by Kyoko M
The phone buzzed ominously again. You have ten seconds to reply before I kill them.
“Shit!” she fumbled and responded.
See you in thirty minutes, blondie.
Faye paced back and forth, gulping in shaky breaths. She knew it. She’d felt it in her gut that something was wrong, that it had been too easy for her and Jack to escape unscathed. If he’d gotten her number, there was a good chance someone was watching her right now. She couldn’t send a screenshot of the message to the police without him finding out. But she also couldn’t let a murderer into her apartment, not with her alone. It would be several minutes before Houston and Carmichael would catch on if she let them guy inside.
Maybe she could alert the Papa John’s employee. She started to look up the number, but realized he’d told her that on purpose. Somehow, he’d be the one to receive the order, not the actual store. Someone had tampered with her phone. But how? She hadn’t left it—
Faye stiffened. The phone had been lying on the sidewalk for a while before she found it after the attack. She’d been without it for at least an hour while the cops took the report of what happened.
“How?” she whispered hoarsely, curling her fingers into her hair. “How do I tell them?”
She called the Papa John's number. She heard the line click, but didn't get the usual perky sales associate asking about her order or listing off their current specials. Faye swallowed and forced herself to speak up.
"I, uh, I'd like to order a large pepperoni, please."
Silence. She heard breathing. Then another click and the line went dead.
Faye stumbled into the bathroom just in time to retch into the toilet. She clutched the bowl, trembling as tears leaked down her cheeks. It couldn't end this way.
She pushed herself to her feet and splashed cold water on her pale face, wiping it as well as her mouth and staring into her bloodshot eyes.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Faye got angry.
She scooped her hair up into a ponytail and glared into her reflection. "No. Screw this. I am too goddamn fabulous to die. If he wants me dead, he's going to have to fucking work for it."
She stomped into her bedroom and pulled Kamala's Taser from her purse. "We'll see how damned tough you are with 10,000 volts to your nut-sack, asshole."
Faye marched into the den, sat squarely on the arm of the couch, and glowered at the door.
Exactly thirty minutes from when she'd called, the doorbell rang. Faye stalked over to the door and hid the Taser behind her back as she opened it.
She found herself staring at a man in his late thirties, with bland features and a harmless smile. She couldn't see his hair color beneath the green cap, but his eyes were brown. Faye's fury wavered. Was he the same man who chased them down in the street? What if she was about to taze a normal person who had been nothing but a patsy? She'd be brought up on assault charges. Then again, if she got herself arrested, she'd be in jail and maybe the guy couldn't get to her. No, she reasoned. He could probably convince someone in the jail to attack her. If she was going to do this, she needed to be one hundred and ten percent sure she had the right guy.
"Afternoon," the man said brightly, sliding the pie out of its large, bulky sleeve. "Here's your pizza."
Faye narrowed her eyes at him, raking her gaze to see if he had some kind of concealed weapon, but he didn't appear to--just khakis and the plain uniform polo. She held out one arm and accepted the pizza. He tipped his hat to her.
"Have a good night, ma'am."
He strode back to his car, got in, and drove away.
Faye memorized the license plate and shut the door, confused. He hadn't tried to come in. He hadn't made an attempt on her life. He hadn't even said more than a few words to her.
She flicked her gaze down at the pizza and shook it a bit. Well, she didn't hear an ominous ticking noise, nor did it feel heavy enough to have some kind of plastic explosive inside.
She set the pizza on the counter and took a deep breath, peeking under the lid before lifting it all the way.
Inside, taped to the top of the box, was a note.
In exactly ten minutes, tell the detectives you're going to the 24-hour fitness center in Brighton. Go there and wait for further instruction. Attempt to alert anyone and I'll kill you all.
Faye gritted her teeth and shut the box. Kidnapping, then. That was his end goal. He couldn't take her straight from her place, not with the cops so close by. He would have had to kill them, and in a place this crowded with this many witnesses, backup would arrive within minutes. He needed misdirection. But why? She had nothing to do with Jack and Kamala's project and she hadn't seen his face at the time of the hit, so she couldn't identify him.
"Weak spot," Faye muttered. "He needs a bargaining chip."
She paced back and forth in the kitchen. "What if I try to slip them the note when I tell them where I'm going? No, he's watching them. He'd see it. Maybe I can mouth something to them instead. No, shit, he might have some kind of listening device."
Faye gnawed on her lower lip. "C'mon, Faye, think. What do all those cop shows always tell you about kidnappings?"
She stopped then, her eyes widening. "Bingo."
Faye redressed in gym clothes and took deep breaths before she opened the door, reminding herself to act perfectly normal. Their lives depended on it, after all.
"Hey, fellas," she said. "I've got to go work off the pizza I just ate. Mind accompanying me to the fitness center for a bit?"
Det. Houston frowned. "You're not supposed to go out in public for 24-hours, Ms. Worthington."
"It's barely public," she groaned. "Come on, I'm gonna get fat if I don't. Do you want me to get fat?"
Carmichael coughed. "I believe that question is a trap, ma'am."
She scowled at him. "Hardy-har. Look, there are cameras everywhere in there. I'll be safe, I swear. Please?"
Houston eyed her and then sighed. "Fine. But only because it's really, really boring out here."
Faye resisted the urge to wince. "Thanks, guys."
She climbed into her car and pulled onto the road, checking in her rearview mirror to make sure they were following her. Brighton was several miles away. It was late, but the night life near campus was always in full swing, and so there was traffic.
And she was counting on it.
To the detectives' credit, they didn't stay directly behind her the entire time. They stayed a car behind and to the right of her so as not to tip off a potential threat. Good. It made what she was about to do a little easier.
Faye cruised down the hill towards the stoplight at the bottom. She took a deep breath, said a prayer asking for forgiveness, and gunned it through the red light.
She smashed into the back of an Impala from the right side, skidding the car in a semi-circle. The impact took the breath right out of her lungs. The airbag didn't deploy; she'd only been going about thirty-five miles per hour. There was only one person in the car and he didn't appear to be hurt, as she'd hit the bumper.
"Oh my God!" she cried, scurrying out and over to his driver's side. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry! Oh God, I'm so, so sorry!"
"Shit," the guy groaned, climbing out and staring at the enormous dent she'd made in the body of the car. "No, I'm okay. What about you?"
"I don't know," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't think I hit my head, but my neck feels like shit. We should both get checked out just in case."
"Yeah, let me pull over." They maneuvered the cars to one side and called an ambulance. Houston and Carmichael parked as well and checked on her as she sat in the back of the ambulance.
"Just had to try to beat the light, didn't you?" Houston scolded.
Faye tried to smile. "Yeah. Stupid, huh?"
She held still as the EMT moved her neck around. The street they'd pulled onto was blocked off for now as they waited for the tow truck to come to get
her car, which had stalled out for the moment. She'd been filling out her auto information for the other driver, named George Webber, who sat across from her. They had cleared the sidewalk of gawkers and a couple beat cops came to direct traffic around the accident in the meantime.
"You're okay," the EMT said. "Might have a bit of a headache later, but nothing's damaged."
"Thank you. Here, I'm done with this." She handed the clipboard to the other driver.
"Boy, this is one hell of a way to end the day," the guy sighed, flicking his gaze down at the paperwork. His eyes widened as he started reading it.
"I know," Faye said, climbing down from the ambulance. "I was going to the gym, for God's sake."
She glanced at Carmichael and Houston. "Guess you guys are following me to the car repair shop instead. Let's get moving, unless you need to ask Mr. Webber anything."
"Actually," Mr. Webber said, coughing slightly. "I do have a question for you gentlemen. Could you step inside for a moment?"
They exchanged glances and then did, shutting the door.
"How can we help you, son?" Houston asked.
"Detectives," Mr. Webber said, his voice low. "I don't know what's going on, but that woman, uh, Ms. Worthington, she's in trouble."
They both blinked at him. "What?"
"She wrote a message out in the accident report. She says the man who was after her the other night contacted her and told her to go to the gym so he could kidnap her. He's possibly tapped her phone and he's been watching her the whole time. She caused the accident to be able to convincingly pass the message along without him hearing or seeing it."
"Shit," Carmichael swore. He elbowed Houston. "Hey, quit looking constipated or you'll tip the guy off if he's still watching."
Houston forced his body to relax and started smiling, his voice whisper-quiet. "I'm guessing that's what the whole pizza thing was about. Might've been him."
"She thinks it was, but she's not sure," Mr. Webber continued. "She wrote the license plate number instead of her own on here."
"Smart girl," Houston said. "Thank you for your help, son. Sorry you got caught up in this mess, but we'll get it straightened out. Now, what I need you to do is walk out of here like you're absolutely enraged that she hit you. Screaming, cursing, the whole nine yards. We're going to act like we're taking you in for disorderly conduct and get that form to our precinct."
Houston glanced at Carmichael. "Get him there and then call me the second you do. I'll follow Faye to the repair shop and see if our mystery man shows up."
Carmichael shook his head. "No way, man. He's a professional hitter. You're not going there by yourself, and if he sees backup arrive, he might make a play for her. I'll ask one of the guys at the blockade to take Mr. Webber in and we'll both follow Faye."
"Detectives?"
"Yes, Mr. Webber?"
"...where'd she go?"
Carmichael and Houston opened the door to the ambulance and climbed out, glancing up and down the sidewalk.
Faye had vanished.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
INTO THE FIRE
“Fry, we’ve got a big problem.”
The CIA field agent glanced over his shoulder at Kamala. “What now?”
She held up the infrared scanner screen on her arm so he could see. “Baba Yaga is heading right for a group of mercs.”
“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he said, continuing forward cautiously. They’d given the dragon quite a large gap of space between them and the rest of the cave system. She was roughly a half mile ahead of them and making her way back up to the surface, possibly in search of more food. “While she’s busy snacking on them, we’ll be free to get topside and find Dr. Jackson.”
“So we’re no longer attempting to capture her alive, then? Because they seem to have come here with the intent to kill, not capture her.”
“Is what it is, doc,” he answered. “Better them than us. Do you want to rescue the dragon or do you want to rescue your boyfriend?”
Kamala clenched her jaw. “That wasn’t my point. They’re blocking our exit. There looks to be eight of them. Do you really want to bet on Baba Yaga taking them out for us?”
“We don’t have enough time to re-route. That’s the fastest way out, and we’ve got to find Jack by nightfall or everything becomes a thousand times more dangerous. Dragons see better at night, and even with our goggles, we’ll be at a massive disadvantage.”
“And you had the nerve to lecture me about unnecessary risk.”
Fry frowned at her. “I’m not the pregnant one.”
“Nor are you the father, so kindly butt out of my business,” she growled. “Assuming they are able to kill Baba Yaga, if even half of them survive, we’ll be killed.”
“We’re not going straight out into the line of fire. We’ll let the dragon emerge and engage them, then wait for the dust to settle. Who or whatever is left is what we’ll deal with. If somehow most of their crew lives through the skirmish, then we’ll retreat. Fair enough?”
She eyed him and nodded once. He faced forward. Kamala’s eyes narrowed. He was pushing a confrontation and she wasn’t entirely sure why. He hadn’t been forthcoming with most of his actions so far. Her gut twisted itself into a knot.
The dragon’s hiss had been a constant background noise as they traveled through the tunnels, but now they could hear it increasing in volume and ferocity as Baba Yaga approached the passageway leading out into the forest. It wasn’t man-made; over the years, the rain had washed away a section of the cave ceiling until it collapsed, leaving a hole the size of an Olympic swimming pool. The path in this section was well-traveled, and further evidence was that there was a thick, knotted rope dangling through the opening for tourists to test their arm strength and see if they could reach the top.
Kamala could see the yellow-orange blobs representing the mercenaries approaching the cave’s opening. They closed in on all sides and stopped several yards away, taking cover behind trees. If they thought it would fool the dragon, they were sorely mistaken.
Fry and Kamala reached the edge of the tunnel leading out to the cave opening and cautiously checked the corner. Baba Yaga settled her clawed feet beneath her massive body and her wings unfolded from her back. Kamala’s breath caught for a second. In spite of all the terror she inspired, Baba Yaga’s wings were breathtaking. She watched as they expanded outward from her shoulders, and the dying sunlight caught through the membrane, turning it slightly orange like a stained glass window. She estimated the dragon’s wingspan to be at least seventy-five feet. The gust of wind that kicked up as she began flapping them slapped against the walls of the cavern and bounced back up into the forest through the opening, rustling the trees and bushes, causing dangling limbs to come crashing down to earth. The dragon’s powerful legs flexed and then she launched herself into the air.
Fry and Kamala heard shouts in Japanese shortly before the sound of gunfire ripped through the clearing. It was short-lived.
The second she had cleared the opening, Baba Yaga unleashed her fire.
The first man within the dragon’s line of sight didn’t have a chance to react as a column of fire six feet in diameter engulfed his entire body. The heat from it blanketed him from head to toe and the flames incinerated him instantly, leaving behind a hunk of twisted metal that had been his rifle.
Baba Yaga’s enormous body twisted mid-air as she maneuvered around the tree tops, her wings knocking branches and leaves to the ground as she propelled herself towards the second victim. The man backpedaled, trying to fix the dragon within his sights, but by the time he did, the fire consumed him as well.
The dragon spun and dug her massive claws into the trunk of a tree, using it to launch herself at the next man below. She snapped him up from the forest floor in one bite and chomped hard enough to sever his arms and legs from his torso. The dragon tossed her head back, swallowing the cor
pse, and then belched fire at the one who had been standing next to him. The man threw himself into a dive roll and broke into a sprint, spraying gunfire wildly behind him in panic. One of the men across from him yelped as a bullet hit him in the upper thigh. His scream drew the dragon’s attention. She snarled and barreled towards the injured man, who stopped clutching his leg and fired at the dragon. Baba Yaga roared as the bullets tore into her thick shoulders, but didn’t relent. She eviscerated him with a single blow.
By now, the remaining four men had begun to fall back since their numbers had literally been halved. They flocked together around Aisaka, who stood at the head of the group with Jack's cold pack strapped to her back.
"Focus on her legs and her wings," she said, her voice eerily calm as she stared down the towering monster. "I will do the rest."
The men behind her grunted in affirmation as she slipped to one side. Two of the men knelt and the others stayed standing, and together they concentrated their fire.
Baba Yaga leapt into the air just as the first volley of bullets tore through the underbrush, punching huge holes into the tree trunks around her and shredding bushes, logs, and anything in its wake. She flew high, smashing through branches, and then went into a sharp dive. Her deadly, blood-splattered jaws opened once more and she poured fire along the ground, aiming for the men, but they scattered in all directions.
Then, all at once, the dragon vanished out of sight through the canopy of trees.
Aisaka's men kept low to the ground and scanned the sky, squinting through the treetops. Acrid smoke choked the clearing and obscured what little sunlight had been left.
The men waited. For a few haunting minutes, everything fell deathly quiet.
One of the men frowned as he heard a rustling sound above his head. He glanced up.
An uprooted tree smashed him flat a second later.
Baba Yaga landed astride the tree she'd dropped on the man and bellowed, spraying another burst of flames at the three men she spotted in the area. Flames swept over their heads and they opened fire again. The dragon flinched to one side as bullet wounds opened up in her side, high up along her spines and the joint that connected her wings to her body. She lunged and gobbled up one man, smashing her tail into the trees behind her to draw another one out. The man dove and came up on his knees, firing at the dragon's rear left leg. Blood painted the soil.