Wolfe squealed out of the parking lot of the Michelle’s jeweler, the box with the certificate a lump on his chest and his heart a hammering lump in his chest. Even though it was only three long blocks to the Ekron Eternal, Wolfe floored his f150. Given his modifications, making his truck considerably heavier than the model normally was, it took over six seconds to hit sixty miles per hour. Every moment Wolfe spent pressed back in his chair as he waited ate at his sanity, his fear for Shel nearly overwhelming him.
If she’s dead, I’ll leave a trial of corpses through this city like it’s never seen before.
Cereboo was in the bed of the truck, one foot on the hood, barking madly from all three heads. Wolfe could, at this point, here the differences in his barks. Even when fighting, Cereboo’s calls usually sounded like he was having fun. But now, his voice aligned with his deckbearers dark thoughts, and Cereboo called a different emotion to the world.
Rage.
Malviere sat beside him in the truck, her eyes intent as she leaned forward, her own tiny fists clenched. Wolfe’s first Obsessive Cultist, the one that functioned like a companion, sat in the cab behind him, completely passive as usual. Both stared out at the glitzy lights of the city as the f150 flew down the street like a bat out of the Infernal.
Wolfe blew past cars that were going around forty-five, swerving into the other lane for a slight stretch, blowing his horn like a madman. Fortunately, it wasn’t yet late enough that the upscale club and shopping district was very busy, and he wasn’t as hampered by the traffic that wouldn’t fully manifest for a few more hours.
Wolfe let out a dark bark of a laugh. Plus, if I get police following me, it’ll probably help. Still weird to think that, even after two years.
But no police were anywhere in sight, and Wolfe heard no sirens.
Wolfe opened his glove compartment and took his trusty STI Edge from its container as he drove, and touched his hand to his chest, pulling his cards.
Wolfe frowned. He hadn’t gotten his mantle first—of course—but his Obsessive Cultist was once again there. Wolfe summoned it into the back seat, next to the first one.
I’ve got my perfect portal set-up, at least, and this time I had the sense to keep the Cultist with me.
A few seconds later, The Ekron Eternal was in front of him. Wolfe slammed on the breaks and turned incredibly sharply into the parking lot, the wheels on one side of the truck briefly losing traction. Malviere grabbed the ‘oh shit’ bar next to the window and hung on, and the two Obsessive Cultists slammed into the inside wall of the truck behind Wolfe.
A brief, shocked bark sounded and Cereboo was launched from the back of the truck, rolling down the sidewalk in front of the Ekron Eternal and landing in some manicured bushes in front of the entrance. Fuck, didn’t think that through.
“Sorry!” Wolfe screamed out of his window.
Wolfe got a notification that his pooch had lost half his life, and he unsummoned him. Wolfe would need him later, he was almost positive. Later… and intact.
His mind was wrenched from any further consideration by what he saw. Three men were in front of him, all dressed in leathers with the weeds gang symbol on the back, each one slightly hunched as they watched the front entrance. But they whirled around as Wolfe came screeching into the parking lot, bringing up gods-damned submachine guns and pointing them at Wolfe.
And they didn’t hesitate for a second. Wolfe’s windshield was suddenly a mass of spiderweb cracks.
But Wolfe neither so much as flinched nor hesitated himself. Despite having almost no visibility, he gunned it, and followed the vague shapes he could see through his busted front window. One of the thugs, dumber than your average turtle, actually tried standing in place and just shooting. He met the bumper of the modified f150 and disappeared without a fuss.
Of the remaining two, one of the Weeds ran toward to Wolfe’s left, for the decorative vampire statues and bushes, and the other thug leapt over the metal railing onto the ramp that normally kept the lines of people waiting to get into the Ekron Eternal.
Wolfe didn’t want to bet his truck against the metal railing, so he turned and slammed into the other, who joined his idiot companion as ‘bumper jelly.’ Wolfe dismissed the ‘no experience’ notification as he came screeching to a halt.
He stepped out of his truck of the driver side, his truck between him and the last thug. Wolfe kept his head down as the thug on the ramp emptied his magazine into the side of Wolfe’s vehicle. In that moment, when the thug ran out of bullets, Wolfe leaned over the hood and shot the miscreant with his STI Edge in a tight cluster of hits to the chest.
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Wolfe rushed around the front of the truck, noting the spaltter of blood but utter lack of dent on the hood. He called out, “Malviere, Cultists, with me!”
The he rushed to the bar on the ramp into the club, placed his hand on it, and jumped over. He heard the doors to his truck opening, but barely paid attention. He needed to hurry, and while he hoped the support kept up, he wasn’t betting Shel’s life against their speed.
Wolfe looked down at the thug he shot, and hesitated for half a second before grabbing the submachine gun and a spare magazine. He didn’t know the weapon as well as his own pistol—or pistols in general, for that matter—but figured some heavier firepower might come in useful at some point.
Although the weapon raised a ton of questions. Where are street level thugs like the Weeds getting heavier weapons? It’s like the Cobras, before, with the damned rocket launcher they almost blinded me with in this very building? Can I get weapons like this?
He decided not to bring forth a card or creature from his deck in the second ‘draw’ period. He wanted to wait for the Demonic Portal cards or his mantle to show up. Hopefully in the next draw.
Instead, he hit put the submachine gun over his shoulder so he could carry it with the strap, grasped his STI Edge firmly, and went around the corner into the interior of the club, slamming the glass door open with his shoulder, his pistol held forward.
It was still day time, so there was no smoke or innocents to confuse him like the last time he had been in a fire fight in the Ekron Eternal. Merely a few statues. The whole place was tacky without the smoke, lights, and thumping club music. But it had one major advantage—everything was easily visible. Wolfe saw four men covering nearly the entire open area, but they were faced away from Wolfe, covering exits from stairs and the elevator.
With a completely clear dance floor, it was easy. Wolfe shot one in the back twice, shifting targets right after. But his enemies all moved fast again, whirling to face him. Wolfe dived behind a statue of two near-naked vampires making out as he discovered the drawback to the open floor—it was great for him, but it also made it easy for them, as well.
A brief, intense stream of gunfire erupted from the three remaining thugs, all vaguely in Wolfe’s direction.
As the statue slowly disintegrated from machine gun fire, and the far wall filled with holes, Wolfe swiped the cards in front of him.
Two Demonic Portal cards, but still no mantle.
Of course.
A brief silence filled the club, more pronounced for the racket of a second earlier, and Wolfe knew his enemies had made a huge tactical error.
They had all hit empty at the same time.
Wolfe touched one of his Demonic Portal cards, hurling his most common play—Two Angry Hellhounds and a Lost Hellhound Puppy—into the field for a mere two power.
A chorus of barks and screams came, and Wolfe figured he had his moment. He went around the side, his own STI Edge up. One of the men went down as Malviere stepped into the club through the front door, her face covered by black hair. Her visage and aura of black energy make her the scariest thing in the room. Three quick, easy, measured steps forward were all she needed, and she reached her hand into the aura and flung it forward. The spirit of a massive Doberman peeled from her and sailed into one of the thugs, biting the screaming man, who died as his heart stopped and his flesh went pale.
The other two thugs fared no better. One was hit by two Angry Hellhounds and went down in a welter of blood and screams. The last seemed fine for a moment as the adorable Lost Hellhound Puppy bit the last thug on the leg, growling and worrying at it. The thug screamed and tried to beat the card to death with his Sub-machine gun, but he seemed mostly okay.
Until Wolfe put a stop to all that with another well-placed cluster of shots from his Edge to the distracted thug’s chest.
A quick glance around showed Wolfe no other threats.
Keeping his gun out, Wolfe ran over to the booth that he normally met Miriam in. There was some blood, and a few bullet holes, but the only corpse Wolfe found, fortunately or unfortunately, was Victor. He had a bullet hole to his temple, just off dead center.
Wolfe was normally a pretty simple man, with his emotions ranging between ‘content’ and ‘enraged,’ but he felt another as he glared at Victor’s corpse, as if his rage could bring back his old compatriot: Sadness.
Fuck.
Wolfe went way back with the information broker. He had saved Victor’s daughter, Janelle, from a bad situation once, and they’d been a lot closer—although not close, per se—since the event. But even before that, Wolfe had known Victor almost as long as they’d been in the business. And Victor had helped Wolfe out more than once, and had been one of the few remaining people from the old life that Wolfe had liked.
But Wolfe had seen guys he liked die before. He shook it off.
Where in the Infernal realms is Shel? Wolfe glanced around.
He had a sudden thought, and ripped his phone from his pocket. He had a missed call from Shel a minute ago, and a text that said, “We retreated to the suites above, third floor.”
With a last regretful glance at Victor’s corpse, Wolfe rushed out of the booth for the elevators.
He reached them, slammed the up button, and waited. He slapped his pistol against his thigh in a rapid-fire pattern, anxious and edgy from even this tiny delay.
After a moment, the elevator chimed and the door slid open. Wolfe walked in, with Malviere and the two Obsessive Cultists following him. Wolfe hit the third-floor button, and waited.
The elevator quickly reached the third floor, and Wolfe walked forward even as it was chiming. At the same time, he flipped his deck, and four new cards appeared, as well as Cereboo.
As the door slid open, Wolfe was faced with a black-haired man, one eye missing, the other so empty of giving-a-shit it might as well have been a rock. The man was holding a massive desert Eagle 44 Magnum, aimed right at Wolfe’s chest. A massive Chinese-style dragon with a skull instead of a head was curled in the hall behind him.
“Goodbye,” the man said, pulling the trigger.
The bang was the loudest thing Wolfe had ever heard.