Protector Unmatched, page 22
Several of the humans put up a fight, but the moment one of Zoltan’s underlings drew a dagger and flashed it, the humans became more docile than house pets. Weaklings. No wonder they had to dress up and pretend to be somebody else, somebody stronger.
“The Darth Vader costume for you, oh Great One?” Wilson, a short, stocky demon, asked, offering Zoltan the costume.
He stared at it. “A bit on the nose, don’t you think?” He didn’t see himself as a villain. He was a hero. And a hero needed a hero’s costume. He pointed to the lone Batman, who was still wearing his costume. “I’ll be Batman.” The mask would hide Zoltan’s face from those Stealth Guardians who might recognize him. Besides, who would assume that Zoltan, the Great One, would dress up as the crime-fighting Dark Knight? The character suited him. A playboy, a philanthropist, a rich man. He could be all that.
“Good choice, oh Great One.” Wilson was already marching toward the man, who quickly started taking off the costume, his hands visibly shaking, his face a mask of fear.
Zoltan chuckled to himself and started dressing in the black garb. The costume pinched a little in the crotch and around the shoulders, but luckily, the full-body suit wasn’t made of hardened rubber, but of a softer, stretchable material. It would also make it easier for him to move during a fight, should it come to that.
It took all of fifteen minutes to strip all passengers of their costumes and entrance tickets and for the demons to tie them and the bus driver up and lock them in a shipping container inside the warehouse. It took another ten minutes for all demons to be dressed in those costumes that fit their body type. Luckily, the costumes of the Wookiees and Klingons were the easiest to suit the demons, though several had managed to don the uniforms of the Stormtroopers, and one had decided to be Darth Vader, another Spider-Man. The Stormtroopers and Darth Vader wouldn’t have to worry about their green eyes. They were hidden behind their face masks. And the Wookiees and Klingons could get away with green eyes. People would assume they’d taken liberties with the costumes. Nobody would suspect them. Zoltan’s own demon eyes were hidden behind colored lenses, which would be good for another six to eight hours. Sufficient time to find the current owner of the source dagger and take it off him.
“Ready?”
All nodded.
“Then get on the bus. We’ve got a cosplay convention to go to.”
~ ~ ~
“Thanks so much, Claus. You have no idea how much you’re helping us,” Daphne said, and shook her hacker friend’s hand. They were in the VIP lobby of the convention center in downtown L.A. Claus had handed them their tickets and ushered them past security with little more than a wink and a nod at the stern-looking guards.
It was loud in the lobby, the constant music and announcements from the main hall reaching into this smaller space. Daphne could only imagine how loud it had to be in the hall itself.
Claus, a tall guy with untamed blond hair that hung down to his shoulders, wore a Yoda costume, his employee badge prominently displayed on a lanyard around his neck. She’d always seen him as something like an older brother and was relieved that he had been able to help.
“Don’t mention it,” he said, and leaned closer. “I mean it. Don’t mention it.”
Daphne understood, and she had no intention of getting him into trouble. “You’re the best.” She hugged him quickly.
“Enjoy the event,” he said, and nodded at the men and women Daphne had in tow. “All of you. Make sure you don’t lose your tickets if you want to come back for the second day. I can’t replace them. I mean that.”
Next to her, Pearce said, “Not a problem. Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver.” How true Pearce’s words were, Claus could never imagine.
Daphne folded out the map Claus had handed her. Each section of the exhibition hall was color-coded to make it easier for the visitors to find what they were looking for. She nodded to Pearce.
“Okay, listen up,” Pearce said. “Each team takes a sector. Manus, Ryder, you guys have sector red. Hamish and Thomas, you’ll do green. Aiden and Yvette, you comb through sector blue. Logan and Gabriel, you’ll get sector orange. Enya, you’ll take Grayson and Patrick and search sector gray. And Zane, Daphne, and I will be in sector pink.”
Everybody nodded.
“I’m assuming there’ll be plenty of guys dressed up as Indiana Jones. Make sure to get a good look at his face first to identify him. If necessary, just go up to him and ask him a random question. I’m sure the people here are all about connecting with one another. Use that to your advantage. Once you find him, use your communication device to call for backup. Then stall. Follow him, and if you have a good opportunity to get his dagger, take it. If not, wait for backup, and we’ll create a diversion. Understood?”
“Don’t worry, we got it,” Grayson said. “Let’s go already.”
Pearce rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, and a special rule for Grayson. Don’t be a hero.”
Several of the men chuckled. Daphne had a hard time suppressing a laugh. Grayson was overeager, and she knew that such eagerness could lead to carelessness. And no matter how harmless the convention was, it gave too many people too many places to hide. If the demons had found out about James Harcott, they could easily be planning an ambush. That was why Pearce had drilled into them to remain inconspicuous and not draw attention on themselves.
“Let’s roll,” Pearce said.
Daphne met his eyes. “We can do this.”
34
Pearce rubbed his neck. It was getting warmer and warmer in the convention hall. Despite the large air-conditioning ducts that ran along the high ceiling and blasted cool air into the space, he felt the heat under his heavy costume. He’d already shucked the cape that came with his outfit and tossed it behind a display. He didn’t care if he ever found it again. He could only imagine how Zane had to feel inside the Stormtrooper costume.
At least Daphne was dressed properly for the temperature in the hall. Her skimpy outfit exposed more than just a little bit of skin. Her arms were bare except for the brass-colored braces around her forearms. Her knee-high boots were sexy as hell, and her upper body was encased in a figure-hugging bustier that left little to the imagination. She was carrying a round shield, and inside it, Pearce had taped a Stealth Guardian dagger—just in case she needed to defend herself.
He trusted in her love for him that she wouldn’t kill him with it, despite the fact that she looked exactly how Winter had seen her in her vision. He could have told Daphne about that particular detail, but what purpose would it have served? He’d done everything in his power to change the vision. Now it was up to higher powers to decide his fate.
His earpiece suddenly crackled. “Damn it, the connection is so bad in here,” he said to Zane and Daphne.
“Depends on where in the hall you are,” Zane said, his voice muffled behind the mask. “I heard Gabriel come in loud and clear earlier.”
“Hey, guys, it’s Manus,” Pearce finally heard through the communications device.
“I can hear you now, Manus. What’s up? Any sightings?”
“I’m afraid so,” Manus said.
Daphne shot Pearce a concerned look. She, too, wore a communications device in her ear and was listening in on the conversation.
“What’s wrong?” Pearce asked.
“Ryder and I found a body. Indiana Jones.”
“Oh fuck!” Pearce cursed. “And the dagger? Is it gone?”
“Yeah, but it couldn’t have been the source dagger,” Manus reported. “The dead guy isn’t James Harcott, although he’s of similar height, same hair color, you know. But I found his driver’s license. It’s definitely not him.”
Pearce let out a sigh of relief, even though he felt guilty doing so. An innocent had died. “How was he killed? Could it have been an accident?”
“No way. Stabbed in the heart. Probably died instantly.”
“Demons?”
“That’s my guess.”
“Shit,” Pearce said, and more curses from the rest of the team filtered through his earpiece, some louder and clearer than others.
“What now?” Daphne asked, a fearful look on her face. “Are they gonna kill every guy dressed as Indiana Jones?”
Pearce looked at her, but had no comforting words. “Listen, everybody. We’ve gotta step up our efforts. We’ve gotta find this guy before the demons do.”
“We’re doing what we can,” Gabriel said through the earpiece. Then something crackled again, and Gabriel said, “I can’t hear myself think over that fucking music.”
“You and me both, bro,” Thomas replied. “We’re heading for the Indiana Jones exhibit in sector green again. Maybe he’s hanging out there. They’re having a mock fight scheduled in a few minutes. Perhaps Harcott will be watching it. We’ll report back shortly.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” Pearce said, and motioned to Daphne and Zane. “Okay, then, let’s comb through the sector again. He has to be somewhere.”
This was the third round they’d made in their assigned sector. They’d spotted everybody, from the Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, and the Incredibles, to Iron Man, a whole throng of Klingons, and various anime characters. They’d even encountered a few men dressed as Indiana Jones, but one of them had been black, and they knew Harcott was Caucasian, and the other two had been Japanese.
“Oh shit!” Zane said, and pointed to a spot in the crowd.
Pearce’s gaze shot to it. “Fuck!”
There, at the edge of an exhibit displaying bobbleheads of characters from Star Trek, two men were fighting. One of them was Indiana Jones, the other Chewbacca.
“Mock fight?” Daphne asked.
“If it is, it looks a little too real,” Zane said, already heading that way.
“Quickly,” Pearce said, and rushed after him, Daphne in tow.
Spectators were already forming a ring around the two fighters. Chewbacca was armed with a knife or dagger, though Pearce couldn’t get a good look at it, while Indiana Jones was trying to use his whip to fend off the creature—with little success. This Indiana Jones had no idea how to use a bullwhip.
“Shit, I can smell him,” Zane said when they were only a few yards away from the two. “The Chewbacca is a demon.”
“Fuck!” Pearce cursed and pulled his dagger from its sheath.
Pearce was already pushing people aside to get through the crowd, much to the chagrin of several onlookers, who cursed him out. Zane also charged through the throng to reach the demon who was trying to kill Indiana Jones in plain sight.
Pearce finally made it through the crowd and charged at Chewbacca, tackling him to the ground. When the creature fell flat on his back and stared up at him in utter surprise, his demon-green eyes blinked. Zane had smelled right: the guy was a demon.
Cheers erupted behind Pearce, then suddenly a bullwhip cracked next to his head.
“Hey, that’s my fight!” It appeared Indiana Jones didn’t want to stop fighting, unaware that Pearce was trying to save his life.
The second’s distraction gave the demon enough time to toss Pearce off and catapult him into the display of bobbleheads.
There was clapping all around. The Wookiee had fans in the audience.
“Team Chewie!” somebody yelled from the crowd.
Pearce jumped up and lunged toward Chewbacca once more. He managed to grip the demon by the shaggy hair of his costume, and jerked him back, just as Zane jumped between the creature and Indiana Jones and plunged a dagger into the demon.
“Ohhhh!”
“Noooo!”
“Yay!”
Cries of various sentiments, from joy to disappointment, accompanied the killing of the demon. When he fell to the ground, green blood spurting from the mortal wound, people started clapping, while others booed.
“Wookiees don’t have green blood,” one bystander said.
“So lame,” another added.
“These mock fights are totally unrealistic,” a visitor in a Klingon costume huffed.
Pearce ignored the comments and turned to where he’d seen Indiana Jones last. The guy was rolling up his bullwhip and giving him an annoyed look. He wasn’t Harcott. Just another innocent.
“I totally had this, dude,” Indiana Jones said with an angry look at Zane and Pearce. “You’re such spoilsports.” He turned away to merge into the crowd.
“Yeah, you’re welcome!” Pearce called after him. “Ungrateful little shit!”
Zane put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get upset. He’s oblivious. It’s better that way.”
They made their way back to where Daphne was waiting for them.
“You both were amazing,” she said with a proud smile. Then she motioned to where the dead Chewbacca lay. “What about the body?”
Pearce shrugged. “Nothing we can do about that. They’ll eventually figure out he’s really dead and not just playing dead. With some luck, it’ll take a while.” He wiped the sweat off his face. “I need some water.”
Daphne motioned to one of the walls. “I saw some water fountains and vending machines over there earlier.”
“Good, thanks.” Pearce took her hand and started walking toward the area.
Zane marched next to them and, in passing, casually wiped his bloody dagger on a dark blue drape separating various exhibits.
“I hate demon blood,” he said. “Tastes like warmed-up shit.”
“Amen to that, bro,” Pearce said. Then he pointed to the wall. “There are the water fountains.”
“I’m thirsty too, but I’ll get some from the vending machine,” Daphne said, and turned her head to the side. Then she stopped in her tracks.
“What?” Pearce asked.
Daphne pointed to the right. “Harcott. He’s going into the bathroom.”
Pearce followed her outstretched finger and saw a man dressed in an Indiana Jones costume disappear in the men’s room. “Are you sure it’s him?”
Daphne nodded. “I saw his face. It’s him.”
“Let’s go get him.” He was already pulling Daphne with him toward the entrance of the men’s room.
“I can’t, Pearce. It’s a men’s room.” She pointed to Zane. “You and Zane have to go. I’ll stay here.”
For a second, Pearce hesitated. But he knew she was right. He and Zane had to follow Harcott. “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere.”
Via his communications device, he alerted the rest of the team. “We spotted Harcott. He’s in the men’s room in sector pink.” There was more crackling in his ear, but he couldn’t worry about that now. “Zane, let’s go.”
35
Anxiously, Daphne watched Pearce and Zane disappear in the men’s room. Finally, they were making progress. Now all the guys needed to do was to convince Harcott to hand over the dagger. Pearce had told her that should he refuse, they had several options, one of which was to offer him twice the money he’d paid for it at auction. The other options he hadn’t elaborated on.
Still thirsty, Daphne headed for the vending machines, which were only a few feet away from the entrance to the men’s room. She was already at the machine that sold water bottles when she realized that because her costume had no pockets, she wasn’t carrying any money on her.
“Damn!” she said, and turned to look where the water fountain was located. She had just spotted it when she saw a man in an Indiana Jones costume come out of a door with the sign Men on it. She stared at his face. It was James Harcott.
Daphne looked over her shoulder to the spot where Zane and Pearce had entered the men’s room. It clicked immediately. This bathroom was so large that it had two entrances. And Harcott had just slipped out from the opposite one.
“Pearce, Zane, he’s out of the bathroom,” Daphne said hurriedly via the communications device in her ear. There was static again, more crackling. “Damn it, can you hear me? Pearce? Harcott has left the bathroom. We’re losing him.”
But there was no reply. For a moment, she contemplated running into the men’s bathroom, but it would mean losing sight of Harcott. And once he mingled with the crowd, she’d never find him again. No, she couldn’t wait for Pearce and Zane. She had to hope that as she moved around the hall, somebody from a different team would hear her and help her chase down Harcott.
“Shit!” She hurried in the direction Harcott was heading. “I’m going after him. If anybody can hear me, I’m in sector pink, leaving the men’s room behind me. I’m following Harcott.”
She had to pick up the pace, because Harcott was already turning into one of the aisles lined with various booths of gadgets and memorabilia. Ahead of her, a mob was forming around a group of celebrities, and Daphne saw that the real Khal Drogo was greeting fans and joking with his costars.
At any other time, she would have joined in the fun, but there were more important things on her agenda today than meeting movie stars. She couldn’t lose Harcott.
“Daphne?” A crackling voice suddenly came through her earpiece.
“This is Daphne. Who’s this?” she asked.
“Enya. I’m with Grayson and Ryder. Did you say…” There was more static, then a clear word: “Harcott?”
“Yes, yes, I’m following him.” She looked at the number of the nearest booth she was walking by. “Still in sector pink, just passing exhibit K1560. Did you get that?”
Drums coming from somewhere to her left drowned out Enya’s response.
“Say again?”
But she couldn’t hear anything, so she repeated her location, hoping that somebody had understood it, while she kept her eyes on Indiana Jones. “Heading down aisle K toward the lower numbers; should be getting close to sector gray or green. I think.”
When Harcott finally veered to the left and walked into a short alleyway that appeared to be reserved for exhibitors and was off-limits to visitors, she had no choice but to follow him.
“Hey, lady, no access here,” a guy looking like a security guard called out to her.
