“Shel, that’s a champion,” Wolfe said a few minutes later, after Elizabeth had started the trek to her side. “That means she’s over level a hundred. No idea what she’s doing slumming here, but why would you agree to fight her.”
“I have advantage,” Shel said. “Divine beats Infernal.”
“Uh-huh,” Clive said from where he was still standing in their dug-out.
Wolfe didn’t want to agree with the jackass and just raised his eyebrow at Shel. Her cheeks pinked.
“I know it won’t probably be enough—but if it is, it would solve a lot of things and make us way stronger. It’s worth the bet.”
“I thought you had to get to the Police Gala?” Wolfe asked.
“You guys are cops?” Clive asked, his voice nervous.
Wolfe turned to face him. “Do I like like a cop, numb nuts? You know who I am.”
Clive nodded, but he looked thoughtful.
Shel ignored the byplay and glanced at her phone again. “I think we can do this, go back, get our car and clothes, and make it in time.”
Wolfe shrugged. “Whatever. If you miss the Gala, it’s no skin off my nose. I’m not really pro-cop anyway.”
Shel briefly frowned, then smiled. “I like that you’ve got my back, even when you’re grumpy about it. And you’re at least a little bit pro-police—you like the beans.”
Wolfe rolled his eyes but played along. “They were good beans. Now let’s talk strategy.”
“There’s no strategy for Elizabeth,” Clive said. “You know she was born in 1891, right?”
“I didn’t know that, but there has to be something on her,” Wolfe said. “I mean, we just saw her fight.”
“All I saw when we came in was an Arena entirely on fire and a lady that obviously regretted all her life choices.”
Clive laughed.
Wolfe joined in. “Wow, one personal victory and you get all sorts of cocky and funny. I like it. But I admit that’s not a lot to strategize with.”
Shel chuckled but nodded.
“Do you know things about her?” Wolfe asked, turning to Clive.
“We are not betraying information about an Infernal Champion,” Clive said with a roll of his eyes.
“Champion of Enlil,” Shel interjected.
“We are not amused by your sass.” Clive rolled his eyes and the corner of his lip quirked upward.
Wolfe turned away from the kooky Arena owner. “She’s seen your deck—do you think we can figure out what she knows, and counter you with that?”
Shel smiled. “I doubt it.”
“Well… try not to, um, ‘die’” Wolfe said, holding his fingers up in air quotes.
“I’ll do my best,” Shel said, kissing Wolfe once and then giving him a quick hug before turning to place her hand back on the glass.
Clive made gagging noises again.
Shel’s gesture felt weird to Wolfe. Like she’s going away. He supposed he could understand it—she was ‘going to battle’ at some level.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Wolfe asked in disgust as Sorenia appeared on the trade list.
“I hope, for your sake, that Elizabeth’ll honor her word, because that card would go for a couple million at least,” Clive said. “Even on the black market. We’re sure of it.”
Wolfe almost asked “Who’s we?” but then just rolled his eyes. Looney bastard. I certainly don’t miss the personalities of the people I used to work with.
Then the announcer’s voice boomed through the arena and into the dugout Wolfe, Clive, and Shel occupied. “Someone had been foolish enough to challenge Elizabeth, our resident Infernal,” –he coughed— “excuse me, our resident Champion of Enlil. It’s the victorious deckbearer from the last round. I don’t know if she’s counting on her Divine typing to help her, but I think she’s in for a rude surprise if she is!”
Elizabeth stepped out onto the field—although Wolfe knew she was merely projecting onto it.
Her black dress and eyes gave her a sinister demeanor, even at the distance. She flicked her long blond hair once.
Shel touched her chest and pulled her deck, tan and golden cards appearing in front of her.
Elizabeth did the same, a fraction of a second behind, and red and swirled cards appeared in front of her.
Shel didn’t go for the building this time, instead rapidly touching Sorenia and throwing her out.
Elizabeth, in turn, touched a red card and threw a scorpion-taur with a sword onto the field, and then started to run toward Shel, dress held up in one hand.
The announcer exclaimed, “Oh my, Elizabeth brings out her patron’s signature card! It was last released in the final Drop Night of the Age of Exploration and Exploitation set over a hundred years ago, but has featured in at least three other set releases prior, with alternative art! This creature has a lot of nasty combo powers!”
Wolfe glanced at the card.
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Girtablullu
Rare Tier-1 Infernal Creature
2 Infernal Power, 1 Elemental Power
Health: 30
Attack: 7
Magical Attack: 7*
Defense: 6
Magical Defense: 4
Special: Gains +2 to all stats during any 30 second period after their deckbearer played an elemental card
Special: This creature may normally only make physical attacks. However, when it kills an opposing creature, it immediately gains a free magical attack against another creature or deckbearer. This attack is considered a Death energy attack and does not have any other typing.
“The Gitablullu are the chosen instruments of punishment from Enlil, The Infernal lord of storms, floods, and disasters.”
Wolfe raised his eyebrow at the card. That could be rough—once it reached Shel, if it could do enough damage to her cards, it would gain free attacks on her—and she would go down fairly quickly.
Shel touched her cards again, and her mantle settled over her. At the same time, Sorenia used her Light beam and burned the Girtablullu, which roared more like a bull than the man its upper half was.
Elizabeth touched another card, mouthing, “Goodbye” as she did.
Storm of Demons
Mythic Tier-1 Immediate Infernal/Elemental
1 Infernal Power, 1 Elemental Power
When this card is played, any number of cards matching an Infernal creature on the field may be played from the deckbearer’s deck, but the cost to play each must be paid at the same time. Until all creature cards have left the field the power used to play this card remains spent.
All matching copies of the card make an immediate action, moving up to 1000’ to do so.
“It’s not that the wind is blowing, it’s what the wind is blowing.”
“It’s the Demon Storm!” the announcer cried. “Great Game over!”
Three more of the Girtablullu appeared on field, and winds kicked up, moving all of them instantly to Sorenia.
Sorenia died as four creatures attacked her with a boost, cutting her down, and then all of them leapt over to Shel, who cringed down as they each stabbed her with their tails—tails that were now two Magical Attack stronger.
Shel screamed as the tails entered her and her flesh rotted, and Wolfe tried to surge forward, but then Shel disappeared from the field.
“And that’s it, a clinic put on by a master!” the announcer called.
The Shel that had her hand on the glass gasped and pulled back, then turned and flung herself into Wolfe’s arms.
But she didn’t cry, just breathing raggedly as she held him.
“You okay?” Wolfe asked. “I mean, now okay… obviously you weren’t a minute ago.”
“I’ve never died before,” Shel said, shaking, her voice haunted. “Not even against Frankie did I experience… this. I felt the scorpion tails enter me, a blinding pain. Pain that then spread… it was agony, Wolfe.”
Wolfe pet her head, pulling his rough hands down her hair. “You’re fine now… and you’ll be stronger for it, as you know what it is to suffer extreme pain.”
There was a brief pause in which Wolfe thought about the encounter before he spoke again. “She had at least fourteen power… which means, even if she started with three power, she had to spend sixty-six levels on power. That’s insane. That card, using up two power to spend twelve, is only really useful at the insane levels.”
“She might have had some really good enhancer cards as well, maybe,” Shel said.
Wolfe nodded, his chin moving across the top of her head.
Shel’s shaking stopped. With a tremulous smile, she glanced up at Wolfe. “Shall we head to the Gala, then? Where I’ll presumably be lauded and plied with good food? We’re getting close to that point anyway.”
Wolfe chuckled. “Sure… but you just lost Sorenia from your deck. We need to go trade the Bar the Gates card and then we can head out.”
Shel nodded. Wolfe tried to walk out with his arm around Shel, but the stairs were narrow and difficult to navigate—Wolfe ended up going first, with Shel and Clive, who had been uncharacteristically silent while Wolfe and Shel were talking, trailing behind.
At the top he met Elizabeth. Against expectations, she wasn’t smiling—in fact, her face was neutral, almost somber.
She immediately held out Sorenia’s card.
Wolfe reached for it, but she pulled it up a few inches. “The card I’m owed, please.”
Shel came out of the stairwell, slipping past Wolfe, and held the Bar the Gates card out. Elizabeth nodded and they exchanged the cards.
“What’s your story?” Wolfe asked. “For an Infernal deckbearer, you don’t seem that bad.”
“Pot kettle much?” Elizabeth said.
It took Wolfe a fraction of a second to parse her broken English, but then he laughed. “Fair. Feel like sharing the specifics?”
Shel put her hand on Wolfe’s arm. “I’d love to hear as well, but we don’t have time. We really need to get to the Gala.”
Elizabeth glanced at the two of them. “I don’t normally share my history on first meeting regardless—but I’d love a chance to talk sometime. Despite that one-sided fisticuffs, I have a feeling about you two.”
She handed an embossed card over, with her name and number. “Give me a call sometime.”
She walked away, and Wolfe and Shel headed over to collect Miriam.
As they did, Shel glanced over at Wolfe. “You ever wonder if you just attract weird women?”
He laughed so hard he snorted. “I would hardly say you’re weird. Improbably in a very good direction, maybe, but not weird.”
Shel hugged him tight.
***
“We’re late,” Shel said, glancing at her phone. “It’s already a minute past.”
“You’ll be fine,” Wolfe said, driving the new rental—also a black Subaru, but without all his special modifications—toward the huge waterfront hotel, the one with the giant lion statues flanking its entrance, each with a copy of the stats of the unique Nemean Lion on its base.
It wasn’t called the Hercules Hotel or anything, it was just a Hilton, so Wolfe wasn’t sure why—but he couldn’t deny the statues added a certain oomph to the place.
Wolfe pulled up in front of the hotel. “Okay, you’re here. Nobody will be upset about three minutes.”
“We still have to park—this isn’t valet,” Shel said.
“No, I still have to park—I’ll find their garage and then meet you inside. You go in and start meeting and greeting and kissing all those cops’ asses. I’ll be along shortly.”
Shel rolled her eyes, leaned over, and kissed him. “Alright, but be quick.”
Wolfe nodded as Shel got out of the car and headed up the front steps. He admired the figure she cut in her dress uniform—she was sleek and professional, from the jacket to the slacks to the shiny shoes.
Wolfe pulled back into traffic and circled the block, not finding the garage, then did so again, starting to get frustrated. He pulled his phone out and checked—the garage was a block over, running under two hotels.
“Of course,” he muttered, hoping that Shel wouldn’t think he was avoiding her ceremony or sneaking a smoke or something. Not that she would say anything, but he didn’t want her to even think it.
He drove around a third time, found the parking entrance, and pulled in. It was like every other underground parking garage ever, but with a bit less random trash, and the paint wasn’t scuffed.
“Fancy,” Wolfe said to himself as he drove through, finally finding a parking space and then pulling into it.
He was still a ways from the elevators, past a large number of police cars. He took a brief jog to get to the elevators, to try and make up some lost time from his drive.
They were set in a small alcove in the parking garage. As Wolfe turned around the corner, he saw Rhett waiting for him, leaning back against the wall, faux-casual. But he was dressed in a tactical vest, and Wolfe could see his muscles were tensed, and there were slight pit stains on his uniform.
“What’re you doing here, Rhett?” Wolfe asked in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be inside, kissing ass and getting it kissed in turn?”
“I’m doing you—and Shel—a favor,” Rhett said, his voice deadly serious.
“What?” Wolfe asked, confused and slightly alarmed by Rhett’s demeanor.
Rhett’s eyes were hard as steel, and his hand hovered in front of his chest. “You’re under arrest, William, for conspiracy to murder Emmett Dunn. Or should I say Wolfe?”