Gwen looked down over the stadium. Her hide was good; almost in plain sight but obscured by an ornate safety railing. The controls for the DJ equipment for the stadium lay in easy reach. Her rifle was already set up, all she needed to do was aim and fire. She might need to move a bit once the shooting started, but until then she could handle everything with one hand and her voice.

Ever we are like this, a spider in her web.

Right now, everything proceeded according to schedule. A few parents volunteered to help with organizing things. It had been touch and go, but the words ‘normal high school experience’ had worked their magic. With those words uttered, half a dozen men and women who would otherwise be running businesses and countries, preparing legal arguments or deciphering cryptography were instead handing out programs, refreshments, and noisemakers.

By the time the sun touched the horizon, the bleachers were full of an even mix of students and parents. As the last car pulled in, she damped the music and keyed her mic.

“We’re sorry to inform you that due to an unexpected outbreak of illness, the young men’s cheer squad from Richard Mentor Johnson High School will not be performing their routine today. Nothing serious, we should be seeing them all soon enough.” Obligatory sounds of disappointment came from the crowd, but no real upset. They knew who they had come to see. Gwen let the tension rise a moment, then reaped it. Under her voice, for form’s sake, she started playing the familiar opening of Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You’.

“But not before we see our girls! Van Buren fans, I give you the cheer squad that doesn’t need pom-poms and skirts, the girls that lead us on and off the field, the girls the guys want and the other girls want to be, I give you your own Martin Van Buren High School Executives!”

The students reacted like any group of teenagers given an excuse to make noise. Gwen switched the music to her choreographed selection, started the big lights strobing in an introduction pattern, and keyed her mike to another channel.

“Ready?”

It was strange to hear the Master’s voice after all the text chat. He sounded so young and ordinary. “Forums primed and waiting for launch. You need to go within three minutes to get peak volume.”

“one hundred fifty seconds. Give the forums a countdown.”

She switched back, knowing the Master would take care of his end of things. Her voice, amplified, rang out over the stadium as she announced the girls as each ran onto the track ringing the field. Legs pumping in perfect unison, the dozen girls on the team sprinted on to the track, stopping when they were evenly spaced across the front of the stands. The stadium shook with the cheers coming from the bleachers. Gwen swept her scope across them; a few were grinning at the applause, but most of them were keeping straight faces appropriate to the day’s costumes.

The school’s colors were red, white and grey. Today’s costumes were patterned after men’s power suits; charcoal slacks, white blouses, sport jackets matching the slacks, and crimson ties. The piece de resistance was the wraparound dark sunglasses each girl wore. Unknown to the spectators, the sunglasses were VR glasses; Gwen and the Master controlled exactly what each girl saw. The more subtle ear buds did the same for what they heard. Right now they saw and heard exactly what was in front of them; bleachers full of cheering classmates and parents.

A silent alarm went off on Gwen’s laptop, and she looped what the cheer squad was seeing. That gave her a few seconds to react to whatever happened next.

***

Mary stared at the faux suit in her hands. She should be with her team. They didn’t need her, but she needed to be there for them. That had been on her mind when she pulled on her jeans, slipped into her blouse. Just before she left for home, she saw the suit lying where Mr. Stewart left it. Since then, she’d leaned against the counter, costume in her hands.

She heard the faint sound of a roaring crowd through the walls of the garage, it stirred something deep within her. Slowly, she raised her head to stare into the distance, imagining she could see through the concrete walls, through the intervening terrain, to see the stadium, the crowds, her team.

She set the uniform carefully on the counter, reached down to undo the button on her jeans, and was hammered to ground as every muscle in her body convulsed with pain.

***

Lane’s crowbar blurred into a flat disc. She flowed around it, keeping it between her and Jun. She saw him take a step and moved into him, keeping the bar in motion, its edge her weapon and shield. Hitting him was like trying to grab flame; all she got was hot and sore. He was too fast to hit.

This time she used her reach to push him back and corner him. When he tried to pass on her right, the bar was there. When he tried on the left, she threatened a body block. Killer and Jun had both honed her grappling moves, and with nearly twice his muscle mass, if she managed to get to grips with him, she had him.

He showed his speed again as, unbelievably, he lashed out and grabbed the bar. Surprise more than anything broke Lane’s grip, and the bar’s torque wrenched it from her hand.

Yesterday, she would have frozen. After David, she would have grabbed to get her weapon back. After Killer, she would have tried to tackle Jun. Now, after training with Jun, her hands lashed out the instant she lost contact with the bar. One reconnected with the bar and slid along it, guiding Jun’s hands where they clung to the bar. The other moved where his hands would be; strong fingers clamping down on his forearm the moment it touched her palm.

Jun released the bar; Lane redirected it away from them and pulled him toward her. He pinched her hand, releasing her hold, but by then she grabbed his other arm, and her leg swept toward his knee. He leapt over the sweep, and in the moment when he was without leverage, she used her grip on his arm to drive him back to the floor. Her legs scissored closed around his thighs.

He slapped the floor, signaling his submission. She had him grappled, and they both knew the only way he would get out was when she let him. She released him, and they both leapt to their feet.

Jun motioned for her to take a break, and she went to get water while he spoke quietly with Gil. She downed the first liter bottle without thinking, drank down the second without pause, and was drinking the third before she stopped to consider her thirst. Other than being thirsty, she felt fantastic. There was something odd about that. Since she started running for Gil, she had worked without a break. She ought to be exhausted. Instead she felt…

Invigorated. She was positively bursting with energy, unable to completely stand still. Deep within, she felt a constant pleasant burn. Her skin tingled, as if her body couldn’t contain the energy inside of her. She bounced on the balls of her feet as she finished off the last of the water. In the distance behind her, she heard Jun Fan and Gil talking quietly.

Gil’s voice was uncharacteristically bitter, “Gus can’t make it. He said he’d pray for her.”

Jun Fan’s voice, as always, remained serene, “That means more than you may realize.”

When she turned to continue her training, she stood confused for a moment. Gil walked back from the door, pulling his jacket on. Her confusion must have shown on her face; Gil smiled gently and reached up to touch the side of her face.

“Hey, Lane. Gus can’t make it. Jun tells me you’re as ready as he can get you. Doesn’t much matter, though. I’ve got to get you home.”

A touch of panic skittered through Lane, “Home? Crap, what time is it?”

“What time did your mom expect you?”

“She didn’t. I’ve been sleeping at the garage lately, working on the Willys.”

Gil’s hand slipped down to take hers. Their fingers intertwined, and he began leading her to his Harley. “OK, then. I’ll drop you there. It’s going to be late afternoon by the time we get back.”

“Late afternoon? I thought it was way later than that. Mom wouldn’t even expect me to be done school yet.”

“There were no classes this week.”

“I was taking some extra tutoring.”

“Doesn’t matter. I meant Saturday afternoon.”

Lane stopped walking, jerking Gil to a halt without thinking about it. “Wha? Saturday? I’ve been going for thirty-six hours?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s get you back to the Garage. Maybe you can sack out there?”

“Yeah. My Mom is going to kill me.”

“Tell you what, Lane. I’ll get you back to the Garage then I’ll go round up some supplies. I have the feeling we both want to disappear for a little bit.”

“Why do you want to disappear?”

“Other than wanting a little uninterrupted time with you?”

A blush rushed across Lane’s face, but it didn’t make her stop grinning like an idiot. “OK. Are there any other reasons?”

“Not exactly. I might have to disappear for a bit if Mr. Stewart finds out about us, so I want to make the most of the time we have.”

“K.” She pulled him to her and planted a searing kiss on his lips, as full of promise as she could manage. “Just remember to come back for me, ok?”

“Always.”

***

The stadium wobbled like reality was made of jelly. From the far end of the field came a shriek that pierced every eardrum in the stadium. It seeped through ears to hindbrains, paralyzing everyone who heard it.

In that instant, it froze everyone in the stadium except Gwen, the coaches, and the cheer squad. Of those few, only Gwen heard the shriek. The others were protected by their earplugs. Gwen was protected by yet another of the energy manipulations she had mastered.

They’re spells. Admit it. You’re a sorceress.

Gwen muttered too low for her mic to detect. “Whatever.”

She scanned the far end of the field. Fourteen dark figures shambled from a huge, rippling portal. She recognized most of them; she’d shot them just last night. They stood backlit by the figures following them, rough humanoid shapes formed entirely of living flame. A flock of ravens flew overhead, the shriek growing louder as more of the flock poured through the portal. Finally, a huge figure, barely able to fit through the gaping hole in reality, stepped over the advancing elementals and zombies alike, stopping after a single stride. That one stride carried him yards onto the field. The giant stood, arms akimbo, looking about him as the flock of ravens swirled about his enormous frame.

Gwen took a moment to examine her opponent through her scope. Fires danced in his eyes, his hair the color of flame braided into a complicated knot that began at the nape of his neck and led down to his waist. On his chest, forearms, and legs he wore plates of red metal, ornately decorated with scenes of men dying by fire. Over one shoulder the hilt of a massive great sword protruded; so huge Gwen suspected even the giant would need two hands to swing it.

Saints and ministers of Grace protect us! It’s Surtr.

The cloud of ravens swirled tighter and tighter, a tornado of jet eyes, beaks, and feathers that coalesced into a young woman of normal proportions standing next to the giant. Her hair raven-black, her skin the white of bone China, her garments silver-washed chainmail which covered her poorly. Her lips were the color of fresh blood, and when they closed the horrible scream echoing through the stadium finally cut off.

Surtr and Annan? Unlikely does not begin to describe this. I am terrified beyond the capacity for fear.

Gwen glanced at a corner of her laptop screen. Off by two zombies and an elemental. Not too bad for her first detailed divination against the enemy. Hopefully the rest would turn out to be as accurate.

The giant’s voice echoed across the battlefield, a bass like the roar of a blast furnace, and her self-congratulation ended. “Where are our foes? Where, little mortals, are your champions? They’ve left you to us, and we will drag you, screaming and burning, back to Hel for our feast!”

Gwen’s soft voice, amplified by the best technology money could buy, rang out through the stadium, “So, the opposing team decided to show up. Hang on to your seats, Executive fans, ‘cause this is going to be one heck of a show!”

***

Lost in a universe of pain, Mary reached for anything solid, anything real. Her skin burned, her stomach clenched, her throat tore from constant dry retching. Nothing she did eased the agony that had replaced her world. Tears leaked from her eyes, but not from the pain. She had meant to make things right, and then this happened. It wasn’t fair.

From somewhere deep within, a thought arose.

Is that injustice what pains you most?

Her voice came out as a ragged croak, “No.”

Then what?

Her words as tortured as her voice, heartfelt desire forced them from her lips past the pain. “Gotta Apologize. Gotta make right.”

You have the means, wherever it came from. All you need do is reach it.

Curled into a fetal ball, Mary’s hand hovered inches from her amulet. With all her muscles locked by pain, those inches might as well have been miles. Her hand twitched, and she screamed in agony. But it was closer to her amulet.

***

The two figures at the far end of the field seemed nonplussed when the first notes of music rang out through the stadium. The moment they did, the cheer squad leapt into action, each girl spinning to face the field and launching into a unique pattern of jumps, rolls, and tumbles. They followed the choreography Gwen gave them perfectly, and she whispered in their ears as they came to a halt, spread in a long line between the otherworldly forces and the fans in the stands.

“OK, girls. It looks like the other team is cheating horribly. Some of them are playing with fire, and some of them look to be kitted up with some kind of primitive weapons. From the looks of things, they’re not as padded as they ought to be. You girls want to call it?”

The call that came back made her burn with pride that almost cancelled the self-loathing at her inner monologue’s condemnation.

You’re lying to them. Betrayer.

“No way! This is Van Buren field, and Executives are here to stay!”

The zombies heard the challenge shouted by the squad. As one, they turned toward the girls and shambled down the field. The elementals followed at a distance. Twenty seconds to impact at that rate. Time for one last pep talk.

“All righty then. Ms. Williams wasn’t going to tell you this, but you deserve to know. Most of these dickheads were here last night with the intent to rape your captain. She’s still recovering, and they decide to show up again today like nothing happened. I am not going to let that stand. We are not going to let that stand.

“Remember what we trained. Follow your guide lights. We are not only going to hurt them, we’re going to make them look like idiots while we do. Are you with me?”

The answering roar from the team drowned out the flames from the elementals and seemed to shake the two demigods loose from their fugue. They looked on with evil grins as their forces advanced on the motionless girls.

“Five seconds, girls. Whatever you do, don’t stop moving.”

Gwen toggled her ear bud and whispered to the Master, “We are go in Four, Three, Two, One, MARK!”

On the field below, twelve girls sprang into action. They charged the oncoming horde, each one following electronic ghosts generated by games from another world. Just before they hit the line of zombies, the auditory assault of the stadium’s music system changed, techno music merging with lyrics hammered out by a voice full of righteous indignation. The song was nonsense, rage expressed on the falsely reported death of a singer. The emotion; raw, uncensored fury unleashed, was not.

The girls, no two moving the same way, danced straight through the line of zombies. They leapt over outstretched legs, tumbled under reaching arms, and in one case slid directly between two of the zombies on grass still slick from last night’s rain. Those two zombies ran into one another and fell in a crumpled heap. They still moved, but between the rain, the slick grass, and their own clumsiness, would not be back up soon.

The cheer squad gathered once more, forming a flying wedge aimed at the center of the elementals. The burning men came to meet them, blackened ground in their wake. A moment before impact, the wedge broke apart, each girl once more moving independently. Six dove forward, passing through gaps in the elemental’s line. Six bounced through complicated acrobatics which wound up with them facing the zombies once more, charging them from behind.

The formations of zombies and elementals… dissolved. As the fire giant and the raven looked on, each of their minions focused on one girl and leapt or shambled after her. The girls, of course, didn’t stand still. The field became a whirling maelstrom of shambling zombies, burning elementals and dancing, leaping, tumbling cheerleaders.

The cheerleaders had trained for months in the kind of chaotic choreography happening on the field at this moment. Guided by a combination of divination and technology that showing them exactly how to thread themselves safely through the maelstrom, they danced. The zombies and elementals… didn’t have that guidance.

When any given pair of zombies collided, as happened frequently, both went down in a clutching, grasping pile. More often than not, the initial reaction of one was to gnaw on the other. Gwen heard more than one bark of laughter ring out from the stands as slapstick forced humor past Annan’s terrifying scream. A grim smile played across Gwen’s face as the choreography evolved further.

There were fewer elementals on the field. That made sense: they required an enormous amount of energy to maintain, where the zombies required a bare minimum to animate. With fewer on the field, it took more effort to bring them to a collision. When they did, the two forms melded together. For a moment, the paired elementals flared white hot, growing to near twice their former size. Only for a moment though, each half pulled itself away and began the pursuit anew. Gwen glanced at her laptop screen for confirmation; that burst had cost each of the elementals something, and now they were each ever so slightly smaller.

Carol, always the most daring of the cheerleaders, received the first injury. Leading one of the zombies, she cartwheeled between two elementals. They ran into one another when her leg wasn’t quite clear. Her shriek echoed through the link; Gwen damped it before it got to any of the other girls. Carol’s scream rang out again as her cartwheel turned into a collapse and her burned leg smashed into the ground. Behind her, the zombie blundered headlong into the combined elementals. Only ash remained to sprinkle over Carol’s prone form.

As the ash settled, Annan’s screech rang out over the stadium once more. It was no less terrifying; if anything it sounded even louder than before, shaking the girls even through their earplugs. This time, however, it contained a note of something other than bloodlust. There was a hint of something that might be…

Pain?

Gwen whispered to Carol while she applied the routines that would damp the pain of the girl's leg. “Get up and get moving. Back to the infirmary with you.”

“Screw that. Those bastards burned me. I am not leaving this field.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. One condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Stop lying to us.”

“Wha?”

“We’re not stupid, Gwen. The school has been attacked how many times this year?”

Plans of secrecy gone awry? They always do.

“I suppose it would be cliché to say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Yeah. Yeah it would.”

As Carol staggered to her feet to avoid an elemental bearing down on her, Gwen toggled her mic to the team channel.

“Is Carol right? Do you guys know what’s going on?”

Kay was the first to answer. Physically, she and Mary looked alike enough to be sisters. Her voice made Gwen long for Mary’s presence. “Mostly, yeah. You’re hiding something from us. It’s another attack, isn’t it?”

The players directing the girl’s choreography hadn’t missed Carol’s close encounter, nor had they missed the effect on the zombie. The choreography had become an intricate gavotte, the girls making oblique passes to lure the various monsters into collisions with one another. The girls, faithful to their training, danced through the improvised routine without a break in conversation.

Gwen’s kept her answer crisp, an attempt to keep the cheerleaders from panicking. “You twelve are the only ones that can stop it. If we wait for Mary to recover from last night, they’ll kill everyone here. You have to stop them, or at least slow them until help arrives.”

The pain in Carol’s voice faded as the spell went to work. “What happened to Mary?”

“Like I said, this same batch of low lives tried to rape her. Almost did.”

The answering rumble was as fierce as it was unanimous. Gwen felt her heart swell almost as quickly as her shame for deceiving the girls. “OK. Don’t be alarmed by what you see, just keep following the bouncing ball. If you can’t get up, sing out and I’ll get you evac.”

“Get on with it, Gwen.”

“OK. You’re looking at the real and nasty in three, two, one, mark.”

There were no screams, no suddenly indrawn breaths, but the silence was deafening. The only thing Gwen heard over the channel was the breathing of a dozen women doing gymnastics at top speed. Then Piper let out a snort that was almost a giggle. The team’s clown couldn’t restrain herself from joking, no matter how dark the situation. “I wonder if my mom still wants me dating one of these guys?”

Tension broken, the other cheerleaders started with quips as they danced through death and flame.

“Can you believe I almost put out for that guy?”

“Good thing you didn’t, sure thing he’d have told everyone you’re a dead lay.”

“Y’know, I don’t know about you guys, but I think the new guys are pretty hot.”

“Ooh, nasty undead bishie pile-up at mid-field!”

Gwen smiled despite her depression. She left the team channel open but switched herself to the security channel. “Mr. Stewart, be ready to pull casualties. The field runabout has all our first aid kits in.”

“You sound like you’re expecting them to lose.”

“The two at the far end haven’t weighed in.”

“They matter that much?”

“Either one could end the fight with minimal effort. I have no idea what they’re waiting for. I just hope it keeps up until Lane or Mary gets here.”

***

Surtr looked down at Annan. He frowned when she twitched and shrieked. It really got on his nerves.

His voice as quiet as he could make it, he called down to her. “What’s wrong, Anni?” It only echoed a little. She motioned for him to come down to him. He knelt, leaning to place his ear near her.

Her claws punctured his earlobe and her scream stunned him. Ears still ringing, he could barely make out her next words over the mortals’ music.

“The Greatfather told us to let them destroy this batch if they could manage it. We need them to think they can win.”

Surtr would do anything to get the screaming harpy off his ear. He nodded his understanding, but she refused to let go and kept talking.

“It still hurts whenever they destroy one of mine. Especially by fire, you stupid bastard. I’m going to drop them and kill them slow when the time comes. Stay out of my way.”

Surtr nodded again, but no amount of agreement seemed enough to get the hag to let go.

***

Mary wallowed through an eternity of agonized retching. With every passing moment, she feared she would pass out from the pain. With each instant, her gut clamped tighter. Tears blinded her eyes, her mouth filled with blood. She split her lip during the initial fall, and bit it through again and again during the countless waves of pain. Through it all she knew the others faced this invasion without her. They would face the things from beyond, and without her they would fail. They would fail, they would die, and their torment would make hers look like pleasure in comparison. Deep within, fury raged at her own inability to act.

Pain, fear, sorrow, rage, she poured all of it into moving her arm. Millimeter by painful millimeter, she forced her hand toward her amulet. A shriek pierced her ears like an ice pick, sending another wave of pain arcing through her. An answering echo of implacable fury rose up, but her hand had twitched away from the amulet.

Sobbing wails filled with agony and rage echoed through the garage. Her jaw ached where she clenched it. Dimly, as she forced her hand to move once more, she realized that despite her best efforts, her jaw wouldn’t clench closed. Pain forced it open, forced her to scream.

Another shriek echoed through the room, and her hand drew back as her arm stopped responding entirely and curled into her chest. Less than an inch from where she could feel the amulet laying against her shirt, she couldn’t get her hand to move even that tiny margin. She sobbed her impotent rage and frustration at the world. The part of her that could still think couldn’t even manage to speak; the only noises she made were screams.

A third shriek ripped through the room and her whole body spasmed from the pain it caused. She flipped end over end, smashing her head on the concrete, slamming her shins against the hood of Lane’s jeep. As the echoes of the shriek and her own screams died down, her body curled once more toward a fetal ball.

As if from another lifetime came the faint sound of a thin chain settling, and the cold weight of a sword hilt filled her hand.

***

Since the day of his arrival, Soh had wondered Atris sent him. Ostensibly to protect Lane, but so far he’d been unable to do so when she needed his protection. In part due to the need for secrecy, but mostly she moved too fast. This time she disappeared completely while out training with her new bodyguard. It seemed as if she had left this reality entirely. He worried, but random activity was never productive.

Just at the moment he hovered above the garage. He had gone there to avoid Mr. Stewart. He stayed outside when he realized the Drake girl was inside getting dressed. He had some manners, after all. After a while she quieted, then smashed about. He wasn’t surprised; grief was common to all thinking beings, and anger was a common stage of grief.

After a particularly horrendous crash, the Garage went silent. An avian cackle intruded on the sudden silence. Peering down at the roof, he saw a huge raptor bird clutching some kind of pendant in one talon. At that moment the back door of the Garage sprang off its hinges and the Knight bounded toward the playing field. The raptor raised the amulet, almost as if pointing it at the Knight.

Suddenly, Soh knew why he had been sent. On silent flippers he drifted above and behind the raptor, staying behind its eyes, which focused on the Drake girl. He waited until the bird moved the pendant through a sigil he recognized, then dove.

The scream of the raptor as Soh pulled the pendant from its grasp was most satisfying, even if the horrible amulet tasted awful going down.

***

Lane swung off Gil’s ‘cycle. From the direction of the stadium she saw flashing lights. A pounding baseline proved that the stadium speakers could make the ground quiver even at this distance. The show would be fantastic. She missed going to them, a little. The other girls really were good at acrobatics.

Shaking off her regrets, she turned to give Gil another kiss before he left, but he stopped her with a minute shake of his head.

“Sorry, Lane. If Mr. Stewart saw that he’d kill me on the spot. Not sure what he’d do to you.”

With a sigh, Lane settled for a comradely pat on the shoulder. She pulled out her cell as he drove off. After a single ring her mother answered, voice radiating disapproval.

“Hi mom. No, I’m not dead, I’m at the Garage.”

Lane unlocked the front door as a particularly bright strobe went off in the direction of the stadium. Lane was glad the Garage blocked the view of the stadium; she’d be blind if it didn’t. She wished something would block her mother’s monologue of disapproval.

“Look, mom. I’m eighteen. I’m not a baby.”

Inside, she noticed a pile of clothes with a note pinned to the top sitting on the driver’s seat of her jeep. At a loss for who could have put them there, she wandered over to look. Her mother’s accusations went on. Mother attacked her hobby, her career path, and finally her lack of socialization. It was too much. For the first time in her memory, she snapped.

“Mom! Since yesterday I’ve been fucking my prom date senseless! I’m sleeping at the garage until you get it through your head I’m not a little girl!”

Angrily, she threw the phone at the wall, where it shattered. Looking around, she didn’t see Soh. Her constant companion whenever she was in the garage alone for over half a year now, without him the garage felt abandoned. Listlessly, she picked up the note and read.

Lane,

I need you to put this outfit on, load the back of the Willys up with as much propane and oxyacetylene as you can fit, then drive out to the stadium. Park in the visitor’s parking. Leave your crowbar with the Willys, bring the field hockey stick, and come in through the visitor’s tunnel as quick as you can.

Waiting on you,

Gwen

The letter wafted to the floor unnoticed. Lane was busy stripping off her clothes, thinking about the garage’s supplies and the cargo capacity of the jeep.

***

The field was a maelstrom of pain, death, and fire. After the first dozen zombies burned to ash, the elementals became too weak to incinerate them entirely. Instead, they lit them on fire. They still burned intensely, reducing each lit zombie to a smoking lump of human wreckage in less than a minute, but for that minute they became even more dangerous than before.

Tori ran afoul of that first. She threw herself into an unrecoverable dive to lure the zombie chasing her into an elemental chasing Padma. More than half a dozen undead had already met their shambling end in that particular elemental. Where the other girls leading the flaming homunculi relied on quick direction changes, Padma flat out outran it, tumbling down the field in a series of high-speed handsprings.

The easily predictable elemental became an irresistible target for the choreographers. One after another they used it to turn zombies into ash. When Tori ran hers through it, inches in front of its clutching grasp, she expected breathing room. Instead, the flaming zombie stumbled directly into her, tackling her and mauling her.

Tori managed to get her arms up to cover her face, likely the only thing that saved her life. The tough bite-resistant fabric had taken a big chunk out of the team’s budget, as had the Nomex outer layer. Gwen didn’t regret the cost as Tori screamed. Screaming meant the cheerleader lived. Gwen switched to the security channel.

“Evac Tori ASAP.”

Mr. Roberts dashed onto the field. Displaying nearly as much acrobatic talent as the girls, he navigated through the maelstrom to Tori in seconds. With his left hand, he gripped the still-burning zombie and heaved. With his right, he grabbed Tori’s collar and dragged her toward the medical cart.

“Mr. Roberts has you, Tori. Stop thrashing.”

The girl went still. A moment later, Gwen’s gut clenched as one of the two figures at the far end of the field blurred into motion. Annan came down the field like a streak of dark lightning, hitting Mr. Roberts before Gwen could call out a warning. The impact was loud enough to be heard over the pounding techno music, and Mr. Roberts flew backward, his whole body gone limp. Annan didn’t even bother to watch him land. Her voice sounded through the stadium again, this time directed at the smoldering cheerleader cowering beneath her feet.

“No cheating, mortals. Twelve challenged, and twelve will fight. Any others who enter will feel the full weight of my displeasure.”

Pronouncement made; Annan moved again. This time she flew, dissolving into a cloud of ravens and reforming next to Surtr. Tori still needed to get off the field. Whispering, Gwen fed directions directly to her.

“Tori. Get back up, the elementals have noticed you. Get off the field, Padma will cover you. Mr. Stewart is at the field cart; he’ll patch you up. Move, girl!”

Tori made it to her feet and staggered toward Mr. Stewart, but Gwen could tell it was too late, and not just for Tori. All but three of the zombies burned to ash as she watched, but the girls slowed, fatigue finally taking its toll. Isolde and Lucy brushed the edges of elementals as they lured their zombies in, and each girl tried unsuccessfully to keep from whimpering as they kept ahead of their doomed pursuers. Sandy, Michelle, and Cote remained unharmed, but Gwen’s monitor showed them nearly exhausted. Each of the other girls had run afoul of a zombie at least once.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Ash and sweat now coated the girl’s once pristine suits. The elementals had diminished, but still moved fast, and even diminished could kill any girl they touched. Gwen watched as two girls crossed behind Tori, attempting to distract her pursuer. Nearly falling down from the effort of going flat out for five minutes, the girls weren’t quite careful enough. Their ankles intertwined, and each went sprawling in the opposite direction of the other.

Gwen’s hand hovered over one of her emergency controls; watching to see if the girls would get up. Tina pushed herself up halfway, then stopped, staring around. The impact had obviously stunned her, but she still tried to follow her choreography. Kay didn’t even make it that far. She got her hands under her but couldn’t push herself off the ground.

Then, like the proverbial cavalry, Padma arrived, bouncing past the cheerleaders, flashing herself through the gap between the elemental and the girls. The elemental following her collided with the one turning to pursue her. Gwen’s eyes flicked ahead of Padma to see what obstacles awaited. She cringed; the last unharmed zombie tangled up with two of its burning kin, the three of them forming a burning, grabbing blockade that Padma couldn’t evade. Instead, the cheerleader bounced back the other way, angling herself to avoid the elemental.

It wasn’t enough. Gwen’s hand jammed down on the emergency switch, and the sprinklers built into the field popped up. Their careful programming overridden, they flooded the field with water, soaking everything and everyone on the field. A moment later, Gwen looked through her scope at what remained of Padma. Her hair was gone. Her face was blackened in places, split and oozing in others. The material of her suit had melted through in half a dozen spots. Gwen swore, bringing her rifle up to target the fire giant. She knew it would be useless, pointless, but she had to shoot him for what his minions had done. His pupil was a bigger target than any she’d trained on.

A moment before she squeezed the trigger, the world went white.

***

The Queen’s Knight leapt through the sky. Her enemies were legion, but she would drive them from this world once and for all. Fury raced through her veins, scourging every iota of fear and pain. Her shield told her the location of her foes. Annan and Surtr had come, but she would no longer allow terror to stay her hand. In her mortal guise, she swore to make things right. As the Queen’s Knight, she had the power to make that happen.

Others stood near as well. The Green Knight stood behind her, girding for battle. The Black Queen lay ahead, her web attempting to enmesh two gods. The Green Knight would suborn herself or would be banished from this plane for her defiance. The Black Queen’s spells would be broken, her devices destroyed, her webs burned. She would be humbled, as a betrayer deserved to be. In the end, when she lay powerless before the Queen’s Knight, she would beg for mercy, but she would receive only the mercy she had…

Mary shook her head…

The Queen’s Knight stumbled, righted herself, leapt again. Vengeance would not be delayed this time…

Mary stopped; her feet planted firmly on the ground. She felt the thing riding her twitching. It seethed with power, with anger, with frustration. At the same time, she could still think. She felt her own emotions, especially where they differed with the Knight. Silently, as she listened to the dampened screams coming from the stadium ahead, she tested her own emotions gingerly, trying to find where they differed from those of the Knight. Trying to find what had broken her free.

She blinked, realizing that she was thinking of the Knight as another person entirely. In a way, it was. It was a construct of magic, based on her personality, but it was different. A moment later, she realized the only thing on which she flat out disagreed with the Knight.

Gwen.

Gwen lay in the stadium now, facing down two demigods with nothing but her wits, her magic… Gwen was a sorceress? And the Cheer Squad. The Cheer Squad!

Mary leapt back into motion. She had to save her friends from fire and death. Two more leaps and she would clear the edge of the stadium. Her blade of light would be put to the test against a foe more powerful than any she had faced before.

Before she could take the final leap to the stadium, something yanked at her deep inside. Pulled by rerouted pumps reinforced by magic, the entire water supply of the campus surged into the stadium watering system.

She didn’t leap. The same magic drowning Surtr’s flames dragged her to the stadium. As she crested the lip of the valley, Annan flashed through the cheer squad, paralyzing each of them with carefully placed jabs. Fury raced through her, and her light flared. When it did, the condition of her teammates became clear.

Each one lay bruised, broken, burned, and bloody. They lay in crumpled heaps; some where Annan paralyzed them, most where they collapsed from exhaustion, and a few where they had been beaten down. Fury raged through her once more as she landed in front of the bleachers, staring up at the announcer’s booth. She could sense the Black Queen there, observing what she had wrought.

Before the Queen’s Knight could speak, the Black Queen’s voice filled the stadium, her tone mocking. “Just when it looks like our girls are down for the count, the team captain comes riding to the rescue!”

The Queen’s Knight didn’t even try to keep the rage from her voice, “What have you done to these girls?”

“You borrow my Knight all the time, I figured I’d borrow your Knights just this once. Besides, I think you’re about to meet the one responsible. Heads up!”

The warning came not a moment too soon. She raised her sword and shield as she spun. Annan’s blade, a horrible thing of thorns and spurs, formed of night itself, rang against the Sword of Light. Hilts locked, unearthly muscles straining, the two contested for supremacy. Eyes of old night, night before electricity banished darkness, stared into the mirror finish of the Knight’s helm.

A voice like a raven’s harsh croak came from Annan’s mouth, the sound destroying the illusion of beauty. Though she spoke normally, her voice rang through the stadium. “You ignorant fool. You cannot win. She’s given you power, but power isn’t everything. It isn’t anything. I am going to cripple you, then torture your little friends to death in front of you. Do you want to know why you’re not going to stop me?”

“I will stop you, Raven!”

Annan’s voice went flat, all emotion leached from it. “No. You won’t. You’re too slow.”

With that, Annan moved. She flashed away, her sword dissipating and reforming in her hand. She bent down, grabbing at something. When the Queen’s Knight saw what it was, she slowed, seethed, shattered. Mary stared through the Knight’s eyes. Annan held what remained of Padma clutched in one claw. The horribly burned cheerleader’s chest moved slowly. Bubbles of blood and saliva dripped from her mouth and nose as Annan examined her like a housewife might examine substandard chicken at a market.

“Now, just so your little mortal minions don’t think to change the rules once more…”

Mary heard Gwen’s voice, amplified through the stadium speakers, her earlier humor gone, replaced by a pain so deep it made Mary weep to hear it. “No… Not…”

Annan blurred into motion again. She dragged Padma to the gateway, unceremoniously tossing her through. Her next victim was Carol, lifted by one leg and pulled back to the gate just as Padma had been. When Mary realized what Annan was doing, she leapt into action, letting the Knight take the fore once more. First, she tried catching the Raven Goddess, but the hag was too fast. By the time the Knight reached where Piper lay, she had already been tossed through the gateway, Annan headed for another girl.

The Knight leapt, landing between Kay’s prone body and the Raven. She raised her shield, but Annan dispersed into a cloud of Ravens, sweeping around her, buffeting her. She laid about her with the sword of light as she spun, tracking the death goddess with the shield Dread had given her.

“God’s Blood! Surtr! Get your great worthless carcass in motion! She’s trying to stop me.”

Seeing Annan with Kay dangling from one hand, the Queen’s Knight leapt for the gateway. A fist the size of a boulder struck her in midair. It flung her backward, driving her into the ground. She dug into the ground as she slid, coming to a stop only when she slammed into the lowest row of bleachers. Looking to one side, she saw the Screaming Eagle. He stared unseeing at the sky, his breathing shallow.

Mary’s voice, when she touched him, was quiet but firm. The words were not her own but came from somewhere deep inside. “Where there is life, there is hope. That is our blessing and our curse.”

Light flowed from her hand, white and icy blue. He gasped, and his heels drummed on the ground like he’d touched a live wire. When they stopped, his eyes closed, his breathing slow but even. Mary looked up at Annan’s laughter.

“Oh, that is precious. While I steal away your comrades, you expend what might have kept you alive to postpone the death of a single mortal.”

The Knight drew herself to her feet. She squared her shoulders, and met the gaze of the Raven Goddess without flinching. With one hand, she raised her shield. With the other, she summoned up her sword of light, raising it until the blade pointed directly at Annan’s eyes. She took a deep breath to speak…

And coughed as her armor, dented inward from the force of Surtr’s blow, kept her from inhaling that far.

“You stupid little bitch. ‘Oh, my armor is proof against aught but weapons blessed of the Elder Gods!’.” Suddenly Annan stood behind her, beside her, whispering in her ear. “We ARE the Elder Gods, moron.”

The Knight’s response happened automatically. Her elbow came back, and the armored spike protecting it drove directly into Annan’s face. Blood flowed, Annan screamed, and the sound system changed tunes. Mary’s memory placed the song immediately, both the piece and what Gwen referenced. O Fortuna, from Carmina Burana by Carl Orff. Also, in the movie Excalibur, the song played when Arthur rides to war.

Buoyed by the sound, the Knight attacked. Her sword became a blur, feinting, striking, lunging at the Raven Goddess. Bits of darkness flew from Annan’s evil blade, dissipating before they hit the ground. The furious attack took the dark goddess by surprise, and her parries were slow, imperfect. Eventually, the blade of light struck the blade of darkness square across the flat, and Annan’s blade shattered. The Knight showed no hesitation; her blade sunk to the hilt in Annan’s chest. Her scream rang out once more through the auditorium.

Then it faded into a laugh fit for a corpse.

“You didn’t think you could banish a god with your trinket, did you? We ma…”

Whatever Annan was going to say was lost as the Knight’s shield slammed home into her face. The Raven Goddess looked up from where she sat, stunned, on the ground. She reached up and touched her nose, pulling it away to find blood now gushing from a nose broken twice in as many minutes.

“You blundering cretinous ice cunt! I’m going to tear your living head off and use it as a chamber pot!”

The duel began in earnest. The Knight had the advantage of reach, armor, and shield. The sword was still useless against Annan herself; when the Knight tried to wound her, the blade passed straight through her arm.

The Knight had reach and armor, but the Raven had strength and speed. Annan battered her across the track, knocking her back onto the muddy wet grass. The slick mud slipped under her armored soles, and she nearly fell. Sensing weakness, Annan leapt on her, claws extended. Before they could rend, the Knight went en pointe, toes sinking into the soft mud. Braced, she met her opponents’ lunge with her shield. Annan screamed as the Knight rammed her hands back into her face once more. The Knight carried through with the block, slamming Annan down into the mud.

She didn’t dare close further. If they wrestled, she would lose. Her shield provoked only momentary pain. Her sword remained useless except as a defense against the great black sword the Annan summoned up once more.

Mary swore as they locked hilts once more. She would not give up, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed. Her friends had been stolen. She would get them back, even if she had to go to Hel to get them. Beneath her feet, she felt the ebb and flow of the water that drenched the field. Once more she slammed her shield toward Annan, but this time the Raven Queen expected it. She dissolved into a cloud of crows, battering the Knight from all sides.

The shield still told her where the Annan was. Without looking, she struck nearly straight back with the blade of light.

Annan screamed, her voice echoing through the stadium as she solidified around the Knight’s blade. The Knight spun, her shield battering at her opponent again. Mary smiled as she heard the crunch of the Annan’s nose once more.

“You stupid mortal bitch! That hurts!”

“That would be the idea, Raven. Release my friends; fight me with some modicum of honor.”

“Your friends are ours. You want them? Go get them. If you dare. Of course, we’re here to stop you, so that’s not happening.”

Mary looked beyond Annan to the far end of the field. Faintly, through the shimmering gateway, she saw the tunnel traditionally used by visiting teams. Above the tunnel the visitors’ stands stood empty. Beside the gateway, Surtr stood with arms folded, watching with an obvious leer on his face.

The leer infuriated her. Without thinking, she launched herself at Annan, thighs driving her forward, shield up like a battering ram. Taken by surprise, the Raven Goddess was knocked backward. Mary didn’t let her have a moment’s rest. The moment she was on her feet, Mary lunged again, slammed her backward again. Annan’s curses were now continuous and bloodcurdling. She dissolved into a cloud of ravens, but the sword of light was there, piercing through her disembodied form, pinning her and forcing her back into her human seeming.

Before Annan could disimpale herself, the Knight’s shield rammed home once more, throwing her from the end of the blade to land butt first in the mud. She leapt up once more, swearing curses now on Mary’s descendants to the thirteenth generation. The portal loomed large, a few more lunges and Annan would be forcibly ejected from reality.

Mary stood on drier ground now. Even with the strength of the Knight bolstered by the presence of so much magic, her legs felt leaden from the effort of pushing the superhumanly strong Annan backward against her will.

She lined up, lunged, and slammed to a standstill, her shield impacting on a palm like a wall. Exhausted and strained, she staggered back a step to avoid being swept up in Surtr’s hand. Annan’s mocking laughter rang out over the closing notes of Fortuna, and Mary tasted bitter tears.

“You see, mortal? The closer we are to our portal, the stronger we are, and the weaker you become. Now your fellow mortals will watch as Surtr roasts you alive and I eat the succulent flesh within your armored shell!”

Surtr sounded half drunk, “Anni, that’s kinda nasty.”

“Nonsense, you moron. It will be just like crab legs.”

Mary ignored the byplay. The big screens on the sides of the arena captured her attention. Each showed her from a different angle. Her armor dented from scratches and cuts she never remembered taking, blood seeped from the lower edge of her breastplate; one of Annan’s strikes had gone deeper than she thought.

Dimly, she realized Surtr had stepped forward and reached for her once more. She brought up her sword and shield, resolved to make him pay for Annan’s meal with blood, sweat, and pain.

Suddenly Surtr froze, pinned in place as an electric guitar snarled a triumphant fanfare at full volume over the stadium’s speakers. Mary’s head snapped up as the Black Queen’s… Gwen’s voice rang out as well, caustic mockery in every word.

“It looks like our demigods need to team up to stop our Mary. That’s not too fair. Let’s even the odds a little, shall we?”

Movement flashing on the big screens drew Mary’s attention once more. The screens switched from camera to camera as quickly as they could, trying to track someone. The first thing Mary saw was strong, tanned legs flashing beneath a pleated skirt of red, white, and gray. Next a mass of chestnut hair, tied back by a series of bands, bouncing against a back covered by a sleeveless uniform shirt of white. Finally, an image came up that pulled a grin from Mary’s tired lips. She set herself to lunge at Surtr’s hand the moment he recovered.

“Returning to the field for the first time in two years, the Executives’ co-Captain, Lane Lake!”

Lane leapt from the end of the visitor’s tunnel. Mary stifled a wince as the leap carried her straight into the portal, then her jaw dropped open in amazement. The portal shrank, collapsing, narrowing itself to a tighter and tighter focus. By the time Lane landed directly behind the Annan, it had shrunk to the size of a dinner plate, following her.

Lane didn’t hesitate. The moment she landed she swung her field hockey stick at a still-stunned Annan. Mary felt more than heard the stick go home. The force of the blow picked the Annan off her feet and threw her across the field. Before she landed, Lane was on her again, hammering her down into the ground this time. This time the Raven Goddess didn’t even try to get up. She dissolved into a cloud of crows, swarming toward Lane. The field hockey stick blurred into a flat disc, and Annan’s shriek rang out from a hundred avian gizzards.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw Surtr shift to intercept Lane. She lunged, the sword of light piercing his wrist. He howled, yanking his arm away, dragging the blade through his wrist. Mary saw a white scar running across his ruddy skin, and a smile crept across her face. If she could scar him, she could hurt him.

***

From her hide, Gwen watched the fight unfold. The players from her divination were on the field. Things neared completion now. Without looking away from her scope, she reached over and queued up another spell. By dint of much trial and error she had discovered that it was her will that was required of her. The sounds and runes needed to be there, to be sure, but they could be made by anyone, or anything. Even a recording of her own voice.

An alert flashed on her laptop screen. A whispered word, and Bel’s voice sounded over her ear bud.

“…tell me what’s going on, how can I tell if it’s going pear-shaped?”

“Hey Boss.”

“Gwen! Good to hear you’re alive. What the Hell is going on?”

“Waiting for the shot.”

“I’m assuming there’s a reason you let them take my girls?”

Gwen winced. Her next words were going to set off a tirade.

Only because he’s right. You’re an unfeeling little bitch. I’m embarrassed to be incarnated as you.

“Collateral. Unavoidable. Triage.”

The expected scream did not materialize. The silence over the ear bud was almost worse. On the field, Annan had regained her feet and attacked Lane with a fury that made her clumsy, but added power to her blows. Brought close by the scope, Annan’s face showed a mixture of rage, fear, and a trace of lust whenever Lane’s acrobatics showed off her assets. The goddess was breaking, but it took a toll on everything and everyone around her. Gwen was amazed that Bel could still think rationally, with the screams battering everyone and everything.

His voice, when it sounded again, was tight and controlled. Maybe the terror was affecting him after all. “Recoverable?”

“Maybe.”

“Targets?” Bel moved on from the girls, accepting her decision. If there was a later, he would critique her then. If he thought she’d been cavalier that critique might get pointed. But all of that presupposed a later.

As she watched Mary baiting Surtr like a picador with a bull, she responded to the question Bel was trying to ask. “Big one is Surtr. Fireproof. Highly bullet resistant, mostly just due to size. Armor is proof against small arms, again due to thickness.”

“Options.”

“Plan in place. Knight pinning him until then. Little one is Annan. Can’t be injured except by ash wood or blessed steel.”

On the field, Lane slid under a leaping charge by Annan. As she passed under, her hand and stick lashed up, catching her opponent’s knee and foot. The crack was audible in Gwen’s hide as Annan’s leg bent forward at the knee. The scream that followed had most of the crowd in the stands cowering on the floor by their seats. A moment later the Raven Goddess dispersed and reformed. Lane hadn’t followed up. She was holding back, husbanding her strength. That didn’t bode well. Things needed to end, quickly.

“Can you bless steel?”

“Wasn’t finished. She can become a cloud of ravens unless pinned through the heart by ash or blessed steel. Injuries done by ash and steel are healed by her shapeshifting. She’s fast enough to dodge bullets.”

She heard the shocked frustration in Mr. Stewart’s voice when he replied. “How the hell do we stop her?”

Gwen’s attention was pulled aside a moment by Surtr. Tired of trying to grab at Mary only to have his fingers skewered, he tried to stomp on her. The sound when his foot hit the ground wasn’t so much a rumble as a car crash. He left divots in the turf that dug all the way to the clay beneath the topsoil. Sections of pipe from the watering system stuck up from the ground, soaking the turf even further.

“Waiting for the shot.”

Self-deprecation colored Mr. Stewart’s voice, “You mentioned that.”

“Need you to drop the bleacher roof on my mark. Security panel at the entrance, code is in your email.”

“Understood. Why am I doing that again?”

“Surtr is going to cause collateral.”

Mr. Stewart’s let out a resigned sigh. “Remind me I have to have a discussion with you about this. And Ms. Williams about both our pay.”

“Noted. Multitasking. Wait for mark.”

“Ready on your mark.”

Gwen muttered, quietly exhorting her companions on the field, her voice too low to set off her throat mic. “Now would be a good time, Lane. Stake her, take her head off, do something to slow the bitch down.”

Through the mud and fire Mary’s armored figure danced. She spun and slashed, she leapt and lunged. Wherever Surtr’s hand or foot came down, she wasn’t. She leapt away from him, and when he followed, made one of those amazing leaps Gwen knew she could do. It carried her right up to Surtr’s face, the sword of light lunging directly for his eye. Gwen almost shifted her aim away from Annan. Then disaster struck.

Where Surtr’s plans had failed, his reactions succeeded. His hand came up in a reflexive swat, and Gwen winced as he batted Mary away. She tumbled end over end until she crashed to a heap against the side of the stadium. Gwen started breathing again when she saw the Knight climb to her knees, head shaking as if to clear it.

When she looked back to Lane, triumph and defeat wove themselves too closely to tell apart. Annan had her barbed sword of darkness out once more and drove Lane backwards toward where Mary lay staggered. Lane was soaked and dripping; how much was sweat and how much was splatter from the broken pipes Gwen couldn’t tell. With each blow Annan came closer and closer. If Gwen’s suspicion was right, one touch of that blade would be lethal. Lane’s hockey stick still spun, blurring into a disc, deflecting Annan’s blows when it could, keeping her at bay when she could.

Annan performed a double feint, each blow potentially lethal. Lane dodged and ducked, but the true strike came down toward her, unstoppable as the tide. Lane brought up her stick, looking like she intended to meet Annan strength for strength. Annan’s blade struck the hockey stick and twisted, shearing through the refractory hardwood, missing Lane by so little that her skirt acquired a new slit.

To avoid the backswing, Lane leapt backward in a standing backflip. Gwen, attention riveted to Annan, barely saw what Lane had done, but the Annan’s face changed immediately. Her fangs lengthened, her claws extended, and she dropped her sword as she lunged forward, bestial hunger echoing from her howl.

Lane landed on her feet, facing the onrushing Raven Queen. She brought the two halves of her stick up in an ‘x’, but she didn’t use them to block Annan’s blows. Instead, she stepped into the attack. Evan as Annan’s arms grappled at her, the ragged, sharp wooden edges of the stick’s remains impacted the demigod’s neck. Lane’s shoulders flexed, and the improvised wooden blades scissored through the Raven Goddess’ neck, tossing her head to one side.

Lane staggered as Annan’s weight struck her, but only for a moment. Shoving Annan back with her elbows, she knocked the body over. Before Annan’s head could land, Lane brought her full weight into ramming both crude wooden spikes through the Annan’s torso.

Gwen hit a single button, and a series of words emanated from the laptop in Gwen’s own voice. The first were nonsense, but by the time Gwen drew a bead on the Annan’s head where it bounced to a stop, the last four words played as Gwen willed the magic into being.

“Babd. Macha. Nemain. Morrigan.” Each word burned its way into the metal of the steel-jacketed fifty-caliber round in Gwen’s rifle. The Raven Goddess’ eyes rolled toward her, baleful gaze full of hate. The last word finished burning its way onto the steel, and Gwen squeezed the trigger. The flight time of the bullet was almost instant at this range, and Annan’s head exploded into fragments.

“Ooh, rack one up for the home team!”

Surtr looked up in shock as the sound of the rifle reached him. Fury distorted his features as he took in Annan’s spiked body, Lane’s defiant stance, and the meaning of the taunting message coming from the speakers. Shouting incoherently, the giant gestured, and the announcer’s booth filled with roaring flames.

Gwen felt the heat beneath her. Another minute of this and she would be long pork, spells or no spells. She jacked another round into her rifle and poured every ounce of mockery she could muster into her voice.

“So close, but we’re not playing horseshoes. Please try your assault again. Mark.”

Severing charges went off, dropping the roof over the bleachers down onto the seats, exposing Gwen’s hide atop the announcer’s booth. Surtr, incandescent with rage, grabbed the nearest heavy object he could find. He wound up to throw, pulling the vintage jeep back next to his ear. Gwen fired. This round wasn’t steel jacketed. This round burned a line through the sky from her exposed hide to the bed of the jeep clutched in Surtr’s hand.

Where it hit the propane tanks.

Flames could not hurt the giant who had become the de facto God of Fire. They washed over his body harmlessly, flash drying the ground beneath him and singeing Gwen’s eyebrows.

The concussion of the blast staggered the fire giant, but didn’t knock him over. The roof of the bleachers, reinforced for use as a shield during construction of the stadium by the ever-prepared Mr. Stewart, buckled but held, shielding the students and parents beneath it. The shockwave knocked Mary back to the ground. Lane, even sheltered in the lee of the fire giant’s body, was driven to her knees, her elbows coming up to shield her eyes. Gwen was blown backward off her hide, tossed about like a leaf on the wind. But she tumbled backward with a smile on her face.

The heat didn’t harm the fire giant. The concussion only staggered him. The ton of jagged steel that had been Lane’s Willys, driven by the force of a dozen exploding propane tanks, shattered his skull and drove fragments of itself throughout his brain.

***

Galahad stood quietly at the foot of the great conference table. Greatfather Wotan flipped through the contents of a folder, his entire bearing broadcasting boredom. Galahad had expected to be grilled when he arrived. He hadn’t expected to be left cooling his heels. Still, he’d had the treatment from a mortal professional recently.

A smile crept across Galahad’s lips, widening when he realized it had done so. Gawain always said his poker face was awful. Now his plans were coming together just as the rest of the council was falling apart. Hel was dead, Mort’s little coterie of mortals destroyed, and his mortal persona ruined. Aeric was humbled and maimed, his remaining followers fled or obeying Morgan. The Annan and Surtr had gone off and attacked the mortals without the Greatfather’s blessing.

Absently he wondered what would come of that. It had been decades since he had been in the military, but even then, the state of the art was destructive enough to cause havoc on an incarnate immortal. If they were trapped in Midgard with no gate to flee to, they could even be destroyed permanently. They had all been reminded of that with Hel’s death, but Annan and Surtr both took it as a goad to revenge, not caution.

Wotan glanced up. Galahad observed but did not meet his eyes. The Greatfather’s voice, when he spoke, was tight, controlled. The attack bothered him more than he wanted to let on. With so many preparations completed and so many nearly complete, it appeared he worried about his plan.

“Galahad. You were gone nearly a year.”

“I informed you beforehand.”

“The mortal?”

“Bound.”

Something like a sigh forced its way past Wotan’s lips.

“If we hadn’t chained, killed, and dismembered them, I’d say the fates were working against…”

The doors to the conference room slammed open. Lightning flashed in the Greatfather’s eyes and the endless beyond. Loki stormed into the room, slamming his palms down on the table. His voice raw, wild, he sounded close to panicking.

“They’re dead! They’ve got a prophet!”

Wotan’s voice was a whip, cracking to force obedience on a misbehaving animal.

“Calm yourself!”

“I don’t believe you heard me, Wotan. They. Have. A. Prophet.”

“We have defeated prophets before. You yourself destroyed Apollo’s Oracle. You and I destroyed the Norns. This will not be a problem.”

“Destroying the Oracle took a millennium to plan and close on a century to carry out. The Norns I conned; they half destroyed themselves. We don’t have time for any of that. We. Have. A. Problem.”

“You will watch your tone, or I will add one more to the list of dead gods.” Wotan paused, blinking, “Wait, who is dead?”

“Surtr and Annan. The former occupants of Niflhel are surging to the site of the gate even as we speak.”

Wotan drew a breath, squaring his shoulders.

“I cannot direct both the Valkyr and the Niflhellions. Annan and Hel were the only ones who could convince the Niflhel trash to do anything productive.” He stopped a moment, one hand reaching up to cover his good eye. When he moved his hand, the eye was closed, and he spoke without opening it.

“The gate to Niflhel will have to take care of itself; let them plague and distract the mortals for a while. I will contact the Sorceress, have her summon up her demons to guard the Midgard side of the gate and begin the ritual to awaken the serpent. You take this one,” a gesture at Galahad proved that the Greatfather hadn’t forgotten him, “and prepare the third gate. I will have Morgan tell Aeric to send you his Hunt. I will send the Valkyr with you.”

One of the Valkyr drifted down from the nothing to hover next to Wotan. It opened its mouth, and the sound that came forth drove Loki to his knees. Clutching at the table, Galahad made out some of the words of the nightmare voice. “…not the pact…destroy the cowards…have waited long...not break the pact.”

Wotan hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even twitched when the Valkyr spoke. His voice remained courteous when he replied, “Thank you for the warning, Oberkommandant, but your concern is unwarranted. If you are called on to scourge the world, or even a part of it, you will see. Men have become weak, cowardly, unable to fight and unfit to live.”

The thing nodded, slipping back into the ether.

“Go, Loki. I give you two armies, neither of which can be stopped by man born of woman. I will raise the barrier presently. That done, I will begin our broadcast.” For the first time in the day, Galahad saw a genuine smile on Wotan’s face. “The mortals are in for such a shock.”

***

Gwen opened her eyes and looked up. Lane stood over her, a strange mixture of concern and anger on her face. For no reason she would admit to herself, Gwen dissolved into giggles. Each twitch was agony, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Yes, laugh at your faithful knight. Hopeless.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I always knew you’d look hot as a cheerleader.”

“I’m not. I’m in a field hockey uniform.”

Gwen just shook her head and waited for the giggles to subside. When they had, she looked up at Lane once more.

“Give me a hand up?”

Lane’s hands, gentle as they were strong, lifted her and set her on her unsteady feet. She nearly collapsed immediately, but Lane caught her. Feeling like an idiot, she clutched at Lane.

Like you’ve clutched at this one far too many times, slut.

“The others?”

“The crowd is out of it. Mr. Stewart took a knock on the head. Mary’s ok, I saw her checking on everybody.”

“Could you carry me back to the bleachers, please?”

Lane didn’t bother with a reply. She loped toward the collapsed bleachers, her long legs eating up the distance rapidly. When they arrived, Gwen ignored Mary and directed Lane around to the back of the building. There she entered the same code Mr. Stewart had used to bring down the roof. A cleverly hidden equipment closet popped open.

“Where are the girls, Gwendolyn?”

Now she’s seen you with her. Again. Now she’ll damn you. Again.

“I’m not sure, Artemis.”

“Don’t be evasive. You had this all planned out.”

“No. I had contingencies planned.”

“When were you going to tell me? And what did you mean about borrowing my Knights?”

Gwen’s answer waited until she’d crawled into her chair. It fit into the supply closet, but only just. “When it was all over if we both lived. And you kept borrowing mine.”

You don’t deserve a Knight, so it’s just as well she isn’t one.

“That would be now. What do you mean, yours?”

“No, Mary, it’s not over. You keep summoning the Queen’s Knight, remember?”

“And I am the last living heir of house Pendragon, the rightful Queen.”

Gwen’s laugh interrupted her setting up her laptop. Arms across her stomach, she collapsed in pained, wheezing gasps of laughter for nearly a full minute. When her laughing subsided, as she wiped her eyes and checked her laptop for damage, she spoke so softly she couldn’t even hear herself.

“No, love, you’ve never been a Queen. Not even now, when you’ve got the right equipment.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Lets…”

She didn’t hear the sound, she felt it through the ground as the earth trembled with the force of it. Lane dropped into a crouch. Mary just dropped, still exhausted from her fight. By the time she regained her feet Gwen had discovered the cause. Not speaking, she engaged her motors and rolled her chair up the ramp into the stadium. There she stopped, staring, and pointed. The other girls were silent, looking at what she was seeing.

The school wasn’t normally visible from the floor of the stadium, the sides were too steep and high. It didn’t matter. The spire that stretched off into the sky was obviously based where the school had been. It was so large it defied comprehension. From this distance, it looked to be made of the blue black of the night sky itself, whirling about an obscured central core. That it was whipping about there was no doubt; it sucked clouds into it as the wind picked up.

Holy God in Heaven. When that portal opens…

“What is that, Gwen?”

“A portal.”

“Can you shut it?”

“No. I don’t think so. I could disrupt a smaller one, maybe, but I just don’t have enough power.” Gwen paused, inspiration lighting her face. She hammered madly at her keyboard for a few moments, then her face fell. She sounded tired and defeated when she spoke again, “Damn. Enough energy applied could collapse it, but… FUCK!” Gwen’s fist slammed against the arm of her chair, the pain a welcome anodyne to despair.

Mary’s voice ignored all of that, “How much would it take to collapse it?”

Gwen knew, but she ran the numbers again to be sure. A few seconds later, she sighed.

“More than we’ve got.”

“How much.”

“A small nuke, ok? Or a fuel-air bomb. Or a relativistic kill vehicle. None of which we have. Shit.”

The sound of the perimeter fence breaking surprised all of them. A low, wide bodied military SUV had pushed over the safety fence of the visitor parking lot and drove down the side of the stadium. Mounted atop the thing was a long tube connected to the rest of the SUV by a swivel mount. Gwen checked her security tapes, one hand twitching for the surprise hidden in the arm of her chair. The Knight pulled out her blinding sword. A moment later, it blinked out when Lane spoke.

“Mom?”

***

Since helping Gwen connect with other worlds, Soh had been peripherally aware of her communication with them. Normally he didn’t bother to eavesdrop. It was rude, after all. Instead, it was like a conversation at a nearby table in a restaurant: background noise.

Now he listened as a distraction from the pain. Unnumbered cuts in his hide dripped smoking blood. It was getting harder and harder to keep his wits about him enough to prevent his full mass from intersecting with this plane. If that happened, Armageddon might come a touch early. That was to be avoided at all costs. He would die before he saw that happen, but he didn’t want that either. If he died like this, the raptor would tear his remains apart and find the amulet where it burned a hole in his belly.

“Give it up! Give me the amulet and I’ll let you go!”

“Even if I thought you were not lying, I would not. I…”

The rest of his words were lost to the initiation of a massive gateway. The point manifested halfway to orbit. The line ran from the ground to the heavens. The circle would encompass the sky, and the sphere would engulf the world. Terror gripped his heart at the thought of what might come through a gate that large, or worse what might be sucked away.

Moments later, Gwen began calculating. She pulled information about the gateway. The conversation at the next table had, metaphorically, spoken his name and address. He listened in through her laptop, heard her words of despair. In that moment, he regretted not being able to say farewell to the girls nearly as much as not being able to smile evilly at the bird harassing him.

“I have been able to evade you at any time, chicken. I shall simply fly into space, where you cannot follow. Once there, I shall regurgitate the amulet into the sun. I hear you are not fond of fire.”

The raptor’s claws sank into the hard surface of his shell, a beak caressed his tympanic membrane. The raptor spoke with the voice of insanity.

“I can survive anywhere you can, turtle. You cannot shake me, either. No matter what you do, I will be here, waiting for you to barf up my treasure.”

“Do try to hang on then.”

With all his metaphysical might, Soh shoved his mass away from this plane, shoved until he was barely a suggestion of a turtle wafting through the sky. Buoyancy threw him upward, pushing the hawk before him. His shell heated up, the bird burned, whimpering before it spoke.

“Not good enough, meat!”

Pain ripped through Soh as the hawk took advantage of his near-incorporeal state to drive his talons deep. They stabbed into the muscles his back now, embedded deeply into his shell. He clamped his jaw shut; it would not do to regurgitate the amulet now. A quick glance below showed him directly above the epicenter of the forming gate.

“That’s only half the ride, pigeon.”

With those words, Soh pulled mass into his form. The raptor screamed as its legs up to the thigh were suddenly embedded in stone harder than basalt. It screamed again as the heat of friction once again burned it. This time, however, there would be no slowing. Soh ignored the doomed raptor, ignored the pain in his back, ignored the burning on and in his belly. His entire being focused on the magical shield forming the base of the portal.

Just before impact, two words drifted through his mind.

At last.

***

Gwen gasped for breath as Lane lifted herself off of her. The pain had hit a point where it was too much to deal with without help. A whispered word, the focus of her will, and it shunted aside. Not gone but dulled enough that she could function. Quickly, carefully, she checked herself for any broken bones. Nothing. Lane had been careful.

By the time she finished, Lane lifted her carefully, like she was made of spun glass, and carried her to where her chair landed. Setting Gwen on her feet, Lane set to setting the chair upright. That wasn’t as easy as it might seem. With all the modifications Lane had made, the chair was easily the weight of a motorcycle.

Gwen remained silent the entire time. Up until now, things had fallen into neat categories for her; villains to be outwitted and destroyed, victims who got killed if Gwen and Lane and Mary weren’t smart and strong and swift enough. Heroes, who beat back the villains and saved the victims.

Soh had just shown her something different. He’d known he was going to die. He’d known that in doing so, all he was going to do was give them a chance. Not a certainty, not a sure thing. Not a win. Just an opening. He’d given them what she’d long known to be an immortal life just to give them an opening.

She looked up to see the Hummer approaching across the field. Lane and Mary would sort that out. She had things to prepare. She flipped open her laptops and began typing.

***

For the first time since she’d touched the hilt of the Sword of Light, Mary felt in control of herself. She hadn’t realized there was something sitting in the back of her head, prodding her toward certain things, pulling her away from others. Without that constant presence, her actions were her own. She knew what she had to do.

She turned to where Lane was helping Gwen with her chair, rehearsing her apology as she walked toward them. Before she could reach them, the SUV rolled up in front of her, blocking her path.

“So, Ms. Artemis Drake. We meet again. Under far less auspicious circumstances. Still, the field of battle is far better a place for allies to reunite than the afterlife.”

“Ms. Lake.”

“That I am. And, as always, I have brought you what you need to succeed. Rather less esoteric things, this time. But still I give you things I’d rather not.”

“So why do you?”

“Don’t be daft. You have always been the best hope I saw. Back up.”

“Pardon?”

“Take three steps back, you oversized ruffian. I saw the plans for the school when I enrolled Lane. The building is a fortress; you will need something more than a sword to get in if they have closed the place off.”

Mary stepped back, and the oversized custom door of the SUV swung open. The engine revved, and complicated hydraulics lowered Ms. Lane’s chair to the ground. Once on the ground, she rolled a few feet from the vehicle and spun about, looking off into the distance, toward Lane and Gwen, toward the school.

“You’ll be wanting to get in. That armor can’t be light.”

“I never noticed before. What is that on the roof?”

“The world’s largest and crudest door knocker. TOW missile. Wire guided. Lane was checked out on it when I bought the vehicle.”

“Ms. Lake, why do you own a military vehicle with an anti-tank weapon?”

“Because I am a paranoid old woman with impeccable diplomatic credentials and the ability to twist the minds of those I choose to befuddle. It would have a large caliber machine gun as well, but I had Lane dismount that shortly after I purchased it.”

“But you left the TOW missile in place?”

“My Lane is a mechanic, not an explosives expert.”

“That’s… an incredibly insufficient explanation.”

“It is also all you will get.”

***

Lane looked to where her mother spoke with Mary. She wanted to get Gwen somewhere safe. She wanted to get out of this stupid outfit. She wanted her crowbar like a junkie needed a fix, but it was so much shrapnel buried in the fire giant’s head. She was annoyed at Gwen for that.

“Lane, attend!” Mom’s voice was as harsh and demanding as ever. At the same time, it was no worse than it had ever been, either. Lane had been expecting some fallout from the blowup earlier.

“I need to help Gwen, Mother.”

“Bring her along, daughter. She will need to drive, after all.”

Gwen’s head snapped up so quickly Lane thought she’d been stung.

“I have to what?”

***

It had taken Gwen and Lane less than a minute to find a way to fit her chair onto the lift. To do so, they had to remove the extra battery packs and swap the rear wheels for those of Ms. Lake’s chair. Once her chair stood on the lift, however, the press of a single button lifted her up behind the wheel and closed the door.

Ms. Lake, meanwhile, rolled to the back and pulled out a package and a long metal bar. The package she handed to Lane as soon as Gwen lifted into position. Lane tore into it and donned the contents. Faster than Mary thought possible, Lane pulled the heavy pads and light plastic plates on over her skimpy cheerleader’s outfit. Over the protective sporting gear, she pulled one of her green Nomex jump suits.

As she zipped up the jump suit, a change came over Lane. She looked confident, like until now she’d been standing naked in a public place. Mary smiled; her friend had always been self-conscious. At one point, it frustrated her. Now she simply found it endearing.

Mary tried to settle into one of the seats, but found her armor next to impossible to sit comfortably in. Instead, she popped the snaps securing the roof and folded the fabric carefully out of the way. She would need to hold on, but she could stand for the short trip to the school. As Lane climbed in beside her and checked the controls for the missile, Mary looked down to her unexpected benefactor.

“Ms. Lake. I’m…”

“I will be with you in a moment. Daughter!”

Lane moved carefully, but her sheer size still pushed Mary to one side as she leaned over the side of the truck. “Yes, Mom?”

“I have not been the best of mothers to you. So be it, I have been the best I could, which is all anyone can do. I have not often spoken to you of your father. He loved me fiercely, if not wisely. All I have left to remember him are you and this.” With surprising strength, Ms. Lake hefted the iron bar she’d pulled from the back of the SUV. At least six feet long, one end was hooked, the other broad and spatulate.

“This is the bar your father used to pry me free. Had he not, I would have died alone in the dark. It is yours now, your only legacy from him. Use it well, daughter.”

Mary was sure she heard tears in Lane’s voice, but they were buried too deep to come out. “Thanks, Mom.”

As Lane grasped the proffered crowbar, déjà vu struck Mary silent and still for a moment. The image, a woman holding up a weapon from below, a warrior grasping it from above, hit her like a brick to the forehead. She blinked, shaking her head, trying to clear the image, but Ms. Lake spoke once more.

“Do not embarrass me, daughter. You never have in the past. Not once. Remember that. Gwendolyn!”

Gwen looked up from where she studied something on her laptop. From what Mary could see, it was a manual on how to drive a stick shift. Mary gripped the roll bar harder. “Yeah, Milady?”

“Such perspicacity juxtaposed with such cavalier disrespect for the language. I would worry for future generations, had I time to be concerned about such petty details. My vehicle is yours. My daughter, it seems, always has been. Know this, Gwendolyn; your behavior toward her has never dishonored me. You fooled others, but your intent was always clear to me.”

“Thanks, Ma’am. Is that everything? We have a world to save, you know.”

“It may be too late for that, child. You will, at the very least, assure the perpetrators of this atrocity do not go unpunished. Artemis!”

“Yes, Ms. Lake?”

“You wish my daughter at your side with my blessing.”

“Well…”

“It was not a question, young lady. It was a statement. Learn the difference. I can deny you nothing, but the price is mine to set. Are you prepared to pay my price; to have what you need to do what must be done?”

Mary didn’t think twice. She didn’t think once. She simply responded, with every ounce of her being. “I will pay whatever price you name, Ms. Lake.”

“So be it. As I have done before, I send my offspring with you on your crusade. As I have done before, I give you arms, succor, and my blessing. My price is this,” Ms. Lake’s gaze speared upward, trapping Mary, pulling her in, until her the depths of a bottomless loch enveloped her entire world. “This is my price and my geas, which you have accepted willingly. You will not fail. You may perish. You may be destroyed. You may become that which you could never imagine. But! You. Will. Not. Fail.”

Mary felt the geas settle over her. She’d had one before, she realized now. She had one again, but this one she accepted willingly. Ms. Lake continued speaking.

“You were always one to be taken in by appearances. A weakness I take as the remainder of my price. Illusions are denied you, Artemis Mary Drake. Never again may you see them, no matter how much you might wish to.”

Mary stared as the woman below her changed without changing. Her features stayed the same. Her eyes were still the deep, dark blue of a mountain loch. But now Mary saw they had no pupil. Her hair was still long, but there was no hint of blond locks among the green. Her skin was wrinkled, but it was the wrinkling of old bark, not the wrinkling of age. The oxygen tank hissed, and Mary saw why Ms. Lake lifted it so rarely as gills fluttered a moment in the breeze.

“Go, Artemis of the house of the Dragon. Take your patchwork self and your patchwork army with their patchwork souls into the field one final time. And do not fail.”

With that she slapped the fender, Gwen ground the gears, and the SUV lurched into motion.