"Die With Open Eyes"
May. 17th, 2022 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Die With Open Eyes"
2/20-2/24/1979
I.
"I had to lose it all. I had to fall so I could rise again." Ted Wright looked across the empty room at his colleague. "That may not make much sense to you, Henry."
Dr Easton was a thin, dry old man with only a fringe of white hair left down around his ears and the back of his head. He shook that head sadly. "I know you were deeply affected when you lost that young patient, Ted, but every doctor has to deal with a certain amount of failure..."
Thaddeus James Wright was a tall American black man with a somber face. His short hair and beard had traces of grey in them even though he was not forty yet. "It was not mere failure that struck me down. It was arrogance. I could not admit it was my fault. I blamed everyone but myself, and I nearly lost my license because of it." He folded his arms and looked down at the bare wooden floor. "You knew me then. Was I proud?"
"Yes. With good reason. You were quite the prodigy, Ted. Your talent at disagnoses was phenomenal. I have never seen anyone before or since who was your equal at spotting the cause of symptoms. If you were proud, you had a certain right to be."
"Yes," said Wright. He looked out the window at 9th Avenue. There were no curtains. Cold winter sunlight poured into the room. "I see now what a fool I was. I closed my practice. I lost my home and my woman. I wandered out in the darkness. The bottle and the pipe tried to claim me. You do not know how far I fell. But now I am back."
Easton came over and put a hand on the younger man's arm. "It's good to see you again. If you want me to speak to the board at the hospital for you, certainly I will. You were not gone all that long, they remember your skill..."
Wright smiled just a little. "Thank you, Henry. I will apply for admitting privileges. I expect to put in a certain number of volunteer hours but my main work will be here. I intend to open a free clinic here, offering counseling and guidance to those who need it. I will refer them to the specialists they need."
"A free clinic...?" Easton said with a touch of distress. "And doing volunteer work. Ted, maybe I am missing something, but where will your income come from?"
"It will provide itself. Ah, I see you do not understand, old friend. You do not know how I have changed."
Dr Easton did not answer at first, then said, "I was going to say the same thing, Ted. You're calm and confident in a way I have never seen before. It almost unnerves me." He headed for the door. "Keep in touch, please. As I said, if you need support establishing yourself, let me know."
"Thank you, Henry." Wright watched him go, then walked to the center of the bare room. Lowering himself to the floor, he crossed his legs in the lotus, back straight, and held up his open hands. Over his dark palms a beautiful pale blue light flickered and grew brighter. The blue light glimmered in his dark brown eyes and he smiled. Now his real work could begin.
II.
On East 38th Street, a young man dressed all in black trotted up the block. Despite the bitter wind, he had no hat nor gloves, and wore a light sport jacket and turtleneck rather than winter coat. Jeremy Bane's enhanced metabolism filled him with restless energy and he was warm after almost running up from the police station on 20th Street. He raced up the steps in front of the old nine story brownstone where he had been living for the past year and a half. He unlocked the front door and was through the tiny foyer and into the front hall without breaking stride.
Standing at the foot of the staircase was a British girl, a year younger than his twenty-one. Katherine Wheatley was slim and attractive, with straight black hair and crystal blue eyes in an oval face, yet people felt uncomfortable around her without quite knowing why. It was because their subconscious felt the faint touch of her telepathic mind and drew back. Today she was wearing a pleated dark blue skirt and white long-sleeved blouse, and looked cool and collected. She watched Bane enter with a raised eyebrow. "And?"
"Let's go see Mr Dred," he answered curtly, "Is he in the conference room?"
"Yes," she said, turning aside as he raced up the stairs past her. Katherine rolled her eyes, the lad just had no manners. She followed him to the second floor and into what they called the conference room. Here was a long oak table, stained dark brown, with five chairs on either side and one at each end. Neither she nor Bane knew the history of that table or the men and women who had assembled there decades earlier. Seated at the head was an elderly man, slight and well dressed in an old-fashioned single-breasted suit. Kenneth Dred rose slightly as Katherine entered, then lowered himself gingerly. Lately his arthritis had been getting worse. A half dozen newspapers were spread out before him.
Bane burst into the room. "Mr Dred, I got in to see Lt Hayes. He tells me that unofficially the cops are plenty worried. Hayes says they can't put a finger on it but they suspect someone is behind this epidemic of comas."
"I've read the accounts," Dred said in his measured tones. "There are six victims now. Each went to sleep feeling fine, with no complaints and just never woke up. The TIMES has a list of the victims, and I have made some phone calls. I can see no connection between the six, they seem unrelated in every way."
"People are getting hysterical, as you can imagine. No one feels safe. I hear a hundred theories on the street but nobody really has any idea what they are talking about." Bane took a chair at Dred's right hand, with Katherine seating herself on the other side.
Kenneth Dred gazed fondly at his two proteges. He knew in his heart he did not have long and was gratified to have found young people to carry on the work. "We need first hand information. My instincts all say this is not some new disease, nor poison. There is a diabolical purpose behind these comatose attacks. Jeremy, take my car. Drive Katherine to Mt Sinai and see Dr Beckert. I have asked him to give you access to one of the victims." He turned his gnomish face toward the girl. "Katherine, I want you to probe the victim's mind but lightly! Take care. We do not know what we are dealing with as yet."
"I will be careful, sir." She gave Bane an excessively sweet smile. "And I am sure your Dire Wolf will take the best care of me."
Bane said nothing. He had never shown any sense of humor that she had been able to detect. His gray eyes seemed to regard the entire world with suspicion. Now he stood up and said, "We'll report back, Mr Dred."
As they went down the stairs, Katherine stepped over to get her coat off the standing rack, and pulled a wool hat from a pocket to tug down on her head. "I say, Jeremy, it IS freezing out, don't you think you want a coat?"
"I'm fine," he answered. Going to the closet by the front door, he pressed a panel in its back and a door slid open. He hurried down steep concrete steps as Katherine followed, flipping a light switch at the bottom. They were in a narrow walkway with storerooms on either side. At the far end was a plain wooden door, through which they passed into a garage which held a black Buick Regal. Bane snatched the keys from a workbench and got in the driver's seat.
"Ah, I miss the days when gentlemen opened a lady's door," Katherine sighed and got in the passenger seat. Bane seemed not to hear. He started the big car and eased up the ramp, which had a sharp turn that was tricky to make without scraping. An electric eye caused the corrugated metal door to slide up and they pulled out on Lexington Avenue.
During the ride, Katherine glanced over at Bane. Always so serious. "Jeremy, would you teach me how to drive?"
"I don't really know how myself."
"What..?"
"I figured it out as I went along. Wrecked an old Dodge I bought for two hundred dollars."
There was horror in her voice. "You don't have a license??"
"I had one made up by Deaf Jimmy. He provides passports, social security cards, that sort of thing." Bane turned into a parking lot that seemed to have no available spaces and circled until someone pulled out. "Here we go. Next we have to find Dr Beckert."
As it happened, a short man in a white smock stepped forward to meet them as soon as they entered the lobby, introducing himself. He was holding a clipboard and a styrofoam cup of coffee, and he rushed them to the elevator. On the third floor, the doctor opened the door to a private room and turned on the lights. On the bed, beneath a thin blanket, a man lay motionless. His eyes were bandaged.
"Charles Potter, forty-one years old. He has been like this for fifty hours. His wife could not wake him and called for an ambulance. His respiration and heartbeat are at the barest minimum needed to maintain life. We've run every test, nothing helpful."
Bane studied the man warily. "Why the wet bandages on his eyes?"
"Eh? Oh, to keep them from drying out. They stay open and we can't make them shut. All the victims have that trait."
Standing near the bed, Katherine Wheatley had her head bowed. "Would you gentlemen leave the room for a moment, please?"
Beckert started to protest but Bane was already going through the door, with a hand on the doctor's sleeve. Left by herself, Katherine closed her eyes and reached out, opening her perception....
A few minutes passed, then she went out in the hall. "Right then. Thank you kindly for your cooperation, doctor. Are the other victims of this affliction here as well?"
"Oh, no. The others are at Columbia. We have been trying to get them all in one facility to study them better."
"I see. Come, Jeremy." With that, she turned sharply and marched back to the elevators. Surprised at her uncharacteristic decisiveness, the Dire Wolf followed as she rode down to the lobby. Two phone booths stood near the entrance. "Have you any change about you?" she asked and took what he had, then dialed the number both of them reported to.
"Hello? Yes, sir. We just left. I found an image in his mind. A face, sir. Very devilish if I may say so. Rather Oriental I should say, with a shaved head and two strips of mustache at the corners of the mouth. And red eyes. Yes, quite red, scarlet in fact. Any instructions?" She listened, said goodbye and hung up and then turned to the impatient Bane. "Mr Dred says we are to proceed directly home."
"Fine with me," Bane grumbled. "Hospitals give me the creeps."
III.
Stepping out of the taxi, Ted Wright turned up his collar. This was what he could not tell his former colleagues... how he knew where a body was not functioning well, where its flow of energy was blocked. They did not know about gralir, the transcendental force beyond physics, and he could not tell them of it. This was what he had learned in the two years in he had left the world and studied at Tel Shai. Not that he could blame them. He would not have believed himself until he had hit rock bottom, until he was in rags without anything in his pockets, nothing in his stomach but booze and nothing in his soul but despair. It was then that the Order of Tel Shai had opened to him.
On the corner of Canal Street, the Blue Guide watched people go by and he saw shimmering blue auras around their bodies. Depending on their age and health, the aura varied in brightness and depth. That was his training. Drawing on gralic energy, he could strengthen lifeforce or help it flow or slow it down, judging what was needed. Wright stood in front of a dingy brick building with a storefront that read LUCKY DRAGON GIFTS. He looked up and on the second floor, a small neon sign said ACUPUNCTURE - MASSAGE. Something was wrong up there. He could sense it without being able to poinpoint the problem.
wright dressed well, in suits of quiet quality with nothing flashy about them. The long dark topcoat and thin leather gloves and white silk scarf added to the look. Partly it was because he had dressed that way when he was in practice, because that was how people expected doctors to dress; partly it was because he was black and police treated him a bit more respectfully when they saw him as a well-paid professional.
He pressed the white bell on the door next to the gift shop and someone buzzed him in. But he went up creaky wooden stairs past the acupuncture place. What he sensed was on the next floor. Wright paused before an unmarked door that drew him, and he opened it without knocking. The apartment was as dingy as he expected, the smell of mildew was strong but that was not what called him here. There on a couch, spread with a sheet and with two pillows, a middle-aged man was sleeping with his eyes open.
The Blue Guide stepped closer, felt no other living person in that apartment, and knelt to examine the victim. Yes, he was like the others. Pulse, strong but slow, thirty-two beats a minute. Breathing, slow and deep. He wished he had his medical satchel with him. After this, he must always carry it. Wright focussed on the man's aura and concluded he was in no immediate danger. The eyes would dry out, though. Without blinking, there would be no tears to moisten them.
He had to call for an ambulance. Wright stood up and froze, slowly turning his head. He sensed something outside. That was strange. Going to the grimy window he looked down with his eyes and saw two young people get out of a big old Buick. One was a teenage girl in good health, but the other was what had alarmed him. A thin young man who absolutely burned with lifeforce. It was almost uncomfortable viewing him. How odd. Not even the Teachers at Tel Shai were like him.
Wright turned away and looked about for a phone but didn't see one. He would have to go down to the street but the coma victim should be safe enough. He went back and crouched over the man again, deciding not to tamper with a condition he knew nothing about. Concentrating on the victim, the Blue Guide did not hear footsteps racing up the stairs until it was almost too late.
"Hold it right there!" the young man said from the doorway. Wright turned to look into chill grey eyes and he felt alarmed, as if he was going to be attacked. He reached out to fasten on the stranger's lifeforce and turned it down, siphoning it away until it dropped below active level. The young man sagged and fell to his hands and knees with a thud.
"Jeremy?" asked the girl in confusion. Wright heard the UK in her voice, maybe the North of England. She glared up at him and hissed, "What did you do to Jeremy?"
Wright held up his open hands reassuringly. "He hasn't been harmed. Calm yourself." There was something special about the girl, too. He saw her aura swirl brighter. "You're... a telepath?"
That surprised her, and the moment passed where she might have assaulted him mind to mind. Instead, she bent down to help the dazed young man. "I'm okay," he growled, "just so weak all of a sudden. I don't get it." He turned those pale eyes on the Blue Guide. "You did it, didn't you?"
"I'm Dr Thaddeus Wright. I am examining this man, he seems to be one of the so-called 'coma epidemic' victims. I need to call for an ambulance to come take him to an ER. Now, who are you?"
Katherine introduced herself and Bane, and said they were investigating the coma victims on behalf of Kenneth Dred. At that name, Wright perked up. "Dred! I know him by reputation but we haven't met. You know, I think we need a conference, all of us. Doesn't he still live on 38th Street?"
By this time, Bane had gotten up and seemed back to normal, that is, angry. "What exactly did you do to me, mister?"
"Oh, that. Sorry. It looked like you were going to attack me." Wright pointed a cautioning finger. "In fact, your body language says you're still thinking of jumping me. Let it go, son. Let's go talk with Kenneth Dred and I think we will work everything out."
Bane glanced at the girl, who nodded, and he relaxed into a neutral stance. "Fair enough. Katherine picked up on the mental state of that guy on the couch and we came up to investigate. I figured you had something to do with it but she seems to vouch you're okay. Her judgement is good enough for me. Let's go see Mr Dred." With that, he stepped aside and motioned both the Blue Guide and the telepath to the door. Down on the street, he pointed to a phone on the corner, "You wanted to report the victim?"
As Wright called the ambulance service, Bane turned to Katherine with questions in his expression. She reassured him. They had been working together on a daily basis for more than a year and knew each other as well as they ever would. When Wright hung up and joined them, Bane said, "Once the news gets out about a seventh coma victim, reporters will be all over this area. Let's get scarce." He got in behind the wheel of the big car and started it up. The three of them headed north, to East 38th Street where he let Wright and Katherine out while he went on to park the car in the garage beneath the building.
Kenneth Dred was waiting for them, and all four met in the conference room where introductions were made and lengthy discussion followed. They quickly got on a first name basis. This was where Jeremy Bane first learned about the Order of Tel Shai; he had heard the name mentioned by Dred but had not been that curious about it. Now he seemed very interested.
Katherine described the image she had seen in the victim's memory and Dred frowned. "I'm afraid I recognize that face, my friends. It sounds like Shim Fan, a warlock from Chujir. He has not been in this world for many years but his return would be unwelcome news indeed."
"Another sorceror?" Bane asked. "We've handled a few. What makes this one special?"
"Shim is ancient and cunning. He studied under Wu Lung. That name does not mean anything to you, Jeremy, but I'll just say we need to be cautious. If Shim Fan is behind the coma epidemic, it is just the beginning of some larger plan."
"All the more reason to smack him down fast," said Bane. "Give me an address and I'll go settle the problem."
Kenneth Dred smiled at the confidence of youth. "First, let us form a plan of attack. Ted, what do you think Shim Fan is up to?"
"I have been wondering about that. There are no demands, no hint of ransom. I see no sign that this is some sort of revenge." Wright rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I have a theory. I think these victims are being kept barely alive because their life forces are being siphoned off to feed someone... in this case, Shim Fan. He is using them as a sort of living energy source."
"So... he's like a vampire?" asked Bane. "Instead of blood, he's drinking this lifeforce?"
"That's exactly it. He could keep the victims like this for weeks or months, but I think eventually they will experience organ failure. The heart or the liver will break down, they were not designed to function this way. And then Shim Fan will have to replace them."
Bane surprised everyone by taking charge. "So. We need to split up. Katherine will look for Shim Fan telepathically. When we find him, I'll tackle him. Meanwhile, Ted will be at the hospital trying to break the connection between the victims and this warlock."
"Sounds like a good plan," Wright said. "If I sever the link, Shim fan will be weakened. Kenneth, what do you think?"
Foe his part, Kenneth Dred was smiling proudly at Bane. He did not say so, but he was pleased his protege had reached a point of assuming command in a crisis. "I think Jeremy has nailed it. We should proceed. I will suggest that since Chujirans look Asian, our enemy will most likely be in Chinatown, where he can blend in more easily."
The Dire Wolf stood up eagerly. "Let's get going. This guy's racket needs to be busted!"
IV.
As Bane went with Ted Wright to the front door, Katherine stayed behind. She stood with arms folded, watching them thoughtfully. As the two went out of sight, the young telepath turned to regard Kenneth Dred with a pensive expression.
The elderly occultist got stiffly to his feet, he said, "You do not seem as eager to rush into battle, dear."
"No, I suppose I don't. To be honest, I am getting tired of the suspense and the danger. Jeremy seems to thrive on it. He simply loves fighting monsters but it is wearing me down."
Dred's voice was gentle. "It's not for everyone, Katherine. Our Jeremy is rare. He functions best under stress. I suspect he is one of those people who enjoy adrenalin. If this were not his life, he would be driving race cars or skydiving. But it may not be what you were born for."
"I don't think it is." She went over to stand next to him. "Don't think I'm not grateful for all you've done, sir. I came to you because telepathy had me confused and uncertain. I thought I was losing my mind because I heard what people were thinking and you taught me how to control my gift. But I don't want to spend my life fighting these desperate battles. It's not what I need."
"You can leave whenever you want, my dear. You know I have been putting a stipend for you in a bank account and since your living expenses are provided for, there's quite a sum waiting. You can go back to London if you like. You said your brother and his wife would take you in."
"Yes. I must consider it. I will stay a bit longer, I shan't just leave you cold. But I will not be here forever."
Kenneth Dred went to a locked drawer in a cabinet and drew out two tiny artifacts. They were wheel-shaped, crafted in pale gold that gleamed in the subdued light, suspended on fine chains. "Here are the protective Eldaran talismans. It is best not to wear them for too long a period, they are not meant for Humans, but with this you will be shielded to some extent."
As she hung the talisman around her neck, tucking it under her blouse, she felt calmer. "Thank you, sir. These are a comfort. I was brought up Catholic, you know, and lately I have been thinking of wearing a crucifix again."
As she said this, Jeremy Bane appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a long black topcoat and he held her own coat over one arm. "That guy's okay," he said. "I think we can work together, I trust him."
Katherine walked over and took her coat and, to her surprise, Bane helped her get into it. Was he learning some manners? She said, "Thank you," quietly and watched as he went to get the Eldar talisman. Dred asked them to report as soon as possible and wished them luck, then wearily lowered himself into his chair again. Going down to the garage, she said to Bane, "If it's all the same, Jeremy, I'm tired of fighting. I will try to locate this Shim Fan fellow but I think I will remain outside while you confront him."
Bane gave her a quizzical look. "Whatever. I guess with your telepathy, you're a little sensitive to the bad vibes, huh? It makes sense." He started the big Buick and rolled carefully up the ramp to the street. On the way to Chinatown, he kept silent. At a municipal lot, he parked the car and waited for her to speak. Long minutes passed and finally the young girl said, "Let's walk a bit."
The streets were almost deserted because of the wind chill, and those who had to be out hurried about their business. Katherine walked slowly, pausing often and looking around. Finally, when her face was red and her nose was running, she grabbed Bane by the arm. "There! The top floor. Oh, he's beastly. What a vile person."
The Dire Wolf surveyed the nondescript building, with its gift shop on the ground floor and curtained windows on the upper floors. He had a predatory smile that made Katherine realize that Dred was right- Bane was born for trouble. "There are at least six people up there," she whispered. "Two women. Three tough guys. And the warlock. Oh, he's vile."
Bane put a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Listen. You go across the street to that tea shop. Get out of the cold. I'll come get you when the rough stuff is done."
"Are you sure?"
He turned those pale grey eyes on her and they glinted with eagerness. "Of course. You worry too much." With that, he strode over to the building she had pointed out and opened the door beside the gift shop, closing it behind him. The telepath closed her perception and dug in her pockets for cash as she crossed over to the HAPPY PANDA tea shop.
As he closed the door behind him, Bane was met by a beefy young Chinese man who got up from a plain wooden chair and dropped a newspaper to the floor. "Hey! You no come in here."
"Just watch," Bane said, heading for the stairs. The guard rushed him and got a blindingly fast backfist to the jaw that spun him around. A left cross an instant later finished him. Bane caught the dazed man and dropped him onto the chair without much gentleness and then trotted up the stairs. As he reached the third floor landing, a door opened and a huge man in a white dress shirt and black slacks stepped out. As he took in the situation, he dropped into a wu shu stance with fists raised and Bane reached him. The Dire Wolf had no martial arts training at this point. He had taken boxing lessons at a 14th Street gym but mostly he relied on his innate speed and aggression. The Chinese guard threw a very quick roundhouse kick, Bane blocked it upward with his left arm and blasted a straight jab to the face that broke the man's nose. Still holding that leg in the air, the Dire Wolf got in close and threw a vicious uppercut that cracked like a sharp handclap.
Dropping the man to the floor, Bane thought in a corner of his mind he should invest in karate lessons. So far he had held his own but he wondered how he would do against someone who was really skilled. The door that the guard had stepped through was still open and he strode through as if he owned the place.
V.
The Dire Wolf stepped into a giant room that took up nearly the entire floor of the building. The luxury took him aback for a second. Statues and scrolls on the walls, a table laden with silver plates of delicacies, two beautiful Asian women in gauzy outfits lying on cushions.. it was quite a sight. As he entered, one of the women put down a musical instrument he didn't recognize.
Seated on an elaborate throne was a young boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, with a smooth shaven head and serious datk eyes. He looked Chinese, although Bane at this point could not always the difference between East Asians. The boy was wearing a gorgeous brocaded robes shot through with silver and gold threads and he was sipping from a jade goblet.
"I hope that's not wine," Bane said. "Not at your age."
The boy smiled but his eyes remained serious and the effect was sinister. "My age?" he chuckled. "If you only knew. I was enjoying rice wine before you were born."
As the two women hastily scurried out of sight, the Dire Wolf stepped up to the seated boy. "Don't tell me YOU'RE Shim Fan!"
"You have the advantage of me, Western man. I do not recall inviting you here. Kimura, see this fool out."
A man with a ponytail, dressed in loose dark clothing, stepped around the throne. He unsheathed a four-foot sword with a slight curve and held it point forward.
Bane said, "Don't start with me. You don't know how I get." But the Japanese mercenary stepped forward and suddenly lunged into a stance with one leg in front, the sword whistling around with its deadly edge going right at the intruder's throat. Bane caught the upper swordarm by the wrist. The Japanese gasped at seeing something he would have said was quite impossible. A split-second later, he was yanked by that wrist into a right hook that broke his jaw and sent a tooth spinning away. As the limp body fell, the Dire Wolf wrested the katana free and threw it to the other side of the room where it clattered on the floor.
Now the young boy was standing with his eyes bugging out. "Shimura had the samurai spirit! he was raised with a sword in his hand but you... Who ARE you?".
"You can call me Dire Wolf, if you like. Where is this Shim Fan guy?"
The lad drew back his loose sleeves to reveal skinny arms and hands with long curved nails. "Many have come looking for Shim Fan, only to regret it," he said. From one hand crackled a blast of dark red energy that shot across the room and hit Bane like a lightning bolt. The Wolf was thrown back violently against a wall, knocking a painting off its hook as they both slid to the floor.
"say, that stings pretty bad," Bane said as he got up. Smoke curled from the front of his shirt and he slapped absently at it. "I guess you are the bozo I'm looking for."
Shim Fan smiled ominously. "It seems you have some protection. A counter-spell? A talisman? No matter." He threw another gralic bolt but Bane was watching and he dropped to the floor as it hissed overhead to blast a hole an inch deep in the wall. With two swift steps, the Dire Wolf closed the gap, grabbed the youth by one arm and threw him to the ground.Before he could go further, another blast echoed like thunder in the room. This picked Bane up off his feet and onto his back.
They both got up at the same time. The Dire Wolf shook his head. It felt as if he had stuck both hands into a wall socket. He said, "Let me get this straight before we dance around again. It is you putting these people in those trances, right?"
"Of course! They serve me well. They will die with open eyes in my cause. I think this is as young as I need become, in fact I cannot enjoy my courtesans at this age."
"Ain't that a shame," Bane said. The Eldar talisman under his shirt burned his skin. As he stood up, he crossed his arms and straightened them with a silver dagger in each hand. "Look, I think this has gone on long enough."
Shim Fan narrowed his eyes at that gleam of those blades. "Silver. Are you- a Tel Shai knight?"
"Who, me? No. I'm just making it my business to clean up this town of black magic." Bane stepped cautiously forward, holding the daggers with one point down and one to the side. "Hold still, kid."
At that moment, across town, Ted Wright stood in a hospital ward and broke the connection between the coma victims and the sorcerors who had cursed them. Three of the sleeping men shuddered, broke out in a sweat and stirred uneasily.
And Shim Fan aged fifty years in an instant. Suddenly, wrinkles appeared and his face sank in, his belly swelled out and his eyes glazed. He looked middle-aged.
Bane laughed sharply. "Now I won't feel so bad," he said as he leaped forward and slashed left and right. The warlock dropped to the floor, spurting bright arterial blood. The Dire Wolf watched him twitch and then go still. He knelt, checked that the sorceror was dead and then cleaned his knives on that rich robe. He did not know it, but at that moment the other victims of the coma spell stirred and began to wake in their hospital beds miles away.
Shim Fan now looked to be ninety years old. Bane gave him a last cold look. It was time to get out of there. For all he knew, those courtesans had run downstairs and were phoning for reinforcements, although he figured they were more likely to be taking everything valuable and making a run for it. The Dire Wolf went over to the sword and examined it, then left it were it was. He did not have any use for it. Stepping past the moaning samurai in the corner, he walking over the other injured man at the door and trotted down the stairs. The guard he had knocked out was snoring in the chair by the front door. Bane smiled at him and went out into the cold.
4/28/2013
2/20-2/24/1979
I.
"I had to lose it all. I had to fall so I could rise again." Ted Wright looked across the empty room at his colleague. "That may not make much sense to you, Henry."
Dr Easton was a thin, dry old man with only a fringe of white hair left down around his ears and the back of his head. He shook that head sadly. "I know you were deeply affected when you lost that young patient, Ted, but every doctor has to deal with a certain amount of failure..."
Thaddeus James Wright was a tall American black man with a somber face. His short hair and beard had traces of grey in them even though he was not forty yet. "It was not mere failure that struck me down. It was arrogance. I could not admit it was my fault. I blamed everyone but myself, and I nearly lost my license because of it." He folded his arms and looked down at the bare wooden floor. "You knew me then. Was I proud?"
"Yes. With good reason. You were quite the prodigy, Ted. Your talent at disagnoses was phenomenal. I have never seen anyone before or since who was your equal at spotting the cause of symptoms. If you were proud, you had a certain right to be."
"Yes," said Wright. He looked out the window at 9th Avenue. There were no curtains. Cold winter sunlight poured into the room. "I see now what a fool I was. I closed my practice. I lost my home and my woman. I wandered out in the darkness. The bottle and the pipe tried to claim me. You do not know how far I fell. But now I am back."
Easton came over and put a hand on the younger man's arm. "It's good to see you again. If you want me to speak to the board at the hospital for you, certainly I will. You were not gone all that long, they remember your skill..."
Wright smiled just a little. "Thank you, Henry. I will apply for admitting privileges. I expect to put in a certain number of volunteer hours but my main work will be here. I intend to open a free clinic here, offering counseling and guidance to those who need it. I will refer them to the specialists they need."
"A free clinic...?" Easton said with a touch of distress. "And doing volunteer work. Ted, maybe I am missing something, but where will your income come from?"
"It will provide itself. Ah, I see you do not understand, old friend. You do not know how I have changed."
Dr Easton did not answer at first, then said, "I was going to say the same thing, Ted. You're calm and confident in a way I have never seen before. It almost unnerves me." He headed for the door. "Keep in touch, please. As I said, if you need support establishing yourself, let me know."
"Thank you, Henry." Wright watched him go, then walked to the center of the bare room. Lowering himself to the floor, he crossed his legs in the lotus, back straight, and held up his open hands. Over his dark palms a beautiful pale blue light flickered and grew brighter. The blue light glimmered in his dark brown eyes and he smiled. Now his real work could begin.
II.
On East 38th Street, a young man dressed all in black trotted up the block. Despite the bitter wind, he had no hat nor gloves, and wore a light sport jacket and turtleneck rather than winter coat. Jeremy Bane's enhanced metabolism filled him with restless energy and he was warm after almost running up from the police station on 20th Street. He raced up the steps in front of the old nine story brownstone where he had been living for the past year and a half. He unlocked the front door and was through the tiny foyer and into the front hall without breaking stride.
Standing at the foot of the staircase was a British girl, a year younger than his twenty-one. Katherine Wheatley was slim and attractive, with straight black hair and crystal blue eyes in an oval face, yet people felt uncomfortable around her without quite knowing why. It was because their subconscious felt the faint touch of her telepathic mind and drew back. Today she was wearing a pleated dark blue skirt and white long-sleeved blouse, and looked cool and collected. She watched Bane enter with a raised eyebrow. "And?"
"Let's go see Mr Dred," he answered curtly, "Is he in the conference room?"
"Yes," she said, turning aside as he raced up the stairs past her. Katherine rolled her eyes, the lad just had no manners. She followed him to the second floor and into what they called the conference room. Here was a long oak table, stained dark brown, with five chairs on either side and one at each end. Neither she nor Bane knew the history of that table or the men and women who had assembled there decades earlier. Seated at the head was an elderly man, slight and well dressed in an old-fashioned single-breasted suit. Kenneth Dred rose slightly as Katherine entered, then lowered himself gingerly. Lately his arthritis had been getting worse. A half dozen newspapers were spread out before him.
Bane burst into the room. "Mr Dred, I got in to see Lt Hayes. He tells me that unofficially the cops are plenty worried. Hayes says they can't put a finger on it but they suspect someone is behind this epidemic of comas."
"I've read the accounts," Dred said in his measured tones. "There are six victims now. Each went to sleep feeling fine, with no complaints and just never woke up. The TIMES has a list of the victims, and I have made some phone calls. I can see no connection between the six, they seem unrelated in every way."
"People are getting hysterical, as you can imagine. No one feels safe. I hear a hundred theories on the street but nobody really has any idea what they are talking about." Bane took a chair at Dred's right hand, with Katherine seating herself on the other side.
Kenneth Dred gazed fondly at his two proteges. He knew in his heart he did not have long and was gratified to have found young people to carry on the work. "We need first hand information. My instincts all say this is not some new disease, nor poison. There is a diabolical purpose behind these comatose attacks. Jeremy, take my car. Drive Katherine to Mt Sinai and see Dr Beckert. I have asked him to give you access to one of the victims." He turned his gnomish face toward the girl. "Katherine, I want you to probe the victim's mind but lightly! Take care. We do not know what we are dealing with as yet."
"I will be careful, sir." She gave Bane an excessively sweet smile. "And I am sure your Dire Wolf will take the best care of me."
Bane said nothing. He had never shown any sense of humor that she had been able to detect. His gray eyes seemed to regard the entire world with suspicion. Now he stood up and said, "We'll report back, Mr Dred."
As they went down the stairs, Katherine stepped over to get her coat off the standing rack, and pulled a wool hat from a pocket to tug down on her head. "I say, Jeremy, it IS freezing out, don't you think you want a coat?"
"I'm fine," he answered. Going to the closet by the front door, he pressed a panel in its back and a door slid open. He hurried down steep concrete steps as Katherine followed, flipping a light switch at the bottom. They were in a narrow walkway with storerooms on either side. At the far end was a plain wooden door, through which they passed into a garage which held a black Buick Regal. Bane snatched the keys from a workbench and got in the driver's seat.
"Ah, I miss the days when gentlemen opened a lady's door," Katherine sighed and got in the passenger seat. Bane seemed not to hear. He started the big car and eased up the ramp, which had a sharp turn that was tricky to make without scraping. An electric eye caused the corrugated metal door to slide up and they pulled out on Lexington Avenue.
During the ride, Katherine glanced over at Bane. Always so serious. "Jeremy, would you teach me how to drive?"
"I don't really know how myself."
"What..?"
"I figured it out as I went along. Wrecked an old Dodge I bought for two hundred dollars."
There was horror in her voice. "You don't have a license??"
"I had one made up by Deaf Jimmy. He provides passports, social security cards, that sort of thing." Bane turned into a parking lot that seemed to have no available spaces and circled until someone pulled out. "Here we go. Next we have to find Dr Beckert."
As it happened, a short man in a white smock stepped forward to meet them as soon as they entered the lobby, introducing himself. He was holding a clipboard and a styrofoam cup of coffee, and he rushed them to the elevator. On the third floor, the doctor opened the door to a private room and turned on the lights. On the bed, beneath a thin blanket, a man lay motionless. His eyes were bandaged.
"Charles Potter, forty-one years old. He has been like this for fifty hours. His wife could not wake him and called for an ambulance. His respiration and heartbeat are at the barest minimum needed to maintain life. We've run every test, nothing helpful."
Bane studied the man warily. "Why the wet bandages on his eyes?"
"Eh? Oh, to keep them from drying out. They stay open and we can't make them shut. All the victims have that trait."
Standing near the bed, Katherine Wheatley had her head bowed. "Would you gentlemen leave the room for a moment, please?"
Beckert started to protest but Bane was already going through the door, with a hand on the doctor's sleeve. Left by herself, Katherine closed her eyes and reached out, opening her perception....
A few minutes passed, then she went out in the hall. "Right then. Thank you kindly for your cooperation, doctor. Are the other victims of this affliction here as well?"
"Oh, no. The others are at Columbia. We have been trying to get them all in one facility to study them better."
"I see. Come, Jeremy." With that, she turned sharply and marched back to the elevators. Surprised at her uncharacteristic decisiveness, the Dire Wolf followed as she rode down to the lobby. Two phone booths stood near the entrance. "Have you any change about you?" she asked and took what he had, then dialed the number both of them reported to.
"Hello? Yes, sir. We just left. I found an image in his mind. A face, sir. Very devilish if I may say so. Rather Oriental I should say, with a shaved head and two strips of mustache at the corners of the mouth. And red eyes. Yes, quite red, scarlet in fact. Any instructions?" She listened, said goodbye and hung up and then turned to the impatient Bane. "Mr Dred says we are to proceed directly home."
"Fine with me," Bane grumbled. "Hospitals give me the creeps."
III.
Stepping out of the taxi, Ted Wright turned up his collar. This was what he could not tell his former colleagues... how he knew where a body was not functioning well, where its flow of energy was blocked. They did not know about gralir, the transcendental force beyond physics, and he could not tell them of it. This was what he had learned in the two years in he had left the world and studied at Tel Shai. Not that he could blame them. He would not have believed himself until he had hit rock bottom, until he was in rags without anything in his pockets, nothing in his stomach but booze and nothing in his soul but despair. It was then that the Order of Tel Shai had opened to him.
On the corner of Canal Street, the Blue Guide watched people go by and he saw shimmering blue auras around their bodies. Depending on their age and health, the aura varied in brightness and depth. That was his training. Drawing on gralic energy, he could strengthen lifeforce or help it flow or slow it down, judging what was needed. Wright stood in front of a dingy brick building with a storefront that read LUCKY DRAGON GIFTS. He looked up and on the second floor, a small neon sign said ACUPUNCTURE - MASSAGE. Something was wrong up there. He could sense it without being able to poinpoint the problem.
wright dressed well, in suits of quiet quality with nothing flashy about them. The long dark topcoat and thin leather gloves and white silk scarf added to the look. Partly it was because he had dressed that way when he was in practice, because that was how people expected doctors to dress; partly it was because he was black and police treated him a bit more respectfully when they saw him as a well-paid professional.
He pressed the white bell on the door next to the gift shop and someone buzzed him in. But he went up creaky wooden stairs past the acupuncture place. What he sensed was on the next floor. Wright paused before an unmarked door that drew him, and he opened it without knocking. The apartment was as dingy as he expected, the smell of mildew was strong but that was not what called him here. There on a couch, spread with a sheet and with two pillows, a middle-aged man was sleeping with his eyes open.
The Blue Guide stepped closer, felt no other living person in that apartment, and knelt to examine the victim. Yes, he was like the others. Pulse, strong but slow, thirty-two beats a minute. Breathing, slow and deep. He wished he had his medical satchel with him. After this, he must always carry it. Wright focussed on the man's aura and concluded he was in no immediate danger. The eyes would dry out, though. Without blinking, there would be no tears to moisten them.
He had to call for an ambulance. Wright stood up and froze, slowly turning his head. He sensed something outside. That was strange. Going to the grimy window he looked down with his eyes and saw two young people get out of a big old Buick. One was a teenage girl in good health, but the other was what had alarmed him. A thin young man who absolutely burned with lifeforce. It was almost uncomfortable viewing him. How odd. Not even the Teachers at Tel Shai were like him.
Wright turned away and looked about for a phone but didn't see one. He would have to go down to the street but the coma victim should be safe enough. He went back and crouched over the man again, deciding not to tamper with a condition he knew nothing about. Concentrating on the victim, the Blue Guide did not hear footsteps racing up the stairs until it was almost too late.
"Hold it right there!" the young man said from the doorway. Wright turned to look into chill grey eyes and he felt alarmed, as if he was going to be attacked. He reached out to fasten on the stranger's lifeforce and turned it down, siphoning it away until it dropped below active level. The young man sagged and fell to his hands and knees with a thud.
"Jeremy?" asked the girl in confusion. Wright heard the UK in her voice, maybe the North of England. She glared up at him and hissed, "What did you do to Jeremy?"
Wright held up his open hands reassuringly. "He hasn't been harmed. Calm yourself." There was something special about the girl, too. He saw her aura swirl brighter. "You're... a telepath?"
That surprised her, and the moment passed where she might have assaulted him mind to mind. Instead, she bent down to help the dazed young man. "I'm okay," he growled, "just so weak all of a sudden. I don't get it." He turned those pale eyes on the Blue Guide. "You did it, didn't you?"
"I'm Dr Thaddeus Wright. I am examining this man, he seems to be one of the so-called 'coma epidemic' victims. I need to call for an ambulance to come take him to an ER. Now, who are you?"
Katherine introduced herself and Bane, and said they were investigating the coma victims on behalf of Kenneth Dred. At that name, Wright perked up. "Dred! I know him by reputation but we haven't met. You know, I think we need a conference, all of us. Doesn't he still live on 38th Street?"
By this time, Bane had gotten up and seemed back to normal, that is, angry. "What exactly did you do to me, mister?"
"Oh, that. Sorry. It looked like you were going to attack me." Wright pointed a cautioning finger. "In fact, your body language says you're still thinking of jumping me. Let it go, son. Let's go talk with Kenneth Dred and I think we will work everything out."
Bane glanced at the girl, who nodded, and he relaxed into a neutral stance. "Fair enough. Katherine picked up on the mental state of that guy on the couch and we came up to investigate. I figured you had something to do with it but she seems to vouch you're okay. Her judgement is good enough for me. Let's go see Mr Dred." With that, he stepped aside and motioned both the Blue Guide and the telepath to the door. Down on the street, he pointed to a phone on the corner, "You wanted to report the victim?"
As Wright called the ambulance service, Bane turned to Katherine with questions in his expression. She reassured him. They had been working together on a daily basis for more than a year and knew each other as well as they ever would. When Wright hung up and joined them, Bane said, "Once the news gets out about a seventh coma victim, reporters will be all over this area. Let's get scarce." He got in behind the wheel of the big car and started it up. The three of them headed north, to East 38th Street where he let Wright and Katherine out while he went on to park the car in the garage beneath the building.
Kenneth Dred was waiting for them, and all four met in the conference room where introductions were made and lengthy discussion followed. They quickly got on a first name basis. This was where Jeremy Bane first learned about the Order of Tel Shai; he had heard the name mentioned by Dred but had not been that curious about it. Now he seemed very interested.
Katherine described the image she had seen in the victim's memory and Dred frowned. "I'm afraid I recognize that face, my friends. It sounds like Shim Fan, a warlock from Chujir. He has not been in this world for many years but his return would be unwelcome news indeed."
"Another sorceror?" Bane asked. "We've handled a few. What makes this one special?"
"Shim is ancient and cunning. He studied under Wu Lung. That name does not mean anything to you, Jeremy, but I'll just say we need to be cautious. If Shim Fan is behind the coma epidemic, it is just the beginning of some larger plan."
"All the more reason to smack him down fast," said Bane. "Give me an address and I'll go settle the problem."
Kenneth Dred smiled at the confidence of youth. "First, let us form a plan of attack. Ted, what do you think Shim Fan is up to?"
"I have been wondering about that. There are no demands, no hint of ransom. I see no sign that this is some sort of revenge." Wright rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I have a theory. I think these victims are being kept barely alive because their life forces are being siphoned off to feed someone... in this case, Shim Fan. He is using them as a sort of living energy source."
"So... he's like a vampire?" asked Bane. "Instead of blood, he's drinking this lifeforce?"
"That's exactly it. He could keep the victims like this for weeks or months, but I think eventually they will experience organ failure. The heart or the liver will break down, they were not designed to function this way. And then Shim Fan will have to replace them."
Bane surprised everyone by taking charge. "So. We need to split up. Katherine will look for Shim Fan telepathically. When we find him, I'll tackle him. Meanwhile, Ted will be at the hospital trying to break the connection between the victims and this warlock."
"Sounds like a good plan," Wright said. "If I sever the link, Shim fan will be weakened. Kenneth, what do you think?"
Foe his part, Kenneth Dred was smiling proudly at Bane. He did not say so, but he was pleased his protege had reached a point of assuming command in a crisis. "I think Jeremy has nailed it. We should proceed. I will suggest that since Chujirans look Asian, our enemy will most likely be in Chinatown, where he can blend in more easily."
The Dire Wolf stood up eagerly. "Let's get going. This guy's racket needs to be busted!"
IV.
As Bane went with Ted Wright to the front door, Katherine stayed behind. She stood with arms folded, watching them thoughtfully. As the two went out of sight, the young telepath turned to regard Kenneth Dred with a pensive expression.
The elderly occultist got stiffly to his feet, he said, "You do not seem as eager to rush into battle, dear."
"No, I suppose I don't. To be honest, I am getting tired of the suspense and the danger. Jeremy seems to thrive on it. He simply loves fighting monsters but it is wearing me down."
Dred's voice was gentle. "It's not for everyone, Katherine. Our Jeremy is rare. He functions best under stress. I suspect he is one of those people who enjoy adrenalin. If this were not his life, he would be driving race cars or skydiving. But it may not be what you were born for."
"I don't think it is." She went over to stand next to him. "Don't think I'm not grateful for all you've done, sir. I came to you because telepathy had me confused and uncertain. I thought I was losing my mind because I heard what people were thinking and you taught me how to control my gift. But I don't want to spend my life fighting these desperate battles. It's not what I need."
"You can leave whenever you want, my dear. You know I have been putting a stipend for you in a bank account and since your living expenses are provided for, there's quite a sum waiting. You can go back to London if you like. You said your brother and his wife would take you in."
"Yes. I must consider it. I will stay a bit longer, I shan't just leave you cold. But I will not be here forever."
Kenneth Dred went to a locked drawer in a cabinet and drew out two tiny artifacts. They were wheel-shaped, crafted in pale gold that gleamed in the subdued light, suspended on fine chains. "Here are the protective Eldaran talismans. It is best not to wear them for too long a period, they are not meant for Humans, but with this you will be shielded to some extent."
As she hung the talisman around her neck, tucking it under her blouse, she felt calmer. "Thank you, sir. These are a comfort. I was brought up Catholic, you know, and lately I have been thinking of wearing a crucifix again."
As she said this, Jeremy Bane appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a long black topcoat and he held her own coat over one arm. "That guy's okay," he said. "I think we can work together, I trust him."
Katherine walked over and took her coat and, to her surprise, Bane helped her get into it. Was he learning some manners? She said, "Thank you," quietly and watched as he went to get the Eldar talisman. Dred asked them to report as soon as possible and wished them luck, then wearily lowered himself into his chair again. Going down to the garage, she said to Bane, "If it's all the same, Jeremy, I'm tired of fighting. I will try to locate this Shim Fan fellow but I think I will remain outside while you confront him."
Bane gave her a quizzical look. "Whatever. I guess with your telepathy, you're a little sensitive to the bad vibes, huh? It makes sense." He started the big Buick and rolled carefully up the ramp to the street. On the way to Chinatown, he kept silent. At a municipal lot, he parked the car and waited for her to speak. Long minutes passed and finally the young girl said, "Let's walk a bit."
The streets were almost deserted because of the wind chill, and those who had to be out hurried about their business. Katherine walked slowly, pausing often and looking around. Finally, when her face was red and her nose was running, she grabbed Bane by the arm. "There! The top floor. Oh, he's beastly. What a vile person."
The Dire Wolf surveyed the nondescript building, with its gift shop on the ground floor and curtained windows on the upper floors. He had a predatory smile that made Katherine realize that Dred was right- Bane was born for trouble. "There are at least six people up there," she whispered. "Two women. Three tough guys. And the warlock. Oh, he's vile."
Bane put a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Listen. You go across the street to that tea shop. Get out of the cold. I'll come get you when the rough stuff is done."
"Are you sure?"
He turned those pale grey eyes on her and they glinted with eagerness. "Of course. You worry too much." With that, he strode over to the building she had pointed out and opened the door beside the gift shop, closing it behind him. The telepath closed her perception and dug in her pockets for cash as she crossed over to the HAPPY PANDA tea shop.
As he closed the door behind him, Bane was met by a beefy young Chinese man who got up from a plain wooden chair and dropped a newspaper to the floor. "Hey! You no come in here."
"Just watch," Bane said, heading for the stairs. The guard rushed him and got a blindingly fast backfist to the jaw that spun him around. A left cross an instant later finished him. Bane caught the dazed man and dropped him onto the chair without much gentleness and then trotted up the stairs. As he reached the third floor landing, a door opened and a huge man in a white dress shirt and black slacks stepped out. As he took in the situation, he dropped into a wu shu stance with fists raised and Bane reached him. The Dire Wolf had no martial arts training at this point. He had taken boxing lessons at a 14th Street gym but mostly he relied on his innate speed and aggression. The Chinese guard threw a very quick roundhouse kick, Bane blocked it upward with his left arm and blasted a straight jab to the face that broke the man's nose. Still holding that leg in the air, the Dire Wolf got in close and threw a vicious uppercut that cracked like a sharp handclap.
Dropping the man to the floor, Bane thought in a corner of his mind he should invest in karate lessons. So far he had held his own but he wondered how he would do against someone who was really skilled. The door that the guard had stepped through was still open and he strode through as if he owned the place.
V.
The Dire Wolf stepped into a giant room that took up nearly the entire floor of the building. The luxury took him aback for a second. Statues and scrolls on the walls, a table laden with silver plates of delicacies, two beautiful Asian women in gauzy outfits lying on cushions.. it was quite a sight. As he entered, one of the women put down a musical instrument he didn't recognize.
Seated on an elaborate throne was a young boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, with a smooth shaven head and serious datk eyes. He looked Chinese, although Bane at this point could not always the difference between East Asians. The boy was wearing a gorgeous brocaded robes shot through with silver and gold threads and he was sipping from a jade goblet.
"I hope that's not wine," Bane said. "Not at your age."
The boy smiled but his eyes remained serious and the effect was sinister. "My age?" he chuckled. "If you only knew. I was enjoying rice wine before you were born."
As the two women hastily scurried out of sight, the Dire Wolf stepped up to the seated boy. "Don't tell me YOU'RE Shim Fan!"
"You have the advantage of me, Western man. I do not recall inviting you here. Kimura, see this fool out."
A man with a ponytail, dressed in loose dark clothing, stepped around the throne. He unsheathed a four-foot sword with a slight curve and held it point forward.
Bane said, "Don't start with me. You don't know how I get." But the Japanese mercenary stepped forward and suddenly lunged into a stance with one leg in front, the sword whistling around with its deadly edge going right at the intruder's throat. Bane caught the upper swordarm by the wrist. The Japanese gasped at seeing something he would have said was quite impossible. A split-second later, he was yanked by that wrist into a right hook that broke his jaw and sent a tooth spinning away. As the limp body fell, the Dire Wolf wrested the katana free and threw it to the other side of the room where it clattered on the floor.
Now the young boy was standing with his eyes bugging out. "Shimura had the samurai spirit! he was raised with a sword in his hand but you... Who ARE you?".
"You can call me Dire Wolf, if you like. Where is this Shim Fan guy?"
The lad drew back his loose sleeves to reveal skinny arms and hands with long curved nails. "Many have come looking for Shim Fan, only to regret it," he said. From one hand crackled a blast of dark red energy that shot across the room and hit Bane like a lightning bolt. The Wolf was thrown back violently against a wall, knocking a painting off its hook as they both slid to the floor.
"say, that stings pretty bad," Bane said as he got up. Smoke curled from the front of his shirt and he slapped absently at it. "I guess you are the bozo I'm looking for."
Shim Fan smiled ominously. "It seems you have some protection. A counter-spell? A talisman? No matter." He threw another gralic bolt but Bane was watching and he dropped to the floor as it hissed overhead to blast a hole an inch deep in the wall. With two swift steps, the Dire Wolf closed the gap, grabbed the youth by one arm and threw him to the ground.Before he could go further, another blast echoed like thunder in the room. This picked Bane up off his feet and onto his back.
They both got up at the same time. The Dire Wolf shook his head. It felt as if he had stuck both hands into a wall socket. He said, "Let me get this straight before we dance around again. It is you putting these people in those trances, right?"
"Of course! They serve me well. They will die with open eyes in my cause. I think this is as young as I need become, in fact I cannot enjoy my courtesans at this age."
"Ain't that a shame," Bane said. The Eldar talisman under his shirt burned his skin. As he stood up, he crossed his arms and straightened them with a silver dagger in each hand. "Look, I think this has gone on long enough."
Shim Fan narrowed his eyes at that gleam of those blades. "Silver. Are you- a Tel Shai knight?"
"Who, me? No. I'm just making it my business to clean up this town of black magic." Bane stepped cautiously forward, holding the daggers with one point down and one to the side. "Hold still, kid."
At that moment, across town, Ted Wright stood in a hospital ward and broke the connection between the coma victims and the sorcerors who had cursed them. Three of the sleeping men shuddered, broke out in a sweat and stirred uneasily.
And Shim Fan aged fifty years in an instant. Suddenly, wrinkles appeared and his face sank in, his belly swelled out and his eyes glazed. He looked middle-aged.
Bane laughed sharply. "Now I won't feel so bad," he said as he leaped forward and slashed left and right. The warlock dropped to the floor, spurting bright arterial blood. The Dire Wolf watched him twitch and then go still. He knelt, checked that the sorceror was dead and then cleaned his knives on that rich robe. He did not know it, but at that moment the other victims of the coma spell stirred and began to wake in their hospital beds miles away.
Shim Fan now looked to be ninety years old. Bane gave him a last cold look. It was time to get out of there. For all he knew, those courtesans had run downstairs and were phoning for reinforcements, although he figured they were more likely to be taking everything valuable and making a run for it. The Dire Wolf went over to the sword and examined it, then left it were it was. He did not have any use for it. Stepping past the moaning samurai in the corner, he walking over the other injured man at the door and trotted down the stairs. The guard he had knocked out was snoring in the chair by the front door. Bane smiled at him and went out into the cold.
4/28/2013
