Obsidian Butterfly

48

EVERYONE WAS QUIET in the car. Olaf consumed by his own thoughts, which I wanted no details about. Bernardo had finally said, "Where to?"

"My house," Edward said. "I don't think Anita's up to anything else today."

For once, I didn't argue. I was so tired, I was nauseated. If I could have found a comfortable position, I think I could have slept.

We drove out of Albuquerque and headed towards the distant mountains, bright and cheerful in the morning light. I wished for a pair of sunglasses, because I suddenly was neither cheerful nor bright.

"Did you learn anything worth getting out of the hospital early?" Edward asked.

"I learned that the thing has a name, the Red Woman's Husband. It is hiding some place that it can't move from, which means if we can track it, we can kill it." I added, because just in case, they needed to know. "Nicky says it was worshipped as a god once, and that it still thinks it is one."

"It can't be a god," Bernardo said, "not a real one."

"I'm the wrong person to ask," I said. "I'm a monotheist."

"Edward?" Bernardo made a question of his name.

"I've never met anything that was truly immortal. It's just a matter of figuring out how to kill it."

I actually had met a few things that seemed immortal. Maybe Edward was right, but I'd seen things that I still couldn't figure out how to kill. Lucky me, the naga had been a crime victim and not a bad guy, and the lamia had been converted to our side. But as far as I knew they were both immortal. Of course, I'd never shoved an incendiary grenade down their pants or tried to set them on fire. Maybe I just hadn't been trying hard enough. For all our sakes, I hoped Edward was right.

We pulled onto the long road that led, as far as I could tell, just to Edward's house. It had a steeper drop off than I'd noticed at night, enough of a drop off that being an all terrain vehicle didn't mean anything unless you could fly. A white truck pulled in behind us and started following us.

"Do you know them?" Olaf asked.

"No," Edward said.

I managed to turn in the seat far enough to watch the truck. It didn't try and overtake us or anything. There was nothing wrong with the truck except for the fact that it was on the road to Edward's house and he didn't recognize it. Add to that that all four of us were paranoid by profession, and it made for tension.

Edward pulled into the turnaround in front of his house. "Everybody into the house until we find out who it is."

Everyone was quicker out of the car than I was, but then I'd just managed to get the bleeding on my arm stopped. Lucky for me, Edward had a heavy duty first aid kit in the back seat. I had a nice big bandage taped to my arm, and the wrist sheath shoved in my pocket.

Edward was at the door, unlocking it. Olaf was behind him. Bernardo had actually waited for me, as if he would have liked to offer to help me out of the car, but was afraid to. I was actually feeling rough enough that I didn't mind the babysitting, which told you how truly bad I felt.

There was a small, sharp sound, a bolt being drawn back on a rifle, and everything happened at once. Edward had his gun out and pointed at the sound. Olaf's gun was out but not pointed. Bernardo had his gun pointed, using the door as a brace. I have to admit my gun was in my hand but not pointed. I just wasn't used to the new holster, and having to lift the shirt with a wounded left hand. Damn, I was slow.

Harold of the scarred face was leaning at the far end of Edward's house with a high-powered rifle pointed at Edward. He had most of his body hidden behind the house, and held the rifle like he knew what he was doing. If he'd wanted to drop Edward, he could have done it before Edward got the drop on him. That Harold hadn't shot anyone yet meant they had come for more than just killing. Probably.

Harold said, "Nobody panics, nobody gets hurt."

"Harold," Edward said, "when did you guys make bail?" He was still staring down the barrel of his Beretta at Harold. I could almost guarantee he was sighting on the top of the other man's head, his best killing target from what little he had to shoot at. Edward did not shoot to wound.

"Only Russell got arrested," Harold said, rifle settled comfortably against his shoulder.

Speak of the devil. Russell came around the corner behind Harold. His nose was packed with white cotton and covered in a hard bandage. I'd broken his nose. Great.

"I thought terrorizing women and children carried more time than this," I said. I kept the gun behind the open door. I didn't want to give anyone an excuse to start shooting.

The tall silent Newt came around the other side of the house with a large shiny revolver in his hands. He held it two-handed and moved in a cross-foot glide that said he knew what he was doing. There was a woman beside him, moving like a smooth oiled shadow. She was six foot if she was an inch, and the tank top she was wearing showed off shoulders and arms that made most of the men look puny. Only her breasts pressed against the shirt showed her braless and very much a girl.

Olaf pointed his gun at them. Bernardo moved up with his gun, and the woman turned to him. Olaf turned as Newt moved across in front of him like a long distance dance. The woman and Bernardo were more practical. They just stood a little bit apart and stared at each other over their guns.

Only Russell kept walking and didn't pull a gun. I tried pulling mine and pointing it at him. He did stop, but his smile got wider and the look in his eyes got worse, as if he had plans for me, and they were all about to come true.

"You shoot me and they shoot your friends. You're the only one our boss wants," Russell said.

"But we're not here to kill anyone," Harold said, very quickly, as if he wanted to be clear on that. If I were staring down a gun barrel that Edward was holding, I'd want to be clear, too.

Russell started walking towards me, even though I had the Browning pointed at his chest.

"Our boss just wants to talk to you, that's all," Harold said. "I promise he just wants to talk to the girl."

I was backing up with the gun held out. Russell was still walking forward very confident. Unless I was willing to shoot him, he wasn't stopping. I did not want to be the one who fired the first shot. People were going to die, and I couldn't control which people that would be.

I could hear the truck now, crunching over the gravel. I did the only thing I could think of, I turned and ran. I heard a surprised, "Hey," from behind me. But I was over the edge of the slope and down the other side. I suddenly wasn't worried about tearing my stitches up, or how tired I was. My heart was in my throat, and I found that not only could I walk without falling down, I could run. My mind seemed to be working fast and faster. I saw a dry wash at the base of the slope and a clump of trees to one side. I slid into the wash in a rush of small stones. I landed on all fours, heavy, and was scrambling to my feet before I felt the first trickle of blood down my back. I was behind the trees as I heard Russell slither down the slope behind me.

I couldn't shoot him, but there were other options. I was aiming for the clump of trees. But say what you liked about Russell, he could run, because I could hear him doing it. He wasn't going to give me enough time to hide. I ran past the trees and knew that I couldn't outrun him. The adrenaline was already begi

I slowed, just a little, one to save energy, and one to let Russell catch up sooner. I took a big breath and prepared. I knew what I wanted to do. But my body had to do it. I couldn't hesitate because my back or my arm or anything else hurt. I risked a glance back, and Russell was almost there, almost on me. I kicked him, full out, straight in the balls. I did it without hesitating, almost without setting up for it, letting his own momentum carry him into me. The shock sent me hopping backward, and I did what I still wasn't smooth at in class, I did a reverse roundhouse kick, to where I thought his face would be, and it was. He'd crumbled, clutching himself, and he went to his knees with the kick. He stayed on all fours shaking his head, but he didn't go down. Dammit!