Gaming with Strangers

1

They met on the porch of a shack nestled in maple trees. The sinking sun glittered off a small lake to the west of the cabin. Wooden chairs sat on the porch's wooden planks. They had been painted blue with white stars on the head rests.

The owner of the refuge grimaced at his visitors.

"I thought we talked about this, Tribolyte." The speaker's keen blue eyes glared at his two visitors. "You are supposed to be leaving me alone."

"I have another wager for you, Hermit." The voice etched itself on the air in precise strokes. "I feel it is worthy of your consideration."

The Hermit rubbed his square chin. His blond beard felt stiff and wiry to his fingers. He had retreated from the world for many years. He had asked Tribolyte and his silent companion to leave him alone after the last time they had crossed paths.

Now here they were with another wager they thought would provoke him to action.

He should stick to his zero intervention policy regardless of what the furry monster expected. The world was getting along fine without him.

"State what you want in plain language." The Hermit made a go ahead gesture. If it was too grandiose a thing, he could reject it without prejudice.

"Mr. Cook?" Tribolyte's burning eyes seemed to smile through the fur that made up his football shaped body. Dr. Long had not been merciful to him.

The plain assistant raised the hand that was not carrying Tribolyte on a tray. Lines erupted from his callused palm. They turned themselves into a portrait of a man so lifelike it almost seemed to breath as it hung in the air. Blood dripped from Mr. Cook's hand.

"The Duster." The Hermit shook his head. "Didn't you learn anything from the last time?"

"No need to worry." Tribolyte shook a little on his tray. "That's the nature of the bet. I won't be involved. Third parties will do everything."

"What are the stakes?" The Hermit liked this less and less as he thought about it. This could only end badly for everyone involved.

"I wish to return to a more human form with my abilities intact." The fire from the spots on Tribolyte's non-existent face burned brighter. "Mr. Cook would like his freedom from my service."

"That sounds like an awful lot." The Hermit rubbed his chin again. "There's not anything the two of you can give me. I don't see why I should take this wager at all."

"Because it's a challenge, Spangler." Tribolyte's words were daggers in the air. "A proxy fight is something you have never been able to do well. You've always got your hands dirty. That's why you ran away up here instead of trying to pursue your goals in civilization."

The furball sneezed.

"You've lost your stomach for the hunt."

The Hermit glared at his visitor. The sound of thousands of pages turning filled the air as his anger threatened to burn everything around him. He closed his eyes, and let the flipping of paper die away before he spoke.

"You still don't have anything I want." The Hermit tapped the wood of his porch roof support with a knuckle.

"Oh, but I do." The voice of the Death Tribble was all cat purring now. "I have something that I won off a person who didn't know what he had. I will gladly put it up for its sentimental value to you."

Mr. Cook's hand bled another picture in the air.

"You're on." The Hermit nodded his head. "It will be a pleasure."

2

Cary Drake watched the crowd swirl around him as he sipped his drink from a glass. He stood at the back of the long room. Shadows cast by swirling lights cloaked him in darkness. He would have to recharge off one of these dancing fools before the night was over.

He just had to pick one.

Drake finished his drink. He wiped the glass and set it down on a railing. Someone would see it and take it back to the kitchen. He just didn't want to leave any fingerprints to tie him to the scene.

Someone had picked up his trail of bodies. Drake didn't know his pursuer, but felt that remaining at full charge as much as possible should give him an edge.

Drake picked out his meal and sauntered toward the dance floor. He acted like any other guy on the make, moving in on a woman in matching tube top and short skirt. He noted that she seemed to be alone in the crowd.

Drake danced closer, focusing his attention on his victim. He didn't want to attract attention in the middle of the crowd unless he had no choice. Blending in made it harder for his enemies to track him down.

Drake gestured with a finger. A tiny spark dropped on the young woman, turning her eyes to vacant brown pools. He took her hand. A tug and she followed him towards the men's room.

Drake pushed the door open. He checked for witnesses. The tiled room stood empty. He pulled his dinner into the room. Red crystal from his free hand locked the room up so he could keep his privacy.

Drake grabbed the woman's head. She struggled weakly in his grip. The charm seemed to be failing. His hands glowed like fire. Blood rushed from her eyes. The liquid vanished in the air. A single drop fell to the floor at their feet.

Drake took the shriveled corpse and placed it in a stall. Let the employees find it when they came to clean up for the night. By that time, he would be safely at home, contemplating his next project in peace.

No one would even remember what he looked like by that time.

Drake removed his barrier with a flick of his hand. The crystal shattered in fragments that burned away. The police would gain nothing from that.

Another magician might be able to track him down from the display. He wasn't afraid of that. Very few dared to challenge him to duels.

Drake made his way through the crowd. The front door had two guards but they didn't pay any attention to his average looks, and disguising party clothes. They were on the look out for anyone who had drank too much and decided he could do anything he wanted.

Someone leaving on his own two feet meant nothing to the muscular sentries.

Drake stepped outside. He took in the fresh air and turned left. He didn't possess a car so public transport served to carry him around the city when he didn't want to attract attention. And sometimes he could pick up more blood on a train if no one else was around.

Many a would-be mugger had found that out.

A bird settled in front of Drake. He looked at the strange beast, then up and down the street. No one else was around.

"Greetings, Bloodstone." The voice seemed to cut itself in the air. The gray on gray bird stared at Drake, mouth open. "In three days, a certain individual will be in Marlowe, Minnesota. He is carrying an artifact that will allow you to dispense with draining blood to work your magic. I know that you have struggled with this limitation for many years. Good luck."

The bird melted into the sidewalk. A portrait stared up at Drake. He looked around to see if anyone else had seen the apparition. He was still alone.

Drake committed the picture to memory. He wondered what the secret plot could be. He had struggled with his craving for blood. He had experimented with becoming more powerful without it. Nothing had worked so far.

This could be what he needed to free himself to walking on a higher plateau. He should take the chance and look into the chance of removing his bonds. He would just have to be careful about whatever betrayal was waiting for him.

3

Ken Furlong checked the graves as he walked through the cemetery. There had to be something he could use among the rectangular plots that lined the grassy lanes.

Furlong heard voices ahead. He paused. He wondered who could be in a cemetery at night other than someone like him. He looked up at the New York City skyline with bilious eyes. He supposed it was kids sneaking out from under their parents' watchful eyes.

He hoped they enjoyed their freedom.

Furlong pulled his wide brimmed hat down over his lined brow. He straightened his coat with the ivory buttons as he walked toward the sounds he had heard. He smiled with gleaming teeth as he thought about the fun ahead.

A band of kids drank beer from a twenty four pack and passed around blunts made from White Owl cigars. A boom box on a tombstone blasted out metal from a group Furlong didn't recognize. The teenagers didn't notice the skinny man in his dark purple coat and skull pendant as he stood outside the glow from an electric lantern.

Furlong raised his long fingered hands like a conductor. Light wrapped around the appendages. The ground glowed where the remains of people long gone had been put to rest. He waited for the effect of his call to show itself.

The grass split apart. Hands with various degrees of flesh burst from the wounds. Furlong laughed as his soldiers pulled themselves from the ground. The kids saw what was happening and ran for their cars.

Furlong laughed more as the moving corpses gave chase. One of the two cars hit a tree trying to run from the graveyard. The other didn't stop to help their friends.

One of the ambulatory dead smashed the radio against the tombstone of its recent neighbor. The music died when the plastic box bounced from the granite.

Furlong walked towards the crashed car. His zombies gathered in a circle around the wreck. Maybe there was something there he could turn to his own purposes. The mojo didn't care from where he took it.

He preferred the quiet dead to the screaming living so he could think while he performed his gathering ritual.

Still taking it fresh from a terrified subject made the taste sweeter and left a touch of exotic places to his mind's eyes.

Furlong checked the occupants of the car. The driver rested against the steering wheel. He breathed in shallow gasps like a fish out of water. The passenger in the front had cracked her head on the dashboard from the looks of things. The two boys in the back stared at him in fear.

Furlong gestured and his minions gathered the prisoners from the car. He didn't worry about how they struggled. The dead people didn't feel pain and held strength enough to deal with any boy no matter how strong he was.

"Bring them over to that tomb over there." Furlong pointed at the cube sticking out of the ground.

"What do you want?" One of the boys shouted as he struggled in the grip of cold hands.

"Never you mind about that." Furlong waited by the tomb. "This is my place and I don't like people messing with it."

"We'll leave." The other boy looked at the ground. "We'll never come back."

"I know you wouldn't." Furlong pulled out a knife from under his coat. "I'm just making sure."

A bird the shape of a pigeon settled on the tomb beside Furlong. It stared up at him. He knew it was a construct. It looked more like a black and white picture of a bird than the real thing.

"Listen, Mojo Bones." The voice sounded familiar to Furlong. He put that aside. "A man will arrive in Marlowe, Minnesota in three days. He will be carrying an artifact that will allow you to harness the power of the dead in any way you want."

The bird flattened into a drawing on the top of the tomb. Weary eyes examined Furlong from the stone. He looked at the face and thought quietly.

He had plenty of time if he wanted to pursue this mysterious information. A simple plane ride from JFK would get him to Minnesota in a few hours. If he wanted, he could drive there in two days if he decided to push himself.

The validity of the information didn't ring true. It had the smell of a set up.

Should he take the bait? Many of the magicians he had crossed usually didn't bother with such schemes. If they wanted something you had, they simply tried to take it. This was even more true of do-gooders like Jack Dragon.

Furlong decided that he wanted to know what was behind the summons, trap or not. His curiosity demanded some kind of satisfaction from the magician who had sent the message. He just needed to take the time to prepare for the struggle.

His gaze turned to his four victims. That also meant he would have to gain some more mojo to spread around. Once he was done with that he could gather his troops for the coming action.

He raised the knife and got started.

4

Callam Raye looked out across the early evening desert. Sand drifted under the faint wind as he stood in some scrub. The nearest civilization was a gas station near the highway heading north to Scottsdale and Phoenix.

Callam refused to sweat in full daylight, refused to shiver in the dropping temperatures. He had been living in the desert for many years. Many lizards and snakes had gone into his pot over that time.

He hoped to find some bones bleached in the sun. He did that to help polish them before he fitted them together for reuse. Of course, he wasn't going to put the ivory sticks back the way he had stripped them from their bodies.

Raye took a sighting on the setting sun, then headed out toward his bleaching table. He wanted to gather his tools and work. He loved that exercise of his abilities.

There was something about making something new that had never been seen before by the eyes of man. It sent excitement climbing up his spine.

It was better than being with a woman.

Raye found his stash. He smiled at the shading of the bone from the setting sun as it stretched across the flat rock. They seemed perfect for use.

He tapped one of the bones with the tip of his finger. A bell note sounded, stretching across the desert. That was almost perfect.

He picked up one rack of ribs. Yellow fire rolled from the tip of the tail to the skull. The sparks burned in the sockets for a brief second before they faded away. He repeated the process with the other skeletons. Dust kicked around his work boots as he turned to go back to his cave.

Raye had some thoughts about what he would do with the conglomeration. He visualized the animals becoming something better than what they were.

It would be nice if he could get a bigger animal.

A coyote would add something to his pool. A mountain lion would be even better.

Raye had found a burial ground and raided it for his own use. He quickly went through the site. Some of the locals had tried to stop him. He used them for raw material.

Raye entered his cave and walked through to his work table. The statues lining the carved walls nodded to him as he passed. He put the skeletons on the table, visualizing what he wanted to make out of them.

A gray bird flew into the cave. The statues turned to watch as it passed, multiple limbs of bone tensing to respond to any threat it might represent. Raye looked at the bird as it settled on his work table.

"Greetings, Bone Daddy." The bird opened its mouth to issue a voice that didn't resemble anything human. "In three days, a man will arrive in Marlowe, Minnesota. He is carrying an artifact that will allow you to create bones whenever you want."

The bird dissolved into a picture of a man. The picture glued itself to the top of Raye's worktable. He gestured his creations closer to take a look. Then he wiped the picture off his space with the edge of his hand. The bone surface repelled the drawing at his urging.

Raye worked on his skeletons while he thought. It helped his thinking processes as he figured out what he should do. He wanted a pool of working material. He doubted that anyone would send a messenger for anything but trouble.

Raye sat back from his table. He examined his creation. He tapped the little beast. It came to life under his touch. It turned on its six legs and growled in a lion's voice. It skittered off the table.

Raye sat back in the high back chair he favored. He had lived in the Southwest for a long time. Where the heck was Minnesota? He weighed pros and cons before deciding to go. He didn't have anything to keep him at home at the moment.

Maybe he could collect more skeletons to use on the way there.

Raye stood up. He gestured for his minions to gather around. Orders lit up their eye sockets. One handed him a jacket, hat, and carrying bag. If he found anything he could use, he could put a piece in the bag to call the rest to him when he needed it.

"We'll stop at the gas station." Raye climbed on the back of an eight legged horse made of lizards and snakes. "I'll need to get directions."

Raye waved for his troops to move out. Beasts never before seen by human eye made of skeletons bounded, crawled, slithered, and flew into the night. Some of the creatures knew where they wanted to go. They broke off from the menagerie and vanished into the night.

Raye shook his head. He leaned back to enjoy the ride. Once he reached the gas station, he could figure the shortest way to Minnesota next with the help of a map. His minions would key on him once he reached his destination.

His stallion could cross any terrain in his way at a fast clip. And since it was tireless, it could run through the night without having to rest.

Raye waited patiently for the lights of the gas station to appear. He had seen it numerous times but had never set foot inside before that night. He tried to remember what it was like to talk to anybody but himself.

He had been in the desert a long time.

He spotted a glimmer in the distance. Then a little square box appeared in white with green stripes. Two canopies spread like wings to either side of the box center. He spotted the attendant smoking beside the door. He doubted the man could see him in the darkness behind the light from the canopy light.

Raye smiled. The clerk was in for a surprise when his bony creation carried him into the light for the first time.

5

Anwar Kaish hated Seattle. He hated the rain, the greenery everywhere, and the things in the ocean.

The last hated him back.

Anwar did like one thing about the city. Like Old Troy to the south in California, the metropolis had an underground that could be used to travel from one side of the city to the other without being seen. That made his clandestine ingredient gathering easier than he had expected when he had first moved to the city.

Anwar stood on the roof of the Space Needle and looked out over the city, the island where the rich played, and the ocean beyond. He imagined seeing breakers rolling into the sound as the sun set behind the horizon.

He was at a point where he had exhausted all theories, had been proven wrong in his ideas, and needed something to turn his hand to while he recharged the mental machinery.

Anwar turned his gaze to the streets. Ants went about their business with no thought that someone could wreck their lives with a thought. One call for energy and something interesting would happen.

He didn't dare do anything like that. Too many of his colleagues would insist that he quit stirring the pot so to speak. Magic was best done under cover of invisibility.

Anwar leaped from the roof.

The magician spread his arms. A simple thought activated the gold and black costume he wore with the Sphinx mask covering his face. A short cape billowed behind him as he fell toward the street.

Anwar called on a wind to give him lift. His course changed so he soared above the rooftops like a bird. He had rented a room in the best hotel in town. It possessed a balcony he could use for quick exits and entrances when he felt the need.

Anwar nodded when he saw the railing heading for him. He grabbed the top of it as he dismissed his wind. His feet landed on the balcony's concrete floor silently. A quick glance revealed his room remained undisturbed.

If anything looked out of place, he would fly to some other hotel and register there under a false name.

Anwar decided the best thing he could do at the moment was appease his wanderlust and think of somewhere he could go for a day trip and take the time off. He thought about things he could do and hated the various ideas that popped into his head for one reason or another.

He dwelt on just blasting anything he saw to see who would show up and try to stop him. That should get something akin to a good fight. He could probably kill dozens before anyone tried to stop him.

And most people couldn't stop him when he wanted to go forward.

He might be able to kill a local vigilante if he made enough noise. That would be a good cap to the night.

Anwar decided that he would get something from room service first. Killing people made him hungry. He might as well fortify himself for the coming struggle before leaving.

He dismissed his costume as he walked over to the phone. He spent a minute ordering the food and drink. The kitchen told him it would be minutes before it arrived. He thanked them before hanging up.

A gray bird descended from nowhere. It landed on the balcony railing outside of his room with a flap of its wings. The motion and noise caused Anwar to reach for a blasting spell to be used.

Anwar paused before he acted without thinking. He approached the bird, employing his version of second sight. The creature seemed to be alone, had no spells, and wasn't alive.

"Greetings, Egyptoid." The voice issued as smooth as a politician's promise from the mouth of the bird. "A man will be arriving in Marlowe, Minnesota in three days. He is carrying an artifact that will allow you to experiment fully with the whole of time and space without fear of repercussion."

The bird dropped to the balcony floor. It dissolved into a picture of a man. Anwar studied the face until a knock on the door told him his food had arrived. He signed the bill and took his tray out to the balcony to eat.

Anwar examined the situation from all sides as he ate. After due consideration, he decided to visit this Marlowe. It was the perfect cure for his restlessness even if nothing came of it.

He doubted any such device existed that would allow him to travel and observe the whole of events throughout the universe. On the other hand, he had nothing better to do except to look for the thing.

Anwar called the desk. He arranged for another week at the hotel. He called the airlines and asked for a plane heading in the right direction. Once he had a ticket arranged to be left at the boarding gate, he decided to get some rest.

He didn't know when he would get another chance to sleep if the message was true.

Anwar expected others to be aware of this artifact and try to seize it for themselves. They probably got the same type of messenger and message.

Anwar settled on the bed. He closed his eyes as he decided to destroy anyone in his way when he did arrive in Marlowe. That would make him a very happy man indeed. The prize would be icing on the cake.

Anwar dreamed of shifting sand calling his name.

6

Bubba Smith walked through the Everglades without leaving a trace of his passage. Modern times encroached on his territory more and more. He gave the developers something to think about so they would quit trying to drain his swamp.

Occasionally Bubba liked to introduce a contractor to his best friend, Sally Mae. That tended to be messy but it slowed things down so he could do something to halt their building. Then nature covered over the scars of progress.

Sally Mae walked beside Bubba on short legs, tail twitching back and forth. Wet scales glittered in the random shafts of light from the stars above. One eye had been replaced with a crystal the color of turquoise.

"Look here, Sally Mae." Bubba petted his pet on the snout. "Isn't this exciting?"

Sally Mae grunted. She looked the hunting ground over to see who looked the best to eat with her normal dark eye, and her shiny gem eye. She decided on a butterball doing a cannonball into a private pool. She could make him last for minutes before he died.

One of the local tribes had built a casino close to the edge of the Everglades with easy access into the neighboring counties. Bubba had let it pass. The Indians had been there before he had cast off his death. He allowed them some slack to build where they wanted within limits.

One of the building committee didn't see it Bubba's way. He felt the tribe should reach anywhere they wanted to get the white man's money. A planned spot for another casino/hotel rested deep in the magician's lands.

Bubba didn't plan to allow that building to go up.

Bubba spotted the man he was looking for coming out of the casino. A flock of suits followed him. They cackled like hens as the valet went to get the man's car for him. The swamp dweller moved faster, covering ground like an invisible wraith. He met the valet at the car with a punch from his hardened hand.

Bubba took the man's vest and put it on over his long john shirt after doffing his jacket. He dragged the attendant into a bush. He hung his jacket and hat over a bush next to where he had dumped the valet. He urged Sally Mae into the back seat. He got behind the wheel, checked his look in the mirror, groped for the memory of driving, then dropped the car off at the canopy.

Bubba got out of the car and walked away as the man got behind the wheel. The councilman waved at the other planners and money men before driving away. The swamp master picked up his jacket and hat after dropping the uniform vest beside the sleeping valet.

Bubba started walking after the car. He knew it wasn't going far.

A gray bird settled on a branch from a transplanted tree. It opened its mouth.

"Listen, Bubba Smith." The voice drew his attention for a second.

"Shut up, bird." Bubba cut through the brush, looking for the councilman's car. How long had Sally Mae waited before going to town?

The gray bird followed. It had a message to deliver. It wasn't going to stop because the recipient didn't want it.

"Listen, Bubba Smith." The bird flapped its wings in the swamp walker's face.

"Shut up, bird." Bubba found the car pushed up into a tree. He smiled at it shaking. "Get er done, Sally Mae!"

"Listen, Bubba Smith." The bird dropped on the roof of the shaking car. It didn't care about the sounds coming from inside. "In three days, a man will enter Marlowe, Minnesota. He carries an artifact that will allow you to exclude anything from the Everglades any time you want."

"What does that mean to me?" Bubba flexed his hands.

The bird vanished into a picture on the roof of the car. Bubba glanced at the picture. Someone wanted Bubba to go north. He would have to arrange transportation to get up there.

He certainly wasn't going to leave Sally Mae behind.

Bubba waited for the car to quit shaking. He opened the door. Sally Mae slithered out with an arm in her maw. The blue eye glittered at her master as she trundled away.

Bubba turned from the carnage and headed after his retreating sidekick. He considered how he was going to get himself and Sally Mae to Minnesota from South Florida. He turned back to the car and took the bloody wallet from the councilman's torso. He wiped the blood off with a swipe of his hand before checking the contents. Money revealed itself as flowers grew from where the blood drops hit.

"We're going North, Sally Mae." Bubba discarded the wallet as he put the money in his pocket. "Pack your bags."

The alligator swallowed the arm with a chomp and look in its eyes. The swamp was their homes. What could be in Yankee territory they needed? A swing of its great head, and the giant lizard fell in beside the protector of the wetlands.

"Let's just see what's up there that needs a man like me." Bubba headed for the nearest airport with his silent surefootedness.

7

He appeared in the street as the dawn broke and the sun climbed for its noon perch. His thin long coat flapped around him as he straightened his old Stetson. Dust covered his boots from years of walking the Earth.

Bands of power wrapped around the globe, following their own paths. They connected most places, were changed by Humanity's constant need to move things, and sometimes pooled in certain places. And they carried him from place to place whether he wanted to go or not.

He took a moment to get his bearings before walking down the road. A sign said Welcome to Marlowe in greeting as he passed. Plenty of other signs had shown him the way to go just as that one did.

Traveling the Earth via ley line was fast, silent, and totally random. And worse for him, it was impossible to get off except for those rare times he actually made it away from a stream. A random stumble over another charged line would send him on his way again before he could blink.

Mad George Tribolyte had put an effective curse on him but good.

At least he had got a little of his own back. One of the rounds from his gleaming pistol had disrupted Tribolyte's experiment. The resulting explosion seemed to have ruined the magician's lair.

He wished he had been able to make sure before that first trip.

He took in his first view of the city from a hill top. The sun was behind him. Glass from windows reflected the light with silent grandeur for such a small place. His first impression was a city stuck in the middle of a forest with no way in or out.

A yellow school bus passed on the way to pick up its designated passengers. He watched as cars filled the road as people headed for work. Soon he would be mingling with those who had roots for however long he could stay before the line charged and took him away again.

His stomach growled. He looked for someplace to eat. A Big Bob's gleamed under the rising sun. The neon open light called to him.

He checked his pockets for paper money as he walked down toward the restaurant. He didn't expect them to take one of the gold coins he had liberated from Tribolyte.

He found a small wad of ones in his duster pocket. That should be enough for a hot meal. He might have to rob someone sooner or later. His bills were few and far between, but so were his chances of finding honest work.

He reached the front door of the restaurant, observed a seat yourself sign, and sought a seat far from others. He liked people when he met them, but first he wanted a cup of coffee after his travels cross country.

"How's it going, Hon?" The waitress held pad and pen while maneuvering in a sack of uniform clothing. Her smile brightened the room for a moment as she turned her attention on him. "What can I do for you today?"

"I would like some coffee, eggs, hash browns, and some bacon." He didn't know if they actually served a breakfast like that but that seemed like a good bet.

"Would you like some toast with that?" The waitress scribbled the order down with her thin fingered hand.

"Yes, with jam if you have it." He decided to gamble on that too. This might be a good day for him and everything would go his way.

"No problem." The waitress put her pad and pen away. "I'll be right back with your coffee."

He watched her walk through the door he presumed led to the kitchen. She returned with a basket of toast with butter and little packets of jam, and a ceramic cup. Those went in front of him with small clinks. She moved away and returned with a glass decanter full of steaming coffee. She poured him out a cup gracefully before taking the pot away.

He picked up the bottle of creamer on the table and poured some in his cup, stirring it in with a spoon from a packet left for a new customer. When he thought it looked a more tan than black, he added the sugar. He took a sip and nodded to himself at the taste.

He broke the toast into pieces after covering each slice with butter and apple jelly with a fork. He chewed on the cooked bread, enjoying the taste of it as much as possible. His travels had exposed him to a variety of cuisine but nothing was better than buttered and jelly covered toast.

It always took him back to his childhood.

The waitress returned with three plates of food on a large round tray. She placed each in front of him with a smile, and a neat gesture of her stick arm.

"Would you like some more coffee?" She tucked the tray under her arm for safekeeping.

"Certainly." He smiled for the first time that day. He put his hat down by his side on the booth seat. "Could I have the check too?"

"I will be right back." The waitress lit the room with her smile again before turning and walking off. She returned without the tray, but with the coffee dispenser. He moved the cup closer for her to pour while he ate.

The waitress put the check on the table and headed for another customer. He checked the bill, then counted the money he had found in his pocket. He had enough to cover the meal and tip but he would have to get more when he saw the chance. The money went under an emptied plate.

The first dead man appeared as he finished.

8

Mojo Bones arrived in Marlowe ahead of schedule. The first place he went was the local cemeteries. The city had three major areas, and a score of smaller ones. He gathered up as much help as he could. He made sure to cover his tracks so no one realized their dearly departed had decided to walk about under his orders.

Mojo Bones spread his underlings out to watch the roads and overland routes into Marlowe. He didn't know what his quarry's transportation looked like but he was sure that his spies would spot the man and keep track of him wherever he went.

Mojo found a towering building of five stories. He shook his head at the thought this might be the tallest building in town. He climbed the outside to avoid any hassle with alarms.

He was there to find one man and deal with him. Killing police and instituting a manhunt while he was on the hunt was to be avoided until he had the prize.

He had a feeling that he wasn't the only one out there looking. He hadn't met his rivals yet, but he knew when he was being gamed.

Someone else was out there on the prowl.

Mojo Bones sat down on the roof. He closed his eyes and let his mind concentrate on his net of watchers. Everything was all clear so far. Luckily, he didn't need to eat and sleep while he was working his magic. That would let him watch through the eyes of his followers until the job was done.

He spotted the man from the bird's portrait on the main secondary road leading into Marlowe. He compared the living person walking along to the picture sent to him. The exact match made him move his nearest servant after the man.

He needed to know where the man went until more of his forces arrived.

Mojo Bones sent out the call for his dead men to converge on the spot where the cowboy had settled to eat. He made sure the net was in two layers. One layer was to go in and get the target. The second layer was ordered to surround the place to keep the cowboy inside the net.

Dead men weren't the best thinkers but they followed orders to the letter. And they were virtually indestructible. That should allow them to pick up the man in the coat without a problem.

Mojo ordered his troops into the restaurant. The sooner he took the man, the faster he could find out what was really going on.

Mojo watched through the eyes of his minions as they pushed into the dining room. The other diners looked up in horror as the dead men shuffled towards the back of the room. They didn't get in the way as the zombies headed for their prey.

The cowboy stood up, pulling his hat on. He frowned as the zombies moved to hem him in from the doors. He pulled out a pistol from a holster concealed by his duster and shot out a nearby window. He jumped through to the parking lot on the side of the building. He started running, coat flapping behind him.

Mojo Bones directed his troops to converge on the running figure. He was already close enough to touch the man. He didn't want to let the man escape from his grasp.

The zombies shuffled into position, filling the open ground with their embalmed bodies. They resembled a moving hedge of suits and ugly makeup jobs. Grasping hands reached out to nab their fish.

The man in the duster paused as if considering options. He pointed the pistol at the horde. What could bullets do against the dead?

The pistol roared. A blast of flame pushed one of the walking bodies out of the way. He plunged through the gap before hands could grab him.

Mojo Bones ordered his henchmen into the chase. He should have known he was facing another magician. That pistol must be the artifact the message mentioned. He needed to get it and examine it.

He didn't need the man if he could get the pistol.

The zombies lurched after the man in the duster coat. Some grabbed makeshift weapons to echo Mojo's new thoughts on the matter. Why grab the man when you could club him down?

Mojo spread out his net to gather his prey in. The cowboy seemed to have vanished while his minions got reorganized. He frowned at the options left to him.

The man in the duster had gotten away. If he had any transport spells, he was gone. Mojo Bones had lost and ruined the game for anyone else out there.

The man in the duster had gotten away. If he didn't have any transport spells, he was still in town. That made the game winnable and still on. That meant Mojo still had the jump on anyone else who might be hunting the cowboy.

Mojo decided to at least make sure that the man hadn't gotten away. That way he could assure himself that he had done everything he could.

Mojo ordered his dead men to spread out and keep looking until they found the Duster Boy. They weren't to engage until they had a clear chance at a successful ambush. He couldn't allow his prey to escape again.

How long would the man stay in town now that he knew he was being hunted? It couldn't be long in any case.

Mojo took a deep breath to center himself. He couldn't allow himself to let anger cloud his judgement. When the dealing was done, he could armchair quarterback his decisions. Now he had get the job done as fast as possible.

9

The Duster Boy checked doors as he moved through the alleys between the buildings in Marlowe. He supposed he was lucky he had arrived close to the business area of the small city. It would have been a problem in a more suburban area to hide from the dead men wandering the streets.

He had three problems as he saw them. Only one mattered to him.

He needed to hide and no one was open for business except for restaurants. That made it easy for the dead men to look for him as long as he was on the outside of a building. It also made it easy for searchers to find him if they kept the restaurants under watch and checked any broken windows or doors.

And they would check. He knew the type well enough.

He found an unlocked door to a book store after some close calls. He ducked inside and locked the glass barrier behind him. He moved away from the windows to avoid detection by sight.

Other senses could be a problem if he didn't try to block them somehow.

He searched the store for anything that looked like chalk and a candle. A circle with wax seals on the floor might buy him some time until he thought of a way out of this problem. The dead men were tools. He needed to deal with the brains.

That brought up his other two problems.

The first was his victimization by the ley lines. They had to charge before he was ripped to some other place on the globe. He couldn't control the wait time, and the direction changed with the way the land was changed. That meant that he had no idea where a line was until it charged enough and he stepped on it.

His second problem was the mastermind behind the corpses. They could go on forever while he couldn't. As long as he and the brains were in Marlowe, he would have to avoid the minions. He didn't know how long he could do that.

"I'm sorry." A voice interrupted his search. "We're closed."

The voice belonged to a pleasant looking blonde of indeterminate age. Metallic green eyes didn't quite glare at the intruder standing behind the counter. Black cat face pins decorated the ends of her collar.

"I'm sorry to intrude." The Duster Boy didn't see anything that looked like what he wanted.

"I'm going to have to ask you to come back in thirty minutes." The shopkeeper gestured for the door. "I will be glad to sell you a book then."

"Is there a back door?" The cowboy glanced at the window. "I don't want to go out the front right now."

"I guess that will be fine." She gestured for him to follow her.

The Duster Boy noted the silence of the place. The woman also seemed to be a wraith, leaving no trace of her passage through the store. He hoped she wasn't a ghost sent to take him to some place unpleasant.

The store manager opened a door to a small office full of files and a computer to handle ordering and paperwork. An emergency exit stood under a sign behind a stack of books that needed to go out on the shelves.

"There you go." She nodded at the door. Her hands were at her side.

"Thank you." The cowboy went for the door. He didn't see any alarms on it. One hand pushed it open so he could step outside.

A wall of crimson crystal blocked his way. Light glittered on the triangular facets as the Duster Boy stepped back. His pistol leaped in his hand.

The dead men had friends from the look of it.

"I think we should go out the front." He backed up, ready for something to happen. A hand emerged from the crystal.

"That can't be good." The book dealer grabbed the door and slammed it on the hand with a bang.

The Duster Boy stepped back into the main room. He pointed his pistol at the front door. He could shoot the door, and the window on the side as soon as he had a target. Someone had put him on a bull's-eye for whatever reason.

And he was in a trap that he had to get out of before something happened to the bystander he encountered. Leaving her behind might get her out of the situation, but he didn't know what his enemies planned.

Leaving her behind might get her killed if they thought the two of them were together.

A figure in black and silver appeared in front of the door. A hand came up. A sword of light sliced through the front of the store, melting the glass and brick with a touch of its blade.

"Odd will lose his mind." The woman shook her head as the Duster raised an arm to keep her behind him.

"Odd?" The cowboy kept his pistol aimed at the masked man. Maybe he could get some answers.

"My husband." The woman picked up an encyclopedia. "My name is Kitty Dorfman."

"Pleased to meet you."

10

"I've come for the artifact you're holding." The Egyptoid floated through the ruined storefront. "Give it up and I'll let you go free."

"I think that it is mine." Red crystal armor carried a newcomer from the back of the store. "I was here first after all."

The cowboy backed up against the end of a shelf. He looked pinned in and uncertain in the face of the odds. The woman tossed her book up and down in the air as she looked at the two new strangers.

"I'm afraid that you'll both have to come back when the shop has been repaired." She grabbed the spine of the book before it could fall down in her hand.

"Woman, don't get in my way." The Egyptoid raised his hand. "I am not in the mood for any mouth."

"Oh, really?" The hand on the book tightened. Impressions of her fingertips sank into the cover.

"Smooth." The crystal warrior raised his own hands. Glitter reflected in the air as jewelry seemed to coalesce. "I'm not here to fight. Give me what I want and you can have them."

A dragon of bone crashed through the ceiling. Other skeletons fell with it, landing lightly on the carpeted floor. A rider dressed in a battered suit and dust waved his hat as the monster roared its challenge.

"Well, doggie." The monster rider grinned a little too widely. His eyes seemed to have no irises, leaving pinpoints in the whites.

"They're just coming out of the woodwork." The cowboy pointed his pistol at one, then another, seemingly unable to decide which one to shoot first.

"My insurance company is never going to believe this." The woman looked around at the devastation. "I can't believe it. All I need now is a guy in a bunny suit showing up with his exploding eggs."

"This is my prize." The Egyptoid's mask didn't hide his own amazement. "Are you two challenging me?"

"This is about to get ugly in a big way." The cowboy tried to grab the woman's arm to urge her in an aisle where the shelves might give her some kind of protection. She shook him off.

"It sure is." The woman whistled. The piercing tone made everyone else cover their ears. "Someone needs to explain what's going on before I lose my temper."

"Silence, woman." The Egyptoid pointed a finger at the annoyance. A silencing spell of hooked ankhs leaped forward. That should take care of that.

The woman ducked the spinning circle. The encyclopedia flew from her hand. The heavy book struck the magician's silver mask. He flew out in the street.

The cowboy turned his pistol on the man in the crystal armor. A pull of the trigger sent the man flying into a wall. Skeletons swarmed him with bites and claws as he aimed at the dragon rider. He went down under the assault.

The Egyptoid sat up. He clutched his head. Something seemed wrong with his headpiece. He sent out questing tendrils to examine the mask. The impact from the book seemed to have smashed part of it in.

Magic touched the silver. The metal ran then smoothed back in its proper shape. He nodded when he could see out of the eyeholes again.

Maybe he should reconsider which one was the real threat.

The Egyptoid climbed to his feet. The bone rider's minions seemed to have the upper hand at the moment. He didn't want that. The cowboy needed to escape so he could seize the artifact later without interference.

Then the woman sliced through the crowd of moving skeletons with her hand. The cowboy blasted the dragon with his pistol as she dragged him from the battlefield by one hand. The rider worked some magic on the skeleton fragments as the two made it to the street.

The Egyptoid sealed the shop as the pair ran from him. That should keep his rivals out of the way while he tried to figure out what was going on. Maybe this was the trap he had expected when he had been lured to Minnesota in the first place.

The two fled on foot. The masked magician took to the air, using the rooftops as cover. He wondered how many more rivals he would have to take care before this was done.

He hoped answers would soon be forthcoming with a little eavesdropping and keeping the others away from his find. He didn't have to do anything if the cowboy revealed his secret without any confrontation.

And he was in the perfect position to lay an ambush and deal with the both of his problems before they knew what was going to happen to them.

11

Bubba Smith took a breath of Northern air, glad not to fall over dead at the taste of it. He jumped down from the cargo bay of the plane he had stowawayed on from Miami-Dade. The scarecrow turned and held out his arms. Sally Mae fell down on top of him. Her short legs knew nothing of jumping. He put the alligator down and started walking across the tarmac.

Smith reached the fence surrounding the airport. Chalky fingers pulled the chain links apart. He stepped through, held the gap open for his companion, then closed it back. He took a moment to twist the links together in a couple of places.

There was no need to mess someone else's turf up yet. Maybe after he found the man he was looking for and took the prize, he could do an intervention on the Yankees. Until then, he planned to keep things quiet until he had what he was looking for and had a way back to the 'Glades.

Bubba and Sally Mae headed into town after stopping by long term parking. A pickup was the perfect vehicle to carry the alligator around in until he needed to employ her choppers.

Bubba held a hand out of the window as he drove down the road toward the city. He needed to find his quarry who should be in town by now. He needed allies who could search for him while he was on the road. A cloud of mosquitos bubbled from his gray skin and vanished into the air.

One of them should be able to do the job well enough.

Bubba drove quietly in his stolen truck. He wasn't in a hurry. And he didn't want to get in an entanglement with the local law. They couldn't hurt him, but he didn't want them to shoot Sally Mae out of fear. Patching bullet holes was a pain.

Bubba created another crowd of mosquitos when he had driven closer to the city. The insects would spread out and stick on anyone that looked like the picture he had been shown. A call would confirm or deny their choices. He expected many matches to sort through since a bug wasn't very bright.

Bubba worked his way across Marlowe. The insects told him about the dead men walking the streets. He frowned at that. Someone else was in the game and using some very visible magic to try and find someone.

It was an easy bet who they were looking for.

Bubba pulled into a parking lot to consider his options. They didn't look that good to him at the moment.

He could leave. He could find the man the bird wanted him to find and take the artifact from him. He could wait and see who came out with the thing, then take it from them after any trouble they might have suffered.

The third choice appealed to him more than the other two. He had endured a long flight with a cranky reptile chewing luggage. He didn't want to go home empty-handed. He was already searching for the man in the picture. He didn't know what the other man could do. He didn't know how their personal powers would stack against each other. Then there were also the others, or at least the one he knew about who must be controlling the dead people he had noticed. They would have something to say about him stealing their prize.

Bubba gave it some long thought. Steering clear of others had always been one of the traits defined by paranoia and knowledge of the other side. On the other hand, once he knew what the artifact was, how hard would it be to steal it from another magician?

A mosquito sent word that it had a possible suspect for the puppet master. It gave Bubba a picture of the building where a man sat on the roof inside some kind of circle. Maybe taking one of the enemy out of the picture would help clear the field.

Besides Sally Mae growled in hunger. She needed something to eat.

Bubba put the truck into drive and headed over to where the mosquito waited. He nodded to himself as he remembered some song from his youth. One day he hoped to march through Georgia too. Until then, he had to be content with his swamp home.

Bubba pulled to the curb at the base of the target building. He checked the hours on the door as he helped his faithful sidekick to the sidewalk. He had a good hour before anyone should be showing up to take care of his business.

Bubba looked at the lock. He pressed his hand against the mechanism. A branch extended out of the key slot. He gave it a turn and the door opened for him. He stepped inside, looking for an alarm. He pointed at the box. Sparks flew as it blew up.

Bubba pulled the small branch out of the lock as he let his comrade into the lobby of a set of offices ranging from dentistry to financial planning. He closed and locked the door behind them before heading for the stairs.

Bubba and Sally Mae climbed the stairs to the roof. The access door didn't have an alarm on it. He stepped out on the roof carefully, looking around. The puppet master sat a few yards away. The eyes moving under the closed eyelids said he was tracking his minions instead of worrying about himself.

Bubba waved Sally Mae on. Time to thin out the competition with a hungry bite. The alligator swam forward on the gravel roof with a happy grin.

12

"What's going on?" Kitty Dorfman walked down the sidewalk with an eye for another weirdo jumping out of the woodwork.

"I don't know." Duster Boy loaded fresh cartridges into his pistol. He dropped the spent brass in a public trashcan they passed as they walked. "This is a first for me."

"We could ask Quin, but he's out of town with the others." Kitty paused as if trying to decide which direction. "I should have asked Odd for directions."

"I think your book shop will be clear in a couple of minutes." Duster Boy holstered the pistol. "You can go back and call your husband."

"I think I am already in this hip deep, whatever this is." Kitty smiled. "There's a payphone. We can call Odd and get some help."

They crossed the street. The payphone was public use inside a half kiosk. Stickers for free phone cards, and long distance vied for view as Kitty fished for a couple of quarters in her pants pockets.

One call should get them out of this mess. At the very least, Quin should be able to give them the reason why people had arrived to wreck the bookstore.

Kitty picked up the earpiece to listen for a dial tone. She felt a vibration in the plastic. She dropped the machine and pushed her sudden ally back. The phone blew up as looped crosses cut through the metal in a series of swipes.

"It looks like we didn't lose Mr. Bad Temper." Kitty looked around. "Where could he be?"

"We have zombies closing in from the street corner." Duster Boy started walking away from the phone. "We need to find a place to hide for a little bit."

"Let's try the mall." Kitty urged him down an alley, then up a fire escape. She started across the low slung roofs with easy jumps.

"Why the mall?" Duster Boy struggled to keep up. His guide moved with the surefootedness of a cat above the streets.

"Plenty of exits and phones." Kitty reached the last building and jumped over the side.

Duster Boy rushed forward. No way did she just jump off a building without a problem. He looked over the edge. She waved at him from the sidewalk.

He frowned. No way would he want to do that. He looked around for a ladder to use to climb down.

"Let's try this talk again." Duster Boy turned at the voice. His hand reached for his pistol. Glowing ankhs locked his arms to his sides with their loops. "I want to know where this artifact is that you are supposedly guarding."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The cowboy struggled against the magic pinning him in the air. "I don't know what you want."

A gray bird descended. Duster Boy examined it as it stood on the roof. It looked like a set of lines come to life. It's mouth opened as the Egyptoid glanced at it.

"Please bring the target to the lake for extraction and rewarding." The voice made Duster Boy's face twist up at not quite remembering something he should remember. The bird took off while he was still thinking about it.

The Egyptoid gestured. His prisoner flew into the air in front of him. Maybe they would both get answers now.

Kitty turned and ran. She passed through the light foot traffic on the sidewalk like a ghost as she followed the flying figures. The direction told her they were flying toward the lake.

What was out there that required all this?

Kitty turned things over in her mind as she ran. It was the same way she planned recipes or juggled their finances. She would run and slot figures into their places as she did her workout.

She reached the road to the lake and kept going. It looked different from before the mighty Zornwill had destroyed the properties on it, and better than when the destruction had first happened. People were actually able to move back in with no problem.

She expected a lot of them didn't use the local water system after what was found in the lake by the government.

That had been particularly nasty from all reports.

Kitty spotted the bird descending on the other side of the water. She sped up, trying to catch up before something bad happened. Someone had set up a hunt without telling anyone. That person should be dealt with, but rescuing the stranger had to do for the moment.

She had avoided the heroics so far. She should have known that something would happen and she would have to do something. It was destiny.

She hated destiny right at that moment.

Kitty left the road and headed into the forest. She could make better time cutting cross country than sticking to the meandering path.

Hopefully Duster Boy would get somebody to start talking so he could stall them until she arrived. She didn't know what she was going to do when she did get there. That depended on what she found.

She definitely wasn't going to tell Odd. He wouldn't understand she preferred to leave the heroics to others.

13

Bloodstone felt the shield holding him in the store. It seemed like solid work as far as he could tell. He needed another way out.

The bone animals crashed into the wall further down from where he stood. The dragon rider patted his pet on the head. It wasn't going to get through the wall.

"This is a fine pickle." The necromancer pushed his old fedora back.

"I'm getting out of here." Bloodstone went to the bathroom. He had found it in an earlier search of the place. "Good luck trying to get out of here through that."

"What do you mean?" The bone wielder followed at a distance.

"I can go anywhere I want." Bloodstone reached for the drain. He poured down the sink in a crystal blood stream. The sound of his voice echoed back. "Good luck."

Bloodstone followed the drain pipe through the system until it opened to the sewer. He reconstituted himself when he could lift himself up out of a storm drain. He shucked the armor so he could move under a disguise of normality.

He needed to find the target so he could find out what was going on. That masked sphinx had stolen the lead from him.

Bloodstone straightened his street clothes as he thought of his next move. At least he was rid of the animal show.

At least he had learned something. The cowboy had enough value that a team of magicians had been sent. He was behind most of the others. And he still didn't know what was going on.

He needed to concentrate on the immediate problem of finding the other magician and dealing with him. Once he had done that, he could concentrate on the Duster Boy.

Bloodstone spotted a dead man wandering the street in front of him. He looked around. More of the walking corpses were on the move. They seemed to be heading toward the lake.

Maybe they knew something he didn't.

Bloodstone looked at the tallest building he could see. Someone up there could see some of the city. He might have seen the sphinx flying away. He might be telling his puppets to follow the trail.

Bloodstone decided he could get ahead of the horde and find the Duster Boy first. All he needed was a car.

Bloodstone went down the street, smiling at a Suburban he found on the curb. He opened the lock with a twist of his hand. He got behind the wheel and started the engine. The SUV rolled smoothly under his touch.

He saw some of the dead men pile into a car. That took part of his satisfaction away.

Bloodstone still felt a bit of excitement. He had to get there before the dead men but he could still find the man and get him back. He could already see he was a better driver than the zombies.

The road led to the lake. Bloodstone looked for some way to get to where the sphinx had taken the Duster Boy. He got out of the Suburban and headed into the trees. He had a way to track his quarry down.

He just had to have blood to home in on.

Bloodstone donned his blood crystal again as he moved deeper into the woods. He wanted some kind of protection from the things that were bumping into the dark. He flexed his gauntleted hands as he moved.

Bloodstone paused when he heard a voice talking ahead. He recognized it as the voice of the masked man that had pinned him in with the dragon rider. He crept forward to listen to what was going on.

"You must form a containment vessel." The voice belonged to the summoner from the bird. "Then you must call out the charge from his body into this containment vessel. That will give you enough to change the world."

"Is that you, Mad George?" The cowboy sounded amused. "It's been a while since I saw you last. Is this all some revenge from the last time?"

"Why should I trust you?" The masked man seemed perturbed. "You promised an artifact of great power. Why should I do anything you want?"

Bloodstone moved forward. He didn't like the way the stakes had changed, but he did know an energy/life stealing spell when he heard it. He wondered how much power was involved in this transfer.

"You must form a containment vessel." The voice restated its command mechanically. "Then you must call out the charge from his body into this containment vessel. That will give you enough to change the world."

Bloodstone took a look. The Duster Boy hung on a floating cross. The masked man stood on one side of the clearing. The bird rested on a tree branch. The crystal wearer readied daggers to take care of his rival.

Then he could take the other's life without any problem.

Something moved in the trees with Bloodstone. He had an idea it was the dead men finally catching up with him. He needed to be ready to do something about them if he wanted to claim the prize first.

Bloodstone knew he had to interfere before the other magician could activate the transfer.

Even if the artifact was a lie, the transfer could feed a magician well if it was big enough.

"Same old Mad George." The Duster Boy laughed. "I'm surprised that you are still trying this same old scheme."

"Explain." The masked man raised his hands. Power looped around his fingers.

He was still taking something for his trouble.

"I'm under a curse because Mad George tried to create a circle to harness natural energy. I interfered and was blown apart for a second. I don't know what happened to George." The Duster Boy laughed again. "I hope he hurt over that."

"You seem in good health for being caught in an explosion." The Egyptoid raised his hands. "It looks like that's about to change."

14

Mojo Bones directed his troops to follow the flying man. He was behind, but not out of the game yet. He didn't know why these others had shown their faces on the field, but he was going to win the prize.

No popinjays need to apply to treasure hunting.

Mojo felt something on the roof with him. He opened his eyes. The energy resembled what he used to invest movement in his puppets.

An alligator the size of a horse charged where Mojo sat. He noted the life battery in one of the eyes as he rolled from the ripping maw. One bite could tear him in half.

"You weren't as asleep as I thought." A gray man in brown stepped into view as the alligator turned at the rampart surrounding the roof. "Still I can't have you messing with this hunt I have been called on."

Mojo frowned at his two attackers. Neither one had any life force he could steal. They had discovered him without any servants around. He pulled out his knife from its sheath. He wouldn't give up.

"I have an invitation." Mojo put himself equal distance from the alligator and its master. "I don't see why you are coming after me. I don't have the target."

"Eliminating the competition." Bubba took off his jacket. He didn't want to get blood on it. "Once you're gone, there'll be one less trying to stop me."

"I'm still going to get the prize." Mojo flicked his knife back and forth. "There are three others and one of them has the Duster Boy. Is fighting me worth both of us losing the artifact?"

"Maybe since I don't know what the prize really is." Bubba started forward, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He didn't want to add more tears to the ones he had already patched up. "That won't matter to you after you're gone."

Mojo decided that if he could stab the man, the gator would be without direction. He didn't understand why he couldn't sense their life energy. That could only happen if they were both dead.

The necromancer brought the knife across, slicing at the scarecrow. The blade glowed as he focused on draining the life from his enemy. Something had to be in there for the scarecrow to be moving on his own.

Bubba caught the arm behind the knife. He had to brace as the other man bore down on him with the point. The swamp dweller head butted his enemy in the face. The puppet master recoiled from the blow, slackening the pressure.

Sally Mae charged in from the side. Her snout opened and slammed shut on Mojo's leg. She pulled back, yanking on the limb. Mojo fell to the ground.

"Rip him up, Sally Mae." Bubba stepped back. This could be messy when she got going.

Mojo slashed desperately with his dagger. The point dug into the artificial eye. The jewel fell out as he tugged his blade back. The alligator stopped moving as the fake orb rolled on the roof gravel.

"Sally Mae?" Bubba looked aghast at the frozen reptile. "What has he done to you?"

"You have caused me enough trouble." Mojo pried at the jaws, ignoring the pain and blood coursing from his leg. "Once you are gone, I can take care of the others."

"I don't think so." Bubba's gray face froze in rage.

Mojo looked up as the scarecrow came forward. He slashed out with his knife, aiming for Bubba's leg. The swamp dweller stepped on the hand holding the knife. He bore down, driving the appendage into the roof. The hand popped open. The blade skittered across the gravel.

Bubba started kicking. Mojo held up his arms to block the heavy boot aimed at his head. He wasn't entirely successful. Bones snapped from the blows. The necromancer was hurled across the roof after the third kick freed him from the alligator's jaws.

"Can you fly?" Bubba picked up the dead eye from the roof as he walked to where his enemy panted from the shock. He picked the man up by the neck.

"Not really." Mojo Bones gestured with a twisted hand. His knife appeared in it, straightening the fingers. He swung the point into the side of the scarecrow, aiming for the heart. "Can you bleed?"

Bubba froze in shock. Pain coursed through his side. Darkness descended, drawing him down to his grave again. He could see what waited on the other side. He flung the necromancer off the roof as he fought to keep his grip on the living world.

Bubba sank to the gravel, clawing at the knife. He pulled it free and flung it away. He tried to catch his breath. It had been a long time since he had been hurt like that.

Bubba knew the other man was out of the contest. Even if he survived falling five floors, he needed time to heal up. That meant he couldn't get in Bubba's way while he was trying to do that.

Bubba stood when he no longer remembered what it felt like to die. He went over to Sally Mae and put her eye back in the socket. She blinked, twitching her tail.

"You got your butt kicked." Bubba started for the roof access. "I can't believe it. It's disappointing to me."

The alligator jogged after him, growling in her throat.

"That scrawny little guy kicked your butt." Bubba pulled on his coat. "You're getting soft. I'll have to get the Tony Little exercise tapes out now. Good going."

Sally Mae honked her disapproval as she waited for him to open the roof door.

"I threw him off the roof." Bubba wrenched the door out of the frame and stepped inside. He held the door for his familiar. Then he pulled it back in the frame before they started downstairs. "I don't know how long that will hold him since he's a magician and all."

Sally Mae rushed down the concrete steps. Her tail twitched as she used it as a rudder to navigate the turns. She only stopped when she reached the bottom of the stairwell and the door that needed hands to open. She looked up at Bubba descending at a slower pace, favoring his side.

"I'm coming." Bubba took a breath before descending the last steps to the door. "If we're lucky, he's still hurt, and we can finish him off. Then we can get the others."

Sally Mae seemed to nod in understanding.

Bubba opened the door for her. The alligator charged out, heading for the front door. He followed a little slower. That knife had drained his usual energy. They stepped out on the street. Bubba turned to look around and orient himself. Then he walked to where he had tossed Mojo Bones off the roof.

The necromancer had left a crushed car roof behind and some drops of what could have been blood.

Bubba kept walking.

15

Bone Daddy examined his prison from the back of his creation. His fellow captive had evidently poured himself down the drain. That meant there was a hole in the shield. He had to find it if he wanted to catch up.

He reached out to his smaller creations. He took their malleable bodies and shaped them to a new purpose. Then he ordered them to dig. A hole appeared in the floor. Swift work opened a tunnel big enough for the dragon to walk through without bending its head.

Bone Daddy smiled. He hadn't thought of a way out as fast as his competition, but the dragon's speed would allow him to overtake the others with no problem. He could even use his other minions to help him with that once he was out in the street again.

Bone Daddy nodded when a crack appeared in the top of the tunnel. His skeleton mole men widened the opening until the dragon could hop out on its eight legs. It looked around for either of the other mages. It roared its anger when it saw no one but civilians wandering the streets.

Some of them had phones in their hands to call for Emergency Services.

"Sniff the air." Bone Daddy patted his pet on the skull. "Get the scent."

The dragon ran air through its wide septum. It turned and headed toward the distant lake. It ran as swift as a car. Its eight paws pounded on the asphalt as it tracked down the source of the smell wafting to its nostrils, tail waving like a flag.

Bone Daddy called his lesser minions and worked on them as he rode. The gallop wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, but he had to be prepared for another confrontation with his rival necromancers.

He knew blood and death when he saw it.

Bone Daddy fashioned a bird out of some of the bones. He infused the dead thing with enough energy to fly on its own. He sent it ahead to find out where exactly he had to go if he wanted to claim the prize.

He took the remainder and fashioned two small lions. It was the best he could with what he had. His dragon would have to do most of the fighting with the lions acting as a surprise element. That might be enough if he arrived at the site unnoticed.

Whatever was going, that sphinx had enough of a headstart to push the other two out of the equation unless they hurried.

Bone Daddy wanted to pay his summoner back for dragging him into such a convoluted mess. Obviously their intended victim had no artifact like the bird had promised. The necromancer would have to exact payment in some other measure for his trouble.

A pound of bones should almost be worth his leaving his beloved desert for this too green hell.

Bone Daddy drew his steed up when he reached a spot where two vehicles had pulled off the road. One sat parked under a tree perfectly. The other rested at an angle from the road, pushed almost into another tree. It seemed he was still behind his rivals.

Maybe he needed air support.

His hands massaged the shoulders of his dragon. Bones extended from the clavicles and collar bones to form large wings. A great flap carried him above the trees as yellow sparks lit up in the skull's eyes.

Bone Daddy listened as the dragon spoke to him in mutters. The crystal magician and some walking corpses had entered the trees in search of the Duster Boy. The lions ran after them, ready to exercise their great jaws. Ahead the masked sphinx held everyone's goal. The smell drifted to the dead monster, alerting it to the presence of its enemy.

Perfume also drifted on the air. The dragon recognized it from the bookshop. Bone Daddy hoped the woman had enough sense to stay out of the way until things were settled.

He didn't want to kill a human. Their bones were no good to him.

The dragon dropped down over a clearing. The masked man held the Duster Boy prisoner. He raised his hands to work some kind of magic. That couldn't be allowed.

Bone Daddy tapped the back of the dragon's skull. The dragon turned with a twist of its ivory framework. It dropped down, fire building into a ball in its mouth. It released as soon as its teeth started to grind on the gathering energy. The blast headed right to the black and silver magician. He half turned, raising a shield too late. The impact drove him into the trees in a crash.

Bone Daddy directed his flamethrower to spray the trees also. He might as well keep the others busy while he descended to gather up the prize and move away from the battlefield as quickly as possible.

"Thanks for the help." Duster Boy struggled against his still tight wrapping. "Do you think you can get me out of this?"

"Not yet." Bone Daddy ordered two more fireballs fired into the trees. That should form a wall between him, his quarry, and the other seekers out there in the forest. "I still have to find out what this is about."

"I don't see how that's important." Duster Boy tried to pull his pistol. The wrapping held his hand too far down to get the revolver out its holster.

"You must form a containment vessel." The bird stated the next procedure for Bone Daddy as it had for the other magician. "Then you must call out the charge from his body into this containment vessel. That will give you enough to change the world."

"That sounds easily enough done." Bone Daddy ordered his dragon to attack at will while he dismounted to conduct the ritual.

"You're being used." Duster Boy struggled to get at his pistol. "If Mad George Tribolyte is behind this, you won't keep whatever you steal from me."

"If I have enough to change the world, I doubt he will be able to stop me." Bone Daddy raised his hands. He could draw out bone from the Duster Boy to hold whatever he stole. It would make the process easy. "This will only sting a bit."

Something crashed against the side of Bone Daddy's face. He went down under the blow. The last thing he thought was the shape of his urn.

16

Kitty Dorfman ran to where Duster Boy floated in the air. The bone dragon stood watching the other way. She hoped it remained that way. Bone Daddy wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

"Get me out of this please." Duster Boy smiled. He might have a chance with two of the rivals down. That left the dead men and the crystal worker. He supposed that either one of those had been in the trees when the fireballs went off.

"How?" Kitty pulled back a fist. She struck. Her hand vanished and then reappeared at the end of her swing. "This thing is tough."

"I got iron and silver bullets loaded in my pistol." Duster Boy looked at the burning trees. They had to get out of there before a full blown forest fire got started and trapped them. "See if you can pull it and shoot this thing."

Kitty grabbed the binding stream. She ignored the unpleasant sensation running up her arm and pulled. Glittering light appeared in her eyes for a second as she pulled out an opening for her hand. She yanked the holster out before the bonds closed again.

"Here goes nothing." Kitty pulled the revolver from the leather sheath and took aim. She thumbed the hammer back and fired. The bullet blasted part of the spell away. The rest started to bend away and fade.

"Excellent." Duster Boy took the pistol and holster back. He frowned at the sheared leather. He had never seen anything like that before.

"Sorry about that." Kitty gestured for him to start running away from the sacrificial area. "I do that sometimes."

"We should shoot those two." Duster Boy slipped a fresh shell into the chamber after he stuffed the holster and spent brass in a pocket of his coat.

"Not now." Kitty vanished into the trees. "I don't know how many more are out here with us."

"I'm hoping the four we know about are it." Duster Boy looked up at the sun. "And two of them are down for the moment thanks to you."

"What's all this about containment of life energy?" Kitty seized on the apparent motive for the assaults. "Who's Mad George?"

"When I knew him, he was a medium and able to shape ectoplasm to his wants." Duster Boy paused by a tree to check their back trail. "He hoped to create a circle that would use spirit power to do all kinds of amazing things."

"I sense a 'But' coming on." Kitty only paused for him. She didn't seem to need to catch her breath at all.

"Sucking a lot of spirit energy out of the environment leaves a dust bowl behind." Duster Boy nodded that he was ready to keep running. "So when the scheme was uncovered, the people I worked for asked me to talk to him, and try to get him to end his experiments."

"You said you were put under a curse." Kitty moved like a cat in the shadows cast by the canopy of leaves overhead, leading her companion with a hand on his arm.

"Not a literal curse." Duster Boy frowned at the years of constant travel he had been forced to walk. "There was an explosion. I was caught in the blast. Ever since, I have been stuck moving with the lines of power that circle the Earth."

"Why come after you now?" Kitty paused to listen. Something moved to her right. She watched for a return occurrence. A deer ran as she stood on guard.

"I don't know unless he didn't know where I was going to be for so long until he figured some way to predict my arrival here in Marlowe." Duster Boy waited for his guide to take the lead again. "What bothers me is what does he hope to gain by grabbing my life force. Except for my travel arrangements, I'm just an ordinary guy."

"Maybe it's because of your travel arrangements." Kitty paused when she found a road. No traffic could be bad, or good. Bad meant no help out of the predicament they were in. Good meant no enemies in a car looking for them.

"I guess that's possible." Duster Boy mulled the thought over as they started down the road. They stayed among the trees to avoid possible trouble.

"Why would that make you important?" Kitty listened every few steps. Her hearing had improved since she had taken her self defense course at a one day talk. She had simply gotten better as she performed the basic moves and breathed the right way.

"I travel along charged lines." Duster Boy shrugged. "If I pick up some of the charge every time I move, potentially it would give me a life force greater than normal. If I had the training, I might be able to use it for greater magic."

"Sounds logical." Kitty paused when she saw the abandoned vehicles on the side of the road. She inspected the area around them for more problems before she checked to see if the cars were drivable.

"So he set four magicians on me to steal it?" Duster Boy watched the trees as Kitty went about her inspection.

"Maybe not exactly that." Kitty got behind the wheel of the car that had looked like a drunk had parked it. She ushered Duster Boy over as she started the car. Luckily the drunk had left the key in the ignition.

"Let's say that you're close to right." Duster Boy settled in the passenger seat. "How does that help us?"

"It doesn't because they all know what you look like." Kitty backed out of the grass, got the car turned around, and headed back into the city. "Our only hope is if they know you travel via these lines of power, we can trick them into thinking you're gone. Maybe we'll get lucky and actually hit one, and that will take care of the problem temporarily."

"Where do we go now?" Duster Boy slipped the pistol into his coat pocket. "They'll be watching for us everywhere."

"We can't go back to the bookstore." Kitty checked her mirrors for weird phenomena chasing their car down the road. "This car is probably stolen also. I guess we head to the mall and try to hide out until you get taken."

"What about your husband?" Duster Boy remembered she had said his name was odd.

"I can't get in touch with him." Kitty turned the car northbound once she entered the city limits proper. "I don't know what I am going to tell him about the store."

"I'm sure the destruction speaks for itself."

17

Bloodstone dropped his ruby shield as a walking dead man burned at the base of a tree. The corpse had caught a fireball which had ignited it and the tree behind it. The magician had raised a wall when he observed what was about to happen.

A split second hesitation would have seen the blood stealer on fire at the second volley.

Bloodstone decided that both of his rivals were down. He might as well keep it that way.

Bloodstone walked to where the silver and jet magician had been thrown by the first blast. A shielding ankh had blocked some of the blast. The rest had blown him down, setting his costume on fire. A crystal covered hand plunged into the man's chest. Blood drained as the magician died. His body deflated with the ebbing of his life.

Bloodstone discarded the corpse as he walked toward the other magician. Energy filled his frame from the transfusion. Once he had dealt with the bone collector, he could start looking for the object of the hunt.

Bloodstone grabbed the bony scarecrow's shoulder with one hand. He brought the other hand back to stab the necromancer. A noise made him pause.

The dragon swung its neck around, mouth opening to reveal azure fire shaping itself. It released the bad breath as Bloodstone dropped its master and dove away.

Bloodstone frowned under his ruby faceplate. He could have stabbed the magician. He just didn't know if that would stop the bone dinosaur, or release it to follow him with a rain of destruction wherever he went.

He wasn't going to be chased all over the country by an overgrown lizard with too many legs and not enough skin and muscle.

Bloodstone aimed both hands at the dragon as it aimed its mouth at him. He released a fusillade of spears at the beast. The ruby missiles pierced the bony skull. The construct's jaw dropped off before it fell to the ground in a heap of bones.

Bloodstone nodded. Time to take care of its master before someone else showed up to stop him.

Bloodstone readied himself to strike the killing blow. Pain filled his chest. He looked down. A piece of bone protruded from his faceted chestplate. He staggered back from the mortal blow to his heart.

A lion bore Bloodstone down to the ground. Its jaws bit into his neck, worrying at his spine. He tried to concentrate to escape its grasp and heal the wound to his torso. A sharp pain drove into his brain. That was the last thing he felt.

"Good job, Bo." Bone Daddy petted his lion on the head after he struggled to his feet. "It looks like we've cleared the field. Where's Luke?"

The lion coughed.

"Let's fix the big dog so we can ride down and see if Luke cornered them yet." Bone Daddy rubbed his hands together as he prepared to work his magic.

Bone Daddy preferred to work at his desk, binding the bone together with simple fittings and knots. He didn't have time for that if he wanted to get back on the trail of the Duster Boy. He would have to bring the dragon back to life and give it repairs on the fly.

Luckily he had two complete human skeletons at hand he could use to help repair his beast.

Bo sat on watch as his master raised his hands and told the heap that had been the dragon to snap back into shape. The bone animal tested wings and eight legs while stumbling around without a head.

"Hold on." Bone Daddy patted a shoulder with one hand as he thought about the problem.

The magician went to Bloodstone's corpse. He pulled the fragment of bone from the skull. It resembled a knife more than a piece of a rib. He used that to separate the skeleton from the rest of the body and the armor. He pulled the infrastructure out and gave it a nod with a critical eye.

He took the skeleton over to the dragon. He formed a head and neck before putting it on the stump where the old skull had sat before being impaled in a storm of ruby blades. The dragon roared when it could finally see again.

Bone Daddy inspected the other body. He shrugged in disappointment. Whatever Bloodstone had done had ruptured the bones of the masked magician's skeleton. It was unusable for anything but compost.

Bone Daddy climbed up on his repaired animal's back. He patted the beast's back. The dragon ran into the forest with a roar of joy. Bo fell in behind, silent as the big cat he resembled.

Duster Boy and his helper couldn't escape from his bony clutches. He had effective helpers of his own.

The dragon ran over a dead man walking toward the road and kept going. Bone Daddy looked back, torn between keeping up the hunt and garnering more material for use. The eight legged steed kept going. Empty eye sockets looked for the asphalt so it would know which way to turn when it broke from the forest.

"We can fly if that isn't too much of a problem." Bone Daddy sat comfortably in a natural saddle. He would only fall off if the dragon suffered something catastrophic.

The dragon roared. It leaped on a tree big enough to support it and climbed to the top. It spread its wings and launched into the air. It flapped to gain altitude but once high enough glided like some oversize hang glider.

"Isn't this better than running?" Bone Daddy watched the ground go by, confident that Bo could keep up on its four feet.

18

Bubba Smith made his way down the city streets. He wanted to let loose the local animals on the populace. Only the fact that this wasn't his turf, and he had a job to do prevented him from doing that.

Sally Mae grinned at anybody who came too close as she trundled along.

Bubba had forced that other magician to take off. He didn't think it was for good. A fall shouldn't have done anything to a real magician. That wouldn't have stopped the swamp walker.

The knife wound was more worrying. It wouldn't stop inflicting pain on him. He should be beyond that. He had been walking around a long while since his death. Nothing he did helped with the wound.

At least he couldn't bleed. That would be embarrassing to say the least.

Bubba met one of his mosquitos. It gave a report. The man in the picture had been seen on the other side of town. He had been riding in a car with a woman.

Bubba examined the mental picture of the woman. He decided he didn't like her metallic green eyes. They said something to him. He didn't know what.

He would also have to remove her. He didn't like that. Women were not his favorite targets to murder. He put that down to his schooling.

Bubba set off in the direction the car had been going. He told the mosquito to post a look out for the magician puppet master and any dead men walking. They should give a warning if the other came too close to where he set up his operation.

The cowboy and the woman were taken. He had set his mind to it and it would be done.

Bubba walked along. He needed something to get across town faster than his feet. He needed a car.

Bubba started looking for any car that was big enough for Sally Mae. He had a rudimentary skill with automobiles. The transportation would cut down on people remembering which direction he took thanks to the one eyed alligator.

Bubba found an old Thunderbird convertible with the top down. He opened one of the back door and ushered Sally Mae into the back seat. She waited for him to close the door, rearing up to look over the edge of the passenger compartment.

Bubba went around to the other side, and jumped the door to slide behind the wheel. He checked the ignition. The owner had not left the key. He pulled out a pocket knife. He jammed that into the ignition switch and turned. The engine turned over.

Bubba ignored calls to stop as he pulled away from the curb. He turned to follow the road in the direction his quarry had gone. He missed a car at a stop sign and kept going.

Bubba decided he needed to drive more often when he got back home. All he had at the moment was his feet and a swamp boat he had taken from someone who didn't need it anymore. A car he could drive would make some of his errands easier to accomplish.

He wondered where he could hide the thing. He certainly wouldn't be able to drive it all the way to his cabin. He needed a garage at the edge of the swamp so he could reach into the nearby cities.

A touch of reality tended to make people reevaluate their plans. This was especially true of people who had business partners with missing limbs in their office buildings.

Bubba cut through Marlowe with abandon. He ignored sirens telling him to stop. He answered to a higher authority.

Sally Mae voiced her disapproval.

"Sorry." Bubba headed into an alley, and put it in reverse. "It's been a while since I drove anywhere."

The police car appeared in his mirror. A heavy soled boot stomped down on the gas. The Thunderbird roared down the alley toward the wailing vehicle. The policeman started backing up to get out of the way. The heavy old car could possibly smash his engine and still drive away.

A ramp of grass grew out of alley floor. Bubba drove on that. His rear wheels smashed down on the roof of the other car. Then the full weight of his car came down on the smaller Charger. The Thunderbird dropped to the street. The swamper backed in a turn, then pulled away from the flattened wreck.

"As soon as we get to this mall thing, we'll have to dump the car." Bubba waved at the cop trying to open his door. "Maybe we'll have to dump it sooner."

Bubba made a couple of turns. He found the street he wanted. A quick turn and he deposited the car in a carport. He got out, picked a direction, started walking. Sally Mae flopped over the side of the Thunderbird and trundled after him.

"I expect we'll see some of the skeeters." Bubba glided across the yards. "They'll point us the right way."

Police converged on the parked car. They searched the immediate surroundings. None of them seemed to notice Bubba and Sally Mae on the grass strolling away.

Bubba led the way into a yard. He headed for a fence at the back. He could get over that, then turn. The more he kept on the move, more chances came into view. He needed to wrap this problem up before he got into a real pickle.

A mosquito arrived to declare the mall was under close supervision. No one could enter or leave without them seeing it. It turned to lead the way back the way it had come.

Bubba walked behind the bug. He kept an eye out for more police that might know about Sally Mae and use that to find them. He didn't want to have to fight free if he could avoid it.

On the other hand, many a man had suffered a watery grave because the herons demanded it.

Bubba spotted the great building that could only be the mall that he was looking for. He wondered how much wildlife had been forced out to build such an edifice to spending. He wanted to keep his own place clean of such things. Maybe he should change his targets.

Bubba descended down a hill, crossed a street, then started across the parking lot. Somewhere in that place a man waited for someone like him to show up. He straightened his hat and picked up his step.

He couldn't disappoint the man.

Bubba pushed through the glass doors. He paused in the gleaming corridor. His first instinct was to turn Sally Mae loose on some of these people in their stores. He held himself back. He might need some of them as hostages.

Bubba headed down the hall. Sally Mae followed, scrabbling on the tile. People who saw them got out of the way. A large reptile walking through the mall wasn't something you saw everyday.

The thought that the alligator might bite was on everyone's face.

Bubba saw his quarry at the other end of the building. He turned at the end of the first corridor and started walking. He doubted either one of them would start anything in the mall. It was the nature of things that confrontations would soon cause exposure. Bubba didn't care about that. He doubted they felt the same.

Bubba closed until he was within speaking distance of the two. They waited for him, keeping an eye on anyone else who might show up. He thought that was prudent.

This thing had already grown too twisted for his taste.

"I think that's close enough." The cowboy had his hands in his pockets. A bulge in one told Bubba he had something besides his hand in his coat.

"There's two ways this is going to go." Bubba put his own hands in his pockets. "I'm going to ask a couple of questions. Depending on the answers, we might part ways and you won't see me again. Any problems and someone feeds the gator."

"Go ahead and ask your questions." The Duster Boy nodded his agreement to the terms.

"Do you really have an artifact I can use to create my perfect preserve back home?" Bubba wanted to know if that was real above anything else.

"No." The Duster Boy shook his head. "The only things I have are silver bullets."

"That's what I thought." Bubba frowned. "What's behind this?"

"I don't know for sure. From what some people said, a man named Tribolyte is behind this." The Duster Boy nodded at a passing woman. She clutched her purse and hurried away.

"I don't know him." Bubba frowned. He should have known this was a snipe hunt. He should have stayed in Florida.

"Are we square?" The Duster Boy eyeballed some security guards who seemed to be trying to decide whether they should rush the trio of them and the pet alligator.

"Yes." Bubba turned to walk away. There was nothing to hold him if the thing was a scam.

The dragon crashing through the central skylight to hover over the food court upstairs made Bubba pause in his walking away. He looked up through the openings that allowed the upper floors to look down on the floors below them. Moving bone made him think here was another of Tribolyte's stooges.

That wasn't his problem.

19

Bone Daddy looked around for his target. He knew the man was somewhere here in the crowd. He just needed to find him.

Emergency response meant he needed to hurry.

He had to get his man and get out of there before someone came along to try to put bullets in him. He looked up at the sky and figured he had a few minutes to take care of business.

His other three minions arrived to block three of the exits. Empty sockets and nasal passages inspected moving bodies for the right man. The other two exits meant everyone had to flee under the dragon for their master to observe.

Bone Daddy decided to make a demand for an appearance. He didn't know the Duster Boy but he doubted that the man would let someone burn in his place.

"I know you're here." Bone Daddy used his hands to amplify his voice. "Come on out before I have a barbecue."

The cowboy stepped into view on the third floor. He seemed to be alone. Did he separate from the woman? Where was she?

"I'm here." The cowboy had his hands in his coat pockets. "Why don't you give up before someone gets hurt."

"Come up here and we'll talk about it." Bone Daddy waved him on. "I hate to set this place on fire."

The Duster Boy went to a glass elevator for those too lazy to use the escalators at the ends of the building. He rode up to where the dragon rider waited. One hand indicated the nearest bystanders should move out of the way and get off the floor.

"So we meet again." Bone Daddy's grin spread from ear to ear.

"There isn't any prize." Duster Boy waited near the railing. If worse came to worse, he would try to swing down to a lower floor if he had to.

"What do you mean?" Bone Daddy paused.

"I talked to one of your rivals. I know you were all promised some kind of item for my seizure. I'm not carrying anything that would interest you." Duster Boy nodded at the people moving out of the way. He hoped the people in the stores had gone out of the back exits to the halls between the places so they would be out of the way.

He had to stall for as long as he could.

"Taking your bones will just have to do then." Bone Daddy urged his dragon forward. "I can add it to my collection."

"You can't really expect me to believe you came all this way just to grab my bones." The Duster Boy ushered a woman and her kid out of the way with his left hand. "That seems a paltry second place."

"It's better than nothing." Bone Daddy looked around. Something was wrong. Where was the woman?

"You're making a big mistake." The cowboy looked around. The floor looked clear of collateral targets. "I just want to move along without any trouble."

"I think we are at an end to the talking part." Bone Daddy tapped his steed on the back of its skull.

"Only if you want to die." The Duster Boy shrugged. "I don't have a problem with just walking away."

The dragon opened its mouth. A fireball readied to shoot. A silver bullet struck first. Then an iron bullet hit right beside the first bullet hole. The two holes looked like spaces for extra eyes on the skull.

The dragon collapsed. Energy wafted up in a cloud. Bone Daddy dropped to the tiled floor.

"I used to deal with monsters." Duster Boy pulled his pistol from his coat. He regretted the two holes he had put in the cloth.

Bone Daddy's expression changed to one of horror. He reached for the bone to charge it. A bullet stopped him by giving him a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

Duster Boy pulled the three spent rounds. He loaded three ready ones. He hadn't seen the dead men again, but he wanted to be ready. He was sure the other one hadn't been behind those.

Anyone walking around with an alligator at his heels probably didn't care about using a bunch of stinking corpses to do his dirty work.

Duster Boy put the pistol away and started walking. He needed to get out of the building before anyone tried to stop him. He didn't want to get involved with the local cops any more than these magicians did.

Kitty Dorfman joined him as he reached the first floor. She checked her watch as they walked to the door.

"Alligator man left." Kitty pushed a pile of bones out of the way with her foot so they could open the door and step outside. "He looked down."

"I'm more worried about the one we haven't met yet." Duster Boy took a look around before starting across the parking lot.

20

Mojo Bones sat in the back of his stolen van and thought. He seemed to be the only one in the game, but his target was looking for him. How could he get around that?

Maybe an overwhelming show of force would make the cowboy surrender without actually having to kill him. His watchers had shown him what had happened in the clearing. Stealing life was his specialty.

Mojo checked on the other magician. The gator man walked toward the airport. It looked like he was actually going home like he had told the cowboy he would. The watcher would stay with him until he was on a plane.

Mojo owed him for the bitten leg and the impact with the car roof. Someday he would pay that debt back tenfold. For now, the man leaving the same city had to be good enough until taking the cowboy's life had been accomplished.

Mojo's watchers formed a net around the Duster Boy and his companion. Mojo had no illusions about the woman. She had taken the dragon rider before he knew she was there. She possessed some kind of ability.

Mojo decided on distance attacks. Why fight close up, when you can snipe from out of range.

He issued his orders to his army.

The watchers left two of their number to keep an eye on the traveler while the rest visited the closest sporting good store. The owner of the store didn't like having dead men smash open his display cases and steal rifles and ammo. He expressed his displeasure with a hand gun. One of the armed dead men stopped that with a swing of his rifle's butt.

Bullet holes were annoying.

The dead man got ahead of Duster Boy and his lady. The pair seemed to be heading back to the bookstore that had been destroyed by the Egyptoid. That seemed the perfect place for an ambush.

Mojo directed the van to a spot a couple of streets over as his dead men poured into the bookstore. They set up firing positions among the shelves so they could cover the front of the building with no problem. More took position in the opened businesses on either side of the block to box the two in if they decided to run.

No one seemed to have noticed the large hole in the front of the bookstore.

Mojo thought that was good. He didn't want to deal with the police while trying to execute a kidnaping. Collateral damage was something that was unavoidable, not desired.

The Duster Boy arrived. His eyes swivelled to take in the street for people that didn't belong. One hand stayed in his coat pocket.

The woman walked a couple of steps behind. Mojo didn't know if she was acting as a rearguard, or if she was under protection.

He decided that it didn't matter. He had to take both of them.

Duster Boy paused at the store. He suspected something waited in the rubble. Mojo could tell that from the way his face set as he looked in the shadows cast by the afternoon sun. He spoke to the woman about something. The watchers couldn't hear the words to give to their master.

Mojo ordered his troops to spring the trap. Their numbers should take care of things easily.

Dead men sprang from hiding. They brandished rifles unsteadily to show they meant business. Duster Boy and the woman raised their hands. Bystanders could be shot by the walking corpses the way the barrels swayed side to side.

Mojo smiled.

He directed the dead men to bring their captives to the van where he waited. Then he could get down to business.

The gray bird landed on the hood of the van. It seemed to be waiting for Mojo to actually hold the captives in his hand.

Mojo smiled. Soon he would have his reward. Then he could return to his cemetery and spread it to cover New York. The island would be his at last.

He forced himself to concentrate on the present. Daydreaming about what you wanted could lead to problems in execution.

Mojo directed the captives to be disarmed and placed in another vehicle. He ordered the rest of his dead men to acquire vehicles to follow them to wherever the bird chose to lead. He didn't want to give up his numerical advantage.

The van started when the bird flew off. The dead driver obeyed the speed limit while following. The other cars came in line with a shakier grasp of road rules. The captive car followed directly behind the van.

The woman sat behind the driver. A guard sat next to her with Duster Boy's pistol pointed at her face. That should have been a deterrent.

One of her hands grabbed the pistol away from the guard. The other slammed him through the side window in a boneless heap. He got back up when he stopped rolling on the ground. The woman turned and swung the butt of the gun as a hammer against the driver's skull. The stunning blow allowed her to push the dead man from the car.

The whole thing took three seconds maybe. Then she was behind the driver's wheel and flooring it.

Mojo directed his men to shoot at the car. He would lose the prize, but at least the two of them would be dealt with to avoid any more problems.

Duster Boy fell out of the passenger side of the car as it sped at the van. He hunted cover as the dead men pointed weapons at him from the windows of their oncoming cars. Their reflexes weren't good enough to allow shooting yet.

The woman drove the car into the back of the van.

21

Kitty Dorfman wondered if she was doing the right thing. She should be running away. Instead she pushed down on the gas until the back doors of the van loomed large. She slipped in the backseat. The car rammed under the rear bumper of the van.

Kitty climbed out of the car as the other vehicle struggled to roll forward. She jumped on the hood. Time to get inside the van and take care of things.

How did she get cast as a heroine of derring do?

She pulled the doors open. Dead men tried to block her way. Hands countered their slow movements and dropped the corpses out of the back of the van.

Whether or not Kitty wanted to be a hero, she had invaded the lair of the villain and disposed of his guards. Now she had to take care of the villain. She paused. She couldn't remember her self defense moves. She totally blanked.

"Give up, the jig is up." That didn't sound right to Kitty. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't know who you are." Mojo Bones stood up. "I don't care. I am this close to realizing my dream. No woman is going to stop me."

"I'm really mad right now." Kitty felt her moves coming back. "My bookstore is in ruins, weirdos have chased me across town, and at least one man is dead. I want to get back to my normal life. I want you to give this up and leave town. I won't call the police and report you."

"I think it would be better if I killed you and then finished Duster Boy." Mojo Bones pulled out his wicked curved knife. "What do you say to that?"

"Oh, you're going down." Kitty shook her head.

Mojo Bones smiled, coming forward. He swung the knife, aiming for a quick end to the battle.

Kitty's hand came up to catch his wrist. He moved slower than molasses to her. She brought the edge of the other hand down. The blow knocked the knife out of Mojo's hand and into his foot. All the dead men wailed in pain.

Mojo looked down at the blade sticking out of van's floor.

Mojo tried to pull away from the knife. He dropped down on a knee to pull it out.

Kitty brought her hand down. The edge sliced the side of Mojo's head. He went down, ripping up his foot as the blade separated the bones. Kitty winced at the blood flow. She looked down at her hand.

"I need to start practicing again." Kitty pulled the knife out of the van's flooring. She swung the flat of it against the door frame. It snapped under the blow.

Wails surrounded Kitty. She couldn't separate the number of voices from the uproar. They blew pass her, fading as they went.

"I warned you." Kitty shook her head at the fallen magician. "You should have left town."

"What are we going to do about the dead men?" Duster Boy indicated the corpses that lay everywhere in the street. "I don't think we can bury them again."

"Don't look at me." Kitty shrugged. "I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to tell Odd. He is going to blow his top when he sees the mess we left."

"I can't help you with that." Duster Boy shrugged.

"Let's call the police." Kitty pulled out her phone. "Maybe they can fix things while I think of some way to replace the glass and door to the store."

"Just leave me out of things since I won't be around for long." Duster Boy shoved his hat back. "As soon as I take a wrong step, I'll be somewhere else."

"No problem." Kitty dialed the emergency number. "How's it going? I'd like to report a bunch of dead men laying around on Hopcroft Avenue. That's right. I don't know. Maybe ten."

Kitty hung up.

"Let's go back to your bookstore." Duster Boy started walking. "I'll think of something to get it fixed up."

The two of them walked down the sidewalk. Duster Boy turned at the next street. He vanished like a popping balloon.

"I should have known that was going to happen." Kitty shook her head and kept walking. Police sirens told her someone at the police station had believed her enough to send someone to look into things.

Kitty finished the walk to her shop. She paused at the threshold to get a look at things. It looked worse than she remembered.

At least the gator guy was gone.

Kitty walked in and started putting the books back on the shelves. She looked around. What should she tell Odd about her day?

"Excuse me." Kitty raised her eyebrow at her visitor. "I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment."

"I'm sorry. We're closed for the moment." Kitty thought that should have been obvious from the look of things.

"I just wanted to say thank you, Catherine Morehead Dorfman." The man smiled, splitting his gray and blond beard. "You have done me a great service today."

Kitty heard the sound of a book flipping pages. It was something she heard everyday as her customers browsed the merchandise. Finally the sound stopped. A rectangle of glowing paper fell to the floor between her and her visitor.

Not another one.

The shop began repairing itself. Glass retreated to its place. Rips in books glued together. Smashed wood slid together as the floor reunited to cover up where the dragon had dug under the shield. Kitty looked around. Everything seemed to be following the orders of a Mary Poppins.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dorfman." The bearded stranger smiled again. He straightened his old bomber jacket. "You have done more for me than I would have ever thought."

He turned and vanished with a flipping of paper in the air.

epilogue

The grave sat under a tree within sight of the cabin the Hermit had built with his hands. Two more rested on either side. A few more graves had their own stones further away. The Hermit looked off in the distance.

He had installed his family on his land with their deaths. Sentiment and precaution inspired this move.

Sentiment wanted him to keep his relatives close and well cared for even after they had passed on to their next life. Precaution made him consider all those who wanted to revenge themselves on him for things he had committed years earlier when he walked the world.

The magical underground thrived on those who would use their skills on the emotional weak points of people.

The Hermit took the bottle from his jacket pocket. Mad George had reluctantly handed it over. He had glared with his fiery eyes from the tray carried by his servant. That didn't matter as long as he held up his end of the bargain.

The Hermit had seen them off with a wave and a smile. Tribolyte had growled his frustration.

The Hermit held up the bottle. He searched for the right spell in his encyclopedic knowledge. He summoned the seal breaker. The bottle shattered into a million drifting ribbons of sparks rapidly dissipating on the night air.

"Hello, Dad." The spirit wore the old US Army base uniform from the forties. "It's been a long time."

"Hello, Stevie." The Hermit smiled. "It has been a long while. I never knew what happened back then. I looked for you."

"I know." Stevie smiled. "I always told you that magic couldn't do everything."

"I'm forced to agree with you." The Hermit took out two bottles of beer. He handed one over to the spirit. "I hope your afterlife is better than the life you left."

"Nothing's better than living and mixing it up, Dad." Stevie took a sip from his bottle. "Hiding out is giving up."

"Oh, really?" The Hermit took a sip of his own beer.

"Really." Stevie took one last sip from his bottle before putting it down on his gravestone. "I have to go. Remember what I said. Get out. Do things. Raise hell. It'll do you good."

The former captain faded in a beam of glowing light. His hand waved in farewell as he went to his rest.

The Hermit finished his own beer, enjoying the taste. He picked up the half empty from the stone, and turned to walk toward the cabin.

He had looked for his son. The army had needed some coercing before he could get into the files. Then he had gone overseas to conduct his search. Stevie's body had been at the base of an old castle that had been destroyed in fighting. Magic lay over everything but none indicated how he had died.

The Hermit brought the body home and buried it under the stone he had carved with a chisel and hammer. He told the army about the castle, but refused to talk to anyone else about it.

Mad George Tribolyte had dredged all that up with his challenge. Somehow he had secured the bottle with Stevie's spirit inside. The Hermit felt that the capture must have happened at the castle. That was the only thing that made sense.

He contemplated burning Tribolyte down. He held himself back because of his word meaning something to him. Still, it was a pleasant thought.

The thought of the Death Tribble trying to run with no legs appealed to him.

The Hermit put the bottles on the wash board next to his kitchen sink. He would get rid of them later. He sat down on his couch, pulled his book close to read himself to sleep like he usually did.

He found himself struggling with the thought of who had held his son in captivity for so long. Tribolyte said the man had not known what he had. Someone did when they handed him the bottle.

Someone must know the real story.

The Hermit put the book aside. He wanted to know where the bottle had come from and who held it before Tribolyte.

That might be just the thing to lift him out of this restlessness he felt.

He would have to get as much information as he could from the talking furball.

He thought about Stevie's last words. Maybe he had retreated too far from the city where he should be asking for information on the person Death Tribble spoke to.

The Hermit doused the thought of ripping places apart. That way led to the inferno before you know it. He should arrange for George to give him the aid he needed. He might have to give the furball a replacement body after all.

The Hermit went to his window, thinking about the next few days. Did he really want to delve into history for something that had been over for years?

The Hermit decided that maybe he should leave things alone. He didn't have to walk through history. That would open old wounds. Walking away from others was the whole reason for retreating from civilization.

Maybe that had been a bad decision.

The Hermit stared back into the years, thinking about the decisions that had led him to his solitary position. He couldn't trace his path from where he stood. How did that happen?

Maybe he should get his hands dirty again.

It might be nice to get the rust off after all these years.

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