to you.”

Erik

Orcs. Why the hell had Arem brought orcs to Earth? Better question, how had Arem survived? Erik thought as the orcs charged with their black swords raised above them. At least Kurt had been nice enough to put a light and reflex sight on this revolver. Not only did it help with aiming the heavy piece, but added a bit of weight to the front so he didn’t need to use as much power when using it. Erik placed the glowing dot on the lead orc and squeezed the trigger.

He felt the recoil thrum through his body. The heavy bullet neatly blew the back of the orc’s head out, splattering his comrades with blood and brains. To their credit, the three remaining orcs didn’t hesitate, but spread out to come at him from multiple angles. So, these had been up against Avalonians before. Well, Erik doubted they’d faced anything like him.

He flipped his dagger at the left-hand orc with enough power pushing the blade to launch it like a crossbow bolt. The orc gave out an abbreviated scream as the blade lanced through its eye before slamming into the its brain. It fell to the ground and slid for a few feet. The right-hand orc took a pair of bullets to the chest. With orcs, it was best to be sure. Like its brother, it went to the ground dead. Erik was brought the revolver around to deal with the last orc. The orc threw a small blade at Erik, forcing him to slide out of the way. Well, small for an orc. The blade was almost a bloody short sword. The orc sped up.

Erik felt the spike of wild magic before his revolver was torn out of his hands. The silver weapon fell into Arem’s waiting hands. Erik didn’t have time to even curse. He used a bit of power to yank his dagger back, and then sent a stronger blast at the elf. Arem stumbled back from the surprise push and accidentally fired the last two rounds from the revolver. Erik felt one of the heavy bullets whistle past his head a scant moment before a hammer slammed into his chest.

The last orc’s body slumped to the ground with the gaping hole in its chest. There was a flash of pain and Erik fell back to the ground. Damn, he hated getting shot. At least Arem killed his own orc with the same bullet. The elf pointed the revolver at Eric’s prone form and squeezed the trigger again. The warehouse echoed with the mechanical snap of the hammer landing on a spent casing. Arem let out a string of elven curses and threw the revolver on the ground. Erik winced. He really didn’t want to listen to the German when he brought that revolver home. Sirens in the distance caught Arem’s attention.

“We’ll finish this fight at a later time,” Arem promised. Another spike of wild magic coursed through the warehouse. A red hole in the air appeared just long enough for Arem to step through. Erik stood up. His chest and ribs protested the movement. It was time for him to get the hell out.

Anne

Detective Anne Hearst looked at the hideous creature that was snarling at her and the strange man that somehow knocked the creature to the ground just before it clawed her. Her mind couldn’t reconcile with what her eyes were seeing.

“Draw your weapon!” the man commanded, “Shoot the goblin before it gets back up!” Goblin? What was he talking about? Then the creature scrambled back to its feet and snarled at her. The Glock 23 materialized in Anne’s hand and she fell into a firing stance. Gunfire erupted behind her. The man must be shooting at something else. Even in the relatively open space of the warehouse, the sound was deafening.

The goblin leapt at Anne again. She fired her pistol. Sickening red blossomed on the creature’s rough chest, but it didn’t stop. She fired again. And again. And again. The goblin howled in pain, but it kept staggering forward. Anne kept pulling the trigger until her pistol stopped firing. There was a flash of panic that her sidearm might have malfunctioned. She quickly realized the slide was locked back on an empty magazine. The goblin was badly hurt, but it was still moving towards her with a single-minded fury. Anne jammed the magazine release button. She could barely hear the clatter of the empty magazine on the concrete floor. She fumbled for a spare magazine while still holding her flashlight. Frustrated, she let go of the flashlight, yanked the spare magazine from her belt, slammed it in, and pulled back on the slide. She could barely see the goblin in the sudden darkness, but it was enough. She opened fire. Three more hits and the goblin fell to the concrete. It didn’t move again.

Anne picked up her flashlight and turned back to where the man had been shooting. Two goblins lay at his feet as he fired his pistol at a third. The long, dark coat and floppy hat obscured his features as he slid across the floor to bring his weapon to bear. Four more barks from his pistol and a third gray-green body fell unmoving into the light. Anne finally got a good look at him as he turned back to her.

The man was around six feet tall. Under the jacket, she could see his wiry frame. He had a long, lean face with maybe a day’s stubble. It was the eyes that stopped her. There was something alluring, but disturbing in the man’s dark eyes. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make out his words.

“RELOAD YOUR PISTOL,” he said loudly enough to overcome her gunfire-induced deafness, “THEIR LEADER IS STILL OUT THERE.” She mimicked him as he ejected the spent magazine from his pistol and slapped in a fresh one. He held his finger to his lips to remind her to be quiet. Who was this guy? Whoever he was, he seemed to know how to kill those goblins, so Anne decided to follow his lead. At least for the moment.

Erik

Erik heard as the detective fell in behind him. From her reactions, this was definitely the first time she’d encountered goblins, which meant his intelligence was wrong – again. Whatever she was, this woman was not a summoner. Still, she was definitely an unusual person. He doubted most people would have recovered quickly enough from the shock to deal with the little goblins. He needed to help this woman survive long enough to figure out exactly who and what she was. Now where was the damned hobgoblin?

“Give me the woman,” a raspy voice demanded from the darkness. The words echoed through the warehouse.

“I just wiped out your little hunting pack,” Erik answered back, “I’m not seeing why I should.”

“Avalonian, that human belongs to the Meliandre,” the hobgoblin said. “You do not want to draw Meliandre’s wrath.” Erik focused his senses and probed for the nonhuman’s mind. It was right about – there. He lifted his pistol to the rafters. The flashlight on the pistol’s dust cover illuminated the hobgoblin. Like its lesser cousins, the hobgoblin’s skin was a rough gray-green. Long, pointed ears peaked out of a mane of pure white hair, while an almost human face snarled at him. Erik didn’t hesitate. He fired twice, knocking the nasty creature off its perch. As it hit the concrete, Erik fired twice more into the hobgoblin’s head.

“What did you do that for?” Anne demanded. Erik turned back to her. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than him. Cold, blue eyes glared out from Nordic features. There was just the slight hint of strawberry in her blonde hair. From the emotions raging from the detective, she was terrified and angry.

“Hobgoblins are tougher than they look,” he said loudly enough for her to hear. After all that gunfire, the detective’s ears must be ringing. He’d have to ask Veronica to do something so the detective wouldn’t suffer some permanent hearing loss from the night’s battle. He flipped out his phone and hit the speed dial.

“Ja,” came the smooth German accented voice.

“Kurt, I need a pickup for the detective and myself,” Erik said, “Have Sam and Veronica be ready. This is going to be a long night.” Erik closed the phone without hearing a reply. Kurt was rock solid like that.

“How can you hear anything?” Anne asked. Erik fished out one of the hearing-aid sized electronic devices from his ear.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Erik,” he answered, focusing his senses on her. He needed to get her psi-scent fixed firmly in his mind. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel a thing from her.

“Stop that, whatever you’re doing,” Anne said. She brought up her pistol. “Put your gun on the ground and show me some ID.” As she spoke, Erik could feel the wild magic pulse strongly around them.

“That might not be a good idea,” Erik said, “We’ve got more company.” Before Anne could repeat her order, a circle of red light appeared in the middle of the warehouse. Four large, overly-muscular creatures jumped into the warehouse. Erik took one look at their dark grey skin painted with runes and claymore-sized swords. He didn’t have to see their twisted faces to know.

“I hate orcs,” Erik said as he brought up his pistol. Then, his world fell out from under him as the elf casually walked out. It couldn’t be. Erik was sure he killed that damned elf a decade ago. As the elf turned to face him, it’s eerily perfect features contorted into a grimace. Glad to see it remembered him as well.

“Jaegar? What are you doing here?” the elf asked.

“Arem,” was all Erik could manage as remembered rage coursed through him.

“I’ll make this simple for you,” Arem said, “Give me the woman and I’ll make your death quick and relatively painless. Try and keep her from me, and I will give you the death you truly deserve.”

“Arem, I’m going to enjoy killing you again,” Erik said, locking eyes with the elf. Arem nodded slightly. The battle began.

Erik

“You’re going to draw unwanted attention sitting like that,” Sam said as she walked across the roof to where Erik was crouched on the ridge. The tall brunette peered down the twenty stories to the streets below. “You look like you’re either going to jump or pretending to be Batman.”

“I suppose,” Erik relented and crawled back down from the edge of the roof. “Sorry, old habit.” Sam didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Sam could reprove him with just a look on her heart shaped face. It was one of the few perks of being his oldest friend.

“What are you doing up here?” Erik asked.

“Kurt called. Our target is going back to the warehouse,” Sam answered. “It’s secluded enough. We might want to make contact and make a determination.” Erik pondered that for a few moments before nodding.

“I’ll do the contact,” Erik asked. “I’ll make the determination. Kurt can back me up. Veronica and you can wait at the safehouse.” Sam’s face set into a hard look.

“Why you and not me?” Sam asked, “She might react better to a woman than you.” She waved her hands in disgust at Erik’s outfit. He couldn’t see what was wrong with it. A long, denim, black duster covered a dark blue cotton shirt and jeans. He’d seen other men wearing similar clothes on television. Still, Sam was much better at finding those slight differences in what was considered normal this side of the gate.

“Maybe if the contact was going to be more public. Since it’s not, if something goes sideways, I’m more experienced in combat. And killing,” Erik said, the last two words almost a whisper. Sam paused before launching her next verbal salvo. Her lips pressed into a tight grimace. She hated it when he was right.

“Fine,” she spat out, “You be careful. I’ve been to enough funerals in the past year.” Erik’s face darkened before Sam realized her mistake.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, “I know you feel that it was all your fault the way things ended. I just want you to be careful here. It’s not like at home. I want you around for a long time.” Erik nodded, and a grim smile appeared on his face.

“I will be careful,” Erik said before leaping off the building. Sam gasped, and then started swearing. Okay, their powers were a bit degraded on this side of the gate, but this was easy. The hard part was keeping the duster from billowing out too much. And Erik always loved flying when he could get away with it.

Anne

Detective Anne Hearst looked down at the chalk outline and faded bloodstains. Three months, three victims. Each brutally torn apart. The shrink her team had consulted said the killer was exhibiting signs of an explosive, savage rage. That was the takeaway from a three hundred page report the shrink had delivered to the police. Well that, and the normal profile. Probably a white male, intelligent, in a menial position. The shrink sure as hell couldn’t identify the connection between the three victims. The first had been a blond stay at home mom in the suburbs killed while doing her morning power walk. The second was a Hispanic gay man coming out of a club. This victim was tentatively identified as a black homeless man known to the dockworkers as “Stubby Joe.”

She looked around the warehouse. It looked like any of the several abandoned warehouses near the dockyard. Another victim of the recession. The wide open space was dusty and the steel supports were starting to rust. She could smell the pungent odors of human squatters with the unique smell of the the river. Her flashlight lanced out into the dark space. If the murder hadn’t cleared out the squatters, then all of the police activity certainly had. All that was left was debris.

“Why are you down here Annie?” she murmured to herself. “Mom is going to kill you for ducking her again just to wallow in a crime scene.” For some reason, she’d felt pulled down here tonight. Like a clue would emerge if she’d just come down to the scene one more time. She knelt down next to the blood. Then she felt it again. Something odd in the air. She’d felt it at the other murder scenes. Like the air was tingling with barely perceptible electricity. Then, the energy spiked. It was like the one time she’d grabbed a hot electrical wire. Power flashed through her. As it subsided, Anne slowed her breathing. Maybe it was time to go see that shrink. Her heart leapt as hissing whispers came from deeper in the warehouse.

“Who’s there?” Anne demanded, swinging her flashlight around the darkness, “This is the police. Come out and show yourself!” Her hand fell to the butt of her Glock. There was movement on the edge of her flashlight beam. She swung the beam after whoever it was. As her beam landed on the source, Anne revised her statement. Not a who, a what. Her mind reeled with what her eyes were seeing, so it grabbed on to what was familiar. The thing stood upright, had a head, two arms, and two legs. It let out a high-pitched growl, like the cheetah at the city zoo. It’s gold eyes flashed at her as it’s gray-green face split to reveal a mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth.

Anne screamed as it leapt at her. She was paralyzed as the unearthly creature attacked her. What the hell was that thing? She couldn’t even think to draw her sidearm. Just as she could smell the creature’s foul, hot breath, it was knocked to the side. A man slid beside her, holding a black pistol. Funny, she didn’t hear the gunshot.

“Who are you?” was all Anne could think to say.

This week’s Fiction Monday starts Avalon, a new urban fantasy serial. Feel free to let me know what you think.