When Jack could finally recover enough to use a table to help him regain his feet, he looked over at Phillip.
The man in brown said, “That sucked. A friend of yours?”
“Never seen him before. We probably just should have tried to kill him.”
“Which
is so much harder to do when your body in rolled up in a ball writhing
in pain,” Phillip said while patting the dust off his battered hat.
Both
Jack and Phillip used parts of their Ki to heal themselves, but since
Jack had already used much of his soul’s strength in his earlier battle
with the armored Hyades this left him both physically and mentally
exhausted. “So what are we going to do anyway? He said he left us alive
so we could warn the other Boston Stalwarts that we need to leave the
city by sunset. Are we going to do that?”
“There
really aren’t many of us here. Dionysus followers are usually low on
the Xemmoni hit list because we run bars and make good connections to
help fed the more hedonistic aspect of the dark ones lives. And like I
told you, a group of Darcarre made it their mission to clean Boston out
of all its Stalwarts a good nine months back.”
“Was this guy, The Baron, one of them?”
“No,
I think I would have remembered that guy. Perhaps he might have been
behind the attack though. I heard rumors about a powerful Darcarre
working with a Gloom and a Caradon up north. Perhaps they were preparing
to make Boston their own. This could make sense, for I think Boston has
some association to Vile Darken and his plans.”
But
then seeing the look on Jack’s face, he held up his hands. “Don’t ask
me how I know. I just know that out of all the cities in America, some
high rolling Xemmoni decided that Boston should be the first town that
hunted down and eliminated all the Stalwarts. The only reason we’re
still around is that like most things which happen in the Xemmoni world,
they have a short attention span. They figured they killed us all and
in this case I believe they moved on to killing those of their kind that
weren’t involved with the Dark Alliance.”
“Okay,
Mr. longwinded, you’re mostly saying we’re in way over our heads, there
aren’t many Stalwarts we can warn, or for that matter get help from.”
“Yeah, like I said, sometimes for various reasons, they let some Stalwarts remain mostly unmolested.”
“So
tally off the list for me,” Jack said and then groaned when he forced
his body over to the cooler. Removing a cold Samuel Adams Ale, he said,
“I think I’ll join you in that beer-thirty now.”
“Well…”
Phillip started slowly. “There’s that Tez guy, Bruin that’s so damn
evil the Xemmoni probably figured he was one of their own. There’s
Lanna, who they probably spared just because she’s so smoking hot. Felix
has been allowed to live, because he’ll heal anyone for the right
price, but since the Darcarre can also heal themselves, he might be in
the danger zone now. I heard that Mitch was recently axed as was the
town’s last witch. After old Galla died, they rest of the Hecate witches
fled to Salem.” Phillip paused again, “Which just leaves Blaze, who
might be hard to get a hold of, outside of the internet, and ah…Cleo.”
“Who’s Cleo?”
“She’s my, er, she’s another Dionysus, and um…. I guess we dated for a while and-”
“Okay, I get it. But out of the whole city of Boston that’s it for Stalwarts?”
“Like
I said, the Darcarre hunted most of us down. Killed everyone in the
team I was part of except me and Cleo and after going through all that
Hell, we, you know.”
Jack
eyed his friend. “Why don’t you start making calls and try to email
that Blaze guy. I’m going to start getting weapons ready.”
* * *
Rabid
pinched a boil that had formed on the back of his hand until it burst,
sending blue tinged puss several feet in all directions. Ghost stood
near the table and flinched when the jet of thick liquid splashed his
tattered grey clock.
The Gloom’s burning red eyes glared his way for a moment. “Watch yourself.”
“Screw you, Ghost,” Rabid said. “Your clothes would be ignored by a naked homeless man in the throes of freezing to death.”
Ghost drew a rusty sickle from within is bellowing robes. “I don’t have to take such from the likes of you.”
Rapid
leapt to his feet so quickly that his chair flew out from under him and
shattered against the grimy basement wall. Stretching to his full seven
feet, he glared down as the rag covered man. “Care to test that
theory?”
Things might have gone south, if the lights in the room hadn’t dimmed.
Ghost looked up at the bare bulb, them Rabid. “The Baron nears.”
“No shit.”
They
both watched, as with a sweep of his Victorian cape, the Darcarre
entered the underground chamber. “They have been warned.” He said
simply. “The Stalwarts will either flee or be killed by tonight.”
“I
don’t see why a warning is needed,” Ghost said, his flaccid lips
flopping. “Stalwart Ki is sweet. I say we have a little dinner before we
finish the matter at hand.”
The
Darcarre looked down as his manicured nails for a moment, perhaps
taking pride that he was as handsome as the other two were hideous.
“Our plan is too important to have any slip up. If any of the Stalwarts
are too foolish to flee, you will have your chance. For now we need to
focus on having Leadhead eliminate the real competition posed by the
other Xemmoni races. Once we have the city in our hands the true
conquest for our Overlord can begin.”
Rabid spoke again. “So are we sure none of the remaining Stalwarts are those on Vile’s list.”
The
Baron waved his hand as if swatting at a fly. “Yes, yes, my minions all
but cleaned out the city several months back. We killed the Devons
family and several others on his list.”
“But
not all of them.” Rabid said, while shaking some lingering puss off the
tips of his fingers. He made sure it flew in Ghost’s direction. “Who
were the Stalwarts you gave the warning to? What were their names?”
“As
you know, rare are the people that can hide their thoughts from the
Darcarre. The two men I all but killed today were named Jack Primus and
Phillip Brownhurst.”
The
Baron had barely gotten the last word out of his mouth before Rapid
rushed forward, unsetting the table as he moved, and grabbed the
Darcarre by the throat with one of his meaty hands. The Darcarre clawed
at his hands and wrist, tearing open blisters and removing flesh as
Rabid lifted him off the ground.
“You
fool!” the Caradon roared into his face. “Are you so concerned with
your minions and experiments that you remember nothing? Primus and
Brownhurst are at the top of Vile’s shitlist! If he finds out we let
them escape, we’ll be killed in their place.”
He threw the Darcarre into the corner. “Time to gear up, whelplings. We’re going hunting!”
To be continued next Monday
