Feet of Clay: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Clans of Shadow Book 2) Page 9

  Whether it was the bolstering effect of the whiskey or the fact she hadn’t lost as much blood as I had thought, there was a hint of a blush on her cheeks, well, the one that wasn’t smeared with blood.

  Ho-boy, I could already see where this was going. I mean, not only had we shared a few life-and-death moments together, but I did have a bit of feeling toward the lady. Add to that the fact she might very well have laid down her life for Mom and, well, it wasn’t what I felt for Gabriela, but it was something.

  “Well, I appreciate that, Molly. Sure as hell Mom will appreciate it more once she knows what you did.” I got up and moved to her side. “Now we’ve got to get you both out of here before you ruin more of the furniture bleeding everywhere.” I had been ready to put a bullet right between her eyes and now I wanted to save her bacon.

  She didn’t look up at me, holding an arm to her side and eyes locked on the whiskey bottle. “I dinnae think it’d be smart to take me along. Even with a few good slugs in me, I’ve got a bad feelin’ I’d be slowin’ ye down just to keel over before ye get anywhere safe.” There was a defeated sigh as she continued, “Save yer Mam, right? Don’t worry about me. Just–” She cut herself off with a sharp sake of her head, muttering to herself, “Forget it, ye daft girl.”

  I should have listened to her. I should have turned right around and ran for the bedroom to get Mom. I mean, honest to God, I didn’t owe Molly a dime. Her taking out all those assholes in the front only made her square with me for letting them lock up Mom in the first place.

  If you’ve stayed with me this long, though, you can probably guess I didn’t listen. What can I say? We Butchers aren’t good at listening to pragmatic bullshit. Hell, maybe this was as much Gabriela’s doing as anything. She’d never let Molly just sit here and die.

  “What is it, Molly?” I bent down, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Look, if you are kicking the bucket, don’t waste your time or mine. You’ve got something on your mind, there isn’t a better time to spit it out.”

  The first part to getting somebody to keep fighting is to keep their morale up. Sure, it might not make a lick of difference. Molly might still go into the great beyond or the spirit world or wherever the hell wizards go when they shove off, but it was a definite if I didn’t keep her in the here and now.

  She almost shied away from my touch, but relaxed as she fired back the shot on the table. “Fine then, boyo, ye asked for it.” She flipped the glass in her fingers with a bit of her usual grace and slammed it down on the table before turning painfully to look me in the eyes. “I was goin’ to ask ye for a little thing before ye go.”

  Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! “Sure, anything.”

  “If I’m goin’ out, leave me with a kiss, aye?” She managed a cheeky smirk, an expression I’d used more than a few times myself.

  It was one hell of a last request, I had to admit. I would’ve asked for something similar if I’d been in her shoes. Still, I was hoping this wasn’t the time for last requests, that we could avoid that unfortunate death thing.

  On top of that, well, I had decided to make the smart choice in women for once. Instead of going for the mercurial rebel, I had gone for the sensible lady. Call me stupid or whatever, but part of me thought that going through with Molly’s request would betray whatever it is I thought I had with Gabriela. Sure, she was dying, and I could probably give her a kiss, but part of me was worried that if I had kissed Molly, and she didn’t die, I’d go back on my own feelings and make the wrong choice.

  As if Molly could read my mind, her expression turned dead serious even as she went a shade paler. “I won’t lie to meself; I can tell from yer eyes and how ye’d talked about Dr. Perez ye’ve set your ship for that harbor. It doesn’t mean I dinnae want what I can’t have.”

  “You’re not going to die here,” I countered, “because we’re getting you and Mom out of here. The doc will fix you up right as rain.” It was what an action hero would say and they’d do it, sure enough. That was the world of movies, though, and to say that in the real world was one thing, to do it was another. That was a fact I had been trying to avoid for a while now.

  “You’re crazy, boyo.” Despite her claim, she decided to stand all the same, pushing unsteadily up with one hand braced on the table. “God’s sake, I’d prefer dying with a kiss, methinks.” She clenched her teeth in agony.

  I looped my arm behind her back and under her armpits. She was cold but not quite beyond help, assuming we got some soon. Fuck, it’d be more merciful to give her what she wanted and let her pass on. “Come on, you had it worse after that elevator dust-up,” I lied through my teeth. “These little stab wounds aren’t a big deal.”

  “Easy fer ye to say, ye big bastard,” she spat out in hissing whispers.

  I started us walking, taking most of her weight on myself. All the whiskey had done her some good, and I was half-tempted to grab the bottle and force it down her. Seeing as I didn’t know how whatever crazy magic she’d done worked, and she wasn’t quite in the best mind to explain it, I decided not to do it for fear of drowning Molly instead of saving her.

  We got into the blood-soaked living room easy enough and started to clump toward the bedroom door when we were both startled by a knocking at the front door.

  “Cu Chulainn’s spear,” Molly swore, “I forgot about his sorry arse.”

  I opened my big trap to ask exactly who Molly forgot about when a familiar voice shouted through the door. “Molly, somebody, open up! My hands are full with dinner.” It was my old buddy Richter. He must have gone out to get grub for the troops.

  “Yeah, that was a big oversight, Molly,” I whispered at her before raising my voice, trying out my best impression of a dumb grunt. “Sorry, sir, one minute, sir!” It was a faint hope he’d buy it. Richter was sharp, after all, and while he’d lost an eye, his hearing worked just fine. Even if he bought it, all I’d get is a chance to get a drop on him. Still, it might be a chance to talk him down without blowing his brains out.

  There was silence for a moment, a moment I took to set Molly against the bedroom door. By the time I had turned back towards the door, pistol at the ready, I could swear I heard a growing chant from the other side.

  I didn’t even bother bringing up the heart’s vision. I might not know this magic thing that well, but every time I had ever heard a wizard start chanting anything, a spell was sure to follow. Considering Richter’s specialty was blowing shit up, the result of that chant was obvious. As the door exploded with so much sound and fury, I turned and dove away before it blew me the fuck up too.

  Through my ringing ears as the smoke and debris settled, I could hear Richter chuckle from the doorway. “Well, look at my luck. Shit, I had been hoping I’d run into you, Frank.”

  13

  Unlike Molly had, Richter sounded like he was glad to see me so he could punch my face in. Actually, he probably had a lot worse in mind: probably stuffing a live grenade in my mouth or something creative like that.

  I rolled onto my back, trying to get a clear line of sight through the haze and debris. Part of me still wanted to try to take him alive or make him stand down if I could.

  After all, I knew all about being a soldier following orders. It’s drilled into your head, and it’s nearly impossible to disobey them, no matter how disagreeable they might be. Besides, I had given Molly a chance to say her piece, though admittedly she had given me proper cause to give her a shot. Still, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.

  Pointing the Beretta at the sound of booted feet coming closer while I shuffled into a kneeling position, I made a play for it. “Come on, Richter, there’s no need for anyone else to get killed because a couple of fanatical assholes gave you stupid orders.” Yeah, I’d play on reason. That’d be sure to work. “We both know doing this whole ‘give-everybody-magic’ thing is going to go to shit. It’s just the logic of it, ya know?”

  Richter stepped through the dust, his brass-and-steel grenade launche
r resting easily on his hip. It was like he’d stepped out of my memories of our assault on the Drakos building. He was dressed in the same heavy explosives disposal gear he had been wearing that day. It probably goes without saying that he was still a tall, wiry built black man. In fact, the only real change since then was the new, stylish eye patch.

  “Look, Frank, I do kind of like you, and I won’t deny you’re the Bearer and all that,” he explained, looking pretty confident in his position. I couldn’t blame him. Just like you don’t bring a knife to a gun fight, you don’t bring a gun to a grenade launcher fight. “The thing is you still don’t understand jack, man! Why can’t you get with the program? We wouldn’t have to do this then.”

  I didn’t take my eyes off him, drawing a bead at his relatively unprotected head. He probably had some magical protection, but a headshot would probably startle him long enough for me to bring down any protective magic he might have. “I know you think that, but I’m not as ignorant as you might think. I may not be big on the magic scene, but I know human nature.” I narrowed my eyes. “Even if that wasn’t true, it’s hard for me to ignore how you guys wanted to gut me like a fish for the heart. Can’t say I agree with that or with kidnapping kids.”

  I wasn’t sure if Molly had passed out or was still holding on, but at least I didn’t have to worry about her safety. Richter hadn’t seen me with her, hadn’t heard her. He’d assume she was a friendly and I’d been the one to make a mess of things.

  His gaze scanned the slaughterhouse the living room had been turned into. From his twisting expression and flashing eyes, I had a strong feeling he wasn’t coming to the same conclusion I did.

  “And you’re all good with butchering all these people?” he snarled as he brought the launcher up.

  “Look, man, do you really think I did–” I didn’t get a chance to finish as Richter finally caught a glimpse behind me.

  “Molly!” he cried. Shit. “How the fuck, man? She had a thing for you and you did this, you bastard!” The only plus side was he let the launcher fall down on its shoulder strap as he scrambled for his sidearm. Guess he didn’t want to blow up Molly along with me.

  There wasn’t any more time to try to explain, Richter had armor and magic while I had a t-shirt and some bullets, and it was apparent Molly was completely out of the fight, or she’d be shouting bloody murder. With no other clear options, I took my shot. The 9mm bullet was dead on, striking Richter right at the temple and sparking off a mystical shield like a bottle rocket.

  The result was what I expected. The impact knocked his head askew instead of killing him, which was both good and bad. It was good because it’d give me one last chance to end this without having to gun the kid down. Unfortunately, my plan might not work. Hence the bad. Even still, I was going to take my chance. Yeah, the doc was really rubbing off on me, and not in a way destined to keep me alive.

  Pushing off from my crouch, I threw myself into Richter as he stumbled sideways. I caught him off-balance and from the side with my shoulder. We both crashed onto the floor in a tangle of limbs that made my teeth snap together form the impact.

  His sidearm went bouncing off the carpet to one side as I latched onto one of Richter’s wrists. As I tried to swing the Beretta upside his skull, it bounced off that stupid magical shield. I’d have to take care of his spell if I had any chance of ending this without one of us winding up dead.

  With a grunt, I tried to get my knees up onto Richter’s shoulders, but the kid managed to buck, shoving up with both legs and sending me awkwardly tumbling over his head. I tried to keep a grip on his wrist, which really didn’t do either of us any favors. Both of our shoulders wrenched hard as his wrist slipped out of my hands.

  I tried to scramble to my feet and stumbled backward into the wall. Using that as a brace, I steadied myself at the same time the more athletic (and probably ten years younger) Richter leapt to his feet like a goddamned ninja.

  “Dammit, you have to listen. I didn’t do any of this!” I cried, trying to reason with him even though the look in his eyes told me it was pointless.

  His fingers started to move through a series of gestures, more angular and harder than Gabriela’s weaving fingers, but magic just the same. “Then how about you surrender? We’ll see where we can go from there, huh?”

  I lowered my gun just a hair while letting the heart take over my vision. I realized there was one thing I had to hear, one thing that would tell me how I would handle this. I wanted to be ready if it took me down the hard way. “I’ll consider it if you tell me one thing, straight up and honest Injun.”

  Richter’s eyes hardened and narrowed. “Shoot.”

  He never stopped his casting, and I didn’t stop looking. The weave of his gear’s enchantments stood out in stark relief from the background tapestry; I could net them all in one good swipe if it came down to it.

  “So you took up occupation of my mom’s place, and I can maybe forgive that, but were you going to go through with the order to hurt her or kill her or whatever Lambert put you up to?” See, that was the rub. If Richter had been ready to pull a Molly, ready to rebel when an innocent was on the line, we could make this work. Otherwise…

  There was a kaleidoscope of emotions that went on display across his face. Surprise over me knowing something I shouldn’t have, the realization that maybe I hadn’t gutted his buddies like fish, and acceptance for what, I wasn’t sure.

  Still, it didn’t take a genius to the pieces together. He’d have done it, and that was all I needed to know.

  As I took a step toward him, he shouted in some language I sure as hell didn’t know. He had decided to use a spell and honestly, I was a bit disappointed. He should have known better, but old habits die hard, I guess.

  Admittedly, it was a good spell. Richter knew from experience what la Corazon was capable of, so the magic wasn’t directed at me, but the wall behind me. I made a wild swipe as the tendrils of magic flew around me. My fingers tore through the weave of his spell, shredding the threads into stray blasts of power.

  The drywall and supports exploded into a rain of dust and shrapnel, but thankfully La Corazon had reduced the strength of his attack from “Liquefying” to simply “Bone-Jarring.” Let’s face it, there’s a reason why drywall isn’t packed into fragmentation grenades. Still, the shockwave threw me forward. My teeth rattled in my skull as I collapsed onto my hands and knees. By either dumb luck or sheer grit, I managed to keep my Beretta clutched in one hand.

  Richter sprinted toward where his pistol had gone flying. If he got that, I was as good as dead. I lunged for his legs. My fingers grabbed ahold of Richter’s trailing foot, and as I crashed down onto the bloody carpet, I managed to hang on. His foot came out from under him, and he flopped to the ground in front of me like a fish. He was six inches from where his salvation and my death waited in the corner, but sometimes any amount of distance was too far to matter.

  Since the best defense is a good offense, or so I’d been told, I let go of his ankle and took a wild swipe at the mass of tangled enchantments on Richter’s body. Though all I could see were the soles of his feet, I felt the mystical threads tangle in my fingers and tear clean away from his body. Now I had the advantage as long as he didn’t grab his–

  A hard back kick slammed flat into my face, busting my lip and nose. I had to give the kid credit. It wasn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog, and Richter had a lot of fight.

  His kick pushed him forward that last inch or so to his gun as I raised my own and tried to sight it on him. As I shook my head clear and steadied my aim, Richter spun and aimed his own gun at my head.

  We were both panting as golden blood oozed from my lip. The fact of the matter was we each had the drop on the other. Who won and who died at this point was down to the twitchiest finger and the best arm.

  Staring down the barrel at the young man in front of me, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for what was sure to come next. Not too so
rry, though.

  “You know, kid, you said it all when you threw the spell,” I said, never letting my arm waver even if though my strained shoulder ached like a bitch. “The worst part of this is that, for a little while, I really thought you were a friend. After the hell you, me, Luna, and Molly went through, I figured that’d make us comrades-in-arms.”

  Richter’s arm was as steady as mine. “You’re not wrong, Frank, but the difference is I care about duty, and I care about my cause. We’re saving the world, man, but you? You’re doing all this for a lady, aren’t you?”

  “I like the doc a lot, yeah, but if you think I’d do all this just for a pretty face, well, I guess you never had a clue about the kind of man I am. I might not be what you’d call a “chain-of-command” kind of guy, but I’ve got my principles.” As I said the words, a sense of calm fell over me. Richter was never going to understand my principles, but that was fine. I didn’t need him to understand.

  “Like what?” The incredulity was thick in the kid’s voice.

  “Two things you don’t do in this world, Richter. Consider this free advice.” I felt my shoulders square in anticipation, motion I could see matched by Richter. “First, friends and family are all you’ve got in this world, so don’t fuck them. Second, doesn’t matter who you are, a soldier, a businessman, a burger slinger, or a delivery boy, you don’t blindly follow orders. You’re just a blind cog in a machine, buddy.”

  He didn’t respond with words, but action. That last split second thought in my brain was that, even if I was faster and better (which I was pretty sure I was despite the kid’s youth; age, treachery and skill, my friends), Richter might still get the shot off. If he did, that might leave us both dead.