talien
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Wild Hunt: Part 3 – My Scuffle With Magnus
Back at the Itchi-Leng, Magnus was waiting for them.
Jim-Bean and Hammer slid into the seats across from Magnus.
“Did you bring the book?”
Magnus nodded, one hand tapping the cover of the dusty tome he had provided last time. “The De Graecorum Hodie Quorundam Opinationibus isn’t going to make much sense to you of course. Only Agent Archive will be able to read it—“
“We’ll be sure he gets it,” said Hammer. “We’ve got him examining the forensic evidence.” But Magnus didn’t lift his hand off the cover.
“From what I can discern, the history of the Vrykolakas dates back to the time of the Roman Emperor Hadrian. To become a vrykolakas, one had to be cursed, die a violent death, do a dishonorable act, or be excommunicated from the church. Such vampires usually return to complete some unfinished business in their lives.”
“It’s not a Vrykolakas,” said Hammer.
Magnus continued. “The method of destroying them usually was with fire. Crosses and sunlight are not mentioned as being effective. Neither are stakes; many accounts describe vrykolakas being impaled over and over, beheaded and so on, and still returning to haunt the living. I recommend that the police arm themselves with holy water, flame-throwers, and flare guns.”
“Magnus,” said Jim-Bean. “It’s not a vrykolakas. It can’t be.”
“The word "vrykolakas" means "wolf-pelt wearer,” said Magnus.
Jim-Bean pounded one fist on the table. “It’s not a vampire damn it!”
Magnus stopped speaking. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I SAW it.”
Magnus’ eyes widened in surprise. “When?”
Jim-Bean started to speak then caught himself. “Doesn’t matter. I saw it. It looks nothing like a vampire or a vrykolakas. It has a tongue like a snake and its face is almost all jaws, no eyes or nose…”
“Wolf-like jaws,” exclaimed Magnus. ““This matches up with what the witnesses reported, a wolfish look of the vampire--”
Jim-Bean hauled off and slugged Magnus across the jaw.
It was a perfect hit. Magnus’ head bobbed back and for a minute he just clutched at his mouth, blood dripping down his split lip.
“You…you hit me?!”
Jim-Bean leaned forward. “You’re lucky it was me who hit you. Because if it was Hammer here, you’d be dead. And Hammer really wants to hurt you right about now.”
Hammer crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“You keep this vampire crap up and somebody’s going to get killed. Now I suggest you shut up about the vampires and stop talking to the police.”
Magnus abruptly got up and stalked towards the exit. “You’ll hear from my lawyers.”
When he was gone, Hammer sighed heavily. “Did you really have to do that?”
“He was pissing me off,” said Jim-Bean.
Hammer was about to say something more when his cistron beeped. He picked it up.
“A police patrol spotted three shadowy figures heading into an alleyway. Let’s go.”
Hammer stomped out the door. Jim-bean got up to go.
A second later he came back to scoop up Magnus’ book and then dashed after Hammer.
Back at the Itchi-Leng, Magnus was waiting for them.
Jim-Bean and Hammer slid into the seats across from Magnus.
“Did you bring the book?”
Magnus nodded, one hand tapping the cover of the dusty tome he had provided last time. “The De Graecorum Hodie Quorundam Opinationibus isn’t going to make much sense to you of course. Only Agent Archive will be able to read it—“
“We’ll be sure he gets it,” said Hammer. “We’ve got him examining the forensic evidence.” But Magnus didn’t lift his hand off the cover.
“From what I can discern, the history of the Vrykolakas dates back to the time of the Roman Emperor Hadrian. To become a vrykolakas, one had to be cursed, die a violent death, do a dishonorable act, or be excommunicated from the church. Such vampires usually return to complete some unfinished business in their lives.”
“It’s not a Vrykolakas,” said Hammer.
Magnus continued. “The method of destroying them usually was with fire. Crosses and sunlight are not mentioned as being effective. Neither are stakes; many accounts describe vrykolakas being impaled over and over, beheaded and so on, and still returning to haunt the living. I recommend that the police arm themselves with holy water, flame-throwers, and flare guns.”
“Magnus,” said Jim-Bean. “It’s not a vrykolakas. It can’t be.”
“The word "vrykolakas" means "wolf-pelt wearer,” said Magnus.
Jim-Bean pounded one fist on the table. “It’s not a vampire damn it!”
Magnus stopped speaking. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I SAW it.”
Magnus’ eyes widened in surprise. “When?”
Jim-Bean started to speak then caught himself. “Doesn’t matter. I saw it. It looks nothing like a vampire or a vrykolakas. It has a tongue like a snake and its face is almost all jaws, no eyes or nose…”
“Wolf-like jaws,” exclaimed Magnus. ““This matches up with what the witnesses reported, a wolfish look of the vampire--”
Jim-Bean hauled off and slugged Magnus across the jaw.
It was a perfect hit. Magnus’ head bobbed back and for a minute he just clutched at his mouth, blood dripping down his split lip.
“You…you hit me?!”
Jim-Bean leaned forward. “You’re lucky it was me who hit you. Because if it was Hammer here, you’d be dead. And Hammer really wants to hurt you right about now.”
Hammer crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“You keep this vampire crap up and somebody’s going to get killed. Now I suggest you shut up about the vampires and stop talking to the police.”
Magnus abruptly got up and stalked towards the exit. “You’ll hear from my lawyers.”
When he was gone, Hammer sighed heavily. “Did you really have to do that?”
“He was pissing me off,” said Jim-Bean.
Hammer was about to say something more when his cistron beeped. He picked it up.
“A police patrol spotted three shadowy figures heading into an alleyway. Let’s go.”
Hammer stomped out the door. Jim-bean got up to go.
A second later he came back to scoop up Magnus’ book and then dashed after Hammer.