Thursday, February 28, 2013

Mysterious Ways 1 - Michael A. Stackpole

"I’d always known this day would come. I’d kind of visualized it differently. In my fantasy, it was at midnight, with a bunch of peasants doing the whole pitchfork and torch thing outside the big, wrought-iron gates. And they had scythes, too—scythes are a must with these rabble-gone-wild things. That works in the whole Grim Reaper factor. It’s tough to feel threatened without it. Unfortunately, what we had were retirees in shorts, sandals and t-shirts, or their Sunday-go-to-meeting best, marching mid-morning in the dust by Casa Chaos’ wrought-iron front gate. Off-key hymns replaced the requisite rumble of voices. Instead of farm tools we had placards. The best read, “Bloodstone is Satan’s Minion.” On a scale of one to sharp scythe, that’s pretty pathetic. Bloodstone’s reaction was a bit better. “Minion, minion? Bah. I am no one’s minion.” He tried to sound gravely offended, but he didn’t even sneer when he said it. Even his heart wasn’t in it. But, because I am a minion, when the gate intercom buzzed, I answered it. The hymns could not drown out a soft alto voice. “We’re here to see Dr. Bloodstone. Sara Piper and Julia Ellswood.”" 4 out of 5