Trapped

by Amanda Byrd

  弇 弇 弇

  The next day, the women met the contractors at the field. The first one was overly cocky, hitting on Shiloh, making inappropriate comments and such, all in a two-minute time span. She made him hand over his portfolio and went back to Miranda, waiting in Night Chariot. She told Miranda what a douchebag the guy was, but showed her the portfolio anyway. Miranda was far from impressed. Shiloh got out and threw the portfolio at the man, hitting him squarely in the forehead. He shook his head, dazed, then grew a smidge past angry, looked as if he was going to put hands on Shiloh, and Miranda got out of Night Chariot.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  The man looked at her and Shiloh did, too. The man backed up in fear; a fear that Shiloh could not understand until she looked into Miranda’s eyes. They were the colors of a fire glowing brightly, to include the bluest of flame—the hottest. Actual flames were in Miranda’s eyes and the man quickly realized she was not one to be trifled with. He spat expletives at Shiloh, who shot back some witty comments and walked, laughing, back to Night Chariot. They watched the man leave, banging on his dashboard in frustration, kicking up dirt from the rear wheels of his pickup truck as he sped away.

  The women laughed at how easily the man was chased off and at Shiloh’s comments. Shiloh had always possessed a quick wit, full of insults at the drop of a dime, and today was no exception. They hoped the next one would be the quality Miranda needed and not a douchebag like the last. Shiloh was not even dressed in an exotic way—leggings and a long t-shirt and sneakers, with a messy bun. She had no reason to try looking sexy for some contractor she would only see twice, if she was lucky. Interrupting that thought, the second contractor pulled up in a brand new Ford F-250 King Ranch Edition that appeared it might be a diesel, which, as he pulled closer, was confirmed by the smell of the exhaust. It was a pretty dark red color and Miranda sat there admiring it as the man got out to meet a waiting Shiloh. The two talked a bit before he handed Shiloh the portfolio and she came back to Night Chariot. When she got in, just like last time, she handed it over to Miranda. Miranda flipped through, liking what she saw.

  “He’s our guy. Get the quote as a formality and hire him. Make it look like you looked at the handwritten estimate.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t have a specific price point you want to be at? I mean, Miranda, this is a one-time deal. It won’t burn down, so what are you going to do with it after the battle? Make a giant fire pit? Have a damn circus?”

  “Point taken. Fine, nothing over ten thousand dollars. I doubt it’ll be quite that high anyway, except maybe for labor, since this is easily a five-person job. Make sure he’s aware of the timeline, too, please. Oh, and Shiloh, I love you.”

  Shiloh got out and walked back to the man with the pretty truck and made Miranda’s words sound like her own. The man walked the area, measuring the circle with some kind of tool on a wheel, and taking notes. He went back to his truck and quickly wrote up the estimate and handed it to Shiloh. She looked at it, a little long on purpose, acting like she had to consider the cost, and shook the man’s hand, indicating to Miranda they had a deal. Shiloh motioned to Miranda for her to come meet the man she would be dealing with from this point on. Miranda exited Night Chariot and introductions were made. The man showed no fear of Miranda. Then again, she did not have that fire in her eyes as she did before, either. They all exchanged parting words and handshakes and got into their respective vehicles.

  “Wow! That was easy! Can I pretend to be you more often?”

  “Hah! There may come a time where you’ll have to, but for now, no,” they both laughed, “now that that is taken care of, let’s go grab something to eat.”

  Twenty-Three

  The day had finally come. Tonight was the night Miranda was set to battle Elisonde. Shiloh and Teddy were equally aggravated that Miranda would choose to leave them home, given the dangers that awaited her. To date, there was not a threat Miranda had faced she could not beat and tonight was no exception. So she has a chimera, who the hell cares? I’ve killed over sixty-two people by myself, what makes her think she’s so special? I have werepireism and two gargoyles. She ain’t gonna beat shit but her face into the ground by the time I’m done with her. Gotta admit, though, I wish I still had magic, but I’ll kill her just the same. Hahaha! She has a sword of pure silver that she thinks she’ll kill us with. Poor fool doesn’t know what she’s up against. Her weapon will be turned against her. Shame we won’t be able to feast on her. Why would we want to feast on another werewolf? Isn’t that cannibalism? Didn’t you ask me not to go cannibal? Idiots, I swear. I can’t freaking wait to get rid of you two. Miranda, don’t lie, you’ll miss us and you know it. You know what? No, I won’t. You know why? Because you’re making my life a joke. I don’t want to eat human hearts and drink their blood. Humans are flipping GROSS! You don’t know who has what disease and I have no desire to catch any of that shit, morons. That’s why I won’t miss you. Okay, maybe part of me will, but it’s a small part. Yay! She said she’ll miss us! Okay, children, sober up. Tonight is not a game. Let’s get it on!

  Miranda hugged and kissed Teddy and hugged Shiloh, all three of them wearing solemn looks, Shiloh fighting back tears.

  “I’m coming back. And with both King and Emperor, don’t you worry. I’ve got this. And something tells me I have not seen my last battle. Shiloh, I love you and thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here, but you know the things I’ve done and after this bitch is dead, it’s just one more thing for us to laugh over.”

  Miranda hugged them both one more time, more to soothe them than herself and walked out the front door and down the driveway. It was an exceptionally cool night, as if the weather gods knew what was about to take place and cooled the air down for the heat of the battle quickly approaching. Halfway down the driveway, Miranda stopped and tilted her head to make sure she was seeing what she was. King Nightmare and Emperor Bête Noir were waiting for her just outside the gate. Not on their pedestals but facing her, ready to fight, and win. She smiled and kept walking.

  She hugged King then Emperor and jumped on Emperor’s back. They took to the sky and within seconds they were gone from view. A few miles out from the chosen battlefield, Emperor slowed and hovered, King right next to him. Miranda climbed onto King and whispered the plan for him into his ear; he was to rip the dragon head’s throat out with his beak while Miranda and Emperor distracted it. Killing one head was all it would take to drop Interment to the ground dying. She also told him not to get involved in the boots-on-the-ground battle between her and Elisonde. He agreed, albeit reluctantly. He knew his job was to make sure Interment was dead.

  Miranda climbed back onto Emperor, inhaling deeply the cool breeze that would soon be a fiery gust. Emperor imparted that Elisonde and Interment were closing in on the field. Miranda nodded and they flew in, too.

  “Little girl, are you ready for what will be your final fight?” Elisonde yelled from the other end of the field.

  “Are you?” Miranda howled and transformed fully; two separate sets of fangs, fur, nails, all of it.

  Elisonde growled and transformed into her werewolf-self, causing Miranda to laugh maniacally. She swooped down and toward Elisonde, Emperor and Interment roaring at each other. Emperor pulled up just as Interment, predictably spit a burst of fire from his maw. Miranda laughed harder. Her adrenaline was pumping harder than it ever had before and she knew, without any doubt, this battle would be the toughest she had faced but she knew this: she would win. At any and all costs.

  Interment chased Emperor around the sky like children playing a game of tag, Interment spouting fire every chance he could. Emperor saw every attempt beforehand; he knew how this would play out and ultimately end. King Nightmare hung back behind the clouds, no one other than Miranda and Emperor knowing he was even there. At some point during their game of fire tag, Miranda noticed the sword on Elisonde’s back. It was a l
ittle bigger than she imagined it, but that was of no concern to Miranda. She would wield it in expert fashion, ending by pushing it through Elisonde’s heart clear out of her back to watch her slide backwards down the blade, eyes wide in horror and pain and sadness, to lie in a lake of her own blood, in a ring of fire of her making. Miranda had no weapons other than herself and she knew Emperor would put himself in harm’s way if for no other reason than for her to escape, if necessary. Miranda hoped it would not come to that. She promised that all three of them would return home. She never promised injury-free, but they would all be coming home. No one died tonight except Interment and Elisonde.

  “This game of tag is a bit childish, don’t you think?’ Miranda yelled to Elisonde over the wings of Interment and Emperor and the rush of the wind.

  “It is. Let’s move this to the ground, shall we?”

  Emperor dived for the ground, beak first, and when he was ten feet above it, Miranda leaped off his back, landing lightly on her feet and growling. She was more than ready for this. She had been itching for a good battle since Elisonde showed up. She wondered if Elisonde would prove a worthy opponent or useless, like Venus and her sixty-some companions, or even Dylan. At least we got to eat their hearts and drink their blood. They were humans, you dicks!

  Again, Interment shot a ring of fire that quickly consumed itself out except to the ring Miranda had built. Interment landed and bowed down for Elisonde to dismount and begin walking toward Miranda. She howled and Interment took back to the air, on a path straight for Emperor. As soon as Elisonde opened her mouth, presumably to talk more shit, King Nightmare shot out of his hiding place, ferociously attacking Interment while Emperor circled Miranda and Elisonde.

  The werewolf Elisonde closed in on the werepire Miranda and they circled and howled and growled at each other inside the ring of fire.

  “Can we just end this charade already? King Nightmare is about to end your precious Interment’s life-”

  Miranda did not get to finish her threat as blood started raining from the sky, covering her, Elisonde, and soaking the scorched ground. Interment came crashing down. He hit so hard it felt like a small earthquake had just hit Tampa. Miranda shrieked in pure glee while Elisonde screamed in pain and ran over to the now lifeless body Interment and his three heads.

  “I said let’s get on with it,” growled Miranda.

  “Silly girl, you have done nothing more than cause more anger at and hatred of you. It is you who shall pay so very dearly for this crime you have committed.”

  “Oh, and what crime is that? Killing your other child? The only one you ever gave a shit about? Or the crime of your stupidity and outright foolishness to choose me to battle? The crime of underestimation. One you will pay for with your life. The life I will take, just like I took Dylan’s. So are we still playing Ring-Around-the-Posey or are we getting on with it?”

  “How DARE you mock me!”

  “Listen here, you old hag, I’m gonna stabby stabby you in the heart with your own sword. Bring it, bitch.”

  Elisonde howled so powerfully that sleeping birds took flight to a safer location and in one swift motion, pulled her sword from her back and charged Miranda. Miranda stood there, waiting for her to bridge the gap between them. Man, how long is this gonna take? I mean she’s old and slower than she realizes. It took Elisonde almost a full minute to cover the distance of approximately thirteen hundred feet, Miranda estimated. The ring had a diameter of well over three thousand feet. Over three thousand feet of hot, angry fire. Miranda felt right at home in this ring. Trial by sword, trial by fire, trial by werepire. It mattered not. What mattered is how terribly slow this old werewolf ran. Miranda was careful not to underestimate Elisonde’s close-quarter combat skills, though. That had gotten her into this trouble in the first place and it would not be her undoing now.

  Elisonde swung one-handed as soon as she thought she might hit Miranda but Miranda leaped nimbly over her, somersaulting and twisting to land behind Elisonde to face her back. Elisonde whirled furiously around.

  “How did you do that?”

  “You underestimate me, Elisonde. How about I let you in on a little secret? I’m a werepire. Do you know what that is? I’m part human, part werewolf, and part vampire. I hope you realize you will now be annihilated by your own beautiful pure silver sword. Maybe I’ll hang it on the wall as a memento of our time together A trophy of sorts,” Miranda teased.

  “You have nothing to fight back with but claws, what are you going on about?”

  “Keep underestimating me,” Miranda said as she levitated up and over Elisonde’s head, pausing to kick her in the face, breaking her nose and smashing an eye socket.

  Elisonde dropped her sword and grabbed her face. Miranda laughed again. Can we kill her now? No. She wanted me to suffer, now it is she who must suffer. How I enjoy torture . . . That’s our girl! Oh shit. I didn’t mean that. Or did I? I don’t even know anymore! Dammit! Dammit to the seven hells and back! Ahhh! Miranda picked up Elisonde’s sword, feeling the small shiver of burn on her palms and fingers. This must have excited the vampire in her because she lunged at Elisonde’s throat, biting down hard on her jugular, and quickly pulling herself a safe distance away with her combined werepire agility and speed. Blood spouted from Elisonde’s neck now and she was not sure if she should keep grabbing her broken nose and eye socket or her throat, so she put one hand weirdly over her face and the other over the chunk of missing neck flesh and fur. Miranda roared mirthfully.

  “Aww, poor Elisonde has been turned into a plaything. A poor, pitiful, sad plaything,” she mocked her, “come on now, don’t keep me waiting.”

  Somehow Elisonde had a burst of adrenaline, which only gave Miranda more joy, and she charged Miranda again. Miranda kicked her in the gut and she dropped to her knees, the breath taken from her lungs and brain. Miranda swung the sword in a playful, teasing manner, like a pendulum in Elisonde’s face. She hardly felt the singed fur or blistering skin, such a wonderful healing power the vampire part of her had. Miranda was a touch sad Elisonde was not begging for her life, yet pleased that she was not. She hated beggars and begging only made Miranda torture more. She sliced this way and that, across Elisonde’s arms, legs, and torso. She stooped down, now eye level with Elisonde. She traced Elisonde’s face with the sword, Elisonde screeching as Miranda continued to move the tip of the blade. Suddenly and swiftly, she slashed each side of Elisonde’s face. Elisonde could not make a sound with how much pain she was in.

  Miranda grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to stand up. She would not kill Elisonde on her knees, clinging to life like that, oh no. The second Elisonde stopped wavering and was able to stand still, Miranda thrust Elisonde’s own sword through her heart, clear through to come out of her back, like a close-range bullet wound. Miranda let go of the sword and watched as Elisonde fell to her knees and slid backward on the blade, just as Miranda envisioned. When Elisonde hit the ground with a dull thud, Miranda pulled the sword from her lifeless body and wiped it on her clothes. She took Elisonde’s sheath and pulled it on around her own back, buckling it at the front and put the sword on her back.

  “A new trophy. This will clean nicely and hang on my home office wall, I think.”

  King Nightmare and Emperor Bête Noir landed gently on either side of her and she reached a hand out to both of them at the same time and pet and scratched them.

  “Good boys, you are! Who loves you? That’s right! I do!”

  She climbed on Emperor’s back and the three of them took off for home.

  Twenty-Four

  King Nightmare and Emperor Bête Noir touched down lightly, so as to not wake anyone in the house, if they were actually sleeping, which Miranda doubted. The boys stepped back on their pedestals and Miranda hoofed her way back up to the house. She was soaked in blood, carrying a now dead werewolf’s sword on her back. At least the blood is still warn and tastes lovely.
We’ve never had chimera blood before and, well, we could get used to this. And we’re going to face another chimera when? Huh? How many do you think still exist now? No, that doesn’t mean go looking for them to hunt. Unless they attack us, we’re leaving them alone—consider them innocent. This is gonna be fun to explain once we get in- shit! I can’t walk in the house like this! I don’t even have my cell on me to call Teddy. So I get to stand in the garage, dripping blood and scream for him to come- no, no. I’ve got the perfect idea.

  Miranda walked into the garage and grabbed the box of contractor’s bags. She pulled the first one out and opened it up and took her clothes off and put them in there. Next, she pulled out and opened a second bag and put the sword and sheath in. The third bag, she let her claws out for, to cut a hole for her head and two for her arms. The fourth was to wrap her hair in like a towel when she got out of the shower. She wrapped the rest of the length of the bag around the top of her head, tucking in the last bit underneath where it met her hairline so no blood would drip from her hair. She looked herself top to bottom, making sure whatever blood was still on her would stay on her body and not drip all over her precious floors.

  She grabbed the two bags from the floor and proceeded inside the house, satisfied she would not drip, dropping the two bags in the utility room to remind herself they would have to be taken out back and soaked in barrels of that oxy stuff to get the blood all the way out before she could put them in the washer. When she got into the living room, she saw Teddy on one couch, Shiloh on the other, watching some strange made-for-streaming show. It looked like it was made back when they were all about four years old. The two of them heard her enter, after all the bags made a lot of noise, and they turned toward her, beginning to laugh at how ridiculous she looked dressed head to toe in trash bags.