The Power of Ten, Book Three : The Human Race

“As long as it generates Naming Karma, I’m game... or if it’s a Good Thing to do.”

The fire burned over his shoulder blankly, his version of a sigh. PRETTY MUCH NOTHING CALLS ON ME TO DO SOMETHING THAT ISN’T VIOLENT, UNLESS I’M GOING TO STICK AROUND A WHILE, AT WHICH POINT IT’LL JUST FILL UP MY TIME WITH ANYTHING FOR BUSYWORK.

“The perils of being motile and horribly proficient at your job,” I agreed, swinging onto Sleipner first. An actual courier would transport the books we’d found to Heavenbound Hall, where the allied churches enjoyed universal access to its archives. The rest that had not been sent off with the Mick had first been offered to the church’s own collection, and those they passed on had simply been incinerated by Master Fred.

While I wasn’t a big fan of book-burning, I’d effectively read each and every one of those books, and the world wasn’t going to miss any of the revelations concealed within them, that was certain.

IF EXPERIENCE IS ANY GUIDE, YOUNGTOWN AND WARREN WILL HAVE SOMETHING FOR ME TO DO, AS WILL CANTON AND AKRON, IF NOT VERY IMPORTANT TASKS... USUALLY. THE CITIES AROUND DETROIT TEND TO HAVE MORE CITYBOUND, AND IF THOSE CAN’T HANDLE TASKS, THEY USUALLY KNOW WHO TO CONTACT TO DEAL WITH THEM. CITIES HAVING TO RELY ON A WANDERER LIKE ME TEND TO BE A LITTLE PUT OUT.

“Yeah, not being able to take care of yourself and having to rely on a wandering doctor would be annoying,” I agreed, putting on the helmet he gave me. “On the other side, it’s the smaller communities that don’t have that level of protection who are most likely to be targeted by things they can’t handle.”

YES, THE DETERRENT OF HAVING ACTIVE CITYBOUND ABLE TO CALL IN A HIT SQUAD IS SURPRISINGLY EFFECTIVE AGAINST A LOT OF CREATURES, ESPECIALLY THE FEY, AND EVEN SOME OF THE DRUIDIC ELEMENTS.

“Making them prime targets to take out in the event of conflict, yes. I imagine many of them wish they had your phone number.”

A smiley face popped up in the flames. HOW TRUE! THEY DO, HOWEVER, MAKE SURE I HAVE THEIRS, JUST IN CASE I’M BORED...

I thought about that. “Well, then, how about we plan ahead a little bit. If we call up their Citybound, we’ll waste less time setting up anything we have to do, right?”

-------

Master Fred burst out with his Wrath, and his Angel Weight flared, reaching out and cancelling flying magic all around him.

The screeching horse-headed, bat-winged creatures with green-scaled kangaroo legs was beating for the sky, and shrieked really loudly as suddenly it couldn’t warp the laws of aerodynamics, and began to fall from the sky. It really was unnaturally strong, and managed to sort of plummet-glide down, keeping its leathery wings stiff, but it was much too big to actually handle its own weight if physics applied.

It was ten feet from the ground when my Shards slammed into it.

Blasted sideways by the impacts of my Weaponized spell, the thing wasn’t prepared to land properly, and slammed down badly. I heard the crack as it broke a leg, then snapped a wing as it rolled and tumbled badly several times.

Fred’s Grit flared a couple times, only a zipping sound and no crack as he fired into the bulk of the thing, adding to its woes.

It obviously had fast healing, getting to its feet as its leg snapped back into place with a jerk and pull of its hands. Its wing was dragging as it looked back at us charging in, shrieked again, and then turned around.

Sleipner slammed directly into its chest, alicorn leading the way, and blew it back off its feet. A murderous front wheel revved, meat flew as the thing was buzzsawed, and then a Grit round found the creature’s head and ended its shrieking completely.

I flipped a Dart to clean Sleipner’s wheels as I trotted up on the thing. “Okay, I’m clueless. What is this?”

A JERSEY DEVIL. I blinked. YEAH, THEY HAVE BEEN SPREADING WEST FROM THE MANHATTAN SHROUDZONE. FLIERS ARE PAINS TO CATCH AND NAB, SO THE BOUNTY HUNTERS TEND TO NOT WASTE TIME ON THEM.

ON THE FLIP SIDE, WE CAN CLAIM THE BOUNTY FOR THEM, AND IT’S ABOVE AVERAGE BECAUSE THEY ARE RUNNERS.

“And sell the carcass,” I sighed. “Okay, let’s bleed the thing; the blood is overall the easiest to sell. Ask Gregorigori if the local alchemists want the carcass, haggle a price with them, and can get a retrieval team here to grab it.”

ON IT.

We were in a copse of woods on the outskirts of Warren, where this winged brown-furred, green-scaled creature had hidden and was raiding the area at night. It might have grabbed a bum, but had actually been spotted making off with a large dog it had torn apart, obviously for dinner. Finding it had been a case of getting the general area from the town and stalking it, as it hadn’t bothered to leave when nobody had chased it, and instead just holed up at night.

Just more Karma on the stack... and an Aberrant Baneskull, if it’s physiology meant anything...

--------

The slender, trench-coated figure was thirty feet in the air when the hurtling trashcan interrupted its snickering laugh with a crash and really threw off its airy gracefulness.

When Sleipner melted out of the shadows and came up on one wheel to meet it as it was flipping over and coming down awkwardly, its eternal smirk was a bit forced.

The alicorn impaled it, and it sprawled across the front of the motorbike, a hatchet-faced, bloody-eyed, long-nosed bastard with a genetic smile permanently twisting its face, clutching a long razor that was dripping blood in its hand.

It looked at the seven Shards rotating in front of its eyeballs, the holy light nearly blinding it... and then the vivic fire sparked between the rotating array.

I watched the pupils in its eyes narrow to pinpricks. Its default grin finally started to distort in panic when I brought Clavus down on its narrow head, the Shards converged, and its brains went away explosively.

The impact knocked the corpse with the flaming skull back against the fence of the alleyway, rattling it, but it didn’t break.

Master Fred came trotting up to watch it burn. He could have matched the thing’s jumping shenanigans, but that was what friends were for.

WHAT DOES VIVUS DO TO FEY?, he asked, flicking his wrist, and Idiot chopped off the head.

Baneskulls don’t make themselves, and I needed Fey...

“Feeds all their accumulated power to the Land before sending them back into the incarnation cycle. If they come back as fey, they get to start all over as pixies or sprites or something, with no memories of their prior selves... or they finally get recycled as part of the mortal incarnation cycle.”

MMM. He walked over, and picked up that foot-long straight razor, which had claimed the lives of four people in Youngstown.

A Spring-Heeled Jack was a born serial killer, living for the fear and terror of the kill, glorying in its own reputation as it claimed victim after victim. As a fey, it didn’t really need to fear being killed, just having to wait in dreamtime until it incarnated again... maybe with only ghosts of its own memories left, but once again able to set out and kill.

The shadows nearby popped out a thin man in a leather jacket, clutching a .45 nervously, and looking quite relieved when he saw the Jack’s now headless corpse burning away. “Man, you are good,” Cooper Wrigsley said to Master Fred, a lot more respectfully than he had half an hour ago. He’d been quite disturbed a wandering Citybound Warlock was messing around on his turf, and that his city had even asked for some help... but he had already run away from the Jack once, and wasn’t a match for it in close combat at all.

The corpse was missing an arm... or rather, Master Fred had thrown the missing limb atop the corpse to burn. The Jack had cut him a few times with the Razor it had been wielding, and then Master Fred had relieved him of the limb. The Razor had flashed to the other arm as the Fey started jumping away, and things had ended here.

The cuts across Fred’s chest and throat were healing rapidly with gentle golden flames.

“We’ll burn the Razor and feed it to the Baneskull,” I said, taking advantage of doubled Karma at the ironic use of the thing. Master Fred nodded, while the Citybound looked on enviously. I glanced at Warlock Wrigsley. “Please contact the appropriate parties and let them know the city’s Warlocks have dealt with the serial killer.”

He looked at me, thought for a moment, and realized I was giving him a way to save face and spin the credit. Things would hear, and while some wouldn’t care, it would give pause to others.

The city had its pride, too. “You don’t want to be mentioned?” he asked sharply.

“I’m not a Warlock for the city, am I?” I asked rhetorically, and he smiled gratefully.

“Thanks. I won’t forget it.” I inclined my head at his reply, and he pulled out his phone and began to make some calls.

Master Fred retrieved the trashcan and the trash it had scattered about to put back where it belonged... I was amused, until I realized the city was probably nudging him to not contribute to littering...

------

We hadn’t sold the corpse, leaving it to be reduced to white dust, but the Jack’s Razor was worth more than any reward the city was going to offer, so it was moot, and the grinning skull was worth our time. I drew up the Investment Pattern with his help, and bloody flames burned in golden fire as the echoes of the dead were seared away from the gleaming metal, and all its power was taken away and put into the horrible antithesis of it that was a Baneskull to the Fey. Horrors!... or just desserts, as it were.

If the Jack had been around, he definitely would have been pissed. No, maybe amused. But if it had been, this wouldn’t have been possible, as its spirit would have recalled the Razor. Too bad, so sad.

WHAT WAS TONIGHT’S CLASS?, he asked, aware that every Dark Renewal I was getting that little bit stronger.

“Melee/1!” I replied firmly. I waved Clavus, still in jo form. “I can actually wave a staff around somewhat proficiently now!”

He glanced back in faint amusement, as ever. YOU ARE EXPECTING TO GET INTO MELEE?, he asked.

“I’m of the opinion that a lot of the enemy’s melee fighters will want me to, and I’m not the sort to not be prepared.”

Especially when I could channel a Shard spell through Clavus as a touch attack version for up to 7d8+20 damage base, and really let them know that getting into combat with me wasn’t a good idea.

My other focus had been on getting Toughness started. I needed more Health and Soak, and that never went away. Slowly but surely, improving it all...

Cover Your Weakness had given a boost to my lowest Stats, taking my Strength, Charisma, Wisdom, and Constitution up by +1 each, Sustained Effort doing its thing to make me better.

So, now I was slightly stronger than an average woman. Yay, me.

At the same time, the Athletics Ranks from Archer and Melee Levels meant that I was indeed seriously toned and in great shape right now. Master Fred hadn’t really noticed it, as I didn’t make a habit of stripping so people could see the changes, and I didn’t have a lot of skin showing. Nevertheless, I was moving more easily and in control, was more naturally coordinated, and generally able to get around more easily and not tire out so easily.

Day by day, the long slog...