by Lea Ryan
Chapter 16
“They're calling me home.” Llewyn smiled through the trickle of blood from the side of her mouth. “To be a star.”
I fought back nausea as I stood over her. The effect of her hold on my mind, the intense disorientation, still lingered.
She went on, “Someday they will walk the earth. You'll see what blessings they will bring to the human race. Our potential for evolution is infinite.”
“Not if I can help it.”
Blood pooled beneath her.
“Take on our cause. Counsel your brothers and sisters. That is your calling. I see it clearly now.” She shuddered and then went still. Her soul, a golden orb like all the rest, rose from the corpse. It emanated a sound like a tinkling bell while it circled me and then drifted out of the tomb like a parachute seed on a breeze.
A cry of anguish came from Celeste down in the garden. The sounds of struggle halted. I went to the tomb entrance, trying to shake off the vertigo on the move. I spotted her in the valley, near the middle of the garden. Her form, a bundle of white feathers and limbs, slouched against a stone wall. She flinched as a bullet clipped the top of the wall over her head.
The shot had come from behind a fountain. Vic hid behind the base. He popped up and shot again.
Owen watched helplessly from the top of the hill. He still aimed his rifle down at the garden, but Vic's location didn't allow for a good, clear shot. There was too much between them, too many trees and monuments.
I snatched Llewyn's dagger from the floor and stuck it between my belt and the waistband of my pants, so that it hung at my side like a sword. I ran down the stairs to take cover behind an obelisk with a family name etched on the front. I didn't think Vic had seen me come out. I made a dash for the next structure big enough for me to hide behind. I repeated the run, pausing between his shots at Celeste, from stone to stone, until I reached her.
I moved her wing aside to get a look at the damage. Silvery blood soaked the front of her shirt from a bullet hole in her chest. Her breathing was ragged. Her lungs rattled when she inhaled.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, looking exhausted. I wiped a drop of blood from her cheek with my thumb.
“This will take a while to heal. I cannot help you. I am sorry.” She was crying.
“No. It's ok. I'll get him. You've done enough.”
“Llewyn?”
“She's dead.”
Celeste leaned her head back against the stone and closed her eyes, “I'm glad of that.”
“Vic is the only one left.”
“I'll pray for you.” She said without looking at me. She was losing consciousness. Her pistol slipped from her grasp. I took it, but left her second gun with her.
A deep breath. A gun in each hand. I twisted, and as I stood, I spotted Vic running toward a brick wall at the perimeter of the garden. I took off after him even though I knew this wasn't a retreat. He disappeared into a building.
I paused next to the entrance, listening to his footsteps recede. I looked around the corner and promptly withdrew. A room with no ceiling housed interment niches in the walls, ornaments on some, nameplates on all. The place smelled like rain. Ivy crawled along the tops of the walls. No sign of Vic.
A second room lay beyond.
I kept to the edge as I proceeded. I heard a scrape across the floor. I put my back to the next wall, the one barring my view of the next section. With the absence of ruckus in the cemetery garden, birds sang. They fluttered in the leaves overhead, unaware of the mayhem brewing below them.
I peered around the corner. The next room held deeper shadows. I tightened my grip on the guns and stepped in.
From somewhere out of sight, he asked, “Has the mother ascended?”
He was asking if she was dead. I stopped cold.
“Yes.”
He let a strangled gasp, “I loved her more than anyone could know. I would have...I would give my life in exchange for hers.”
I pointed my guns into the next room. He wasn't there, yet I still heard his voice.
“I failed as her protector.”
“Kinda.” I prodded.
“I won't fail her, now.”
My heart pounded into my throat. Ahead was the final room, a yard with an elaborate birdbath at the center and lush green grass. There was nowhere else for him to go.
“Maybe you should give yourself up to the Center. They could probably use a guy like you - bloodthirsty and relentless.” I edged closer to the entrance.
Vic stepped into my path. He seemed bigger, then, and quite angry. He grabbed the barrel of each of the guns in my hands and pushed me back into the shade. I fell backward onto the stone floor. He ended up holding the guns, but he tossed them aside, apparently choosing to rip my head off with his bare hands instead.
My combat boots slid on the wet floor as I struggled to gain enough footing to stand. He grabbed me, hauled me the rest of the way to my feet and hurled me toward the bird bath behind him, putting himself between me and the exit. I backed away over the thick lawn. At least the landing would be soft when he knocked me on my ass and beat the living shit out of me.
Vic lurched after me, fists still clenched white knuckle tight. I positioned myself the other side of the birdbath, which made an inadequate defense, but it was something. I remembered the knife in my belt.
“You are repulsively unworthy of holding that tool of our faith in your hand.” His face contorted with rage so potent, he struggled with his words, “You turned on us all, my sister included, your brother.”
He was right, but I wasn't about to admit it.
“You should feel privileged to die the same day as the mother. You don't deserve such an honor.” He toppled the birdbath to get to me.
I made a run for the exit, but he was too fast. He grabbed me by my shirt, ran me up against the brick wall, so that my head smacked sideways into it. I concentrated on my grip on the hilt of the dagger.
“I told Llewyn not to trust you. I told Bree the same thing.” He swung me around and swept his leg behind mine to trip me. Then before I could scoot away, he landed a devastating hit to my left eye.
I fell back, barely able to see or breathe. I had to get the hell out of there. He was going to beat me to death. I still had the knife. I held it out toward him, and he laughed.
“How much do you want to bet that I can take that knife from you and stab you with it on my first try?”
“Come on, big boy. Let's see what you've got.” At that point, I didn't have much to lose. Might as well go out with an attitude.
He went to a knee, gripped me by the throat with one hand and snatched the knife with the other. As he reversed his hold for optimum stabbing angle, a gunshot ricocheted against the walls of the crypt. Then came a second bullet, zipping past the dead and interrupting what should've been a peaceful afternoon in the graveyard.
Celeste. My guardian angel.
Vic forgot about me long enough that I was able to squirm from his grasp. He stood and faced the entrance with the knife still in his hand. The shooting paused for a few moments, then the shooter unleashed a spray of bullets that flew every direction. We dove for cover.
I quickly evaluated my options. Remain in the birdbath yard with a psycho or head toward whoever was shooting at us and pray that I didn't get caught in the gunfire before they recognized who I was.
I forged into the peril, holding my arm over my face to shield my eyes from the flying dust and fragments of stone. I was hit from behind, a crippling, agonizing pain that seemed to cut right through my shoulder blade. I fell to my hands and knees.
“Celeste!”
The firing ceased. She didn't respond. I spotted a pistol I'd carried in with me in the shadow. I reached for it with the arm I could still feel.
Vic emerged, baring his teeth in a snarl when he saw me. I whipped the gun around and fired. Blood appeared on his shirt, a spot that quickly grew. He tried to come for me again. I squeezed
the trigger twice more.
He stepped forward and collapsed a couple of feet from me.
I lost the strength needed to sit upright. I lay on my side to rest my face on the cool floor. It was wet, but I didn't mind. I just needed to rest, and I would be alright, even if I was having a bit of trouble breathing. I had been through worse. I survived then. I would survive again.
Celeste placed her gun on the floor next to me. Owen was with her.
“There is a knife.” She pushed my shoulder forward to yank the blade from my body.
I cried out, but it was a relief not to have it piercing skin and muscle. Even as the blood really started to flow, I was thankful to have it gone, thankful to have her there. We had done it, she and I. We had stopped the resurrections of Ekash and Maructe, albeit with help from my enemies.
And they would be my enemies again when I woke, if I lived.
