The California Voodoo Game

14

"Now the crowd is seized by the call of the mermaid… Will all survive, or will the mermaid keep one woman for herself?" — Gert Chesi, Voodoo, 1979

The women stood at the edge of the marshy water, weaving back and forth, moaning softly. Acacia, naked to the waist, wove with the best of them. She had been given a headdress like the one crowning Mamissa Kokoe, with a fish tail protruding from the back.

She had no particular aversion to nudity: she was not a prude, nor was she an exhibitionist, at least where bare-breasted exhibitions were concerned. She was much more likely to get into the spirit of the thing if she stopped thinking of herself as an anthropologist on acid, and just stepped into the heart of the Game.

The music vibrated in her bones. The marsh tossed and foamed itself into waves and tide pools. Easy to forget that this was merely a free-form rooftop swimming pool. To Panthesilea, the Warrior-woman within her, it seemed the doorway into an ocean as deep and unknowable as the night.

The women around her moaned and swooned as the waves whipped into a frenzy. The sky rippled with dark, fire-fringed clouds. As they coiled, pulses of thunder shuddered through the air.

She sneaked a look back at the others. The men were gathered at the edge of the water in a great semicircle. It was kind of nice to have them completely left out of things, for a change.

Then the waters parted, waves rearing up like glass walls. She was looking right down into the center of the lake bed.

All of the women began to scream hysterically, Acacia's shriek the loudest of all. A voice in her ear said, "You have been possessed. Please walk forward…"

In Gaming Central, El coaxed a young woman through a complex pantomime. She wore a body stocking laced with sensors that registered every shift in position. All reference data was fed by it into the main banks. There it was overlaid with the Virtual effects that changed her from a young woman into… something very different.

In front of her was a hologram of Acacia Garcia. Next to El was another young woman, this one coached by Doris. "Come on, put your hips into it. Possessed, not repressed. That's better…"

The actors played off the holograms, and the Gamers in turn responded, in a feedback loop that was one vital aspect of the DreamTime phenomenon, a blend of technologies that made total emotional immersion not only possible, but damn near unavoidable…

Acacia walked slowly forward. To her left, Tammi stepped gingerly into the lake bed, but Twan hung back, watching the proceedings suspiciously. One nervous thumb rubbed the hilt of her sword.

Acacia took another step.

The waves rippled, shifting almost shyly. Now, for just an instant, she could see a greenish-blue feminine form, legs fused into a broad, fleshy, muscular tail. It was only just beyond her reach now. If Acacia looked around, she felt uneasy: the walls of churning water stood far above her head, held back by magic alone.

The mermaid beckoned, its fingers waving her forward And the waves collapsed upon her.

Captain Cipher, half-naked and shrunken into himself, saw Acacia vanish into the waves. A moment later Tammi was gone, and then the other women.

Those ashore waved their hands and shouted deliriously. Several fainted.

Trevor Stone waded forward, waist deep in the waves. "Prez!" he screamed."Quick. I think the menfolk are set up for a rescue."

"Right! Ah there's her hand!" It projected up from the waves, and waved forlornly. Captain Cipher called, "Mouser! Rope!" and the Thief obeyed instantly. They tied a lifeline together. Cipher anchored it to Prez Coolidge and edged down toward the water.

The first to die was Appelion, Troglodyke Warrior.

He didn't even see the major come up behind him, swinging his sword. His head was cloven from his shoulders in an instant. There were screams, and the others fell back.

"Keep him away from the beach!" Alphonse called out. Instantly, the Adventurers formed a protective barrier between the major and the entranced women.

" Crom!" Mary-em yelled. She popped a button on her telescoping staff, and it expanded to ready position. "He's possessed!"

Half of their best Magic Users were in the water. Black Elk tried anyway. A stream of sparks erupted from his fingertips, but Clavell didn't even blink. His sword glowed with power.

"Demon's work!" Black Elk shouted, scuttling back.

"Top Nun, can you help?" Mouser started the request, but didn't have time to finish. Clavell swung at them viciously, and the little Thief scrambled for his life.

Clavell shifted his grip on the sword and began to stalk. He looked red-eyed and hungry.

Women screamed in the surf.

"We don't have time for this," Trevor Stone yelled. "We've got to save the girls!"

Two Warriors approached Clavell, one sword, one pike. He growled at them and batted their weapons aside.

Ozzie the Pike lunged, tried to get in with a disarming cut. The major blocked low, blocked high, came in for a slash that was berserk-mean.

Ozzie went down in a welter of blood.

Two Warriors tried to get in disarms, and retreated with wounds at chest and thigh.

Alphonse Nakagawa screamed, "You can't capture him! Where's an archer? Mouser, get up here!"

Acacia turned and saw Prez, his dark cheeks bulging as he waded through the "water" to her side. She stretched out her wrist to him, and he caught it.

A voice in her ear said, "You may return to the surface. You are unharmed."

As she began to back up, she felt something pressed into her fingers. When she came sputtering to the surface, she saw the object in her hand: a wood-framed mirror four inches across. When she looked into it, she saw only her own face.

She waved her hand, made a Reveal magic spell. The image in the mirror shimmered, wavered, and there was another face there. The face of Coral's dead brother Tod. He waved.

She grinned. This was going to be valuable.

She waded up out of the lake and draped her arms around the shoulders of her teammates. Captain Cipher almost swooned.

"Thanks, guys, I-" She narrowed her eyes. "What's going on over there?"

"Major's gone nuts."

Cipher seemed to wake up; he lost his sloppy grin. "Ridden by the Loa. He's killed two-Appelion and a Tex-Mits pikeman. "

"Shit," Acacia hissed. "Somebody better take him fast."

That's just about it, Tony McWhirter thought. The major was too good for anyone else to take a chance. Mouser would fill him with arrowheads. Shame to lose a team captain, a Loremaster, this early in the game. Then again, couldn't happen to a nicer guy, and the lesson was a valuable one. Tony settled down in expectation of an excellent death scene.

Nigel Bishop strode forward, half-naked, and stood before the major.

"What's this, now?" Tony wondered. "Wants to show off? Get the kill himself?"

Bishop unbuckled sword and scabbard and laid them on the ground. He held up his empty hands, palms forward.

The control room was abuzz.

"Try to parley with a possessed man?" Tony was incredulous. "He must be psycho."

El moaned. "Are we going to lose two Loremasters at once?"

"That's the biz. Maybe he knows what he's doing." Tony's fingers danced as he performed a complete scan of Bishop's powers and abilities. Any magic held back? What could his strategy be? Bishop hadn't prepped or engaged any spells in the last few seconds.

About them was the clash of waves, and silence. Hundreds of native throats were quiet and closed.

The major faced Nigel Bishop, and though his face was mad and his slack lips dripped saliva, a slow smile spread inside him. Bishop thought he could persuade a man who was possessed? Well. He had been away too long.

On the other hand did Bishop have enough Charisma points… "Charisma?" Clavell whispered.

"Come, let us reason together." Bishop took a step forward. One more step would place him in sword range.

Tony McWhirter's voice came back over Clavell's earphones. "Negative. Insufficient Charisma points. Insufficient Magic points. Execute him now, or we will remove you from the Game."

The major's interior smile broadened.

Bishop took another step forward, and the major swung the sword at neck level.

And Bishop wasn't there. With an eye-baffling blur of movement, Bishop went under the swing. Missing an expected target, the major overcommitted. Bishop was in close, close enough to crowd the major's sword arm. Clavell couldn't reverse the swing without stepping back.

He did, and almost tripped: Bishop had slid his foot behind the major's ankle. The major stumbled back and hopped over the foot at the same time, fighting for his balance.

Where in the hell was Bishop had his sword hand. Powerful fingers gripped, bit in, and twisted hard. Bishop spun clockwise like a top, and the major felt his wrist, arm, and shoulder lock up and hyperextend. His balance was destroyed. Bishop dropped to one knee, still holding the wrist. The major flew over his shoulder. Clavell released the sword so that he could break his fall. Regardless, it was a bonejarring thump, and he lay there, hissing breath, trying to focus his eyes. Before he could move, Bishop was on him again, twisting the captured arm into some kind of weird hold so that the major couldn't move at all.

Pandemonium erupted on the third floor.

"Goddamn it!" El shouted. "What the hell does he think he's doing? He's ruining everything!"

Doris looked a little pale. "Isn't that a rule infraction?"

Tony was livid, but controlled himself. "In Extreme Environment competitions, Gamers can engage each other in physical confrontation, by mutual agreement I think. If the Major lodges a complaint, Bishop would be in trouble, but

Clavell would look like a lawyer. He won't bitch."

Doris had only a moment to spare. She was still guiding a pair of mermaids through their.

On the far side of the room, the Lopezes were making magic, creating water, the horizon, the sound, and the external effects-all of the "Cecil B. DeMille stuff. " They were still completely engrossed. Player interactions were temporarily beneath their notice.

So it was Tony's call. He sat back, brooding. Damned Bishop had to show off. Risked his character, risked censure if the major complained. And what would happen? Nodding… Just another legend. Nigel Bishop, bare-handed, disarmed a former national saber champion gone berserk.

It was impossible not to admire the bastard. He was so confident, so utterly sure of himself. Intimidating as hell.

No wonder Acacia was laying him.

Clavell surged futilely against the pinning arm. A trace of self-control remained: he screamed incoherently, where a man not ridden by a Loa might have sworn like a soldier.

"We will save you," Bishop said, face calm, even though the effort must have been extreme.

Foam dribbled from the corners of Clavell's eyes, and his eyes were mad. "Must kill you-"

"Hurry!" Nigel screamed. Top Nun hurried to him, then Captain Cipher, and Twan. More women emerged from the lake dripping, holding mirrors. They threw on clothes and gathered around.

"Healing spells. Dispel demon!"

They raised their hands, and arcs of flame played over the two men who strained on the ground, locked together in frozen violence.

Tony bit his fingers. They'd had it all worked out. The major was going to be killed out of the Game. He would return as a zombie, later. Now, thanks to Bishop, The lesson that should have been learned-respect local customs! — might be obscured.

The Magic Users arced their crackling bolts over the two struggling Gamers.

Tony didn't notice Richard Lopez coming up behind him.

"Let it go, Tony," Lopez said. "These things happen sometimes. You laid-we laid an excellent trap. Possession is only nine-tenths of the law. Why Bishop wormed through this loop-hole we don't know. But see them…"

Members of five different competing teams directed healing energies at the major. For that moment, there was no competition, and that in itself was phenomenal.

"It was spontaneous, it was spectacular. Let them have their moment of glory. And kill them later!"

Tony grinned back. "Aye-aye, sir." He leaned over to the microphone. "Now hear this. El. Get me a demon rising from Clavell's prostrate form."

El snapped his fingers, and a mime jumped to the ground, immediately mimicking the major's uncomfortable position. He began to stretch…

The major's body glowed. Gradually, as if his soul were tearing loose from the flesh, a glowing shape pulled free. Its face was a silently screaming demon's… and then some terrible force had distorted it beyond recognition. Three meters it stretched… five

… ten. It loosed its hold on the major just short of being ripped apart. It was a ribbon in the wind, rising, fading, gone.

Mamissa Kokoe pushed through the crowd. She examined Bishop, then Major Clavell.

"You have survived what no one has ever survived," she said solemnly. "The demon came upon you because you refused my protection. Your friends are powerful, but all power has limits. Beware."

Clavell glared at Nigel, hatred and admiration mingled in his eyes. The humiliation! he thought, and in the next moment: That scene is going to be a classic! And at current royalty rates, by the time it makes the networks, I'll earn about ten thousand bucks for that one little dump on the head…

So he gave the moment a dramatic climax. He rose shakily to his feet, wobbled once or twice, and then held out his hand to Nigel Bishop.

"Friend," he said, smiling.

"Comrade," Nigel Bishop said, and they embraced.

And the major was thinking, When you least expect it, asshole, expect it.