"Two-Thirds God"
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dochermes"Two-Thirds God"
12/11/1997
I.
"Kind of a nippy night out," Cindy Brunner said as she greeted Inspector Klein outside the MILANESE restaurant. Only an inch over five feet tall, the telepath was wearing a quilted black jacket and had most of her dark blonde hair tucked away under a wool hat. She was a pretty young woman with dark blue eyes and a wide smile but the impression most people took away was that she was likeable. Cindy's telepathy gave her a huge advantage in knowing how to react to other peoples' moods. Lightly skimming surface thoughts was enough to cue her responses. Right now, she immediately knew that Harold Klein was tired and grumpy, that his feet hurt and his nose was cold and he was daydreaming about retirement.
"Hiya, Cin," the grizzled old master of homicide investigation replied. He had stayed on past the customary NYPD retirement age because the Commissioner and the Mayor both urged him to remain on duty. He was realistic enough to realize this was not due to he himself being indispensable but because of his relations with Cindy and her partner Jeremy Bane. He could drag them in to handle anything too outrageously weird or inexplicable for standard procedures. "Where's your Dire Wolf?
"Oh, Jeremy is still stuck on the Thruway up past Schenectady," the little blonde replied. "He's probably fuming at missing out. I'll fill him in later. So, what's going on that is so bizarre you were asked to call on us?"
Klein gave his crooked grin and pulled his ancient white raincoat tighter about him. The curly hair was still thick but there was more white than black in it at this point. "You got the situation pegged, kiddo. Step over here, by the side of the building. Three bodies were hauled away from here less than an hour ago, after forensics took a million pictures and measurements. Three adult white males, all death by extreme physical trauma. I'll give ya a copy of all the details but you gotta promise..."
"I know, I know," she said with a grin. "Jeremy and I will destroy the report and swear that we never saw it. In fact, you never gave us any information not available to the public."
"You got it, kid."
She laughed easily. Over the years she had become very comfortable with Klein's gruff avuncular manner. "In fact, I'm not even sure you're here now. Officially, you're probably filling out paperwork at your desk."
"If I had my way!" he grumbled. "I only have a minute before I have ta go but I can tell you that the victims were treated pretty rough. One had an arm pulled off and he bled out, died from shock. Another had the top of his skull flattened straight across. He was lying next to the restaurant. The last one was apparently thrown thirty feet across the lot to break his neck around that lamppost by the sidewalk."
"Yikes," said the little blonde. "A Melgar, maybe. Or a Gelydra. Not too many normal Humans are strong enough to do that against multiple opponents who were presumably fighting back. Any of the victims armed?"
"Okay, that's the second strange aspect," Klein said. He pointed with a stubby finger at two different spots on the courtyard floor. "Right there, CSI found a 19th Century cutlass, like a real no-fooling pirate would use. And over there, they picked up a strangling sash that the Thugs of old India did their killings with."
Cindy folded her arms across an impressive bust ledge, tapped one small foot and made a non-commital sound. "Hmmm..."
"Ah, but that's not the real kicker," continued Klein. "Over here, check out this wall by the window that looks into the kitchen. See this? This round depression about five inches across? Where the bricks are cracked and pushed in?"
"Sure. What's that all about?" She stepped closer. "No, wait, let me figure it out myself. One of the bodies was lying right here, you said. The damage is just about head high for an average man. Oh, Inspector, are you seriously suggesting what I think you are?"
"You guessed it, sweetheart. The crime scene reconstruction boys are still scratching their heads, but me, I have seen some wild shenanigans in the Midnight War. I'm thinking the same thing you are, Cindy."
The telepath got closer, tilting her head as she studied the depression in the wall. "Someone missed with the first punch. This was done by a fist...."
II.
A few minutes before one o'clock, Bane finally made it back to Manhattan. He had parked his Mustang in the small underground garage beneath the KDF headquarters and come upstairs to find that Cindy had made a huge pot of macaroni and cheese with nuggets of hamburger scattered heavily through it as well as finely sliced onions and peppers. As soon as he had appeared in the kitchen doorway, Cindy had waved him to take a seat and placed a heaping plate of the meal in front of him.
At six feet even and one hundred and seventy pounds, Jeremy Bane was lean and hard-muscled but he appeared thin to those who did not know him. His enhanced speed and reflexes had a price. He was always ravenous. Getting a much smaller serving for herself and a glass of cranberry juice, the telepath dropped down on the opposite side of the round table and began to dig in herself at a less impassioned pace.
After a few minutes, the Dire Wolf got up to fill his plate again. Cindy began to relate the scene at the MILANESE restaurant, quoting every sentence spoken by Lt Klein and describing the scene in detail. As Bane came up for air, Cindy handed him her Link showing the image of the depression in the brick wall.
That brought him up short. "Let's think this over. Klein said his CSI techs believed that the killer used bare hands. Bruises were not consistent with a weapon. Going with the idea that the killer wasn't swinging a hammer, then he did this with his fist."
"My first thought was maybe this is a Melgar or a Gelydra?"
"No, I don't think so," Bane said, still studying the image. "Not even Atron could have done this. Cin, this was someone on a level with Sulak or Valera. There's maybe five people in the Midnight War that strong."
"How about Galvan? What has he been up to lately?"
"Oh, Galvan is okay. Maybe a bit boisterous and sometimes hot-tempered, but he's a decent soul. I wonder if Avathor could have stolen enough strength from several Melgarin... No, we have to face it. The sword and the strangling cord left behind, they're the clinchers. We're dealing with Precincarnators, Cin."
"I was afraid of that," she grumbled, pushing her chair back and going over to the stove to get a little more macaroni and cheese. "The last two years, we've tackled one Preincarnator after another, and each is more trouble than the one before." She placed her plate down and took Bane's without being asked to load up a smaller serving. He thanked her as she handed him the plate and sat herself down again.
The Dire Wolf for once paused before eating. Under heavy dark brows, his grey eyes were even more sullen and introspective than usual. "Somehow Vidimar had found a way to expand his Preincarnator spell deeper than before. My God, first we fought Achilles. Then Merlin, then Atalanta. We tackled Prospero and his stooges Ariel and Caliban. And not more than a month ago, we had to deal with Al Aden and the wicked magician and their cobalt lantern and golden ring. But we can't track down Vidimar himself. It's getting on my nerves, to be honest."
Watching her partner take one more grudging mouthful, Cindy Brunner tried to sound casual. "Sure looks like a strongman from mythology or ancient history. I don't know... Hercules? Samson? Cu Chulainn?"
"I've going to have to rely on you when it comes to history and mythology and that sort of thing," Bane managed to say as he chewed angrily. "I never had regular schooling, you know. I grew up on back streets and slept in the shadows as a kid."
Cindy finished her plate and leaned way back in her chair with her hands clasped over her flat tummy as if appalled by how much she had eaten. "I think the onions and peppers makes that much more appealing," she said. "And that was Angus beef with low fat so our arteries are still open a little. Anyway. Jeremy, I didn't quite finish college but I have done a lot of reading about old myths and legends just because I'm interested in them. I can name the Twelve Greek Olympians and their Roman counterparts without taking a breath. You want to know the name of Odin's eight-legged horse?"
"Not unless it's useful for this case," he answered a bit shortly. Bane stood up, gathering the plates and silverware and brought them over to the stainless steel sink in the corner to begin scrubbing. "Right now we have to focus on identifying the killer and finding him."
"He's turned against the cult," Cindy observed. "We've seen that before where weapons or clothing are left behind. If a Preincarnator reverts to his modern self, the items he's not actually in contact with are left behind. Our mystery bruiser seems to have killed a pirate, a Thug and one other cultist."
Coming back over to the table, the Dire Wolf plopped down with a rare show of weariness. He had been on the go for twenty hours straight at that point. "You know, this sure happens to Vidimar a lot. Some of his subjects turn into a character out of the old legends and they keep enough independence that they rebel against Vidimar giving them orders. Our muscleman seems like he fits the pattern."
"Yeah, Vidimar orders, 'Do my bidding, fool!' and Achilles or Beowulf laugh and say right back, 'Who do you think you're talking to, old man?'" Cindy let out a low chuckle. "I guarantee at some point the Preincarnators will bring back a genuine hero from the past and we'll end up with a new ally. Maybe Romal the Mongrel? The Brimstone Kid? Who knows?"
Bane rubbed his unshaven chin and frowned down at the table. "I should start phoning my network of observers. Maybe Bleak has heard something. And we do have a list of people who were on the fringes of the Preincarnation sect. They might give us a clue or two."
"Not tonight, hon." Cindy rose and took one of his hands to pull him up from his chair. "Your voice sounds real tired. Your mind feels foggy. Come on. Early tomorrow morning, your head will be clearer. Upstairs we go. We'll spoon and I guarantee you'll be asleep before the next tick of the clock."
Bane did not resist. "Okay. You're usually, right, Cin."
"Heh, what do you mean, USUALLY?"
III.
At nine the next morning, they set themselves up in the office of the Dire Wolf Agency on the first floor. Not knowing where the day might take her, Cindy dressed a bit more formally than usual in charcoal grey slacks, a white silk blouse with a fine-linked gold chain necklace and a dark jacket. Of course, this outfit had been tailored to conceal most of the usual weapons and gadgets in small hidden pockets and she wore the silk-thin Trom armor under it all. She immediately set herself up at the long leather couch some distance from the desk where Bane took his seat. This was so that their conversations in low tones would not overlap each other.
"Here we go," she chirped with enthusiasm. "Rested, showered and shaved and fully dressed, we're ready to tackle any horrifying nightmares that might get in our way."
Bane's faint smile barely raised the thin lips. He was so deadpan by nature that it took even close associates a long time to read his expressions. "I wrote out two lists of our observers," he said. "Yours is made up of people who've you met in person."
She held up a sheet of typing paper and made a pout. "It's less than a third as long as yours, Jeremy."
"I've been building my contacts a long time," the Dire Wolf said. From the start of his career, he had declined rewards from the grateful people he had aided. Instead, he asked that they keep an eye out for any suspicous events of an unexplainable nature and that they let him know. Having had their own lives or their loved ones rescued from creatures of the night, the observers were more than happy to help out. Of course, there were more mundane stoolies and snitches in the underworld who owed loyalty to cash in the hand, and Bane often found them useful as well. There was a certain overlap between crime and the supernatural.
Using their Links to patch into the phone networks without danger of being traced or overhead, they got to work. The next hours dragged for both of them. Naturally, some of their observers were at work or on vacation and could not be reached without raising suspicions. Most had no information about the Preincarnators, about Leopold Vidimar or about the killings at the MILANESE the night before. As the morning passed, Cindy and Bane both crossed out unhelpful names from the lists in front of them.
They were getting near the ends of their lists when the blonde telepath received a call for a change. She sat up and waved furiously over at Bane. He had finished a call and now he set his Link to listen to hers.
"...So I'm more than a little desperate, you know? I turned Vidimar down when he tried to recruit me. That whole Preincarnation racket scares the hell out of me. I seen it happen. You turn into someone else, someone they say is one of your great-great-grandfathers but who really knows? None of that for me, no way. But I kept in touch with some guys in the cult, sometimes they need a couch to crash on while the cops are lookin' for them, sometimes they need someone to bury something out in the yard, you know?"
"Listen, Mr Neubauer, my partner Jeremy Bane is here now. I'm going to switch you over to him now." Despite her words, all Cindy did was give Bane a thumb's up top indicate he should take over the conversation.
"Pat? Patrick Neubauer? Yes, this is Bane. What are you calling about?" asked the Dire Wolf.
"Hi, yeah, I'm in a tight spot. I have to talk fast. One of the Preincarnators is staying with me, hiding out ya might say, until Vidimar calls for him. Bane, he's the biggest strongest slab of beef you ever saw. He pulled the doorknob right out of the bathroom door easy as you might pull the wrapper off a straw. I'm scared. One careless slap from him and I'm a red splat on the wall.. Wait, he's getting up. I'm at the same place."
With that, the connection broke off. Cindy frowned at her Link, then said, "My powers never work over a phone. Telepathy has to be in person. But if he's not genuinely afraid, he's giving an Academy Award performance."
"Neubauer is not a choir boy, that's for sure. He's done prison time that he deserved, he's been mixed up in slimy rackets." Bane said. "The only good thing I can say about him is that he's more weak than he's evil. He has always gotten talked into crimes for the promise of quick money. He never ever learns."
"And he licks his lips when he sees me." Cindy shuddered visibly. "I don't meant metaphorically, Jeremy, I mean he licks his lips! Like I'm a cheeseburger. Ugh! But I guess he's the lead we're looking for?"
"Yeah. I have his address. You may not like this, Cin. He's holed up in a meat outlet that went out of business."
"A what? A meat outlet?"
"JESSE'S MEAT CENTER sold cheap cuts of meat in bulk to local greasy diners and to the public. Usually it was outdated crap that hadn't always been kept refrigerated. The place racked up lots of violations and a few lawsuits over food poisoning, and they finally went out of business three months ago. Neubauer used to work there, he kept a key and he's squatting in the empty building."
Cindy Brunner caught a swift impression of distaste and anger flitting across the surface of Bane's mind. She shot to her feet, almost kicking over the coffee table in front of her. "What ELSE? What aren't you telling me, hon?"
"It's in Camden, New Jersey."
IV.
An hour later, they were driving along a pothole-plagued road flanked by collapsing abandoned buildings and vacant lots decorated with sparse dead grass and discarded household debris. Ripped-open garbage bags spilling their contents by the side of the road and an occasional stripped car with the hood up and the wheels missing did not improve the scenery. "This is making me miserable big time," Cindy muttered in the passenger seat.
"Not a pretty sight," Bane grudgingly admitted. "We're almost there, if that helps."
"I mean, the two of us have sneaked through actual war zones with bombs falling and people shooting at each other through the rubble," she continued. "We were on the island of Maroch, for crying out loud. We were trapped in Perjena with a thousand Nekrosim chasing after our blood. You'd think this wouldn't bother me. It's just a bad part of a bad town. But I've had to shut my telepathy down. All the hopelessness and anger from the minds here is too depressing to deal with."
Behind the wheel, the Dire Wolf did not comment for a few minutes. "There it is," he said at last and pulled over into a parking lot whose asphalt had cracked to allow weeds to spurt up. A long concrete building had a sign JESSE'S MEAT CENTER, with OPEN TO THE PUBLIC and HOME OF 99 CENT MEAT painted below it. An additional sign added CASH AND CARRY - WE ACCEPT FOOD STAMPS. On the narrow front door, some esoteric gang symbol had been spray painted in ornate swirls. Nailed to the door was a piece of plywood that read simply, CLOSED. Next to the door was a stack of the plastic racks that deliveries had been brought in on.
"Ninety-nine cent meat...." the blonde telepath grumbled as she unhooked her seat belt. "Sounds really tempting."
The slightest hint of an edge came into Bane's voice as he turned off the engine. "Honey, I grew up an orphan. There were nights I would have welcomed that ninety-nine cent meat. I stole food wherever I could find it, and I wasn't above dumpster diving. People without money do what it takes to survive."
"I get it," she sighed. "And I grew up in Bearsville, New York, with a huge back yard and a pool and anything my sister and I asked for for dinner. I guess I am a little spoiled."
"Those guys are looking us over," Bane said, looking across the road. A single house stood by itself with a battered Ford sedan parked by the porch. Paint was peeling off the walls and a pile of beer cans made a pyramid to one side. As the Mustang came to a stop by the Meat Center, five young black men got up from where they had been idling on the porch and seemed to be discussing the situation. They seemed to be only in their late teens or early twenties at the most. A final whiff of burning pot drifted through the air. Forming a loose cluster, they started walking toward the highway with quick eager strides.
"Oh, we don't have time for this nonsense," Cindy snapped. She got out on her side and stood up next to the car. In the clear December sunlight, her dark blonde hair blazed with a red undertone. The telepath gazed directly at the oncoming party and narrowed her eyes. Surprisingly, all five men stopped in their tracks. They hesitated, began to back up, then spun around and sprinted back to the house, moving up across the porch and disappearing inside with a slammed door.
"I sent a wave of instinctive fear into their minds," she explained. "They don't know exactly what scared them, just that they felt they needed to get away. It'll hold for a while."
"Beats having to waste time with a fight," Bane said. He had emerged from the driver's side. His concession to winter was a long cloth coat over his invariable outfit of black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. In the slight chilly breeze, his short hair ruffled. "Your way, no one gets hurt. Those kids are not our targets."
"Where's this Neubauer guy? I'd just as soon get outta here." She turned in a circle. "Never mind, I'm picking up two minds. One is terrified and confused, not too intelligent to begin with. But the other one... the other one..."
Bane came over to place a hand on her shoulder. "Cin?"
"Definitely a Midnight War denizen. A Preincarnator. He thinks of himself as a king and a god. No, only two-thirds god, it's hard to explain. His mind is brooding about life and death. I'm getting strong, violent thoughts from him but he's not actually malevolent, just brutal and arrogant. Sheesh. Jeremy, I wish we still had Khang with us for encounters like this."
As they turned toward the closed outlet, the telepath pointed at the right corner of the building, where a stack of empty cardboard boxes sagged under the effects of a few rainy nights. "No immediate threat nearby," she said just above a whisper and Bane untensed slightly. Peeking timidly around the edge of the building was a narrow head draped by lank greasy hair and marked by a potato-shaped nose that was more red than the rest of his complexion. He gestured for Bane and Cindy to approach, saying, "I think it's okay."
From behind the building came a deep bass voice with an odd accent. "Approach freely. You will not be harmed."
Bane and Cindy gave each other a look of agreement and walked around to the rear of meat outlet. Here was a waist-high loading dock with a sliding steel door bolted down. A wide seat from a pick-up truck had been salvaged and placed up on concrete blocks to form an impromptu throne. Sitting there was a dark-skinned man with a long black beard that had been arranged in oiled ringlets. He wore a sort of smock and kilt evidently sewn together from white tablecloths because of his size. The man would not stand much over six feet high, but he was incredibly wide and brawny. The hard round muscles on arms and legs looked like rocks covered with skin.
Shrewd black-irised eyes studied the two newcomers before he raised a broad open hand in greeting. "I understand you two are slayers of monsters and demons... as was I. You are granted audience to speak with Gilgamesh."
That name obviously meant nothing to Bane, but Cindy decided there was no harm in showing some respect. She dropped to one knee and said solemnly, "Oh, great Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, first of the cities raised by men, we greet you."
"Rise my child and be at ease," said the giant. He turned those dark eyes toward Bane. Gilgamesh had a hooked nose in a wide deeply-furrowed face, with his jawline concealed by the artifice of the stiff beard. "And you, the Dire Wolf. Speak freely what words you will. The sorcerer named Vidimar spoke of you with open hatred, so I gather you must therefore be a righteous man."
Jeremy Bane stood at ease before the huge man, having spoken with kings of Androval and Signarm, the Emperor of Chujir and the Magistrate of Chyl in his time. "I need to ask what your majesty understands of the current situation?"
Leaning forward, resting his chin on a fist on an arm propped atop his bare knee, Gilgamesh let out a cavernous sigh that could be felt two feet away. "In truth, I am confused and uncertain, although a monarch should not admit such weakness. From what I have been told and what I myself have seen, the empire I ruled fell into dust ages ago. Uruk and its proud Ziggurats are only the stuff of legend now and men think of me as a player in folklore. Well, I take no shame in that. Mountains crumble, rivers go dry, even the mightiest deeds are in time forgotten."
"So, I guess I'll be going then..." began Neubauer, but he stayed where he was after a stern glance from Bane.
"If I might offer a thought, your majesty?" Cindy ventured. "Your tale is far from forgotten. Students and scholars study your epic in great detail, your exploits are reenacted in plays and in new tales. Your story is the earliest written saga to survive. One might say you are the first hero we know of."
"That is a comfort indeed." The giant jabbed a thumb at his own chest, where the pectorals were large and hard as dinner plates. "Still, I understand that this body am not entirely who I feel I am. Vidimar reminds me that I am an echo and a shadow of what he calls the 'true Gilgamesh.' What say you of this?"
Bane took a second to figure out the best way to explain. "Your majesty, it seems that your spirit-- your soul-- has been revived into the body of a modern man. Your spirit transformed that man so that the body you are now inhabiting is identical to your own. Does that make sense?"
"Yes. Hard it is to accept. In truth, I feel no different than I ever did. Every scar, every mole or wrinkle on my hands and limbs are as I remember them. So, tell me my friend, am I truly Gilgamesh or merely a walking mockery of what I was?"
"Welll...." the Dire Wolf replied with unusual tact for him, "That's beyond me. That's a question for someone wiser than myself to answer. I'm a simple fighting man."
The leonine head turned toward Cindy. "And you, my child, what say you?"
"I have been thinking about this for a while," the telepath said. "And my advice would be just to live life. You're here now and you might as well carry on. If you can't see a difference, why worry about it? Do I understand you have rebelled against the warlock who has resurrected you?"
"True words indeed. You know of my life, you say. Since the death of my beloved comrade Enkidu, more dear to me than any other, I was stricken with the realization that all flesh must perish. I sought immortality but failed. In due time, I had to accept our common fate and I strove to be a good ruler that I might leave many monuments and public works behind to be remembered when I died. I found a certain unhappy peace." Gilgamesh sat up straighter, the massive hands clenched into fists bigger than most people's heads. "And now I have been brought back against my will, to struggle and to grieve once more. Vidimar must pay for the blasphemy he has committed against me."
Bane nodded. "He is our enemy, too. His Preincarnators have killed many innocent people."
"I am told you two are warriors of renown, knights of Tel Shai, slayers of monsters and bandits," the giant rumbled. "So be it. You will help me in my parley with the wizard."
"Parley?" asked Cindy.
"I do not seek his death but my own," answered Gilgamesh.
V.
After some tentative discussion with the giant, Bane ushered Neubauer back into the defunct meat outlet. In one corner of the main room was an office which still held a chipped walnut desk and piles of invoices, schedules and other ephemera which had no value to anyone at this late point. A tangle of blankets and pillows showed where the squatter slept. As the four of them entered the darkened room, Cindy placed a small hand on Neubauer's bony shoulder.
"Let me reassure you of a few things," she said in her most soothing manner. "We are going to leave you about five hundred dollars in twenties and fifties. We strongly recommend that you get on a bus and relocate somewhere else. Preferably not in Jersey. You'll have enough to rent a cheap motel room for a few days while you figure out your next move. In any case, you'll be better off than you are now."
"Really? Why, thanks, miss but I don't see why you're being so kind to a miserable old dirtbag like me," he said.
Cindy held his attention by gazing directly into his eyes, something few men minded. "You have to remember this next part when you wake up. You'll feel weak and nauseous for at least an hour, maybe more, but it definitely will pass. Here's a bottle of water, Poland Spring I'm afraid, but sip it slowly and it will help. Also, you may be stiff and achy after sleeping unbroken for ten hours but that will pass as well as you move around."
The man's eyes were bugging out by this time. "I don't understand.. What are you talking about? Why would I sleep for ten hours?"
Then his right arm was seized from behind in a painfully tight grip and the needle of a syringe jabbed into his bicep. In his ear, Bane said, "Sorry about this, Patrick, but we can't trust you. My partner says your mind reveals you're still working for Vidimar. You intend to call him as soon as we leave, hoping for a reward. This enervation drug I've giving you will keep you out of trouble and when you wake up, you even get a chance to start over. You're fading now. There you go."
Carrying the limp form over to the corner of the office, Bane helped Cindy wrap the sleeping man snugly in the blankets and propped up his head with a pillow. "He'll be as safe as he ever was," the telepath remarked happily. "Maybe tomorrow, he'll head out of Camden looking for a better quality hellhole."
Watching with thick arms folded over a barrel chest, Gilgamesh shook his head. "Simpler to give him a wet red smile across his throat, Dire Wolf."
"Yeah, I can't argue with that," Bane admitted. "But we're Tel Shai knights and we have a certain level of ethics we're expected to meet. Let's see if we can get you into my car."
"I AM an imposing specimen," the ancient king agreed with a laugh. "Being two-thirds god and only one-third mortal has that effect."
By the time they were even deeper into Southern Jersey, all three were cranky and uncomfortable. Both front seats had been pulled forward as far as they would go. Being the smaller of the pair, Cindy was driving. Gilgamesh was jammed sideways in the back, knees up by his ears and his complaints grew louder and more pungent as the ride went on.
"If this case looks like it'll go on for a while, we'll definitely lease a van," Bane told the Preincarnator while trying to keep annoyance out of his voice. "Cin, we should get out and stretch before the action starts. Maybe that gas station up ahead?"
"Yeah, a break would do us all good," she said as she hit the blinkers and pulled up to the pumps at a Sunoco station. "First, let me rinse my kidneys." She hopped out and made a straight line to get the key to the bathroom.
Left behind, Bane filled the tank, checked the tires and oil, then wiped the windows inside and out with paper towels. He was compulsive about this procedure, and with good reason. More than once, he had been forced to drive off with gunmen in pursuit and having the car always prepped was essential. The Dire Wolf glanced over to where Gilgamesh stood swinging his arms and flexing to get the kinks out. Cars slowed as they passed to get a better look at the muscular giant.
"So, you spent some time in your culture's Underworld, I guess?" Bane asked. "Can you tell us about the afterlife?"
The huge man paused in his stretching movements and gave the Dire Wolf a somber stare. "I think that is something every man must experience himself to understand. Like the moment when love first stirs your heart or when you lift your newborn son to the sky. The feelings are too strong. Words fail."
"Okay, I'll buy that," Bane said. "I think I've certainly been through a few things that I can't describe."
As Cindy came trotted across the lot toward them, Gilgamesh followed her stride and exhaled deeply. "How I have changed. In the pride of my youth, when I saw a woman as comely as this, I would carry her away and take her by force. I would challenge any warrior who seemed a fit adversary, I would slay many animals with my hands for the thrill. But I am not that same man anymore. My experiences have humbled me."
"Glad to hear it," Cindy commented as she crossed over to the driver's door. "Lay a hand on me and I'll burn your brain out like charcoal."
Once they were past Canoughby, Gilgamesh directed them onto a side road off Route 117. Set back with its macadam parking lot and surrounded by trees was a handsome two story building in red pine with a sign on a post that read STEFANO'S - FINE CUISINE. Plastered over this was a banner, OPENING SOON UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT. One light was on over the patio by the front door, but the building was overwise dark and uninviting. Wrought iron tables and chairs still stood outside.
Before she reached the parking lot, Cindy slowed the car to a halt by the side of the road, with her side of the Mustang facing the restaurant. "Two minds are watching us. One on the roof, lying down, with a short bow. The other one is standing around the corner of the building, stealing a peek. They're Preincarnators, all right. The archer is Welsh, seventeenth century and the other guy is a bandit from northern Mexico, maybe 1840 or so. He's holding a Heckler & Koch."
"Anyone inside?" Bane asked.
"Ummm, yeah, but it's hard to get a reading. They're surrounded by gralic force. I can't pin numbers down but definitely a few more in the place. They're all watching from the windows."
In the passenger seat, the Dire Wolf had drawn his dart gun with its extended needle-thin barrel. "I'd rather be packing my good old Smith and Wesson," he grumbled. "More reliable." With that, he leaped out of the car and plunged between two trees in a blink. Between his all-black outfit and decades of Kumundu training, Bane was difficult to spot at night even when he wasn't trying to go undetected. Emerging on the side away from the restaurant, he vanished like a magic trick.
Cindy swung the car to enter the lot, watching with her telepathy as much as with her eyes. She came to a halt sixty feet from the building's front door. Behind her, a huge bulk squeezed out of the back seat and rose to its full height. Between his massive build and the braided stiff beard, the ancient king was unmistakable. He raised both open hands in a placating gesture and began to march across the parking lot.
The blonde telepath remained where she was, surveying the scene. She felt the activity of the mind she knew best in the world but made no contact with Bane, not taking a chance on distracting him. Cindy concentrated on the bandit behind the building. Abruptly, the man's awareness shut down into unconsciousness. That deep dreamless slumber in his mind was familiar to her and she smiled, knowing Bane had crept up on the Preincarnator and used an anesthetic dart.
VI.
----------------------
[Inside, Gilgamesh finds the cult's lieutenant, Rudy Winslow and a ten-year-old boy. There is no sign of Vidimar. As Bane disposes of the Preincarnation sentries, he enters the building in time to witness Gilgamesh threatening the two.]
"Leave me alone!" shouted the boy. "Don't touch me!'
"By Ishtar Herself, I will shake you as a dog shakes a rat in its jaws!" the giant rumbled. "Where is Vidimar? Speak!"
But Bane interposed himself between Gilgamesh and the child. "Stand down," he said with a deadly calm in his voice. "You're not going to abuse this kid. I don't care if you're supposed to be two-thirds god and one-third gorilla or whatever, you'll have to go through me first."
"I command you to step aside, Dire Wolf! A few slaps or a buffet to the ear is how our young were taught manners. He will learn to respect adults and when to answer questions." Gilgamesh did not step closer, but he drew himself to his full height, seeming to fill the room with menace.
Bane stood where he was, crossed his arms across his chest and drew out two matched throwing daggers. They were short enough to fit on his forearms, with black hilts that had no crossguards, and their blades gleamed as if reflecting searchlights. "There's a better way. Cindy can read his mind without hurting him. She's the best telepath alive. Let's call her to come in."
In reply, the ancient king raised a huge fist and clenched it until it made a crackling noise. "I have spoken! Is my word to be disregarded?"
"Oh, I don't intend to slug it out with you," Bane replied. "I'm sure you're strong and durable enough that I'd break my fists before you killed me. But remember, you are really a modern Human made into a semblance of Gilgamesh by the Preincarnation spell."
"Must we go through that again? Stand aside before I slap you away!"
"These blades are ensalir, silver blessed by the immortal Eldarin," the Dire Wolf replied evenly. "They've killed thousands of supernatural creatures and they'll break the strongest spell..."
That enormous hand swept through the air with a whoosh that ruffled Bane's hair. If it had connected, the Dire Wolf's skull would have been flattened. But Bane crouched and moved in close with the deftness of years of training in footwork. His arms slashed forward and back in an X-shape, then he leaped away out of reach again. Instead of blood gushing out, red gralic force crackled in a haze around Gilgamesh. The massive form shuddered and dwindled, collapsing into the more normal shape of an average-sized man with thinning brown hair and a prominent nose. The Preincarnator dropped straight down to the hardwood floor without being conscious enough to try to break his fall.
"As I was saying, they'll break the strongest spell," Bane continued in the same tone of voice. "But you had to find out for yourself, didn't you?" He gave the unmoving cultist a suspicious scrutiny that was interrupted as his peripheral vision caught movement from one side and he leaped away.
The steel edge of a broadsword whistled through the space where the Dire Wolf had been standing an instant before. This final Preincarnator seemed to be a Norman knight, wearing a mail tunic that reached his knees and a plain steel cap of a helmet with a bar descending to cover his nose. The man was quick and skilled, whipped the sword in an arc that brought it back toward his enemy. Bane hopped to one side, kicking down at the back of the knight's right knee so that leg buckled. As the man tried to keep his balance, the Dire Wolf lunged in and slid the point of one silver dagger under the roughly-trimmed blond hair into the knight's spine right at the base of the neck. Again, there was that gralic discharge and the Preincarnator reverted to his modern form without being killed.
There was no blood on the silver daggers. Bane wheeled around, saw that the cult leader and the child were gone, and immediately dove headlong at the nearby door which had been open a second earlier. He crashed through it, knocking one hinge loose, to find himself outside as a dark green SUV tore off down the road. Even before he could think of chasing it, Cindy swerved up next to him in their Mustang and pushed the passenger door open from inside and he dove in.
"I was following Gilgamesh's thoughts instead of you because I didn't want to risk distracting you," she explained as she peeled out down the side road after the SUV. "I couldn't get a solid connection with the little boy or Winslow, there was too much gralic force around them... HOLD ON!"
With that, she slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel hard, turning the Mustang perpendicular to the narrow road as an explosion cracked deafeningly not ten feet away. Rocks smashed against the driver's window but left only the vaguest spiderweb pattern. They could hear other debris striking the side of the car.
"Oh, my poor little heart is pounding," she complained as she backed the car up and then forward, cranking the steering wheel to get them back on the road correctly again. "Winslow's own brain ratted him out and I knew he was tossing a grenade out the window but there was barely time to react. See that hole in the road right there?"
"Our cars have some armor but it's only intended to stop small-arms fire," Bane said. "If that had detonated against our windshield, we'd be waking up in the ER if at all. Good work, Cin."
"Whew. I guess I'm okay now. I don't have your nerves of steel, ha ha." She tore along and shortly came to a stop where the access road they were on intersected a highway. "I'm afraid I lost mental contact after that grenade business, Jeremy. Left or right?"
"Right, I suppose," he answered. "That leads toward Woodbine. But it's only a guess."
Eventually after an hour of driving, they had to admit they had lost the trail. Cindy retraced their route, still reaching out hopefully with her mind but finding no traces of the enemy. Back at STEFANO'S, they found that the long-closed restaurant was deserted. As they always tried to do, other members of the Preincarnation sect had hurried to cart away their unconscious members. The sole exception was the unremarkable man who had been the semblance of Gilgamesh. He was dead.
"That's odd," Bane said as he knelt over the body. "I know my blades didn't cut him. He should have revived by now as his modern self. I wonder what was different that killed him?"
Moving around the empty room in a search for clues, Cindy paused and gave him a somber gaze. "I think I know. From what I read in his thoughts, Gilgamesh was sincere about not wanting to be brought back to life. He had really come to terms with mortality all those thousands of years ago. I think when he realized he was being reverted from the spell, Gilgamesh decided never to be Preincarnated again."
"So this poor goon is dead," Bane mused. "Too bad for him. I have to admit, Cin, that I'm getting sick of Vidimar sending all these tough guys out of history after us. We had our hands full with Achilles and Prospero, and it was only luck that this Gilgamesh brute didn't stay with the cult. But its funny, I thought Vidimar himself had to be nearby to cast the spell...."
The same thought struck them both simultaneously. "That little boy?" Cindy asked. "Do you think...?"
"Yeah," Bane replied with infinite disgust. "I'll bet anything that he WAS Leopold Vidimar, using the Preincarnation spell on himself for the perfect disguise. And I was defending him!"
9/27/2019
12/11/1997
I.
"Kind of a nippy night out," Cindy Brunner said as she greeted Inspector Klein outside the MILANESE restaurant. Only an inch over five feet tall, the telepath was wearing a quilted black jacket and had most of her dark blonde hair tucked away under a wool hat. She was a pretty young woman with dark blue eyes and a wide smile but the impression most people took away was that she was likeable. Cindy's telepathy gave her a huge advantage in knowing how to react to other peoples' moods. Lightly skimming surface thoughts was enough to cue her responses. Right now, she immediately knew that Harold Klein was tired and grumpy, that his feet hurt and his nose was cold and he was daydreaming about retirement.
"Hiya, Cin," the grizzled old master of homicide investigation replied. He had stayed on past the customary NYPD retirement age because the Commissioner and the Mayor both urged him to remain on duty. He was realistic enough to realize this was not due to he himself being indispensable but because of his relations with Cindy and her partner Jeremy Bane. He could drag them in to handle anything too outrageously weird or inexplicable for standard procedures. "Where's your Dire Wolf?
"Oh, Jeremy is still stuck on the Thruway up past Schenectady," the little blonde replied. "He's probably fuming at missing out. I'll fill him in later. So, what's going on that is so bizarre you were asked to call on us?"
Klein gave his crooked grin and pulled his ancient white raincoat tighter about him. The curly hair was still thick but there was more white than black in it at this point. "You got the situation pegged, kiddo. Step over here, by the side of the building. Three bodies were hauled away from here less than an hour ago, after forensics took a million pictures and measurements. Three adult white males, all death by extreme physical trauma. I'll give ya a copy of all the details but you gotta promise..."
"I know, I know," she said with a grin. "Jeremy and I will destroy the report and swear that we never saw it. In fact, you never gave us any information not available to the public."
"You got it, kid."
She laughed easily. Over the years she had become very comfortable with Klein's gruff avuncular manner. "In fact, I'm not even sure you're here now. Officially, you're probably filling out paperwork at your desk."
"If I had my way!" he grumbled. "I only have a minute before I have ta go but I can tell you that the victims were treated pretty rough. One had an arm pulled off and he bled out, died from shock. Another had the top of his skull flattened straight across. He was lying next to the restaurant. The last one was apparently thrown thirty feet across the lot to break his neck around that lamppost by the sidewalk."
"Yikes," said the little blonde. "A Melgar, maybe. Or a Gelydra. Not too many normal Humans are strong enough to do that against multiple opponents who were presumably fighting back. Any of the victims armed?"
"Okay, that's the second strange aspect," Klein said. He pointed with a stubby finger at two different spots on the courtyard floor. "Right there, CSI found a 19th Century cutlass, like a real no-fooling pirate would use. And over there, they picked up a strangling sash that the Thugs of old India did their killings with."
Cindy folded her arms across an impressive bust ledge, tapped one small foot and made a non-commital sound. "Hmmm..."
"Ah, but that's not the real kicker," continued Klein. "Over here, check out this wall by the window that looks into the kitchen. See this? This round depression about five inches across? Where the bricks are cracked and pushed in?"
"Sure. What's that all about?" She stepped closer. "No, wait, let me figure it out myself. One of the bodies was lying right here, you said. The damage is just about head high for an average man. Oh, Inspector, are you seriously suggesting what I think you are?"
"You guessed it, sweetheart. The crime scene reconstruction boys are still scratching their heads, but me, I have seen some wild shenanigans in the Midnight War. I'm thinking the same thing you are, Cindy."
The telepath got closer, tilting her head as she studied the depression in the wall. "Someone missed with the first punch. This was done by a fist...."
II.
A few minutes before one o'clock, Bane finally made it back to Manhattan. He had parked his Mustang in the small underground garage beneath the KDF headquarters and come upstairs to find that Cindy had made a huge pot of macaroni and cheese with nuggets of hamburger scattered heavily through it as well as finely sliced onions and peppers. As soon as he had appeared in the kitchen doorway, Cindy had waved him to take a seat and placed a heaping plate of the meal in front of him.
At six feet even and one hundred and seventy pounds, Jeremy Bane was lean and hard-muscled but he appeared thin to those who did not know him. His enhanced speed and reflexes had a price. He was always ravenous. Getting a much smaller serving for herself and a glass of cranberry juice, the telepath dropped down on the opposite side of the round table and began to dig in herself at a less impassioned pace.
After a few minutes, the Dire Wolf got up to fill his plate again. Cindy began to relate the scene at the MILANESE restaurant, quoting every sentence spoken by Lt Klein and describing the scene in detail. As Bane came up for air, Cindy handed him her Link showing the image of the depression in the brick wall.
That brought him up short. "Let's think this over. Klein said his CSI techs believed that the killer used bare hands. Bruises were not consistent with a weapon. Going with the idea that the killer wasn't swinging a hammer, then he did this with his fist."
"My first thought was maybe this is a Melgar or a Gelydra?"
"No, I don't think so," Bane said, still studying the image. "Not even Atron could have done this. Cin, this was someone on a level with Sulak or Valera. There's maybe five people in the Midnight War that strong."
"How about Galvan? What has he been up to lately?"
"Oh, Galvan is okay. Maybe a bit boisterous and sometimes hot-tempered, but he's a decent soul. I wonder if Avathor could have stolen enough strength from several Melgarin... No, we have to face it. The sword and the strangling cord left behind, they're the clinchers. We're dealing with Precincarnators, Cin."
"I was afraid of that," she grumbled, pushing her chair back and going over to the stove to get a little more macaroni and cheese. "The last two years, we've tackled one Preincarnator after another, and each is more trouble than the one before." She placed her plate down and took Bane's without being asked to load up a smaller serving. He thanked her as she handed him the plate and sat herself down again.
The Dire Wolf for once paused before eating. Under heavy dark brows, his grey eyes were even more sullen and introspective than usual. "Somehow Vidimar had found a way to expand his Preincarnator spell deeper than before. My God, first we fought Achilles. Then Merlin, then Atalanta. We tackled Prospero and his stooges Ariel and Caliban. And not more than a month ago, we had to deal with Al Aden and the wicked magician and their cobalt lantern and golden ring. But we can't track down Vidimar himself. It's getting on my nerves, to be honest."
Watching her partner take one more grudging mouthful, Cindy Brunner tried to sound casual. "Sure looks like a strongman from mythology or ancient history. I don't know... Hercules? Samson? Cu Chulainn?"
"I've going to have to rely on you when it comes to history and mythology and that sort of thing," Bane managed to say as he chewed angrily. "I never had regular schooling, you know. I grew up on back streets and slept in the shadows as a kid."
Cindy finished her plate and leaned way back in her chair with her hands clasped over her flat tummy as if appalled by how much she had eaten. "I think the onions and peppers makes that much more appealing," she said. "And that was Angus beef with low fat so our arteries are still open a little. Anyway. Jeremy, I didn't quite finish college but I have done a lot of reading about old myths and legends just because I'm interested in them. I can name the Twelve Greek Olympians and their Roman counterparts without taking a breath. You want to know the name of Odin's eight-legged horse?"
"Not unless it's useful for this case," he answered a bit shortly. Bane stood up, gathering the plates and silverware and brought them over to the stainless steel sink in the corner to begin scrubbing. "Right now we have to focus on identifying the killer and finding him."
"He's turned against the cult," Cindy observed. "We've seen that before where weapons or clothing are left behind. If a Preincarnator reverts to his modern self, the items he's not actually in contact with are left behind. Our mystery bruiser seems to have killed a pirate, a Thug and one other cultist."
Coming back over to the table, the Dire Wolf plopped down with a rare show of weariness. He had been on the go for twenty hours straight at that point. "You know, this sure happens to Vidimar a lot. Some of his subjects turn into a character out of the old legends and they keep enough independence that they rebel against Vidimar giving them orders. Our muscleman seems like he fits the pattern."
"Yeah, Vidimar orders, 'Do my bidding, fool!' and Achilles or Beowulf laugh and say right back, 'Who do you think you're talking to, old man?'" Cindy let out a low chuckle. "I guarantee at some point the Preincarnators will bring back a genuine hero from the past and we'll end up with a new ally. Maybe Romal the Mongrel? The Brimstone Kid? Who knows?"
Bane rubbed his unshaven chin and frowned down at the table. "I should start phoning my network of observers. Maybe Bleak has heard something. And we do have a list of people who were on the fringes of the Preincarnation sect. They might give us a clue or two."
"Not tonight, hon." Cindy rose and took one of his hands to pull him up from his chair. "Your voice sounds real tired. Your mind feels foggy. Come on. Early tomorrow morning, your head will be clearer. Upstairs we go. We'll spoon and I guarantee you'll be asleep before the next tick of the clock."
Bane did not resist. "Okay. You're usually, right, Cin."
"Heh, what do you mean, USUALLY?"
III.
At nine the next morning, they set themselves up in the office of the Dire Wolf Agency on the first floor. Not knowing where the day might take her, Cindy dressed a bit more formally than usual in charcoal grey slacks, a white silk blouse with a fine-linked gold chain necklace and a dark jacket. Of course, this outfit had been tailored to conceal most of the usual weapons and gadgets in small hidden pockets and she wore the silk-thin Trom armor under it all. She immediately set herself up at the long leather couch some distance from the desk where Bane took his seat. This was so that their conversations in low tones would not overlap each other.
"Here we go," she chirped with enthusiasm. "Rested, showered and shaved and fully dressed, we're ready to tackle any horrifying nightmares that might get in our way."
Bane's faint smile barely raised the thin lips. He was so deadpan by nature that it took even close associates a long time to read his expressions. "I wrote out two lists of our observers," he said. "Yours is made up of people who've you met in person."
She held up a sheet of typing paper and made a pout. "It's less than a third as long as yours, Jeremy."
"I've been building my contacts a long time," the Dire Wolf said. From the start of his career, he had declined rewards from the grateful people he had aided. Instead, he asked that they keep an eye out for any suspicous events of an unexplainable nature and that they let him know. Having had their own lives or their loved ones rescued from creatures of the night, the observers were more than happy to help out. Of course, there were more mundane stoolies and snitches in the underworld who owed loyalty to cash in the hand, and Bane often found them useful as well. There was a certain overlap between crime and the supernatural.
Using their Links to patch into the phone networks without danger of being traced or overhead, they got to work. The next hours dragged for both of them. Naturally, some of their observers were at work or on vacation and could not be reached without raising suspicions. Most had no information about the Preincarnators, about Leopold Vidimar or about the killings at the MILANESE the night before. As the morning passed, Cindy and Bane both crossed out unhelpful names from the lists in front of them.
They were getting near the ends of their lists when the blonde telepath received a call for a change. She sat up and waved furiously over at Bane. He had finished a call and now he set his Link to listen to hers.
"...So I'm more than a little desperate, you know? I turned Vidimar down when he tried to recruit me. That whole Preincarnation racket scares the hell out of me. I seen it happen. You turn into someone else, someone they say is one of your great-great-grandfathers but who really knows? None of that for me, no way. But I kept in touch with some guys in the cult, sometimes they need a couch to crash on while the cops are lookin' for them, sometimes they need someone to bury something out in the yard, you know?"
"Listen, Mr Neubauer, my partner Jeremy Bane is here now. I'm going to switch you over to him now." Despite her words, all Cindy did was give Bane a thumb's up top indicate he should take over the conversation.
"Pat? Patrick Neubauer? Yes, this is Bane. What are you calling about?" asked the Dire Wolf.
"Hi, yeah, I'm in a tight spot. I have to talk fast. One of the Preincarnators is staying with me, hiding out ya might say, until Vidimar calls for him. Bane, he's the biggest strongest slab of beef you ever saw. He pulled the doorknob right out of the bathroom door easy as you might pull the wrapper off a straw. I'm scared. One careless slap from him and I'm a red splat on the wall.. Wait, he's getting up. I'm at the same place."
With that, the connection broke off. Cindy frowned at her Link, then said, "My powers never work over a phone. Telepathy has to be in person. But if he's not genuinely afraid, he's giving an Academy Award performance."
"Neubauer is not a choir boy, that's for sure. He's done prison time that he deserved, he's been mixed up in slimy rackets." Bane said. "The only good thing I can say about him is that he's more weak than he's evil. He has always gotten talked into crimes for the promise of quick money. He never ever learns."
"And he licks his lips when he sees me." Cindy shuddered visibly. "I don't meant metaphorically, Jeremy, I mean he licks his lips! Like I'm a cheeseburger. Ugh! But I guess he's the lead we're looking for?"
"Yeah. I have his address. You may not like this, Cin. He's holed up in a meat outlet that went out of business."
"A what? A meat outlet?"
"JESSE'S MEAT CENTER sold cheap cuts of meat in bulk to local greasy diners and to the public. Usually it was outdated crap that hadn't always been kept refrigerated. The place racked up lots of violations and a few lawsuits over food poisoning, and they finally went out of business three months ago. Neubauer used to work there, he kept a key and he's squatting in the empty building."
Cindy Brunner caught a swift impression of distaste and anger flitting across the surface of Bane's mind. She shot to her feet, almost kicking over the coffee table in front of her. "What ELSE? What aren't you telling me, hon?"
"It's in Camden, New Jersey."
IV.
An hour later, they were driving along a pothole-plagued road flanked by collapsing abandoned buildings and vacant lots decorated with sparse dead grass and discarded household debris. Ripped-open garbage bags spilling their contents by the side of the road and an occasional stripped car with the hood up and the wheels missing did not improve the scenery. "This is making me miserable big time," Cindy muttered in the passenger seat.
"Not a pretty sight," Bane grudgingly admitted. "We're almost there, if that helps."
"I mean, the two of us have sneaked through actual war zones with bombs falling and people shooting at each other through the rubble," she continued. "We were on the island of Maroch, for crying out loud. We were trapped in Perjena with a thousand Nekrosim chasing after our blood. You'd think this wouldn't bother me. It's just a bad part of a bad town. But I've had to shut my telepathy down. All the hopelessness and anger from the minds here is too depressing to deal with."
Behind the wheel, the Dire Wolf did not comment for a few minutes. "There it is," he said at last and pulled over into a parking lot whose asphalt had cracked to allow weeds to spurt up. A long concrete building had a sign JESSE'S MEAT CENTER, with OPEN TO THE PUBLIC and HOME OF 99 CENT MEAT painted below it. An additional sign added CASH AND CARRY - WE ACCEPT FOOD STAMPS. On the narrow front door, some esoteric gang symbol had been spray painted in ornate swirls. Nailed to the door was a piece of plywood that read simply, CLOSED. Next to the door was a stack of the plastic racks that deliveries had been brought in on.
"Ninety-nine cent meat...." the blonde telepath grumbled as she unhooked her seat belt. "Sounds really tempting."
The slightest hint of an edge came into Bane's voice as he turned off the engine. "Honey, I grew up an orphan. There were nights I would have welcomed that ninety-nine cent meat. I stole food wherever I could find it, and I wasn't above dumpster diving. People without money do what it takes to survive."
"I get it," she sighed. "And I grew up in Bearsville, New York, with a huge back yard and a pool and anything my sister and I asked for for dinner. I guess I am a little spoiled."
"Those guys are looking us over," Bane said, looking across the road. A single house stood by itself with a battered Ford sedan parked by the porch. Paint was peeling off the walls and a pile of beer cans made a pyramid to one side. As the Mustang came to a stop by the Meat Center, five young black men got up from where they had been idling on the porch and seemed to be discussing the situation. They seemed to be only in their late teens or early twenties at the most. A final whiff of burning pot drifted through the air. Forming a loose cluster, they started walking toward the highway with quick eager strides.
"Oh, we don't have time for this nonsense," Cindy snapped. She got out on her side and stood up next to the car. In the clear December sunlight, her dark blonde hair blazed with a red undertone. The telepath gazed directly at the oncoming party and narrowed her eyes. Surprisingly, all five men stopped in their tracks. They hesitated, began to back up, then spun around and sprinted back to the house, moving up across the porch and disappearing inside with a slammed door.
"I sent a wave of instinctive fear into their minds," she explained. "They don't know exactly what scared them, just that they felt they needed to get away. It'll hold for a while."
"Beats having to waste time with a fight," Bane said. He had emerged from the driver's side. His concession to winter was a long cloth coat over his invariable outfit of black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket. In the slight chilly breeze, his short hair ruffled. "Your way, no one gets hurt. Those kids are not our targets."
"Where's this Neubauer guy? I'd just as soon get outta here." She turned in a circle. "Never mind, I'm picking up two minds. One is terrified and confused, not too intelligent to begin with. But the other one... the other one..."
Bane came over to place a hand on her shoulder. "Cin?"
"Definitely a Midnight War denizen. A Preincarnator. He thinks of himself as a king and a god. No, only two-thirds god, it's hard to explain. His mind is brooding about life and death. I'm getting strong, violent thoughts from him but he's not actually malevolent, just brutal and arrogant. Sheesh. Jeremy, I wish we still had Khang with us for encounters like this."
As they turned toward the closed outlet, the telepath pointed at the right corner of the building, where a stack of empty cardboard boxes sagged under the effects of a few rainy nights. "No immediate threat nearby," she said just above a whisper and Bane untensed slightly. Peeking timidly around the edge of the building was a narrow head draped by lank greasy hair and marked by a potato-shaped nose that was more red than the rest of his complexion. He gestured for Bane and Cindy to approach, saying, "I think it's okay."
From behind the building came a deep bass voice with an odd accent. "Approach freely. You will not be harmed."
Bane and Cindy gave each other a look of agreement and walked around to the rear of meat outlet. Here was a waist-high loading dock with a sliding steel door bolted down. A wide seat from a pick-up truck had been salvaged and placed up on concrete blocks to form an impromptu throne. Sitting there was a dark-skinned man with a long black beard that had been arranged in oiled ringlets. He wore a sort of smock and kilt evidently sewn together from white tablecloths because of his size. The man would not stand much over six feet high, but he was incredibly wide and brawny. The hard round muscles on arms and legs looked like rocks covered with skin.
Shrewd black-irised eyes studied the two newcomers before he raised a broad open hand in greeting. "I understand you two are slayers of monsters and demons... as was I. You are granted audience to speak with Gilgamesh."
That name obviously meant nothing to Bane, but Cindy decided there was no harm in showing some respect. She dropped to one knee and said solemnly, "Oh, great Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, first of the cities raised by men, we greet you."
"Rise my child and be at ease," said the giant. He turned those dark eyes toward Bane. Gilgamesh had a hooked nose in a wide deeply-furrowed face, with his jawline concealed by the artifice of the stiff beard. "And you, the Dire Wolf. Speak freely what words you will. The sorcerer named Vidimar spoke of you with open hatred, so I gather you must therefore be a righteous man."
Jeremy Bane stood at ease before the huge man, having spoken with kings of Androval and Signarm, the Emperor of Chujir and the Magistrate of Chyl in his time. "I need to ask what your majesty understands of the current situation?"
Leaning forward, resting his chin on a fist on an arm propped atop his bare knee, Gilgamesh let out a cavernous sigh that could be felt two feet away. "In truth, I am confused and uncertain, although a monarch should not admit such weakness. From what I have been told and what I myself have seen, the empire I ruled fell into dust ages ago. Uruk and its proud Ziggurats are only the stuff of legend now and men think of me as a player in folklore. Well, I take no shame in that. Mountains crumble, rivers go dry, even the mightiest deeds are in time forgotten."
"So, I guess I'll be going then..." began Neubauer, but he stayed where he was after a stern glance from Bane.
"If I might offer a thought, your majesty?" Cindy ventured. "Your tale is far from forgotten. Students and scholars study your epic in great detail, your exploits are reenacted in plays and in new tales. Your story is the earliest written saga to survive. One might say you are the first hero we know of."
"That is a comfort indeed." The giant jabbed a thumb at his own chest, where the pectorals were large and hard as dinner plates. "Still, I understand that this body am not entirely who I feel I am. Vidimar reminds me that I am an echo and a shadow of what he calls the 'true Gilgamesh.' What say you of this?"
Bane took a second to figure out the best way to explain. "Your majesty, it seems that your spirit-- your soul-- has been revived into the body of a modern man. Your spirit transformed that man so that the body you are now inhabiting is identical to your own. Does that make sense?"
"Yes. Hard it is to accept. In truth, I feel no different than I ever did. Every scar, every mole or wrinkle on my hands and limbs are as I remember them. So, tell me my friend, am I truly Gilgamesh or merely a walking mockery of what I was?"
"Welll...." the Dire Wolf replied with unusual tact for him, "That's beyond me. That's a question for someone wiser than myself to answer. I'm a simple fighting man."
The leonine head turned toward Cindy. "And you, my child, what say you?"
"I have been thinking about this for a while," the telepath said. "And my advice would be just to live life. You're here now and you might as well carry on. If you can't see a difference, why worry about it? Do I understand you have rebelled against the warlock who has resurrected you?"
"True words indeed. You know of my life, you say. Since the death of my beloved comrade Enkidu, more dear to me than any other, I was stricken with the realization that all flesh must perish. I sought immortality but failed. In due time, I had to accept our common fate and I strove to be a good ruler that I might leave many monuments and public works behind to be remembered when I died. I found a certain unhappy peace." Gilgamesh sat up straighter, the massive hands clenched into fists bigger than most people's heads. "And now I have been brought back against my will, to struggle and to grieve once more. Vidimar must pay for the blasphemy he has committed against me."
Bane nodded. "He is our enemy, too. His Preincarnators have killed many innocent people."
"I am told you two are warriors of renown, knights of Tel Shai, slayers of monsters and bandits," the giant rumbled. "So be it. You will help me in my parley with the wizard."
"Parley?" asked Cindy.
"I do not seek his death but my own," answered Gilgamesh.
V.
After some tentative discussion with the giant, Bane ushered Neubauer back into the defunct meat outlet. In one corner of the main room was an office which still held a chipped walnut desk and piles of invoices, schedules and other ephemera which had no value to anyone at this late point. A tangle of blankets and pillows showed where the squatter slept. As the four of them entered the darkened room, Cindy placed a small hand on Neubauer's bony shoulder.
"Let me reassure you of a few things," she said in her most soothing manner. "We are going to leave you about five hundred dollars in twenties and fifties. We strongly recommend that you get on a bus and relocate somewhere else. Preferably not in Jersey. You'll have enough to rent a cheap motel room for a few days while you figure out your next move. In any case, you'll be better off than you are now."
"Really? Why, thanks, miss but I don't see why you're being so kind to a miserable old dirtbag like me," he said.
Cindy held his attention by gazing directly into his eyes, something few men minded. "You have to remember this next part when you wake up. You'll feel weak and nauseous for at least an hour, maybe more, but it definitely will pass. Here's a bottle of water, Poland Spring I'm afraid, but sip it slowly and it will help. Also, you may be stiff and achy after sleeping unbroken for ten hours but that will pass as well as you move around."
The man's eyes were bugging out by this time. "I don't understand.. What are you talking about? Why would I sleep for ten hours?"
Then his right arm was seized from behind in a painfully tight grip and the needle of a syringe jabbed into his bicep. In his ear, Bane said, "Sorry about this, Patrick, but we can't trust you. My partner says your mind reveals you're still working for Vidimar. You intend to call him as soon as we leave, hoping for a reward. This enervation drug I've giving you will keep you out of trouble and when you wake up, you even get a chance to start over. You're fading now. There you go."
Carrying the limp form over to the corner of the office, Bane helped Cindy wrap the sleeping man snugly in the blankets and propped up his head with a pillow. "He'll be as safe as he ever was," the telepath remarked happily. "Maybe tomorrow, he'll head out of Camden looking for a better quality hellhole."
Watching with thick arms folded over a barrel chest, Gilgamesh shook his head. "Simpler to give him a wet red smile across his throat, Dire Wolf."
"Yeah, I can't argue with that," Bane admitted. "But we're Tel Shai knights and we have a certain level of ethics we're expected to meet. Let's see if we can get you into my car."
"I AM an imposing specimen," the ancient king agreed with a laugh. "Being two-thirds god and only one-third mortal has that effect."
By the time they were even deeper into Southern Jersey, all three were cranky and uncomfortable. Both front seats had been pulled forward as far as they would go. Being the smaller of the pair, Cindy was driving. Gilgamesh was jammed sideways in the back, knees up by his ears and his complaints grew louder and more pungent as the ride went on.
"If this case looks like it'll go on for a while, we'll definitely lease a van," Bane told the Preincarnator while trying to keep annoyance out of his voice. "Cin, we should get out and stretch before the action starts. Maybe that gas station up ahead?"
"Yeah, a break would do us all good," she said as she hit the blinkers and pulled up to the pumps at a Sunoco station. "First, let me rinse my kidneys." She hopped out and made a straight line to get the key to the bathroom.
Left behind, Bane filled the tank, checked the tires and oil, then wiped the windows inside and out with paper towels. He was compulsive about this procedure, and with good reason. More than once, he had been forced to drive off with gunmen in pursuit and having the car always prepped was essential. The Dire Wolf glanced over to where Gilgamesh stood swinging his arms and flexing to get the kinks out. Cars slowed as they passed to get a better look at the muscular giant.
"So, you spent some time in your culture's Underworld, I guess?" Bane asked. "Can you tell us about the afterlife?"
The huge man paused in his stretching movements and gave the Dire Wolf a somber stare. "I think that is something every man must experience himself to understand. Like the moment when love first stirs your heart or when you lift your newborn son to the sky. The feelings are too strong. Words fail."
"Okay, I'll buy that," Bane said. "I think I've certainly been through a few things that I can't describe."
As Cindy came trotted across the lot toward them, Gilgamesh followed her stride and exhaled deeply. "How I have changed. In the pride of my youth, when I saw a woman as comely as this, I would carry her away and take her by force. I would challenge any warrior who seemed a fit adversary, I would slay many animals with my hands for the thrill. But I am not that same man anymore. My experiences have humbled me."
"Glad to hear it," Cindy commented as she crossed over to the driver's door. "Lay a hand on me and I'll burn your brain out like charcoal."
Once they were past Canoughby, Gilgamesh directed them onto a side road off Route 117. Set back with its macadam parking lot and surrounded by trees was a handsome two story building in red pine with a sign on a post that read STEFANO'S - FINE CUISINE. Plastered over this was a banner, OPENING SOON UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT. One light was on over the patio by the front door, but the building was overwise dark and uninviting. Wrought iron tables and chairs still stood outside.
Before she reached the parking lot, Cindy slowed the car to a halt by the side of the road, with her side of the Mustang facing the restaurant. "Two minds are watching us. One on the roof, lying down, with a short bow. The other one is standing around the corner of the building, stealing a peek. They're Preincarnators, all right. The archer is Welsh, seventeenth century and the other guy is a bandit from northern Mexico, maybe 1840 or so. He's holding a Heckler & Koch."
"Anyone inside?" Bane asked.
"Ummm, yeah, but it's hard to get a reading. They're surrounded by gralic force. I can't pin numbers down but definitely a few more in the place. They're all watching from the windows."
In the passenger seat, the Dire Wolf had drawn his dart gun with its extended needle-thin barrel. "I'd rather be packing my good old Smith and Wesson," he grumbled. "More reliable." With that, he leaped out of the car and plunged between two trees in a blink. Between his all-black outfit and decades of Kumundu training, Bane was difficult to spot at night even when he wasn't trying to go undetected. Emerging on the side away from the restaurant, he vanished like a magic trick.
Cindy swung the car to enter the lot, watching with her telepathy as much as with her eyes. She came to a halt sixty feet from the building's front door. Behind her, a huge bulk squeezed out of the back seat and rose to its full height. Between his massive build and the braided stiff beard, the ancient king was unmistakable. He raised both open hands in a placating gesture and began to march across the parking lot.
The blonde telepath remained where she was, surveying the scene. She felt the activity of the mind she knew best in the world but made no contact with Bane, not taking a chance on distracting him. Cindy concentrated on the bandit behind the building. Abruptly, the man's awareness shut down into unconsciousness. That deep dreamless slumber in his mind was familiar to her and she smiled, knowing Bane had crept up on the Preincarnator and used an anesthetic dart.
VI.
----------------------
[Inside, Gilgamesh finds the cult's lieutenant, Rudy Winslow and a ten-year-old boy. There is no sign of Vidimar. As Bane disposes of the Preincarnation sentries, he enters the building in time to witness Gilgamesh threatening the two.]
"Leave me alone!" shouted the boy. "Don't touch me!'
"By Ishtar Herself, I will shake you as a dog shakes a rat in its jaws!" the giant rumbled. "Where is Vidimar? Speak!"
But Bane interposed himself between Gilgamesh and the child. "Stand down," he said with a deadly calm in his voice. "You're not going to abuse this kid. I don't care if you're supposed to be two-thirds god and one-third gorilla or whatever, you'll have to go through me first."
"I command you to step aside, Dire Wolf! A few slaps or a buffet to the ear is how our young were taught manners. He will learn to respect adults and when to answer questions." Gilgamesh did not step closer, but he drew himself to his full height, seeming to fill the room with menace.
Bane stood where he was, crossed his arms across his chest and drew out two matched throwing daggers. They were short enough to fit on his forearms, with black hilts that had no crossguards, and their blades gleamed as if reflecting searchlights. "There's a better way. Cindy can read his mind without hurting him. She's the best telepath alive. Let's call her to come in."
In reply, the ancient king raised a huge fist and clenched it until it made a crackling noise. "I have spoken! Is my word to be disregarded?"
"Oh, I don't intend to slug it out with you," Bane replied. "I'm sure you're strong and durable enough that I'd break my fists before you killed me. But remember, you are really a modern Human made into a semblance of Gilgamesh by the Preincarnation spell."
"Must we go through that again? Stand aside before I slap you away!"
"These blades are ensalir, silver blessed by the immortal Eldarin," the Dire Wolf replied evenly. "They've killed thousands of supernatural creatures and they'll break the strongest spell..."
That enormous hand swept through the air with a whoosh that ruffled Bane's hair. If it had connected, the Dire Wolf's skull would have been flattened. But Bane crouched and moved in close with the deftness of years of training in footwork. His arms slashed forward and back in an X-shape, then he leaped away out of reach again. Instead of blood gushing out, red gralic force crackled in a haze around Gilgamesh. The massive form shuddered and dwindled, collapsing into the more normal shape of an average-sized man with thinning brown hair and a prominent nose. The Preincarnator dropped straight down to the hardwood floor without being conscious enough to try to break his fall.
"As I was saying, they'll break the strongest spell," Bane continued in the same tone of voice. "But you had to find out for yourself, didn't you?" He gave the unmoving cultist a suspicious scrutiny that was interrupted as his peripheral vision caught movement from one side and he leaped away.
The steel edge of a broadsword whistled through the space where the Dire Wolf had been standing an instant before. This final Preincarnator seemed to be a Norman knight, wearing a mail tunic that reached his knees and a plain steel cap of a helmet with a bar descending to cover his nose. The man was quick and skilled, whipped the sword in an arc that brought it back toward his enemy. Bane hopped to one side, kicking down at the back of the knight's right knee so that leg buckled. As the man tried to keep his balance, the Dire Wolf lunged in and slid the point of one silver dagger under the roughly-trimmed blond hair into the knight's spine right at the base of the neck. Again, there was that gralic discharge and the Preincarnator reverted to his modern form without being killed.
There was no blood on the silver daggers. Bane wheeled around, saw that the cult leader and the child were gone, and immediately dove headlong at the nearby door which had been open a second earlier. He crashed through it, knocking one hinge loose, to find himself outside as a dark green SUV tore off down the road. Even before he could think of chasing it, Cindy swerved up next to him in their Mustang and pushed the passenger door open from inside and he dove in.
"I was following Gilgamesh's thoughts instead of you because I didn't want to risk distracting you," she explained as she peeled out down the side road after the SUV. "I couldn't get a solid connection with the little boy or Winslow, there was too much gralic force around them... HOLD ON!"
With that, she slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel hard, turning the Mustang perpendicular to the narrow road as an explosion cracked deafeningly not ten feet away. Rocks smashed against the driver's window but left only the vaguest spiderweb pattern. They could hear other debris striking the side of the car.
"Oh, my poor little heart is pounding," she complained as she backed the car up and then forward, cranking the steering wheel to get them back on the road correctly again. "Winslow's own brain ratted him out and I knew he was tossing a grenade out the window but there was barely time to react. See that hole in the road right there?"
"Our cars have some armor but it's only intended to stop small-arms fire," Bane said. "If that had detonated against our windshield, we'd be waking up in the ER if at all. Good work, Cin."
"Whew. I guess I'm okay now. I don't have your nerves of steel, ha ha." She tore along and shortly came to a stop where the access road they were on intersected a highway. "I'm afraid I lost mental contact after that grenade business, Jeremy. Left or right?"
"Right, I suppose," he answered. "That leads toward Woodbine. But it's only a guess."
Eventually after an hour of driving, they had to admit they had lost the trail. Cindy retraced their route, still reaching out hopefully with her mind but finding no traces of the enemy. Back at STEFANO'S, they found that the long-closed restaurant was deserted. As they always tried to do, other members of the Preincarnation sect had hurried to cart away their unconscious members. The sole exception was the unremarkable man who had been the semblance of Gilgamesh. He was dead.
"That's odd," Bane said as he knelt over the body. "I know my blades didn't cut him. He should have revived by now as his modern self. I wonder what was different that killed him?"
Moving around the empty room in a search for clues, Cindy paused and gave him a somber gaze. "I think I know. From what I read in his thoughts, Gilgamesh was sincere about not wanting to be brought back to life. He had really come to terms with mortality all those thousands of years ago. I think when he realized he was being reverted from the spell, Gilgamesh decided never to be Preincarnated again."
"So this poor goon is dead," Bane mused. "Too bad for him. I have to admit, Cin, that I'm getting sick of Vidimar sending all these tough guys out of history after us. We had our hands full with Achilles and Prospero, and it was only luck that this Gilgamesh brute didn't stay with the cult. But its funny, I thought Vidimar himself had to be nearby to cast the spell...."
The same thought struck them both simultaneously. "That little boy?" Cindy asked. "Do you think...?"
"Yeah," Bane replied with infinite disgust. "I'll bet anything that he WAS Leopold Vidimar, using the Preincarnation spell on himself for the perfect disguise. And I was defending him!"
9/27/2019
