“You can’t have the Afterlife Recording!” Bettie said firmly to Ace. “We got there first.”
Ace looked at the cowboy next to him. “If she speaks again, kill her.”
Bettie’s mouth opened wide, outraged, and I clapped a hand across it and hauled her back. Ace didn’t look like he was kidding to me. Thirteen combat sorcerers in one room can do pretty much whatever they feel like doing. But, on the other hand, I had a reputation to maintain…So I looked Alex in the eye and gave him my best disapproving stare.
“Now that was just plain rude,” I said. “And if you threaten to kill me…I will smite the lot of you. Right here and now.”
There was a pause, and the thirteen combat sorcerers looked at me uncertainly. With anyone else, they’d have dismissed it immediately as just talk. But I was John Taylor…
“Bettie Divine is under my protection,” I said. “Along with everyone else in this bar. Very definitely including Pen Donavon. So you can all get your redneck wannabe big bad selves out of here, before I decide to do something quite appallingly nasty to you.”
The combat sorcerers looked at each other, and then at their leader. Their magical guns or fingers were all pointing at the floor. And then Ace smiled at me and laughed softly, and just like that the mood was broken.
“Never make a threat you can’t back up,” he said.
Ace pointed his conceptual gun at the drunk sorcerer, still out cold despite all the drama going on around him. A tired old man, who might or might not have done a terrible thing in his younger days. Ace shot him three times, his pointed finger unwavering even as the invisible bullets punched large bloody holes in the sleeping man. Thallassa’s body jumped and jerked under the impact of the bullets, but he never made a sound. He just lay where he was, slumped across his table, as the blood ran out of him. Murdered, for no reason he would ever know. Ace laughed briefly and turned back to me.
“Boys,” he said, “kill everyone in this place except for Pen Donavon.” He smiled at Bettie. “Sorry, sweetie. Just business. You know how it is.”
“You little shit,” Bettie said defiantly. “And I do mean little, Trevor. I’ve had more fun with a toothpick.”
Women always fight dirty.
Ace pointed his finger at her. “Shut up and die, will you?”
“Not in my bar,” said Alex. He produced a pump-action shotgun from under the bar, and when Ace turned to look, Alex shot him in the face. Ace was thrown backwards, blasted right off his feet, crashing into the cowboys behind him, who made shocked, startled noises. Alex worked the pump action, and all the combat sorcerers stood very still.
“Wow,” I said. “Hard core, Alex.”
He shrugged modestly. “Suzie left this behind, one night. Always thought it would come in handy one day. I loaded it with silver bullets, dipped in holy water, and blessed by a wandering god. I could shoot the head off a golem with this. And if golems had other things, I could shoot them off, too.”
“You know,” said Bettie, “I think I’d be rather more impressed if Trevor wasn’t getting up again.”
We looked round. Ace was already back on his feet, apparently entirely unaffected. Apart from the really pissed-off look on his face.
“Oh, shit,” said Alex, putting down the shotgun. “Guys, you’re on your own. If you want me, I’ll be hiding behind the bar, whimpering and wetting myself.”
“Really?” said Bettie, not bothering to hide her disappointment in him.
“Hell no,” said Alex. “This is my bar! It’s bad enough that the whole world conspires against me, messes with my beer and puts my vulture up the duff, without having a bunch of refugees from an S&M march walking in here like they own the place. And Thallassa hadn’t even paid for his drinks yet, you bastards! You owe me money!” He vaulted over the bar, holding a glowing cricket bat. “Merlin made this for me, sometime back. For when you really, absolutely have to take out the trash.”
“Alex,” I said. “This isn’t like you. It’s an improvement, but it isn’t like you.”
“My new girl-friend’s upstairs,” said Alex. “Probably watching on the monitors. You know how it is when you’ve got a new girl. You end up doing all kinds of stupid things.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know how it is.”
“Is that it?” said Ace, smiling. “A glow-in-the-dark cricket bat?”
“No,” said Alex. “Oh, girls!”
And Alex’s two large, muscular, body-building bouncers, Betty and Lucy Coltrane, came charging in from the back of the bar and threw themselves at the startled combat sorcerers. They ploughed right into the group before the cowboys even had time to react, knocking them arse over tit and kicking them while they were down, in the fine old tradition of bouncers everywhere. Alex hit the group a moment later, swinging his cricket bat with both hands as though it were a long sword. He smashed faces and broke bones, and the cowboys fell back, crying out in shock and distress. None of them had prepared for an irate bartender armed with a weapon enchanted by Merlin Satanspawn. The glowing cricket bat smashed through their magical defences like they weren’t even there. Tougher magical shields flared up here and there, as some of the combat sorcerers got their act together enough to ward off the Coltranes, but the girls just dodged around the shields to get at those cowboys who weren’t protected. Shrill cries of pain and anguish filled the air.
I said Ace’s name, and when he turned to look at me I threw a handful of pepper into his face. An attack so basic and physical his magical shields couldn’t do a thing to prevent it. He howled piteously, scrabbling at his tearing eyes with both hands. I kicked him in the nuts, and he folded up and fell to the floor. Top-rank combat sorcerer, my arse. Try having assassins at your throat and at your back ever since you were a small child and see what that does to your survival skills.
Some of the combat sorcerers got past their shock and surprise and charged up their amulets and charms. They fired spells in all directions, and everyone ducked for cover. I looked around for Pen Donavon, just in time to see him diving behind the bar. Best place for him. Then I had to throw myself to one side as an energy bolt seared through the air where I’d been a moment before. It hit the long wooden bar and cracked it from end to end. I winced. I knew I was going to end up paying for that. Betty and Lucy Coltrane were ducking and dodging, avoiding fireballs and transformation spells and conceptual bullets from all directions at once. They were fast on their feet for their size, but they couldn’t protect themselves and press the fight at the same time.
Sparks flew from Alex’s cricket bat as he clubbed his way through the cowboys before him. They blasted him with destructive spells at point-blank range, but the magic Merlin had built into the bat reflected the spells right back at their source. As a result, lightning bolts flashed back and forth across the bar, bouncing off magical shields and doing extensive damage to the bar’s fixtures and fittings. Magical bullets ricocheted, punching holes in the walls and ceiling. And two rather surprised-looking toads blinked at each other from piles of cowboy clothes before reappearing as themselves again.
Meanwhile, I had my own problem. Ace was getting up again. I picked up a handy chair and hit him over the head with it. I’m a great one for tradition. But the chair didn’t break, and Ace didn’t go down. So much for Hollywood. I dropped the chair and looked around for something else to hit him with. Preferably something with big jaggedy edges. I saw one of the combat sorcerers grab Bettie by the arm and pull her to him. I think he intended to use her as a human shield, or as a way to get to me. He really should have known better. He pointed his shimmering gun at her, and she smiled dazzlingly at him. He hesitated, and was lost. He stood where he was, unmoving, fascinated. Bettie’s mother was a lust demon, and had passed on some of her deadly glamour to her daughter. Bettie held the cowboy’s eyes with hers, fished in her bag, brought out her Mace, and let him have it. He fell to the floor, writhing and howling, and clawing at his eyes with both hands.
And to think I’d been a bit worried that she might not fit in with my friends.
While I was distracted, Ace hit me with a transformation spell. I cried out in shock as the spell crawled all over me, cramping my muscles and coursing through my neural system. Pain bent me in two, and sweat dripped from my face. I could feel my skin stretching and distorting, trying to find a new shape. Discharging energies spat and crackled around me, but for all its power, the spell couldn’t find a foothold in me. Slowly, I straightened up again, fighting back the effects of the spell, throwing it off through sheer force of will. I smiled slowly at Ace, a cold and nasty death’s-head grin, and he fell back a pace as the last of his spell fell away from me, defeated.
“So,” he said harshly. “It’s true. You’re not human. That spell would have worked on any man.”
“A man might have shown you mercy,” I said. “But we’re beyond that now.”
He thrust his conceptual gun in my face. I grabbed his pointing finger and broke it. And while he was
