Then he remembered Sahaeli. It may not be much, but an idea brewed.
He stepped back into the locomotive car and bent down, grabbing Fiya’s sword. “I’m gonna need this back, if you don’t mind,” he said. He pulled the sword out of Sahaeli’s head and made his way back to the passenger car.
After crashing through the glass, Fiya landed smack on her back, followed by her head thudding on the floor. She rolled to prop herself up on her elbow, gritting her teeth. Floating in her vision were little bright particles, each one disappearing as she tried to focus.
When the particles cleared, Kael stood before her, in full hybrid werewolf form, what some Immortuos Venandi hunters referred to as the warwolf. The bipedal beast, covered with fur and sinewy muscle, with claws and a monstrous wolf head, was their preferred hunting and fighting form. His shoulder had not healed from the gunshot, and it looked as though it struggled to clot. Blood trickled through the fur, dripping to the floor.
As she gauged her surroundings, she realized they were in what looked like a lounge car, complete with a bar and stools, though all the booze and glasses were removed long ago. Cobwebs remained in their place.
The train moved at a steady speed now. The mountainside brushed past the windows in blurs.
Then Kael snarled, “I know a little secret about you.”
Fiya sat up, shaking broken glass from the hood of her jacket. She felt dizzy, and she found herself trying to clear her thinking fast so she could focus. She reached for the revolver, still loaded with four silver bullets. There were more in her backpack, but she wouldn’t have time to reload unless Kael was to be that generous.
Kael continued, “I’m not here to kill you.” He took a step forward. She felt the floor tremble with his weight. “I’m here to offer you my gift, a gift that can help you.”
“Pfft,” she mocked. “I bet you say that to all the girls. Help me from what?” She rolled to her knees, still wobbling, but the dizziness fading.
Kael put his snout into the air and took a long vacuuming sniff. When he was done, he looked back down at her with a wry smile. “You don’t know, do you? You haven’t been to a hospital lately and been checked out? You can’t smell that? Of course, you can’t.”
“Smell what? It’s been a long several days, sorry I’m not so fresh,” she mocked again. She stood, her bad leg bent but she was ready to pull the Blackhawk revolver and fire at the first chance.
Then Kael narrowed his eyes and shot her with two decimating words: “Your cancer.”
Her eyes twitched. Her fingertips froze around the Blackhawk.
“The cancer eating away at your stomach. It’s still in an early stage, but that burning you must feel? Difficulty keeping down food, especially when stressed?” Kael paused, anticipating a reaction, but when he didn’t get one, he continued. “I can smell it. It’s there. I won’t lie to you. My gift can help you get rid of it. It also can fix that gunshot Marco gave you last night. Your bumps and bruises, all gone!”
He took another step and held out his hand to her, palm side up. “I’ve hunted for a proper mate for a long time. The few females that ran in my pack, they just weren’t right. They weren’t warriors. You. You are what’s right. Right for my pack. Right for me. Your look, your genes, your courage, your capability, your integrity, your skills, your strength. Your fire, Fiya. You wouldn’t have the natural alpha blood, you would be what you Immortuos Venandi like to call cursed, but I can help you handle it. It wouldn’t be a curse. It is a gift. Just say yes, and I can make it happen. All your pain and suffering will go away.”
He offered his big paw to her again. She could smell the big wolf’s breath, and she stared into his green eyes. For a moment, she felt great amity, but then Fiya side kicked Kael’s knee so hard, his leg bent in a way that was unnatural.
His massive weight caused him to fall and smack against the bar counter. If there were glasses behind it, they would’ve all fallen off and shattered.
“Consider that a hard pass,” Fiya said.
He bounced back up, propping himself against the cracking counter. The boards groaned like drunken frogs beneath his weight. Before he could growl at her, she uppercut him, knocking his massive head back.
She went to elbow the side of his head, but he surprised her with a sharp jab to the gut and said, “Maybe think about it.” Then he backhanded her with his other fist. “It’s not an easy decision, I know.”
Fiya reached for the revolver, which he smacked out of her hand, skidding it across the floor.
“Toys …” he chided.
When she glanced back to see where the revolver landed, he grabbed her left arm and opened wide. Before biting, he said, “This will only hurt a little bit.”
His breath worsened as he got closer, but before he could chomp down, Fiya gave him a stinging headbutt, successfully knocking his jaws away from her shoulder and loosening the grip on her arm. She cracked her mask doing so.
She followed up the head-butt with another elbow to his ear, leaping to meet his towering stature. Though she knew he’d heal from all this damage very quickly, he’d still feel every sting.
She rammed his groin with a thudding knee bomb and followed that with a curving knee strike to the leg she’d already hit, causing him to buckle to the ground. Her speed flabbergasted him. She wanted him stunned long enough so she could retrieve her gun, and since elbow and headshots would be a struggle for her reach, she concentrated on her side kicks and knee attacks. Her Muay Thai form would have been perfect if it weren’t for her gunshot leg wound. She continued to pummel her kicks with her good leg, though the bad one ached from supporting her weight.
When he did buckle over, he twisted his body to regain his balance and backhanded her again across the mask, splintering more cracks. For a moment, her dizziness came back.
Soon Fiya realized that he’s been holding back the whole time, refraining from clawing and ripping into her.
“You’ll age slower than humans, staying young longer,” he growled. “You’ll heal damn near anything.” He put his hand out again, inviting her to grab it. “You will be my queen and will have my sworn protection.”
Fiya knocked his hand away with a downward roundhouse kick. “Still nada!” Then before he could respond, she throat-punched him, causing him to gag.
As he gripped his throat, she saw her chance! She turned and dived for the Blackhawk. Her body slid on the broken glass to get to it. She was glad to be wearing Kevlar, not her regular cotton clothes, or the glass would have ground through, leaving scratches all over her back and front. She still felt like she rubbed against rough sandpaper.
Kael cleared his throat, narrowing her eyes at her. All the amity and welcoming were gone, and his eyes broiling with rage. “One more shot …” he bellowed, though he was already sure of the answer and twitched his claws.
The Blackhawk revolver in her grasp, she replied, “Yep!” and fired a shot. The sound reverberated in the car, and Kael clutched his gut. A window shattered behind him, filling the lounge car with whistling cool air. The bullet had gone all the way through him. He coughed and drooled blood.
Three silver bullets left.
“Oooph …” Kael grunted, “that really fucking burns.”
Blood mottled his fur, and though the bullet didn’t stay in his body, Kael knew the wound was going to be a bitch to clot, just like the shoulder. He checked his bloody palms as his reddening abdomen swelled in and out. He attempted to laugh. “You’ll need more than one slug, even if it is silver.”
When he looked back to Fiya, he found her knees suddenly in his face, slamming into him, knocking him into the now-open window. She bounced off him and tumbled to the floor, landing on her bad leg, sending fiery jabs of grueling pain up through her back.
She glanced back to find that she didn’t quite knock him all the way out the window, and he was beginning to try to climb back in. His ass-end hung out on the outside. With the velocity of the train trying to pull him out com
bined with the bad shoulder and gut wounds, he struggled to pull himself back into the car.
The curve of the mountain had passed, and now that particular side of the train overlooked a small valley.
Fiya stood, and aimed the revolver again, surer of her aim this time, and pulled the trigger. Two silver bullets left.
It hit like a stallion kicking Kael in the chest, the air exploded from his lungs and out his muzzle, and he lost his grip, slipping outside of the train at full speed.
Fiya ran up to the window and watched him fall into the trees and rocks below, bouncing around like a bloody, furry pinball.
The train moved too fast to be sure if she killed him or not, but she believed at least he wasn’t going to be bothering her again any time soon if he were to get back up from that.
His words lingered in her thoughts and she wondered for a moment if she made the right call. Deep down, she wanted to believe he lied to her, that he was bluffing, just to get a piece of tail … so to speak. But she knew he was telling the truth. Somehow, she knew. Her internal logic repeated to her that he was right. It didn’t even creep her out that he could smell and locate the cancer on her like a dog would. The devil on her shoulder pondered that maybe she should’ve let him turn her into a lycanthropic asshole.
She stumbled back and sat in one of the lounge chairs to center herself. She hoped he was bluffing.
Then a hideous roar echoed down the valley: the insidious call of Bahtzuul. A sonic mayhem that terrified the woodland critters in the mountain range, where even the toughest predator fled into hiding.
Fiya snapped out of her crippling doubts, and took the moment to reload the Blackhawk, all chambers full, with two more bullets left in her bag.
Thomas Bradley wasn’t much for throwing punches. He could remember the first time he really threw a punch: seventh grade; he had just said goodbye to his then-sweetheart, Jenna Weaver. Though he played it safe while they were on school grounds, where public displays of affection weren’t allowed, he kissed her on the forehead and watched her head off to biology class.
A bully by the name of Chris Stevens, new to the neighborhood who felt the need to pick a fight with everybody, teased him and threatened if Thomas didn’t move fast enough on her, he was going to jump in. Doing his cordial best to defend her honor, things escalated, and though he couldn’t remember the trigger words, he remembered throwing a punch so hard that Chris’s friends ran away. He got in trouble with the school, but his dad was proud of him that day.
The second landmark punch of his life came along that moment when his baby girl was being threatened by a demon with a sniper rifle on a train. He balled his fist and hammered home all four aligned knuckles into Marco’s face, launching a few teeth projectiles in the process.
Marco had started with taunting, “I’ll start with …” but Thomas would only let him finish with “HUGYUCK!”
A chorus of cheers swelled around him, much like the school halls in seventh grade when he knocked the shit out of the bully, but this time there wasn’t a vice-principal ruining the moment. The flying teeth rattled against the door behind him.
“Huuuuusss …” Marco poorly groveled. Thomas’s punch caused Marco to bite his tongue, nearly severing it. Blood poured freely from his mouth, spilling fast and all over his front side.
Marco glared up at Thomas while reaching for his rifle when Rutger appeared behind him, stabbing the broken sword into Marco’s skull.
Rutger held him there until he stopped twitching, then let the demon drop. The amber in his eyes flickered like a candle blowing out. Smoke seemed to puff from Marco’s bloody mouth.
There were more cries of joy and optimism as Rutger kicked the body, just to be sure. He looked at the rest of the prisoners, searching their faces.
Liama, who clung to her father, let go and ran up to Rutger, giving him a great big hug. Rutger let her.
He looked at Thomas, who massaged his punching fist and asked, “Where’s Fiya?” Before letting him answer, Rutger spotted an old friend. He reached down and took his axe back from Marco. He gripped his axe with both hands, feeling its strength and power. “Good to have you back, baby,” he said to it as if no one else was in the room.
Thomas, Liama, and Rutger stepped away from Marco’s corpse as Thomas explained. “We heard footsteps, loud ones, up top. Fiya figured it was that big werewolf and went after him.” Thomas pointed to the roof.
Rutger noticed some of the prisoners were settling down in chairs, finally feeling comfortable. Some seemed to enjoy kicking Marco’s body. Some even spat on him. Others kept watch at the windows, and judging by the lack of panic, they hadn’t noticed the thing was airborne yet.
Two male prisoners, ones whom Thomas could vaguely recognize, dragged Marco’s body through the rear doors and tossed him over the railings. Marco’s body didn’t quite make it down the side of the hill, but instead landed at the side of the tracks, narrowly missing the wheels.
They leisurely went back to the car, and Rutger called out to them, “Lock the door.” They seemed confused, but did it anyway, this time with the top latch.
Rutger’s attention returned to Thomas, “So she hasn’t come back yet?”
“Nuh-uh,” Liama replied.
Thomas shook his head.
Rutger slumped his shoulders and muttered under his breath, “Fuck.” It wasn’t intended for Liama to hear, but she heard it anyway and smiled. Funny how easily kids could do that. Now wasn’t the time for censoring oneself anyway, he supposed. Glancing at the others as if he were making a headcount, he asked, “Is everyone else here, all prisoners accounted for?”
“Yes, sir, I believe so,” Thomas said. His voice brimmed with confidence. “Well, except for Javier, but he never made it to the train in the first place.”
Rutger nodded, not that he knew which one was Javier, but he knew he was his replacement.
The trio looked up as the CLUNK CLUNK sound of more footsteps ran along the roof of the car, headed toward the front of the train.
“That sounds much smaller than the ones we heard earlier,” Thomas said.
Some of the prisoners noticed the sound and became worried. Rutger and Thomas stared at the passenger car door that faced the train’s front end, waiting for something to announce its presence.
Rutger held his breath.
Almost a minute of complete silence passed until knocking rapped at the front-end door. Thomas and Rutger both bolted to it and unlocked it, finding Fiya on the other side.
Rutger felt relief as she darted in, panicking, and a little out of breath. She limped horribly.
Rutger realized the cause for her delay was probably running all the way to the engine of the train looking for him.
She looked up at him, resting her hands on her knees, bending over. She breathed hard. “We’ve got a huuuuge problem,” she said. “Can you get this thing going faster?”
He shrugged and said, “I have it going as fast as it will let me, without throwing us off the tracks around the bends. Did you see … it?”
“Yeah … it.” She paused for a moment, wrinkling her brow, and then asked, “How the hell are you still here, and the train’s still going?” She thumbed toward the front of the train.
He smiled. “The engine’s semi-automatic, so I have it on autopilot until we need to stop or change tracks.” His smile faded. “Did you find that alpha?” He noticed the cracks in her mask. One of the lenses had shattered open. Her rich dark sepia-toned eye with thick lashes stared back out at him.
Fiya stood back up and slumped her shoulders, exhausted, and Rutger hated seeing her like this. She was running on fumes, and he knew it. She sighed a deep, ragged breath and answered, “No, he found me. He asked me to the prom, even brought a corsage and a tux, so I kicked him off the train after pumping two more silver bullets in him. I told him I’d think about it.”
Rutger coughed up a laugh.
Her eyes landed on Rutger’s axe in one hand and her broken sword in
the other. “Cool, you got that back.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He handed her sword out to her, grip first, and she took it.
She forced a smile as she let the magnet on her back take the blade from her. At least there’s less weight to carry on my back now, something she didn’t even think about before but immediately noticed the relief. “Thank you, sir.”
Thomas interjected. “Is there anything I can do?”
Fiya looked right into his eyes and said, “Stay here, watch her. Keep everyone safe here. DO NOT GO OUTSIDE OF THIS CAR.”
She watched a lightbulb go off in Thomas’ head, and then he ran to the other end of the passenger car, where he and Rutger took out Marco. He grabbed Marco’s rifle that Rutger set aside, and he slung the strap over his shoulder. He walked back to them, checking the loading chamber. “There’s only one shot in this, but if any of those other bastards try to come in, I won’t waste it.”
Rutger smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “A career pet-shop manager with a sniper rifle. Ha! I love it.”
Then the train’s speed stalled with a deafening screech, and Liama flew forward, hitting her head on the door. Thomas tumbled toward her, almost into her, but he stopped before crashing.
Rutger stabilized himself against a chair while Fiya unintentionally crouched into a surfing pose.
Marie and Harriet cried out as their heads, like many others, bounced on the backs of the seats in front of them. The children managed to only fall into spaces between the chairs, while others collapsed and rolled on the floor.
Fiya supposed it was a good thing the passenger car only had one open-space aisle running down the middle. The seats prevented more bodies from colliding into each other.
Graveslinger Page 26