by Jadyn Chase
I needed to start taking notes. I grabbed my phone and flipped to…..I didn’t even have a decent note-taking app. Christ, how did I wind up so behind the eight-ball on this? I fished in the bedside table searching for a pen when, without warning, the door smashed off its hinges and cartwheeled into the room.
I ducked to avoid getting my head lopped off. The second I recovered, ten armed men in ski masks charged into the room. One of them rushed me and smashed me across the nose with his rifle butt.
My instincts ruptured to fight. I bounced off the mattress ready to rip someone a new asshole and caught a shotgun swinging around to deal me another blow. I snatched it out of the air, but the guy on the other end turned out to be a lot stronger than I expected.
For a terrible second, we grappled for the weapon. More attackers flooded into the room faster than I could think. Someone came up next to me and slammed me in the ribs with a lead pipe.
I groaned but maintained my hold on the weapon. Whoever these shitheads were, they bit off more than they could chew coming after me.
I told myself that, but in reality, one man against so many didn’t stand a chance. Another gun landed against my neck and I buckled at the knees. I sank down on the bed and blows rained around my skull.
I heard the concussions and felt the dull, distant impact of dozens of blows. I sensed my flesh bruising and swelling, but I couldn’t feel any pain. Everything happened a long way away from me.
I slumped over still sitting up and stared in front of me. I blinked and saw something curious. The man directly in front of me, the man whose gun I grabbed—he raised his arms. I glimpsed under his vest flap to the t-shirt underneath. A circular emblem in the shape of a tornado whirled in a tight funnel. A dragon snaked around it and through it and out of it. Clouds of dust and smoke plumed at the logo’s corners.
A banner in italic lettering underneath read, Furies. Of course. I should have known they would retaliate. I was the last Diablo left in Barstow. Who else would they come after?
I was the last Diablo except one. Logan. My mind told me to go after him, to protect him, but I couldn’t move or even think clearly enough to stand up. I definitely couldn’t fight.
The man stepped back and I lost sight of the patch. None of the others wore their patches—not in view, at least. What did they think—that they would keep their identity secret? Maybe they only planned to hide their membership from outsiders who might see them. They couldn’t expect to hide it from me.
The man retreated far enough that my gazed focused on his face. His dark eyes glittered behind a black bandana. He hauled back his weapon and delivered a devastating crack across my nose.
I felt that one. Piercing arrows of agony and wrongness fired into my brain. I tumbled back on the bed and flopped staring up at the ceiling. I couldn’t die like this, alone in some no-name hotel. I had a son. I had to live for him if not for myself.
The fucker climbed onto the bed and straddled my chest. He cocked back his shotgun and jammed the barrel into my forehead. He lowered his face to within inches of my eyes. He hissed low and his breath made the bandana flutter. “Alfonzo Salazar sends his regards, asshole.”
His knuckles whitened on the trigger. This was it. I always wondered what dying would be like. Now I was going to find out.
Way down deep in my being, another voice whispered, No. Not today. Not like this. Not as long as I can stop it.
The human part of me just didn’t care anymore. I hurt too much. I was too sad and too lonely and too bored and too fed up with all the petty frustrations and annoyances of life. Christopher lived without me all these years. He would survive just fine without me. Ruby would take care of him.
The primal animalistic soul inside me refused. A distant ember of ancient fury revolted against this. It didn’t think. In a way, it didn’t even have to know about Christopher. None of those pointless considerations meant anything to the dragon.
The man on top of me narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The gun erupted burning gunpowder against my forehead. In a fraction of a second, the skin on my face shifted to scales. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t summon the dragon to fight these enemies, but I could do that much.
The buckshot drilled into me. The devastating shock wave pummeled me into the mattress and I lay still. My eyes stared up at the ceiling seeing and comprehending nothing.
10
Eli
The Furies converged around me. Their weapons dangling at their sides. “That’s the devil taken care of,” one of them declared.
“Fall back to the depot,” another ordered. “We’ll rearm before we go after the woman. We’ll take her out quick and clean so we don’t leave any witnesses. This one was easy. Her, we need to take our time and plan. Let’s go. Make sure you take everything with you. Don’t leave any trace behind”
They trailed out of the hotel room one by one. They muttered to each other but I couldn’t make out the words. My brain pretty much shut down. I didn’t even blink.
Alfonzo Salazar. So that fuckwit was still alive. For all I knew, he was never in the limo to begin with. Maybe he or his father suspected The Boss would retaliate so they sent someone else in Alfonzo’s place.
Either way, he was alive enough to take revenge. They must have tracked me down or maybe picked up some scrap of evidence at the railyard. If Alfonzo came to Barstow when we hit that limo, he or his men may have followed me to the baseball field. The woman. They were going after Ruby.
I couldn’t move. The buckshot hurt embedded in my skin. The scales receded within seconds of catching the shot and preventing it from penetrating my skull. Now those little pellets burned into my forehead.
I had to get them out. I had to get up. I had to go after them. I had to stop them hurting Ruby and…. Not Christopher. I couldn’t let them hurt Christopher. The rest of us could go straight to Hell, but not him. Not him.
No matter how I ordered myself to get up, to do something, nothing worked. I commanded my hand to flex my right index finger. Nothing. I couldn’t even force my eyelids to blink.
Another section of my awareness brought every detail around me into startling clarity. The sun crossed the window. The square of glaring light slid across the floor with leisurely slowness. Would this day never end? Would I remain paralyzed here forever—or at least until the cleaning lady found me lying in a puddle of blood?
Alfonzo Salazar. Ruby Lewis. The depot. So they were meeting at the depot. Where might that be? They could only be talking about the historic train station across town. It housed a couple different railway museums and a bunch of government offices. It wasn’t the most likely place for an armed gang to hold hostages.
Hostages! What was I thinking? These idiots didn’t plan to hold Ruby hostage. They planned to kill her the same way they planned to kill me. They wanted to send Los Diablos a message that we missed our target. Alfonzo was alive and well and on the warpath.
Get up, Eli. For fuck’s sake, get up.
I didn’t get up. I only lay there going over the ground one inch at a time. The platform behind the train station looked over Barstow, but a few other buildings in the complex afforded a view to some scattered warehouses, sheds, and other forgotten buildings.
If The Furies planned to set up operations in town, they would need a base close by. Alfonzo, on the other hand, would stay somewhere that didn’t involve some greasy old railroad shed. He’d stay in the most luxurious hotel on the block. Harvey House was the closest hotel to the rail station, but he wouldn’t care about location. Harvey House wouldn’t be fancy enough for his tastes. He’d choose Ayres Hotel or the Wyndham.
For the love of God, Eli, get the hell up. To my amazement, it actually worked. I could contract my muscles and heave myself into a sitting position. When I did, my head split with shattering pain and I collapsed face-first into the carpet. I landed flat on my nose, which sent an even more brutal explosion of agony into my brain.
I lay groaning in a heap for a long
time. I could not for the life of me get my mind to stop dwelling on the buckshot buried in my forehead. I obsessed over each tiny pellet in microscopic detail. I could locate each one and trace around their spherical shapes with my mind’s eye. It drove me batshit, but just staying conscious demanded all my concentration.
Another pang of despair seized me. While I crouched here in a pile of blood and confusion, those bastards were homing in on my….my son and my…. I couldn’t think of Ruby that way. She wasn’t my anything and she never would be, but I had to save her. I couldn’t let her fall victim to The Furies.
Poor girl. She worked so hard to keep herself and Christopher away from Los Diablos. She spent seven years protecting him from situations just like this and I couldn’t exactly blame her.
If Christopher wasn’t a dragon himself, that might have been the best thing she could do for him. Now here I went and led the danger right to their door. Christopher wouldn’t be in danger right now if not for me. Neither of them would be.
My heart wrenched at the thought. Maybe Ruby did right keeping him away from me. If I never came back to Barstow, if I never bumped into her at that diner, he would have stayed safe forever—right up until the moment he found out he was a dragon. Then he would need me and I wouldn’t be around.
Now that I thought about it, I lost my ire toward her. I no longer hated her for keeping Christopher from me. She did it for him. She did what was best for him. That made her a good mother and I thanked her for that.
Now it was my turn to do what was best for Christopher, but only if I could get to him before The Furies did. I couldn’t depend on them to kill Ruby and leave him alive.
No one was going to kill Ruby. No one was going to scare her or threaten her. No one was ever going to even think about her in the same thought as killing and scaring and threatening. She was mine to defend and save and help.
I loved that woman. I loved her a long time ago and I still did. I wouldn’t hurt so much over her if I didn’t love her. I finally admitted that to myself. If she didn’t want to be with me because I was a dragon or because I belonged to Los Diablos, that didn’t change my feelings.
I could at least save her. She earned that much consideration from me. I got her into this mess, and no one else in the world could get her out of it.
The Boss. Los Diablos. If I could only get in touch with them, they could help me. Then I wouldn’t have to battle The Furies alone.
I peeled my cheek off the carpet and did my best to look around. My jacket draped over a nearby chair. My phone lay face up on the carpet where I dropped it when The Furies broke in. I just had to stretch out my trembling hand and pick it up. Thank the stars.
I craned back to reach for it. Every nerve hurt. Squeezing my fingers around it took a heroic effort. The minute I got a hold of it, I toppled over on my side sobbing in agony. This was bad. This was really bad.
I blinked blood out of my eyes and tapped my contact list. I pulled up The Boss’s details. Roman Santiago. Please, dear God, let him answer.
My hands shook holding the phone to my ear. It clicked and switched straight to voice mail. “I’m not available to answer your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll….”
I howled in despair and barely stopped myself from hurling the phone against the wall. I had to think. I had to hold it all together a little longer. Any second now, my body would regenerate and I would be able to move again without passing out.
I turned off the phone and switched back to my contacts. I found Kane and dialed. I went through the same tortured anticipation before his gruff voice belched into my ear. “What’s up, man?”
I gulped. “You…. you gotta listen to me, man. The Furies are in Barstow, and Alfonzo Salazar is alive. He wasn’t in the God damned limo after all. He’s alive and he just tried to fucking kill me, man. I’m in my hotel room shot in the head, and he’s…..” I almost burst into tears getting it out as fast as I could. How could I explain to this hardened biker about Ruby? None of Los Diablos knew a thing about her. “He’s going after a girl I used to know. I dated her in high school, and I bumped into her at the diner that first night. Do you remember? I went out to dinner with her once after that and now he’s going after her. You gotta help me, man.” My voice cracked again before I pulled it together. “I need you to contact The Boss and let him know what’s going on. I’m injured, and I’m all on my own up here. I need backup and pronto.”
Kane, bless his heart, listened to all this in silence. He must have realized in a few seconds how serious the situation was because he didn’t answer right away.
When he did finally speak, he took a deep breath and responded in a low murmur that shot straight to my guts. “Now you gotta listen to me, man. The Boss just left headquarters with seventeen dudes all armed for the Last Day if you get my meaning. While we were up in Bartow, The Furies sent another truck into our territory and hit two of our warehouses within minutes of each other. They set up a delivery station in the neutral zone between us and the Longtails’ territory where they could thumb their noses at us in defiance of all decency. The Boss is arming everyone to burn and destroy. I’m stuck here guarding the fort with Rico and Miguel until he gets back and that won’t be for at least twelve hours. I’m sorry, man, but you’re on your own until then. I wish I could help you, but I’m under orders to maintain radio silence until he tells me otherwise, so I don’t think he’d take it too kindly if I contacted him about something that’s happening a hundred miles away if you know what I mean.”
He stopped. Deafening stillness echoed down the line. So that was it. I was on my own. I couldn’t count on any of my brothers coming to my rescue.
The phone fell out of my hand. I must have passed out because I didn’t hear Kane hang up. I let gravity haul me into the carpet and my eyes blurred. What was the use in trying? It was all over but the crying.
Christopher. Christopher and Ruby. I wasn’t dead yet, but they would be in a very short time. I pried my eyes open against the blood that was forming a thick crust on my face now. It glued my lashes together so I had to exert extra force to separate them. The sky outside turned steely grey with falling twilight. Holy Christ, how long had I been lying here?
I twisted over onto my face and braced my arms. I dragged myself onto my hands and knees one particle at a time. My head swam and my skull throbbed with every tormented beat of my heart. I couldn’t remember ever hurting this much. I wished I was dead.
I would save Ruby and Christopher. Then I would find a hole to crawl into and never wake up.
I kept my eyes closed for a time and compelled one arm outward. I put my weight on it and focused on my knee. Piece by piece, I inched toward the bathroom. I wouldn’t find Ruby and Christopher there, but first things first.
I touched the bathtub and steadied myself to catch my breath. Now came the hard part. I locked my jaw and took a firm grip on the porcelain. I flung out my leg and put my foot on the floor.
I leaned over the tub and rested my chest there while I got my other foot in position. Ever so slowly, I eased my weight back and squatted. I had to hang my head to remain conscious for a minute until the world stopped spinning. Every second counted, but I couldn’t rush this if I hoped to stay upright.
I bounced on my thighs and straightened my legs. My knees braced. Thank Heaven for small mercies. I supported myself from the tub to the sink and teetered in front of the mirror. I didn’t dare look at myself, though. I was here to do a job, and I already knew I looked like death warmed over.
I pulled out my Bowie knife. I clenched it in my right hand and propped my left next to the mirror to hold myself up. I trained all my attention on my forehead and raised the knife.
The pain always vanishes in situations like this. I stabbed my knife into my brow and dug out the first pellet. One after the other, I cut out the buckshot driving me insane. Blood trickled into my eyes, but I blinked it away.
When I finished, I washed off my face and patt
ed it with toilet paper until the bleeding stopped. I shoved the knife into its sheath. Now the pain really hit. My head wobbled on my shoulders like a lead balloon. Every few seconds, I lost the strength to hold it up. My neck sagged and a wave of cold sick gripped me.
I leaned both arms against the mirror and rested for what seemed like a long time. While I wondered whether I could really do this, my phone buzzed. I blew out a long breath and took it out. Unknown caller. That was weird.
I touched the button. “Hello?”
“Hey, man!” It was Logan. “They’re letting me out of here. I’m all better and the doctors were astounded by my speedy recovery.” He let out a childish laugh at his own joke. The doctors must have really been amazed. They probably called the Journal of Medicine about it.
He changed his tone. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” As if. “When are you getting out?”
“They say a couple of hours, but nothing ever happens very fast around here. Can you pick me up?”
“Sure, man.” I sniffed and squared my shoulders. “Just tell me when and where.”
“Come to the main entrance at eight o’clock. I should be there by then.”
I hung up. So God in his Heaven didn’t completely forsake me. One other Diablo remained in semi-operational condition in this piece of shit town. I checked my phone. Quarter to seven.
Now that I got those pellets out, I sensed my healing powers kicking in. Just a few more hours or maybe days of pain and I would be right as rain, just like Logan. I had a plan and I had a friend. I only needed one more crucial piece of the puzzle—well, two actually.
Ruby lived with her father. She only moved back here a short time ago, so she probably couldn’t afford her own house.