Blood and Fire

by McKenna, Shannon

  Holy shit! That was no man. That was Miriam! Howard’s nurse!

  Miriam gave her a big smile and swung up her gun. Lily ducked. Zzhhing, a bullet ricocheted off the rock where her head had been.

  Lily clenched muscle, teeth, fists. Not today, bitch. You’re not going to get me today.

  Miriam was crawling hand over hand. Lily scrambled to use the moment of grace, crawling frantically up over the ledge and into the trees. She belly crawled, as quietly as she could, but still snapped twigs and thwacked boughs. Her heartbeat alone had to sound like distant thunder. An ancient tree had fallen years ago, and its whitened root system towered into the air like a skeletal fan. Best cover she could find. Also the most obvious. Too bad. Miriam would arrive any minute.

  Her heart’s drumbeat made it hard to hear anything. She coiled herself behind the base of the fallen trunk and strained to listen.

  A soft crunch, a shush-shush. Her ears reached for the sounds, straining to catch more sound waves out of the air. She wondered if those goggles Miriam wore could see her behind the spreading tangle of roots.

  She pretended to be empty air. There were ragged holes in the splayed root system, she noticed, where the roots were smaller and finer. She could see the sky through them. Like lace.

  “I know you’re there, Lily.” Miriam’s tone was gently mocking, maybe five yards away. “Behind that fallen tree root. Just stand up. Let’s finish this. I promise I’ll make it quick.”

  Lily dragged in a slow breath through chattering teeth.

  Think. Think. The woman was a cat type. Cats played with their prey, disemboweling them before they ate. It was a big, fat lie that she meant to kill Lily quickly. She would want her fun.

  “W-w-will y-you t-t-tell me one th-thing first?” She made her voice small, pathetic. Cowering mouse. Whiskers quivering.

  Miriam chuckled, indulgent. “Sure, honey. Ask me anything.”

  Lily positioned the Glock pointing straight up, under one of the holes in the root system, and rose until her face showed.

  The woman waited, attentive, her gun leveled at Lily.

  “I just, um, wanted to know . . .” She blinked, rabbitlike.

  Miriam’s full, sensual lips curved. “Yes?”

  Lily tilted the gun horizontal, pulled the trigger. Bam.

  The recoil flung her arms up, sent her stumbling back, tripping over rocks. She hit the ground, scrambled to her feet, took aim again. Bam. Miriam lay on the ground, struggling to rise.

  Lily tried again. Bam. Bam. Bam. Twigs and leaves and trees snapped. Bam. The bullet tore a hole in the fallen tree. Wood chips flew. Her arms shook. Her fingers were numb.

  And Miriam rose up, like some immortal demon spawn. “Is that all you’ve got for me?” she wheezed. “You stupid fucking whore!” She laughed, her lips peeled back from her teeth, and swung her gun up.

  Bam. A huge blow to Lily’s chest slammed her to the ground.

  The gun flew from her hand. She struggled to rise, groping in the underbrush for the Glock, her chest a well of fiery agony. “You crazy bitch,” she gasped out, fighting for air. “What’s your problem with me?”

  Miriam aimed. “Just that you’re still breathing.”

  Crack, crack. Lily jerked, stumbled.

  It took a beat to realize that she wasn’t shot. It was Miriam who spun and was flung down onto her side. Her gun hit a dead branch, flew into the bushes. The woman lurched to her feet, looking around for it wildly. She spotted Lily’s Glock the same moment Lily lunged for it.

  She let out a shriek and ran at Lily like a charging bull.

  The impact knocked her backward, and they tumbled over the rounded edge of the ravine, sliding in a clawing, screaming, grappling ball, thudding, rolling, jolting down that rough, steep slope.

  Closer and closer to the edge of a sheer rock face below, where it was ten yards of freefall to the creek bed below.

  Lily snatched at small trees as they rolled by, but hers and Miriam’s combined weight made them rip and shred through her hands, thwapping at her face. They fetched up against an outcropping at the edge of the cliff. Miriam’s back hit it first. Lily took advantage of that stunned second to tear herself loose, scrabbling for something to hold.

  The first thing her groping hands could clutch was an old root from some ancient tree, still jutting from the hillside. Her other hand grasped a bunch of saplings, no more than two feet high. Shallow, tender root systems on a hard rock face. They wouldn’t hold for long.

  Miriam lunged for Lily’s ankles. Lily hung on grimly, wrists and shoulders screaming at the strain. Miriam dangled from her feet, slowly clawing her way up Lily’s leg. Her nails dug in painfully as she grabbed handfuls of Lily’s jeans, which were sliding down over her hips.

  Lily kicked, twisted, trying to knock the woman loose. The root systems started to give. One pulled loose. The others were straining. Miriam was dead weight, and clad in heavy body armor just as Lily was. Swinging on Lily’s knees, like a horrible ripe fruit that would not drop.

  Crack, crack. Gunfire echoed through the canyon. Miriam let go, slid over the edge of the cliff. Her long, wailing cry cut off abruptly.

  Lily dangled, staring at a wall of frozen mud and rock. She was intensely conscious of the cold smell of the icy earth. Blood on her hands trickled down into her sleeves. Her jeans were twisted around her thighs. The icy rocks scratched and bumped against her naked hips.

  Her tormenter was gone. And she could not move.

  It could have been hours, hanging there, before the sound penetrated. Somebody shouting her name. Yelling it, over and over.

  “. . . goddamnit, are you OK? Lily! Answer me! Lily!”

  Bruno’s voice, rough with fear.

  Lily pulled in air to respond, but it all wheezed out in a useless squeak. Her lips felt numb, cold. They wouldn’t seal to form wds.

  He kept calling. She kept trying. Finally, she got it out. Small, but audible. “B-b-b-bruno?”

  Silence for a stunned moment, and then an excited clattering shower of small stones tumbled down onto her head. Dirt showered into her already stinging eyes, and she flinched, trying to blink the stuff away. “Lily?” he yelled again. “Lily? You OK?”

  She looked up again, eyes streaming. There was his big silhouette against the blinding white sky, clinging to the hillside above. “Y-y-yeah.”

  “You’re too far down.” His voice shook. “I can’t reach you. Christ, I wish I had some rope, but it would take twenty minutes to get to the cabin and back. Can you hang on for a few? I’ll find a way to get closer.”

  “Um.” Too complicated a question to answer. Hanging on. That was the thing. She’d concentrate on doing it, not talking about it.

  Seconds ground by while Bruno struggled and cursed, sending down a constant stream of rocks and dirt onto her. Then she heard him calling again. She concentrated to put his words together.

  “. . . best I can do to pull you up. Try, OK? Just let go, see if you can stretch up at least about eight, ten inches? Lily, goddamnit, answer me! Can you hear me? Hey! Lily!”

  She coughed, cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she croaked out.

  “Yeah, what?” he snarled.

  She sucked in air, gritting her teeth. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

  Her bleeding hands hurt, but she started scrabbling against the slippery rock face, trying to get her numb feet up over the edge of the cliff. Neat trick, with knees shackled by slippingdown jeans. She finally found a lip of rock that didn’t crumble. Wedged her foot against it.

  She lifted herself, almost screaming as pain redistributed itself in her arms, shoulders, hands, as blood enthusiastically pumped into new, hurt places. She scrambled up, reached . . .

  Bruno’s big, warm hand fastened around her wrist and pulled.

  She yelped, she couldn’t help it, but followed where his hand pulled her, supporting herself with her feet whenever she could.

  And when she couldn’t, his strong grip never wavered.

  T
hen they were crawling, on a slope, no longer a sheer cliff face. He pulled her up next to him on a narrow, almost flat ledge where they could both perch and yanked her jeans up over her hips with a jerk. “You have a tough time keeping your clothes on,” he complained.

  “Your own fault.” Her voice was a ragged thread.

  His teeth flashed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe.”

  “That’s not what I meant, you oversexed doofus. I meant, it’s your own fault for buying my jeans too big. I told you I was a six.”

  He jerked her close and gave her a long, hard, breath-stealing kiss. She leaned into it like he was the fountain of life itself.

  He drew away. “Speaking of oversexed doofuses,” he said. “You gotta love those panties. That red lace is so dramatic against the wintery landscape. And your ass, wow. It glows. Like a full moon.”

  She stifled the giggles. They hurt too much. “Shut up about my ass, dog. Now is not the time.”

  He kissed her again. “You’re really special, Lily.”

  “Oh, really? Gee. I’m touched.”

  “Most of the women I date, iiv>

  She shrugged, and holy God, it hurt. “You should have put me on the bus to Anywhere, USA, while you had the chance.”

  He tilted up her chin. “Too late. You’re under my skin.”

  “Hello?” McCloud’s voice punched in from above, sharp with disapproval. “Get a fucking room, would you? Move it, people!”

  Bruno dragged her up the hill. She didn’t really understand the words he said. It was the tone, a comforting, low-pitched hum that tingled in her ears, pulling her as firmly and gently as his hands did. Put this hand here. This foot there. Stretch to the right, just a little farther, there you go. Good job . . . It wasn’t that far in terms of distance, but it took a shaking eternity to creep sideways along the gorge wall.

  Finally, they got to ground even enough for him to scoop her up like a sack of potatoes. She wrapped her arms around his neck. So glad he was still alive. All of them were. How incredibly improbable to have survived that.

  He set her down on a stump near the bridge. McCloud held a big, scary-looking rifle in his arms. He looked her over, appraisingly.

  “Not shot?” he asked. “Nothing broken?”

  She shook her head. Torn, swollen, sprained, maybe, and bruised to a flipping pulp, but not shot or broken. “You guys?”

  “Fine,” Bruno said. “Both lucky.”

  She rubbed at the dirt and grit in her eyes. “Thanks for the sharpshooting,” she offered. “Saved my butt.”

  Bruno jerked his thumb toward Sean. “That was all him,” he said brusquely. “I don’t have that kind of aim.”

  “Oh. Um.” She blinked at McCloud. “Well. Thanks.”

  He nodded gravely. “At your service.”

  “And, ah . . .” She gestured toward the SUV. “Them?”

  “Three are dead,” Bruno said. “Two of them had cell phones that blew up. I assume your guy is still alive down there, or we would have heard a kaboom from the creek. Assuming they all carry those fucking things. The driver didn’t.”

  “Not a guy,” Lily said. “It was the nurse.”

  Bruno looked baffled. “What nurse?”

  “Miriam. My father’s nurse,” she explained. “At the mental hospital. She must have been the one who murdered him.”

  McCloud grunted. “This is so fucked up. Let’s get out of here.”

  “They’re probably watching us from a satellite,” Lily said. “We can’t run from them.”

  Bruno lifted his hand and gave the sky the finger. “Up your ass,” he said, mouthing the words with exaggerated care. “Let ’em watch.”

  “We can’t leave unless we move their rig,” McCloud observed. “I can’t off-road here.”

  “So we roll it off the road,” Bruno said.

  Sean looked dubious. “They could blow us up.”

  Bruno stared up at the sky. He held up a blackened, bloodied hand, felt the snowflakes swirling down. He looked at Lily.

  “It’s nine miles to the nearest big highway,” he said. “They’d have all the time in the world to come and finish us off if we were on foot.”

  McCloud nodded. He glanced at the SUV. “Flip a coin for it?”

  “No,” Bruno said. “I’ll do it. You take Lily. Move back.”

  Lily shot up off the stump, panicked. “No! Bruno, don’t, please—”

  “Let’s get this done.” Bruno headed toward the SUV.

  She burst into tears as McCloud led her away.

  Bruno leaned over the dead driver, put the vehicle into reverse, and took off the emergency brake. He came around to the hood and pushed, shoving it off the edge and over. It slid, rolled, bounced, crashing through trees until it finally came to rest. Far, far down.

  Sean and Lily walked to the edge of the road and looked down.

  “Wow.” Sean sounded impressed. “That was stern.”

  “I want the cops to be able to look at it,” Bruno said. “I don’t want those bastards to be able to retrieve it. And I don’t want that nurse bitch to have an easy ride. Let her hike in the snow if she’s still alive. Let’s go, before they come down on us.”

  “Who the fuck is ‘they’?” Sean’s voice was harsh with frustration.

  “If I knew, I’d cut the head off the snake and burn it,” Bruno said.

  They took off the chain, hiked up the steep road to the cabin. Bruno bundled her into the back of Sean’s Jeep, then pushed her to the middle seat and got in himself, fastening the seat belt over her.

  Sean’s bright gaze did not miss the proprietary way that Bruno pulled her close to lay on his shoulder. “Rest,” he said.

  McCloud’s grin flashed. “If you can. I’m going to go way too fast for the driving conditions.”

  “Punch it,” Bruno said fervently.

  Lily’s head rocked back as the vehicle leaped forward.

  Bruno leaned forward as they rattled and bounced. “Hey.”

  “Yeah?” McCloud shouted back. “Speak up.”

  “Thanks, for helping,” Bruno blurted. “Sorry. About before.”

  McCloud slewed the vehicle around the hairpin curve and gunned the engine as soon as they were on the straight stretch. “Wait until we’re safe to thank me. I’ll enjoy it better when I can gloat.”

  “Don’t wait,” Lily said. “Get it while you can.”

  The men glanced at her. She looked back. Like it had to be said.

  There wasn’t any safe, anymore. Ever again.

  “Try her again,” King rapped out.

  “I just did,” Hobart told him. “She’s not responding. And I can’t—”

  “If I hear you say the words ‘I can’t’ one more time, I will pull up your Level Ten mortal command sequences right now. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Hobart’s frantic typing filtered through the microphone.

  King stared at the large screen. There were insets on the side, one of which displayed Hobart’s pinched face. The agent who had been, along with Melanie, inexplicably left behind. The other insets were charts showing the vital signs of the four operatives who had gone on this ill-fated mission. Three were flatlined. The other was close.

  His anger was crippling. It was difficult even to breathe, let alone think. He could not believe that mistakes this hug could be made by his own operatives. How in the hell . . . ? It made his brain hurt.

  The rest of the screen was filled with a satellite image that showed a dense, waving mass of conifers. The microchip in Zoe’s clavicle blipped in a mass of rocks near a creek. She was not visible. Her chart showed an erratic heartbeat, a falling temperature. Manfred, Jeremy, and Hal were cooling fast. Three hundred million dollars, turned into buzzard bait. “Show me the view from Zoe’s com,” he barked.

  “Yes, sir.” Desperate tapping, and the picture transformed into an indistinct blur. Rocks covered with waving fronds of fuzz.

  Oh, for God’s sake. It was underwater. Of course Zoe was no
t answering her com. It had been dropped in the creek.

  “Sir?” a timid voice offered. “Here is the coffee that you—”

  “Get away from me while I’m busy,” he snarled at Julian, who was presenting the coffee and the plate of cookies dipped in dark chocolate.

  Julian scuttled away. It occurred to King that he had, in fact, ordered the snack. But a special series trainee so close to the end of his training should have the sensitivity to intuit a good moment to serve it.

  “Explain to me again why you and Melanie are in Tacoma, thumbs fully inserted up your asses, a six-hour drive away from this disaster.”

  Hobart passed the buck. “Ah . . . ah . . . well, Zoe was team leader, and I . . . ah . . . she’d decided that speed was crucial, so she, ah . . . well, our intelligence indicated that McCloud was going to be—”

  “Do not speak of intelligence,” King cut in. “That quality has not been demonstrated to me, certainly not by you. No one else available? What about Nadia? She’s had three times as much combat experience as you, Hal, or Jeremy. Why was she not on the team?”

  “Uh . . . uh . . . well, Zoe assigned her to Aaro, and he—”

  “Who the hell is Aaro?” he bellowed.

  “An associate of the McClouds. He transported Ranieri and Parr to the cabin after the fight at the diner. Zoe wanted Nadia to plant tracking and spy software on Aaro’s phone, and the only way—”

  “Planting tracking software took precedence over this mission? How far is she from the cabin? Patch her in to me immediately.”

  “Um . . . there’s a problem. With Nadia.”

  “What?” he roared.

  “Well, uh . . . she’s dead.” Hobart’s voice was a miserable croak.

  King went very cold. Several seconds ticked by. “Explain.”

  “She, ah . . . her cell phone just exploded. Twenty minutes ago.”

  King struggled for self-control. “It took you twenty minutes to come to the conclusion that this fact might be of interest to me?”

  Hobart began a gabbling litany of excuses. King called up Nadia’s signal to see for himself. Sure enough. Flatlined. “Where is her body?”