The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series) (14 page)

Silithes ste
ps out of the van and onto the dark street.  She stops for a second and mutters quietly, “Fetch the terrorist, Sil,” with a venomous tone.  She takes a deep breath and thinks to herself, “well, who better, really?” That thought consoles her a bit.  Her talent in manipulation is recognized.

That makes her smile.

She muses for a moment about the persona she wishes to project. Nothing too strong she thinks, after all it appears that females seem relegated to a servile role here.  Victim?  Appearing weak would appeal to males with a more predatory streak.  That could get her in. Once in, she thought, all she’d need to do is lay hands on her target and juice him up with the right neuromancy to get him thinking the way she wanted him to.

The door to the van creaks open and Pffif sticks his head out. “You canna be lost already – can ye?”

Silithes responds to him with a quiet hiss and her patented sneer which is responded to with a full-on toothy grin by Pffif. “Sooner ye be goin’, sooner we be goin – get.”

With that the little man closes the door before she can reply.

“Little shit,” she whispers and then turns to make her way around the block.  She adjusts her posture as she walks, hunching over slightly and clinging her arms to herself making herself look smaller, more afraid, less self assured.  By the time she gets to the door, she appears quite unsettled. She looks in all directions, takes what appears to be a steadying breath and knocks on the door.

There is no answer so she knocks again, then returns to clutching herself.  There is a portal on the door that slides open and a man with dark eyes regards her.

“What do you want?”

She jumps a bit at his tone deliberately;
smiling on the inside, but looking sheepish on the outside. 

“I wish to see the lion”

“Not here. Go away”

With that he slams the portal shut.

“Great,” she thinks to herself.  Then she pounds on the door – time to be a desperate woman ready to be victimized.

The slider opens again quickly.

“Leave or I will beat you”

Sil makes eye contact with him and reaches out telepathically. He’s not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer and she quickly decides to send a very simple message.  One that would not be perceived as a sending – more like a feeling.  Just a simple thought –
“trustworthy.”

He blinks for a moment at her and she knows her sending made its way through.

“I have information for the lion, I wish to serve the holy crusade. It is important.”

“How do you know the lion is here?”

She smiles sheepishly.  “The whole town knows.”

She tries to read his face through the small portal.  The portal slams shut again.  She holds herself still, listening.  “Come on
idiot,” she thinks to herself.

Then she hears the lock click and the door opens
.  Doorman steps out.  He’s of average height and complexion for the region, but a little more on the muscular side.  She notes his posture, intended to show his dominance.  He steps over to her and takes her gruffly by the arm, pulling her into the house.

Once inside the house, he closes the door and spins her around
to pat her down - grope her is more like it.  Znuul was right, his hands spent more time on her breasts and everywhere else they aren’t welcome to rather than her belly.

Sil let out little gasps of protest at his rough treatment.  She hear
s voices from behind her encouraging him and asking what he has there. “Animals,” she thinks to herself and tries to push out the feelings that were welling up for such lowly creatures treating her in such manner.

Doorman spins her around brusquely and tries to loom over her.  “What is this message you have for the lion?”
Sil’s eyes go to the living room where three other men lounge with cocky assuredness.

“Well, well, well, these are the dogs that cheer for the groping of
a woman.”  The three wells being a code that was worked out to relay numbers to the team. She is told in so many words to mind her place and be happy they all don’t check her.  She turns to doorman and puts her hand on his arm.  She feels her connection to him and wills a small current of neuromantic energy into his nervous system; a frequency that energizes the centers of the brain that makes one feel trust and security.

He looks at her hand on his arm. S
he smiles sheepishly and catches his eye.

“My message
is for the Lion only, please.”

“Follow me.”

They walk through the living room and through a door to the kitchen, where three men sit around a small table.

“Well, well
,” she says gain giving numbers to the team in the van. “And the Lion, I am honored.”  With that she bows her head to him.

Jalal is not pleased with the doorman.
“Why do you bring this woman here before me! Who is she? How does she know me?”

Doorman stammers for a moment, now realizing he doesn’t even know this woman’s name. He looks at Silithes confused, then becomes agitated. Sil can tell he wants to ask her name, but doesn’t want Jalal to know he’s clueless.

She lets him off the hook turning to look Jalal deeply in the eyes, “I am Saleel, and I have a very important message for you.”

“
Damn,” she thinks - he’s a tough one.  There will be no simple telepathic suggestions.

“Turn your eyes
whore. Then tell us your message and be on your way,” he says in an offhand manner.

“My message is for your ears only.” She steps forward
and tries to take his hand, but he pulls it back and stands up quickly.  Then he steps forward even more quickly and harshly slaps Silithes across the faces.

Th
e slap stings.  She collapses to the ground as a good victim should and even gives a whimper for good show.  But inside Silithes’ mind there is a different story.  She is seeing red. Her thoughts go to Znuul’s original plan. She thinks how gratifying it would be to just kill them all and drag this Lion asshole out to the alley.

“Speak your message… now!”

Silithes looks up at him briefly, then back down recognizing her place in their minds. “My message is for you only.”

Jalal looks over to one of his cron
ies at the table and tells him,“put a bullet in this cur and let’s see if she talks then.”

Doorman speaks up as the other man produces a
handgun and begins to stand.  “There are other ways to loosen a woman’s tongue.  Let us take our pleasure with her.  She will talk.”

That thought disgusts Silithes. These
revolting, smelly men taking their pleasure with her?  With her? Defiling her temple? Not a chance… She thinks for a second – there’s something else she can say, so she does.

“My message is from
Ahtsag Znuul, himself.”

That gets silence from the room and
the gunman stops in his tracks and looks at Jalal.

The fallen angel speaks to you?  A woman?  When he speaks to me directly at his will? You are a deceiver and a whore.  Fariq, shoot this bitch in the head.”

Fariq begins to step around the table and stops in his tracks as Sil says, “No. I can prove my words.”

What stopped him wasn’t what she said, but how she said it. Silithes used her own voice, dropping all pretense.  Her voice carried a tone and gravity that Saleel’s never did.  She looks up at Jalal, eyes confident and smiling. “Do you wish me to prove my words?”

Jalal nods to her. “Quickly, or die where you are.”

Sil stands calmly, then takes her
burka by the hem and begins to lift it up, deftly making sure to grab the transponder from her belly and pull the earpiece out while she doffs the whole thing on the floor so they won’t be noticed.

She stands there naked
, taking them in; reading their body language.  She has them on their heels, except for Jalal.

“I can buy better in Cairo
,” he sneers to her. “Fariq…”

“No, you can’t Jalal
,” she says with a silky confidence and with that she transforms into her normal demonic self.

Doorman falls back over his own feet, landing butt first on the floor.  Jalal’s eyes widen.
  Fariq shakily trains the gun on her. The other guy at the table mutters something to the effect of, “Allah save us.”

“Behold my true beauty.”

They are enraptured.  Silithes is pleased.

“Arthur’s going to be
so happy with how I pulled this one out,” she thinks to herself.

“Lock and load ladies and gents
,” proclaims Znuul.

That leaves me a bit mystified.  Y
ea it sounded like things got rocky, but now it sounds like Sil has them eating from her hands. 

“She pulled it out of the weeds Z.  It’s all under control.”

That gets me a sarcastic smile and a serious eye. “Sure, under control. Until someone hears this black haired succubus ran off with his terrorist funding agent. You need to stay dead – think of your family.  You take one of his…”

Oh shit.  That brings it
to home.  I don’t bother answering, I’m sure my wide eyes and great poker face give it all away. I just pull my sidearm and nod.

Znuul looks over to Vets.  “You
and Arthur take the front door. Sheyliene you're in the air – warn us if anyone approaches. No survivors. I’ll take the rear. I’ll give the signal over the comm. Kitten, you pull them around to the front. Ski masks on.  We make this quick.”

Vets nods to Znuul and I give him a
, “Roger that.”  With that he dons his ski mask and is out the door into the dark alley behind the house.  I press the button on my neck piece. “Com check”

Vets nods to me and I hear a deep voice
, “Check,” from Znuul’s end.

Kitten moves the van, heading around the block
delivering us to the front door.  We step out, followed by tiny Shey, who’s ready to cover our rear with her bow from above if anyone tries to come in behind us. I push the button to the comm. “Ready.”

“On three
,” Vets steps up to the door. “One. Two. Three.”  Vets kicks the door in at the lock plate and we both stream in.  The lounging gentleman are surprised and scrambling I hear “Pfft! Pfft!"Pfft!”  Three rounds from Vets’ silenced 9mm.  There is some sound of pain.  I take to the stairs next to the front door to sweep the rooms upstairs.  9mm trained, I look up to see a mother with a child, no more than three years old clutching her leg.  The woman looks terrified.

I nod to her emphatically to go back upstairs.

I hear more rounds from Vets gun – she’s finishing what she started.  I look over to her and she to me.  “Clear?” she asks.

“Think so
,” I reply.

~

Silithes is feeling empowered.  She looks to the other man who called for Allah, “Since Allah isn’t going to need to save you - why don’t you be a dear and hand me my Burka? Jalal and I need to step outside to speak.”

Her gaze returns to Jalal, promising many things. Inside she’s thinking that they better be ready in that alley.  She does not like these men and she’d prefer not to have to play the temptress.  The role of the butcher would feel
much better.

Allah-help-
us reaches for the burka, when all heads turn to the living room after hearing a crash followed by cries that end a little too abruptly.  Fariq starts to the door.  Allah-help-us reaches for a weapon.

Then the back door splinters into the kitchen.  Fariq spins around and tries to train his weapon at the huge man in black
coming in. 

“Thuwp! Thuwp! Thuwp!”

Fariq’s head explodes painting the wall in blood and brains.  Allah-help-us is tossed back over his chair in a gory spray and doorman falls to the ground, the part of his head missing.  Jalal reaches for the weapon in his trousers and is stopped in his tracks by Sil’s hand on his neck, thumb wrapped under his chin.

Jalal is motionless.

“I had this under control,” Silithes says her voice dripping with venom.

“Explanations later
,” snaps Znuul.

With that Znuul produces a syringe, steps over to Jalal and jabs it in his neck.  Sil releases her hand
from his neck and Jalal stands there motionless as a statue for a moment, then tumbles to the ground.

“Nice work there.  Now make yourself presentable and get him into the van. Now.”

Silithes rolls her eyes and begins transforming back to her “normal” human form. Out of the corner of her eye she sees doorman trying to crawl away.  She looks at Znuul who says, “Resilient.” Sil walks over to him and steps on his back stopping him. Then she casually moves over and puts that foot on the back of his neck, pressing down until she feels the crunch of his neck breaking and sees his body twitch.

“You through having f
un?  Get the bastard to the van,” Znuul says.

Then they both stop as the “Crack! Crack!” of
large weapons fire comes from the living room.

~

Vets was incredibly efficient in her dispatching of the living room crew.  I guess that nerves of steel translate to a pretty steady shooting hand. After downing the three of them upon her entrance, she made very sure no one was getting up with an extra round.

I fe
el good about sparing the mother and son. That’s just a level of brutality I’m not ready to embrace.

We hear Znuul’s entrance shortly after ours.  Nice. He used
us as a distraction – actually kind of smart.  He was telling Sil something. His deep tone carries, though I can’t make out what he’s saying.  I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye and turn to the stairs.  Mom is flying down the stairs and wheels around with an AK-47.

I move for cover and feel a sharp thud against m
y chest, that spins me around. Instinctively, I try to move around to take aim.  As the stairs come into view, I see mother falling down, blood-spray across the wall behind where she stood.

Vets,
catty-corner to the stairs had a direct shot and took it.  The kitchen door burst open, literally, as Znuul’s just about took it off the hinge.  Naked Silithes is in his trail not far behind.

Both Vets and Sil have looks of concern on their face and my chest is on fire.

“You have been struck!” Vets bounds over to me, patting me down for injury.  She helps me stand and brother Z is looking at me with disapproval from under his ski mask.  He reaches to my chest and pulls the slug from my body armor, then turns to Sil.

“Get
Jalal to the van, now.  And you…” he says turning to me. “You should know better.  Is there anyone else up there?” 

My eyes look over to see a small pair of feet at the top of the stairs.  My heart breaks, no child should set eyes upon what he just did.  Why couldn’t she just have stayed upstairs?

Znuul’s eyes follow mine. “Dammit Arthur. Get to the van.  I’ve got this.”

My eyes
, I know show protest.  That is met with a very authoritative, “GO NOW!”

I see small feet turn around and hear them run upstairs to hide.  There’s no discussion, Znuul
is on the march to the stairs. Vets takes my arm and urges me to go.

I’m not sure if my blood is boiling or just frozen over.  War is hell.

We run like mad through the kitchen, down the alley and into the van.  Shey buzzes in and Kitten tells us to close the door.  Znuul’s instructed us to move out, over the comm.  He’ll catch up to us in a few blocks. We begin to move. My nerves are shot.  That kid.  Znuul’s silenced desert eagles.  If mom had just stayed put.

Vets pulls off her ski mask
, “You should have cleared the upstairs.”

I close my eyes
and choke back hard on my anger. Vets doesn’t need to be the recipient of my wrath, that’s just how my warrior is.  But still…

She starts to say something else, but is stopped by Pffif’s hand gripping her leg and him looking her in the face. “I don know what happened, but ye should shut yer mouth unless ye want a helpin of yer wielder’s anger.”

“Not a good time hun,” is Sil’s addition.

Shey is asking what happened and seem
s very concerned. She was outside after all, making sure we weren't surprised by outsiders. I just look at her and nod a “no.”  I don’t really want to discuss it.

The van comes to a sto
p and the passenger door opens, followed by Znuul folding himself inside. 

“Get us to the
warehouse.”

There is an uncomfortable silence.  It feels like hours.  It was probably not even a minute.

Znuul turns around as best he can in the van’s seat.  “Arthur, he won’t remember anything. He’ll wake and only remember going to sleep.  Now, ten, fifteen – thirty years from now, who knows what may seep back into his consciousness. But, it will still suck for him even if he doesn’t remember. Bullet may have been a favor.”

I take a deep breath of relief and kick myself for thinking the worst.  “Thanks man. It’s better he lives. Much better.”

“Who knows…" says Znuul, "Let’s hope so.”