Protector Unmatched, page 23
She spun around and flashed her VIP pass. “I’m with Jason Momoa’s group,” she lied. “He needs, uh, something from his bag.” She was already continuing down the aisle, and it looked like the guy was gonna stop her, but then a clearly drunk Captain America crashed into a display and distracted the guard.
Daphne sighed in relief and continued down the aisle until it connected with the next row of exhibits. There, she stopped and let her gaze roam to the left and right. Where had Harcott gone? A movement ahead of her made her snap her eyes to it. Harcott. He stepped over a cordon and continued walking down the narrow way behind the exhibits.
“What the fuck are you doing, Harcott?” she murmured to herself, and followed him until the walkway ended. They were behind a stage. She’d seen it on the map earlier. It was located in the very center of the hall. She knew from previous cosplay conventions that the main stage was generally used for interviews with stars, mock fights, and acrobatics, as well as pyrotechnic shows. It wasn’t unheard of that die-hard fans would try to sneak backstage to get up close and personal with their idols. And Harcott was no different. He knew the drill, and had figured out how to get close.
“Hey, Indy,” she called out to him.
Harcott whirled his head to her. For a second, he looked stunned, then he shifted into a casual pose. “Wonder Woman. What’s up?”
She walked up to him. “Just wondering. Is this the way to get backstage where the stars are hanging out?”
He shrugged. “Oh, is that what this is?”
“Oh, please, don’t play innocent with me. You know we’re at the north side of the main stage.” She hoped her communications device would transmit her location to whoever could hear her. “You’re trying to sneak back there, aren’t you?” She chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna rat you out. I’m doing the same thing.”
He relaxed and grinned. “Who do you wanna see most?”
“Oh, you know, I love ’em all.” She glanced at his belt, where next to the whip, a fancy dagger was sheathed. Emblazoned on the handle were the same symbols as she’d seen on the daggers the Stealth Guardians wielded.
Harcott pulled the curtain apart and motioned for her to follow him. “Well, then let’s not waste any time. The show is gonna start in fifteen minutes.”
“Not for you, it won’t.”
Daphne spun to her left, where the voice had come from, and felt Harcott do the same. In the darkness of the backstage area, it took her more than a second to make out the figure that had addressed them. But finally she saw him: Batman. And at his belt sat an ancient dagger.
“Hand over the dagger, boy, and I’ll let you live,” Batman demanded.
Daphne snatched Harcott’s arm. “Run! James, run!”
~ ~ ~
Zane next to him, Pearce charged into the direction of the main stage in the hall. He’d finally picked up Daphne’s communication. While in the restroom looking for Harcott, neither he nor Zane had been able to hear anything over the static in their earpieces. And a run-in with another man dressed as Indiana Jones had cost them valuable seconds.
Fear for Daphne made his heartbeat spike and his legs work harder to get to her in time. “Daphne, we’re coming,” he kept repeating into the microphone, but he wasn’t getting a response. The last thing he’d been able to make out from her was her command for Harcott to run. It could only mean one thing. But he couldn’t go down that road. No, he had to concentrate on getting to Daphne before it was too late.
“All teams to the north side of the main stage,” Zane said for the second time.
Somebody whose voice Pearce didn’t recognize over the loud music said, “ETA ninety seconds.”
One more row of exhibits, and the alley that led alongside the back of the main stage opened up to their left. Pearce charge into it, Zane on his heels. As soon as he saw a spot where the dark blue curtains surrounding the entire stage were overlapping, he pulled them apart and slipped inside. It was darker here. Stage lights were affixed on a scaffold farther in, and ropes hung down to presumably operate the curtains and lights and move other stage equipment. Various crates and boxes were scattered around haphazardly. From the stage itself, some light filtered through to the back.
Pearce pushed another curtain aside, then shock made his blood freeze in his veins. Daphne was shielding herself and Indiana Jones with Wonder Woman’s shield, while Indiana Jones lashed his bullwhip against their aggressor: Batman. Daphne’s arm was bleeding from a knife wound, and her earpiece was tangled up in her hair, explaining why she hadn’t answered him.
“He reeks of demon,” Zane said with disgust.
Pearce was already charging toward them, Zane in step with him. They lunged over a wooden bench in their way, but a movement to Pearce’s left made him snap his head toward it. Just in time, or the Klingon with the green eyes running toward him would have driven his dagger into him.
“Demons!” Pearce yelled out, having spotted a Chewbacca following the Klingon, and pivoted, gripping his dagger tighter.
“We’ll be there in a sec,” Gabriel’s voice suddenly came through his earpiece loud and clear.
Pearce ducked to the side just as the Klingon tried to stab his dagger into Pearce’s torso, and managed to kick his opponent into the side, making him lose his balance, while Zane already engaged the Chewbacca in a fight. While the Klingon gained his balance again, Pearce managed to cast a look at Daphne. She was using the shield to ward off the demon’s blows, and was losing her grip. Indiana Jones did the best he could, and though his skills with the bullwhip were remarkable, they were no match for the demon’s strength.
Suddenly the curtains moved, and Pearce was already sighing in relief, but more green-eyed Chewbaccas and Klingons stormed in.
“Shit! Reinforcements, damn it, where are you?” Pearce yelled in the mic, while lunging for the Klingon who stood between him and Batman.
“We’re here,” Enya’s voice sounded in his ear.
The blue of her dress whooshed by his right, as she was barreling toward the Wookiees and Klingons that had just joined them, and jumped over a couple of crates. Superman and Aquaman, the two hybrids, whizzed by him on the other side, attacking the demons.
Pearce punched the Klingon in his way, but the bastard was strong and didn’t even seem to feel the blow. Just beyond him, he saw Harcott stumble backward over a wooden crate and roll out of the protective huddle he’d formed with Daphne. Batman rushed toward him.
“Shit!” Pearce had to get to Harcott before Batman did.
Pearce kicked the Klingon again, and this time the beast swayed a little. Just then, Pearce saw Darth Vader approach from his left.
“Take care of him, Gabriel!” Pearce called out, and headed to the right, where he saw Batman reaching for Harcott’s belt. “The dagger!”
Somebody pulled him back and swung him around: Darth Vader. “Gabriel? What the—”
Darth Vader stabbed his dagger into Pearce’s chest. All air rushed from his lungs. With disbelief, he stared at the dark garb, then, as he slid down, he saw the chest. No pink ribbon. This wasn’t Gabriel. “Fuck…”
He crashed to the floor and turned his head to where Daphne had so valiantly defended Harcott. She was still there, still holding the shield. And she stared at Batman, who was now holding the source dagger in his hand.
Pearce reached out. “Daphne, the dagger. Get the…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, didn’t have the strength for it. His vision became blurry, his brain fuzzy. And he was cold, so cold. He knew what it meant. Still, he tried to fight it. “The dagger, Daphne…” He needed to explain it. Needed to tell her. But his virta was slowly seeping from him like the blood that was soaking his costume.
~ ~ ~
Daphne whirled her head to where, despite the loud music, she’d heard her name being called. Her heart stopped beating. Pearce lay bleeding from a chest wound, leaning against a small crate, his hand stretched out as if reaching for her, his face white as a sheet.
“No!” she screamed. This couldn’t be happening.
The dagger, Daphne…
She could clearly hear his words repeating in her head.
She jumped up, her heart pulling her in Pearce’s direction, her head steering her the other way, toward Batman, who’d overpowered Harcott. Batman’s back was already to her as he was heading away from the battle, the prized source dagger in his hand.
“Fuck!” she cursed. All Stealth Guardians and vampires were engaged fighting a demon, or even two. And nobody was following Batman. She had to do something.
She was still holding her shield and was about to pull out the dagger Pearce had taped to its back when she had a better idea. She held the shield with both hands, then twisted it, dropped her left hand, and untwisted with her right, aiming for Batman’s back as if she were throwing a Frisbee. A rather large Frisbee. It whizzed through the air and hit Batman squarely in the back of his knees.
He tumbled forward and hit the wooden floor of the stage with a thud. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harcott getting up.
“Your whip, James,” she yelled at him, and pointed to Batman. “Use it!”
Harcott understood immediately, grabbed his whip, and ran toward Batman, snapping it as he approached to stop the demon hiding behind the mask from fleeing. Daphne barreled toward him from a forty-five-degree angle, but Spider-Man, who’d come out of nowhere, blocked her.
Something blue entered her field of vision from the left, and a split second later, Enya was tackling the demon to the ground. “Get the dagger, Daphne!” she yelled while she traded blows with Spider-Man.
Daphne jumped over a low crate in her way. Only three more yards and she reached her shield. She snatched it from the floor. Just in time, because Batman was getting to his feet again, the source dagger still in his hand and now aimed it at her.
“James! Now!” she called out, hoping Harcott’s skills with the whip were as good as he’d shown earlier.
The whip cracked through the air, its tip snapping just outside her shield and wrapping around Batman’s wrist, jerking it back. The motion made the demon lose the dagger. It clattered to the floor, slithering toward a Wookiee with green eyes. With Batman trying to free himself from the bullwhip around his wrist, Daphne knew she didn’t have much time. She tossed her shield at Batman and dove for the dagger, sliding on the floor, her hands stretched out. Her hand found purchase around the weapon’s hilt, just as a Wookiee lunged for her. She made a half turn, her dagger arm in front of her, and scrambled to jump up.
The Wookiee couldn’t stop his forward motion. The impact drove the dagger into his chest. All Daphne could do was hold on to it and twist it, as the creature froze in mid-motion and stared at her in disbelief. Then she felt the warmth of his blood run over her fingers. With her free hand, she pushed against him, and the hairy creature fell backward.
The bloody dagger in her hand, she pivoted and saw a clear path to where Pearce lay wounded. She raced toward him, praying, hoping that it wasn’t too late. When she reached him, the battle still raging around her, she fell to her knees.
“Pearce, oh God, please don’t leave me.”
His lids fluttered, and his lips moved. “Daphne…”
“I have the dagger. I have the source dagger. What do I do now? Pearce? What do I do?”
He managed to open his eyes, but she wasn’t sure he could even see her. His gaze didn’t meet hers. “Stab me with it…” His voice was so weak that she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him right.
She wiped the dagger on his clothes, cleaning off the demon blood. “Are you sure? But you’re…” She could see it: he was dying. He was taking his last breath. “Oh God.”
“Do it, Daphne. Do it.”
Tears clouding her vision, she gripped the dagger tightly in her right hand. It trembled. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t cause the man she loved even more pain.
“Do it,” he mumbled.
Tears streaming down her face, she plunged the dagger into his existing wound and let out a sob. She looked at Pearce’s face. His eyes had fallen shut again, and his head rolled to the side.
“No!” she screamed between sobs. “No! Pearce, no!” She reached for his cheek, bending over him, but then she felt heat emanate from his chest wound. Stunned, she drew back and saw light stream from the source dagger into Pearce’s body. And slowly, as if by magic, Pearce’s body expelled the dagger, pushed it out of the wound until it dropped flat onto his torso.
With a gasp, Pearce drew in a breath and opened his eyes. “Daphne.”
She threw her arms around him, tears streaming down her face, but now they were tears of joy. “You’re alive.”
“The vision came true, but we had it all wrong.” Winter’s vision hadn’t revealed that Daphne had stabbed him with the source dagger, the only weapon that could save a Stealth Guardian’s life. “I should have known that you were meant to save me all along.” He kissed her.
Applause erupted, pulling them apart. Daphne spun her head in the direction it was coming from and stared at the audience assembled in front of the main stage. At some point during the battle, somebody had lifted the curtain. How much the audience had witnessed, she didn’t know.
“Shit,” Pearce said.
Daphne looked around. Several of the demons were dead. Others stood there, frozen, distracted by the applause. Batman was gone. Suddenly, a demon at the edge of the stage made a movement with his hand and conjured a vortex, a swirling mass of fog and smoke, and jumped into it. The remaining demons rushed toward it, grabbing their dead cohorts on the way, and jumped after him, before the Stealth Guardians and the vampires could stop them.
More applause erupted. The audience cheered loudly, clearly impressed.
“Curtain!” somebody yelled. A moment later, the curtain closed.
Daphne let out a sigh of relief. Pearce clutched the dagger and stood up, then gave her a hand to help her up, while the rest of the gang crowded around them.
“What now?” Daphne asked, motioning in the direction of the audience. “They saw everything. You’re exposed.”
Manus, in his Wolverine costume, said, “We were lucky that this is a stage, and the people think this was a show.”
“But we’d better get out of here now, before people catch on,” Pearce said, and took Daphne’s hand.
From the corner of her eye, she saw James Harcott approach. He looked a little shaken. “Hey, what was all this?”
Without flinching, Pearce turned to him and shook his hand. “Mr. Harcott, congratulations on winning the audience participation slot in our mock fight. You were outstanding!”
Harcott hesitated, then started smiling. “I was?”
“Are you kidding me?” Pearce patted him on the shoulder. “The way you cracked that bullwhip! I don’t think we’ve ever seen an audience member with such skills.” He waved to somebody behind Harcott. “Isn’t that right, Thomas?”
Thomas, in his Stormtrooper costume, sidled up to Harcott. “Excellent. My word.”
Harcott beamed. “Wow! I had no idea. Nobody told me this was a mock fight. I mean—”
“Well, that’s the whole point,” Pearce said. “Why don’t you explain it all to him, Thomas? And then make sure he gets his cash prize.”
Harcott pointed to the dagger in Pearce’s hand. “And my dagger.”
“Of course. Let me just have one of the stagehands clean it properly. Germs and all—you can’t be too careful. I’ll get it back to you in a minute.”
Harcott nodded, and Thomas pulled him away.
“But you can’t give him the dagger back,” Daphne said.
“I won’t. We’ve thought of this—that’s why Manus brought a similar one from Baltimore in case we needed to do a swap.”
Daphne shook her head. “You guys thought of everything.” Then she looked to where Thomas and Harcott were talking. “Do you think he’s gonna believe what Thomas is telling him?”
“I’m certain. And if he needs a little push, then Thomas will employ mind control to make him believe what he needs to believe, namely that he was chosen to participate in a mock fight.” He smirked. “I hear it’s a great honor in cosplay circles.”
Daphne was about to laugh when she saw a man in a Yoda costume hurry into the backstage area.
“Claus.”
He walked toward her. “What the fuck was that?”
“Would you believe me if I said that we just fought demons and saved the world?” Daphne asked.
Claus made a don’t-bullshit-me face. “Daphne, this time you’re really gonna get me in trouble. Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Listen, why don’t you help us get out of here, and we’ll be out of your hair? It won’t happen again.”
“And what do I tell my bosses?”
Pearce cleared his throat. “Just tell them we were the mystery guests. You know, a special performance troupe to entertain the visitors. We’re really hot in Japan. Everybody knows us there. And look at you: you were able to get us for free. What a boon!”
Claus rolled his eyes. “You guys are insane.” Then he motioned to the bloodstain on Pearce’s chest. “Neat trick, though. Looked awfully real.”
Pearce winked. “Hurt like a bitch.” Then he put a hand on Claus’s shoulder. “Now, would you please get us out of here before we have to sign autographs?”
Claus cast a long look at Daphne. “You owe me one for this. And don’t you forget that.”
“You’re the best.”
36
With Claus’s help, they swiftly left the exhibition hall. A few hours later, the dagger was safely stashed away in the council compound. The same evening, everybody was back home. Pearce and his brethren were back in Baltimore. Once again, they’d thwarted the demons’ plan. However, Zoltan had escaped. They would get him next time. For now, Pearce was happy to have escaped with his life and the knowledge that even if a vision showed one thing, it could mean the exact opposite. Daphne stabbing him had been his salvation. She wasn’t his killer—she was his savior. And he would thank her for it for the rest of his life.
