Past Due, page 43
part #4 of Good Intentions Series
"Why won’t they—?" Onyx began, but words failed.
Grabbing Alex by his shoulder and his ass, Lorelei heaved him up into the air. He yelped and flailed but caught hold of the rail, flopping against the slanted balcony. Lorelei ascended with far more grace. The sudden appearance of her wings probably helped her leap, though they vanished after only a single beat.
"What the hell?" gasped Alex.
"You keep saying you trust me," said Lorelei.
"Not getting in the middle of that," muttered Onyx. She ducked inside to find cover and wait for her chance to move.
Alex hauled his eyes and his .45 over the rail. He was ready to open fire if anyone waited in arm’s reach. Instead, he saw an arrangement of curved and comfortable couches against the aft rail and the sides. The exterior deck ended with a small bar and glass doors to either side leading to a sleek, fancy lounge with what looked like an even bigger bar inside. Unlike this patio, the lounge inside had occupants.
For once, Alex wasn’t distracted by a sight like the demon in the bikini yelling at her apparent boyfriend. Enemies awaited at left, right, and center. Malike had a small pistol out, but his body language betrayed more shock and confusion than threat. A larger man knelt on the floor, head down as if enduring some pain. Teheret lurked not far away, hands up in the odd gestures of casting some spell. Alex would’ve shot her first were it not for the flash of brighter light on the other side of the room. Metal gleamed beneath the flare of angry eyes and a snarling face. Alex fired.
Bullets broke through glass only to bounce off metal in a burst of sparks. Though Alex struck Gerhardt on the shoulder, upper arm, and chest, none of it put the big man down. Gerhardt soaked it up with little more than a flinch—or rather, his shirt did it for him. Chain mail? Alex realized. Is that fucker wearing chain mail? And it’s bulletproof?
A crushing force grabbed his wrist. He noticed Teheret’s intent stare and her extended hand just as she dramatically snatched it back. Alex was flung into the air again, this time tumbling forward with his arm nearly wrenched from its socket. He went straight across the patio and into the thick glass door that had held strong despite the puncture of bullets. Pain erupted across his shoulders and back upon the crash, and then again with his arm joining in the chorus when he landed on the deck at Teheret’s feet.
A follow-up attack was guaranteed. Alex got up off his back in almost the same second as his landing, but his arm didn’t move with him. Teheret still held him in her sorcerous grip. His struggle allowed him to avoid her lunge with a dagger. Alex twisted and pivoted around his own immobilized arm, wrenching himself with pain but avoiding worse. He swept one leg through hers, dropping Teheret to the floor. Her spell broke in time for Alex to roll out of the way of Gerhardt’s stomping foot.
Alex brought up the gun, intent on going for the head. Gerhardt slapped both hands across his pistol, disarming him with the opposing impacts. The gun clattered against the hardwood floor. A low kick sent Alex stumbling backward over a plush lounge chair. "So nice of you to save us the trouble of hunting you down," said Gerhardt.
Talk didn’t create a break in the fight. Alex was already up off the floor when strong, huge hands grabbed him from behind by the shoulders. His captor spun him and grabbed his neck. Despite the added bulk and skin like hardened leather across newly animalistic features, Alex could still recognize Roman. Now he knew who had been down on one knee, and why. "Where is she?" Roman demanded.
Gunfire and shouts continued on the deck below. "Roman, let’s not waste time," said Malike. "Finish him and be done with it."
"No. His life is mine to take," said Gerhardt.
"Ugh, you two always do this," Teheret fumed.
Roman slammed Alex into the deck, then hauled him up off his feet. Alex fought against his grip and his rough treatment. The guy was bigger and stronger on an ordinary day, yet now his brawn was boosted through magic. Ordinary muscle wouldn’t power out of this. Alex grabbed the offending wrist at the joint with his left hand. It looked natural enough.
"Answer me!"
Alex choked out a laugh. "She’s not gonna fuck you, bro."
Growling in renewed fury, Roman lifted him up for another rough slam. Alex kept his lock on his captor’s wrist and brought his other hand up in a palm strike against the elbow. Supernatural muscles and tough skin didn’t make Roman immune to body mechanics. Alex twisted and pushed against Roman’s elbow to rob him of his grip and his balance. The move broke Alex free, leaving both men stumbling away from one another.
Alex needed solid footing again. He needed to launch an attack, to claim the initiative, to get some momentum in the fight. It didn’t happen. Though he escaped Roman’s grip, he turned right into a body blow from Gerhardt. More punches followed with power and skill.
Roman’s path took him toward the broken-out glass doorway to the patio, where he caught himself on overturned furniture. Though hardly shaken or hurt, his added bulk required deliberate movement. Steady and upright again, he turned back to the fight—only to halt at the descent of a newcomer from the bridge deck up above.
The ball gown was gone now, replaced by dark pants and a thin leather coat. This time she let her red skin and predator’s stripes show, along with the horns, the tail, and the talons that grew from her fingertips. Her hands dripped with blood. He realized there would be no help coming from the bridge.
"Mother," Roman called out in warning. "Father."
"Can’t say I’ve ever gotten that reaction from a man," said Lorelei.
He rushed at her with one fist cocked and aimed at her head. Lorelei sidestepped and slashed upward, digging deep red lines across his face. The change in angles was her real goal. His size and strength gave him an advantage in a close-quarters fight. Out on the open-air patio, she could unleash a broad breath of fire and catch nothing but his oversized body. Flames roared from her mouth, engulfing Roman’s head and shoulders.
Any ordinary mortal would have died instantly. The leathery alteration of his skin saved him. Roman shouted with pain, arms up to protect his face as he staggered away. A sharp kick to the hip knocked him onto his hands and knees.
Aware of her lover’s plight and the remaining dangers inside, Lorelei had no time to pounce and finish Roman off. A shouted command from Teheret sent Malike and Leanne around the bar to help the others down below. Satisfied with the tide of the brawl between Alex and Gerhardt, the matriarch turned her attention and her sorcery to the only other enemy in view.
Though Lorelei put little stock in mortal weapons, she carried a few into this fight out of simple prudence. She had no faith in her pistol after seeing Alex try his luck. The throwing knives in her coat were worth a try as she rushed in at Teheret.
Her aim was good, but unsurprisingly, the blades turned aside against one magical ward or another. She couldn’t muster up another significant breath of flame so soon, nor could she cross the distance fast enough. Teheret knew it all along. Her son probably did, too—her son, who still lived despite his burns.
Lorelei could have gone over the side instead of charging in, but she could not leave Alex. She was fast. She nearly made it. Desperation and fury didn’t make up the difference.
Unnatural red light flashed in a circle at her feet. Lorelei slammed into an invisible wall with her talons inches from Teheret’s face. The scent of smoke and brimstone touched her nose as Lorelei noted circles and runes appearing from thin air, now burning into the wooden flooring.
"This spell requires considerable practice," Teheret explained over the punches, grunts, and bumps over the men to her side. "It took centuries of trial and error to develop. Once it worked, we knew we could never let anyone learn of its existence."
Teheret snapped her fingers. More runes flared into existence at Lorelei’s feet. Though she rarely felt discomfort at the touch of fire, this magic burned. Lorelei crouched to slash at the flooring with her talons to no effect but further pain.
"As for you," Teheret continued, turning to the brawling men. Gerhardt knocked Alex against the bar. Alex launched a counter, only to be blocked and forced back again. "Husband?" Teheret asked. They kept punching. She cleared her throat. The fight continued. Teheret fumed. "Alex." He didn’t pay attention, either—at least, not to her.
The form and style made sense to him after a few hits. It wasn’t a pleasant way to recognize a sport, but Alex knew it from his dimmest memories of Athens. Recognition allowed him to block and counter. A sharp jab interrupted Gerhardt’s flow. It landed against Gerhardt’s chest, pushing him back but leaving Alex with a different pain. He shook his wrist to chase out the sting of metal rings against his knuckles. "Motherfucker," he hissed.
"Oh, you’ve never practiced pankration with armor?" Gerhardt grinned. He came in again with a quick jab and a stronger follow-through.
This time, Alex saw it coming. He let the jab catch him under the collarbone to get a better line on the counter and finish. Alex blocked the next punch high on Gerhardt’s arm. It looked like a mistake until he got his thumb into Gerhardt’s eye. His foe let out a growl and turned away. "Oh, you never grew up in Detroit?" Alex shot back.
Gerhardt backed off in a quick turn. Light flashed in his hand, solidifying into a short sword with a slight curve. That explained how he’d gotten into the armor so fast. The break was enough for Alex to reach back to the collar of his leather jacket for the pommel of his gladius.
A moment’s breath also gave him a chance to track the rest of the fight. His first glance found Lorelei in a sorcerous trap. She slammed her forearms against air that flared red with magic. A cry of fury and pain escaped her throat.
"Ahem," Teheret repeated loudly.
* * *
Katerina knew death as a binary—several binaries, in fact. She fell outside all of them.
She saw the simplest of those binaries in the spacious, sunny lounge with its fancy spiral stairs and blood-stained dance floor. Taylor stuck close to Katerina: breathing hard, gun in hand, alert, whole, moving. Alive. At the other end of the room lay two men in bloody polo shirts and khakis: limp, silent, still. Dead.
To be sure, she rarely saw the dead as broken or bleeding. Rarer still was it deliberate. That was only one reason she felt so much fear now. Ordinary death came in so many different ways, yet she still knew it as one of two states: alive, or dead.
She knew she was neither. The dead rarely hung around, and even those she found who did hang on were not like her. Ghosts were the easiest to know, like the ship’s crew that brought her here. The party introduced her to vampires. To her mind, even they fit closely enough to one or the other side of the binary to count. Ghosts had no real bodies and could no longer change. Vampires held on through some sort of cheat, but in the end, they were only pretending. After meeting some last night, she figured they all knew it, too.
"Alive or dead" made for one binary. The moment of death marked the other. She saw it in the bodies on the floor. Bullets flew, magic flared, her friends shouted, and Taylor pulled her to one side to safety. Katerina watched the dead for the moment that revealed who the men truly were in life.
Souls rose from the body in exactly the sort of cliché image she’d seen in movies. Sometimes the soul looked younger than the body, sometimes the same, but always transparent, faint, and almost always brighter. Usually they stirred as if waking, often reaching out, reacting to someone or something she couldn’t see. She’d catch expressions of relief, or hope, or even joy. It was usually bittersweet and sometimes reluctant, but with the unmistakable sense of something good ahead. Then the soul brightened and faded away.
These souls bleeding out on the floor were darker, amorphous, looking around frantically. She felt a pit in her stomach as they shuddered, screaming in horror and isolation. They didn’t even sense one another. Utterly alone and gripped with fear, their souls collapsed into their own bodies—and, like the rest, faded away.
Whatever broke the body, be it injury or illness or age, Katerina knew there was a good way to go and a bad way. These men left this world through the latter. She knew it said a whole lot about who they had been.
It also said a whole lot about who else was on this boat, only "who else" involved monsters and people with magic. Katerina knew bullets couldn’t hurt her, yet she still wasn’t ready to face them. The rest proved even more daunting.
Another gunshot jarred her out of her thoughts. It was Drew again with that shotgun, firing at something to the side of the lounge. Katerina cringed against the wall. A cabinet door fell from its hinges to reveal only shattered dishware. "Shit," he fumed.
"You’re shooting at cabinets?" she burst. More gunfire continued in the hallway leading out of the lounge, but even a single corner and a few feet of distance made Wade’s gun and those of the bad guys quieter than Drew’s.
"Thought I saw movement. Sorry," he grumbled. "Shotguns aren’t my thing."
"Then why are you using it?"
"You work with what you’ve got." Drew ducked past her to join Wade in the hallway, gun up and ready to go.
"Kat, stay with us," said Taylor. She crouched at Kat’s side, pistol up but with no target ahead save the backs of her friends. "If someone gets behind us, you don’t want to be alone."
"Okay, but if we—" Two more loud pops interrupted her words, softer than the shotgun but close enough to feel. Bits of wood paneling burst off the wall behind her back as the bullets passed harmlessly through her chest. Katerina yelped and then noticed Taylor’s urgent concern, which soon turned to surprise. "It’s a reflex when I’m startled!" Katerina explained.
"What is?"
"Ghosting! I guess. I don’t know what to call it."
"Holy shit, can you go through walls?" Taylor already had ideas in her head. Several. All of them dangerous.
"Not here!" Katerina snapped. "It’s something with this ship. If I could ghost my way through here, I wouldn’t have landed with the rest of you. It’s probably magic."
"But you don’t have to worry about bullets?"
"I guess not? I don’t know, I’ve never been shot before now."
Frowning, Taylor took Katerina’s wrist—entirely solid to the touch, feeling like any other hand on her forearm. Taylor blinked as if noticing the contradiction before dismissing it amid more gunshots and shouts. "Come on. Stay low. Not all of these walls stop bullets."
"Yeah, I figured that out." Katerina followed as instructed, hating the whole situation but hating her fear more.
The yacht’s passageways were built to impress with marble surfaces and shiny fixtures. They also economized space. It meant for narrower sightlines to watch for threats, but also less room to move and even less cover. Ahead, Wade led the way with that assault rifle of his and Drew now close behind, followed by Molly and Zafirah. All of them hugged the walls, but they didn’t crouch like Taylor or Katerina. Knowing what to do and having some way to contribute probably made the difference.
Howling, whipping winds curved through side passages and narrow doorways to illustrate the point. Molly’s gestures with her wand weren’t dramatic, but the shower of glass curved and bent at her direction up beyond Wade’s spot.
Katerina couldn’t keep track of distance. She had an idea of the yacht’s massive length, knew the aft sun deck had to take up at least some of that span along with the lounge and this bit of hallway. She wasn’t sure how much farther they had to go to get to…the spa, did that guy say? It seemed to be a good enough goal for her new friends.
The passage opened up to a round landing for a fancy gold-trimmed elevator up ahead. A shadow moved around the right curve behind the elevator. Wade held his fire long enough for Katerina to open her mouth with a warning, but shot twice as if hoping to catch the guy as he came into the open. The shadow jerked back. "Shit," grunted Wade.
"I’ve got it," said Molly. The stream of broken glass flew out of the bathroom door to arc and flow at a gesture of her hands. Apparently, she didn’t need a clear line of sight to direct the air. The stream of shards curved around the elevator. Not a second later, the owner of that shadow on the right darted out around the left side of the shaft with his submachinegun in hand.
The weapon pointed straight at the group sent Katerina’s heart into her throat yet again, but a flash from Zafirah’s hands seemed to deflect the bullets. Sparks erupted in the air between the gunman and the intruders, leaving no one hurt.
She lost track of the rest amid the pop of her friends’ weapons. Wade tagged him at least twice. In such a narrow confine, Drew’s shotgun could hardly miss. The hits put holes in their target’s polo shirt and khakis and sparked off the weapon he held at waist level, all driving him back against the elevator doors.
He didn’t bleed. He didn’t go down.
Molly’s tiny hurricane of glass shards swept the rest of the way around the corner again to cut and stab in a dozen spots across the crewman’s body. With his face set in a cold stare, he endured and fired again. This time, Zafirah couldn’t stop the bullets. Blood exploded across Wade’s left arm and his hip along with blood and smoke.
"Wade!" Molly caught him as he stumbled against the wall. Drew let off two more blasts from the shotgun, but he only knocked the crewman around more.
The bad guy didn’t go down for wind or glass or lead. Zafirah flung a glowing orb of flame through the passageway to far greater effect. Tongues of flame flashed across his body for only an instant, but the crewman howled in agony. His resilience vanished. Hardly a wisp of smoke trailed his body as he crumbled to the floor.
Katerina covered her mouth with both hands. The foreground held too much blood, this time from a new friend. Beyond him, in front of the elevator, Katerina saw only ashes…and the same image of a dark, writhing, panicked soul. This one no longer had a body, but fell into nothing just as the others collapsed into their own corpses.
"Molly?" asked Zafirah.
She already had Wade’s good arm around her shoulders. "I need to help him right now."
"Hurry. My healing magic is not as fast as yours. We must push on," said Zafirah.
