Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) (15 page)

"If you only want a bodyguard, you should hire the other one," Glinda snorted and turned back to Erland. "If you want to stay alive, you will hire me."

* * *

"I will not pay this much—this is an outrage," Erland slammed his fist on the desk after reading the latest demand from Divil San Gerxon. Glinda had been hired and had served as his bodyguard for two days before San Gerxon's next message arrived.

"Would you like him dispatched, Lord Erland?" Glinda asked quietly from her chair in Erland's office. She'd moved the chair to the corner facing the door, in case anyone came in who wasn't invited.

"I can't kill him now—I'd be the prime suspect," Erland grumbled. "While Arvil, Divil's brother wouldn't mind taking his brother's empire, nobody wants to see what Arvil will do to show his strength against his brother's assassin."

"So it's to keep him in power because we know him, rather than opening the way for his next of kin?"

"Exactly. The Divil you know is better than the Arvil you don't," Erland quipped. "I'm amazed I don't have a continuous headache over this idiocy," Erland rubbed his forehead as if it pained him.

"You'll be attacked again, then," Glinda said, pulling a comp-vid from a jacket pocket and thumbing through information. "I think you can negotiate the amount—I believe others have."

"I've asked, and without placing a truth spell on someone, which would reveal my warlock status, I won't get to the truth. All of them lie to me."

"I can tell when they're lying," she shrugged and pocketed the comp-vid.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Erland lifted a dark eyebrow in speculation. In his experience, no woman had gotten this close to him and failed to stare incessantly at his beauty. Even those who preferred other women stared. His new bodyguard steadfastly ignored him unless he spoke.

"You can try it," she responded.

"Baxter," Erland shouted.

"Lord Morphis?" Baxter poked his head in the door.

"Invite our fellow casino owners to a party. Extend an invitation to Master San Gerxon as well. My bodyguard claims she can tell truth from a lie. We'll test that theory," Erland offered a lovely (if somewhat doubtful) smile to Glinda.

* * *

"You're wearing that?" Erland studied Glinda's clothing—she was dressed in black leather pants, boots and a black silk shirt. The shirt was the only thing that didn't look as if she were prepared for a fight. Her knife, which she insisted on carrying, was clipped to the back waistband of her pants.

"I have a matching leather jacket," Glinda said. "I intend to protect you, Lord Morphis, whether you desire that or not."

"I imagined that someone as becoming as you might want to dress a little better for a party," Erland coaxed.

"I do my job. I don't attend parties for the usual reasons."

"I don't suppose I might convince you otherwise? The San Gerxon brothers might be swayed by your beauty long enough for me to ask discreet questions elsewhere."

"I don't do that. It plainly states on our agreement that there will be no sex, flirting or anything that might be construed as such."

"At least take your hair out of that ridiculous braid—your hair is an unusual color and I imagine many would admire it if you showed it to your best advantage."

"The best advantage is keeping it where it is," Glinda replied coolly. "It stays in a braid."

"Very well," Erland grumbled. "Are you ready? It's time we made our entrance."

* * *

"Ah, Master San Gerxon," Erland waved a hand expansively. "Please, have a drink." He gestured toward a waiter making rounds through the gathering crowd.

"Who is this?" Divil San Gerxon stepped toward Glinda, who stood at Erland's elbow.

"My bodyguard," Erland smiled and nodded.

"I admire your ability to choose such an effective employee," Divil responded, his voice smoothly contemptuous.

Lie
, Glinda sent mindspeech to Erland.

Erland betrayed no surprise as he thanked Divil.
You have mindspeech?
He hissed in return.

Yes. I know you have it too, as you are what you are
.

"Master San Gerxon," Erland said, ignoring Glinda's response, "I'd like to arrange a meeting with you to discuss ah, our working relationship here on Campiaa."

"I'd be happy to talk with you. Are you available tomorrow morning? We can meet at my home at ten bells."

He's not happy to meet with you
, Glinda reported.
That part was a lie
.

I got that already
, Erland huffed.
Stop stating the obvious
.

I can hit you over the head with it instead
; Glinda's reply was calmly disrespectful. Erland grinned at Glinda's response and offered his hand to San Gerxon.

"Bring your bodyguard," Divil flung over his shoulder as he walked away. Erland lifted an eyebrow—two warlocks he didn't recognize peeled away from the crowd and followed discreetly behind Divil.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Erland pulled a protective vest on before slipping into a dress shirt. Glinda watched as he fastened buttons quickly. "I hate wearing these things," he grumbled.

"I can't protect you from projectiles or weapon blasts. I can protect you from power," she said. "If you're foolish enough to stand in front of a disruptor, I may not be able to move swiftly enough to save your life. That holds true with any bodyguard, no matter how strong or multiple-armed he or she may be."

"That four-armed behemoth looked much more impressive than a minuscule woman with a knife," Erland pointed out.

"I don't need any other weapon," Glinda said. "You'll see."

"What will I see?"

"You'll be late if you keep talking instead of dressing. I hear it's raining, too."

"I heard that as well. Come along," Erland mumbled, grabbing a jacket and heading for the door.

* * *

"Ah, Master Morphis, how nice to see you," Divil's greeting was expansive as Erland and Glinda were shown into his private study.

Lie
, Glinda responded.

I know that
, Erland said, shaking Divil's proffered hand.

You keep an eye on San Gerxon. I'll watch the warlocks in the corner
, Glinda replied.

You know they're warlocks?

I listen to rumors and gossip. I know what's true and what isn't
.

"Please, sit," Divil offered guest chairs as he rounded the corner of his desk. Erland sat; Glinda remained standing behind his chair.

"Now, what sort of business did you wish to discuss?" Divil sat and steepled his fingers while studying Erland expectantly.

"I'd like to negotiate the percentage you ah, expect from me," Erland began.

"I don't negotiate."

Lie
.

"Come now," Erland said. "My casino hasn't been open long. Thirty percent is quite steep for a new business. Surely you realize that initial profits must be reinvested in the business in order to make it successful. Taxes take another twenty percent, which cuts into any earnings dramatically. My business could fail quickly, given that sort of burden."

"There are those who would leap at the opportunity to fill any void you leave behind, Master Morphis," Divil's response was cold. "I suggest you leave now and consider how you might meet your obligations. I assume you realized there would be obligations when you constructed your casino?"

"I knew there would be some, yes. Yet you failed to make them known until I opened my doors to the gamblers."

"Why frighten away business?" Divil studied his fingernails.

"What if I refuse to pay?" Erland said.

"Are you prepared for what might happen?" Divil answered Erland's question with his own.

"If I must," Erland's anger became evident as he stood stiffly. "I'm willing to pay ten percent. Nothing more. Take it or not."

"Ferth," Divil snapped. One of the warlocks in the corner moved as his command.

"Stay where you are," Glinda's knife was at the warlock's throat before he could blink or call up a spell.

"You think that knife will do anything against a warlock?" the second moved in and raised his hands to launch a power blast. He was left staring at his hands as the power blast missed Glinda and blew a hole in the wall of Divil's study twenty feet away.

"Please, remain calm," Erland held up his hands as Divil drew a Ranos pistol from a desk drawer.

"Fire that and you die," Glinda hissed at Divil while knocking the first warlock's head into the wall, rendering him unconscious. "You wish to be next?" she lifted a delicate eyebrow at the second warlock.

The second power blast he sent was deflected, blowing out the large window behind Divil's desk and spraying glass across the front lawn of Divil's palace.

Divil turned his Ranos pistol toward Glinda. Erland shouted.

Glinda changed.

Divil screamed as the fifteen-foot, white-scaled demoness backhanded him, knocking him through the doorway of his study and into the hallway beyond.

The second warlock, terrified, jumped through the open space where the window used to be before folding space on his way down. He'd discovered he couldn't use that ability in such close proximity to a High Demon.

"That was interesting," Erland muttered, moving toward the gaping hole and glancing downward. Several guards stood below, afraid to fire. They could see Glinda easily, as large as she was.

To impress them, Glinda unfurled her wings and stretched them lazily in Campiaa's morning light.

I believe Master San Gerxon may be waking
, Glinda sent to Erland.

"Let's go, then," Erland nodded.

We'll do this first
, Glinda replied, placing a hand on the wall above the doorway and pushing. The wall fell, crashing around Divil as he struggled to rise.

"Ten percent," Glinda's Thifilatha leaned down and lifted the Ranos pistol from the floor beside Divil. "Nothing more."

"Y-yes," Divil's voice quavered as he nodded.

"And don't try this again." Glinda crushed the pistol in her hand and dropped it beside Divil. "Lord Morphis, are you ready?" she asked politely, turning to Erland.

"Very much so," Erland nodded.

"Good." Glinda lifted him carefully and launched herself from Divil's study, flying toward Erland's casino at the end of Campiaa's half-moon bay.

* * *

"What in the Dark Realm is that?" Baxter breathed as he and Templir watched Glinda's Thifilatha stride through Erland's casino, bearing Lord Morphis carefully in large, white-scaled arms.

"I believe you'd call that a bodyguard," Templir slapped Baxter's back and laughed.

CANCELLATION

Note: This story is about the Mayan calendar and the supposed end of the world. Perhaps this is the reason we're not all hip-deep in oblivion right now.

"Has that calendar expired already?" G stared at a copy of the thing. It wasn't something he studied often, but it did look good on the wall.

"It's about to. Just as well—they misinterpreted most of it anyway. Come on—not washing or combing your hair on certain days? What does that have to do with anything?" J gave G a puzzled frown.

"You should have realized how superstitious they were," G replied, tapping his forehead. J nodded sagely at G's observation.

"What do you think we should do?" J asked. He knew his assignment—he was supposed to go back. Not because G demanded it—the people had a written mandate. It didn't seem to matter that they'd written the mandate themselves—J was obligated simply because he hadn't said no.

"I know what you're thinking," G said.

"You always do," J grumbled.

"Is that any way to act?"

"I wasn’t acting, I was thinking. Don't you have a dictionary?"

"I stopped using paper years ago. Bad for the environment." G did enjoy his debates.

"What about that library of books you still own?" J had hands on hips, pretending indignation. Most people never suspected he actually had a sense of humor.

"Well, I can't just throw everything out. What good would that do?"

"Yet you tossed away the dictionary," J rolled his eyes.

"Along with a few other things cluttering the shelves," G nodded. "I'm the boss. I decide what stays and what goes."

"What did you keep, then?" J asked. "The records holding all the lies?"

"For your information, and you can verify this yourself, I didn't keep those, either. I got tired of keeping track of all that. You know—the wars and the killings, the stupid laws and the killings, the lists of kings, despots, tyrants, dictators, bullies, autocrats and their killings—you see I kept the thesaurus, don't you?" G was smiling, now.

"You always loved words," J acknowledged.

"Nobody talks anymore—have you noticed?" G sighed. "They want to kill anybody who disagrees with them. They only surround themselves with the ones who think exactly as they do, to bolster their own views. If you go, the ones who say they know you best will recognize you least."

"I know," J agreed. "But I feel I should."

"This is my suggestion, then," G offered. "Wait three days. See how you feel then."

"All right, I'll wait three days. It's not like I haven't done it before."

"I still am at a loss to explain that," G said. "And I generally understand all your motives."

* * *

Three Days Later

"Did you decide?" G casually browsed the titles in his library. He'd just placed a new book on the shelf, hoping J hadn't noticed.

"Yes. You're right, as usual—I did some observing."

"And?" G held off on smiling.

"I'm canceling—I've decided to go elsewhere and spend a little time."

"Are you going back after that?"

"I don't think so. It's a hopeless cause, I imagine. They'll have to work this out among themselves. I'm washing my hands of them."

"Somebody did the same for you, as I recall."

"One of them," J nodded. "I'm off. I'll see you when I get back."

"Have a good time, son." G ran a hand over the new book on his shelf as his only begotten child disappeared. The title of the book appeared in gold leaf beneath his fingers as he traced the spine.
The Fall of the Human Race
unfolded before his eyes.