Amazon Queen a-2

by Лори Девоти

  I let him get as far as the walk before I picked up a cantaloupe-sized stone that doubled as a doorstop and flung it at his head.

  Chapter 14

  He spun so quickly, I didn't see the movement, but I saw him duck, saw his hand shoot above his head, and I saw his grin when he caught the cannonball of rock in his bare hand. "The queen is back."

  I didn't share his joviality. I jumped and kicked, aiming for his head. He dropped the rock and plowed forward, his head going between my legs. With me straddling his shoulder, he stood. Momentum sent me falling backward. I would have tumbled to the ground except he held me by one calf. I dangled with my back to his, my hair brushing the ground.

  I cursed, then used every bit of abdominal strength I had to pull myself back up. I grabbed him by the hair and jerked, then dropped my weight forward. I landed palms down in a handstand that I quickly converted to a flip. Four feet away, I faced him.

  The grin was back.

  I growled, and he rushed me.

  He was fast, preternaturally fast. I was too, but nothing compared him. I tried, but was unable to move out of his path. He slammed into me, knocking me onto the ground.

  His full body weight pressing me into the earth, he stared down at me. "If we work together, you can get everything you want."

  My heart pounded against my breastbone. "You think?" I asked.

  He dipped his face lower, so his lips barely brushed mine. "I know."

  I didn't move; my mind was whirling. My training said to toss him off, to wipe the wearisome smile off his face, but another part of me, a part I'd forgotten existed, couldn't move, not without doing something that would give away thoughts I didn't want to be having, shouldn't be having.

  He was a son. Whether I thought killing Amazon infant sons was wrong or not, I didn't approve of what my mother had done, and I didn't want to follow in her footsteps.

  His lips brushed mine again, and I caught a whiff of the scent I'd noticed that first time in the woods, earthy and masculine, dangerous and alluring. And this time it was very alluring. There was no denying it.

  When his lips brushed mine a third time, I leaned up and captured his mouth with mine.

  Adrenaline rushed through me. He tasted of mint, not the fake taste of toothpaste, but the real zing of mint grown wild in the woods. His chin was covered in stubble. It rasped over my skin, hurt and excited me at the same time.

  His hand moved from the ground beside me to my arms. His hands, the same hands that had grabbed me so roughly before, softened.

  I softened too, pressure releasing from me like air from a deflating beach ball. Then as his hands roamed past my arms onto my stomach, pushed up the thin tee I wore, new pressure began to build.

  "Excuse us." Two older women wearing stretchy shorts and knee socks stumbled to a stop beside us. At least I assumed they were older, based on their shoes and clothing from the waist down. From my angle on the ground that was all I could see.

  Their feet, clad in some kind of practical-looking thick-soled tennis shoes, shuffled to the side. Probably two of Bubbe's clients.

  "Should we. .?" one asked.

  The other made some kind of hushing noise, then, "Never mind us. We'll be going on our way. Just act like you never saw us."

  The other argued, but only briefly and so low I couldn't truly make out the words, not that I wanted to. I was completely and totally humiliated-not because I'd been caught acting like an animal in heat by humans, but that I'd been playing the role with the son at all.

  I shoved him off me and scrambled to my feet.

  He stayed on the ground, watching me, his expression unreadable and his body language relaxed-as if lying sprawled out blocking the sidewalk and the entrances to two buildings was perfectly normal. I spun with every intention of stalking off. A whisper of movement told me he'd stood, but not in time to stop him from grabbing me around the waist.

  "You're shy. Who knew?"

  I threw back my elbow, aiming for his gut. With a laugh, he stepped to the side, his arm slipping from my body as he did.

  I got maybe ten feet, even with the front of Mel's main building, before the blast sounded. The ground moved, or seemed to. A tremor traveled from the earth into my feet and up my legs. And the noise. . a blast that made me want to clap my hands over my ears. . there was no mistaking it, not after living through the explosion of Jack's cabin.

  Something had blown.

  I took off in a run around the front of Mel's shop, praying as I did that the blast hadn't been inside the structure, that Mel, her family. . my family. . were safe.

  Smoke billowed from the other side of Mel's shop-outside her shop. I kept moving, dashing over the sidewalk and onto the grass. Before I rounded the second corner I caught sight of the fire. . a line of holly bushes that separated Mel's property from her neighbor's was blazing.

  Heat crackled and smoke tore at my lungs, but I plowed ahead. On the side of the building was a spigot with a hose. Unable to think of any better plan at the moment, I followed the example of the idiot humans I'd seen outside Jack's cabin and turned the tiny stream of water onto the bushes.

  Yells came from the front yard. The occupants of Mel's shop and home flowed out. In seconds the tiny side yard was filled with bodies. Bern moved into view, a blanket in her arms. She held it up for me to douse with the hose, then marched into what looked like the middle of the flames. Jack was there too, but he stood apart. He seemed almost unaware of the chaos that had broken out around him. His brow was furrowed and his gaze was on the ground.

  Thinking he'd lost it under the pressure, I ignored him.

  Overhead, a window flew up, and Mel yelled to watch out. Water began to shoot from the open window like a hole had been punched in a dam. The water coming from my hose sputtered and stopped.

  I dropped it and stared, amazed at my friend's skill. Beside me, Bubbe stomped into view. She held her hands above her head. The spray of water became less diverse, like it was flowing through an invisible channel the old priestess held somewhere above her head. Working to direct Mel's flood onto the trees, she twisted in place like a human water sprinkler except slow and flinging hundreds of gallons of water with each jerk of her body.

  The water combined with the fire, creating clouds of steam that clung to us all. My hair fell to my shoulders in heavy clumps and my shirt stuck to my skin.

  The rest of the group fared no better. Mandy's and Cheryl's faces seemed to melt as their makeup ran down their cheeks. And even the men who'd been awaiting tattoos seemed to have wilted and weakened. But we all continued doing what we could, throwing dirt and stamping on falling sparks.

  All except Jack.

  Suddenly, he looked up. . at me. Some kind of realization glowed in his eyes, and without saying a word he dashed around the back of the building.

  I pushed a sad-looking Mandy out of my way and followed.

  I heard Jack's growl-the unnatural sound of a wolverine pissed off to the point of exploding. I didn't know until I turned the second corner, taking me back to the sidewalk that ran between Mel's shop and the gym, that he was still in his human form.

  Almost directly under one of Mel's giant floodlights, he stood, legs apart, hands at his sides but his fingers spread, stiff. Anger radiated from him.

  When I came up beside him, I saw why.

  Babies, two of them tucked into their little plastic seats, sat on the ground where only minutes earlier I'd lain beneath Jack. Beside them were the two women who had walked up on us-I recognized their shoes and shorts. And in their hands were guns-handguns, ugly black squared-off looking things.

  "No reason for anyone to get hurt. Just stay where you are," one called. Her voice was steady, as was the gun in her hand. Her eyes shifted in her face, looking from Jack to me, to someone I couldn't see, hidden in the stairwell.

  There was movement, a blond head appeared. My mother. Of course. She placed her fingers on the concrete top of the stairwell.

  I knew her plan. I jum
ped forward, drawing the attention of the two armed women.

  The gun clicked. My heart skipped, but I dropped and rolled forward. The gun exploded and I landed back on my feet, still ten feet from the women. One of them grabbed a baby carrier, the other froze. I could see the panic in her eyes, could see the gun shaking in her hand.

  I relaxed; she'd panicked. We'd won.

  But as her gaze darted over me, she raised the gun again. Her friend, the carrier's handle slipped over one arm, did the same. Two pairs of eyes, two guns, both pointed at me.

  I froze, determined to drop at the first twitch of their fingers, determined to outmaneuver not one but two bullets.

  Behind me my mother screamed, a war cry-anger, hate, and determination flying from her lungs.

  The women jerked. The guns moved and then exploded. The women's faces pulled as they stared down at the guns in their hands, then back up at me, shocked. I turned, moving as if through water, slow and surreal. My mother stood on top of the stairwell, her arms out and her mouth open.

  I'd never seen her look so fierce, so full of strength and power. I realized in that split second how much I loved her, how much I needed her now that I'd lost everything else.

  Then the bullets hit and nothing happened. She didn't move; her face didn't change. Nothing. For a split second I thought she was safe. .

  Then she took a step back. Two round splotches of blood grew on her chest and her gaze shot to me. Surprise and hurt, not physical pain, but loss. My lips parted; I took a step toward her.

  And she fell backward into the stairwell.

  She made no other sound, no yelp of pain, no curse of anger, nothing.

  "No!" I spun, determined to knock the two women back to whatever hell had created them.

  One of them, the one with the baby, lifted her gun again. I could hear Jack yelling, maybe he'd been yelling all along, but all I could see was my mother's killers and all I could think about was reaching them, destroying them.

  Overhead something shrieked. I didn't look up, couldn't.

  There was another click; somewhere in my brain I recognized it as the sound that came right before the gun fired. I could see the woman holding the baby now. I focused on her. Her eyes were blue and watery. Her hair was gray and tucked behind her ears. She wore tiny pearl earrings and today she was going to die.

  There was another shriek, louder, closer.

  Something big and dark dropped from the sky. . the bird from the woods. Its talons extended, it tore at my intended target's face and hair.

  She screamed and dropped both the baby and the gun. The gun fired as it hit the ground, but the bullet went wild, lodging into the brick wall of Mel's shop.

  The second woman paused, then dropped her gun and ran away from us toward the front of the building. At an old maple she stopped and picked something up off the ground. Not sure what was happening, I raced toward her. She glanced at me, but I didn't think she saw me. Then she glanced back at where the other woman battled with the bird, where the babies lay on the ground.

  Her thumb hovered over the box.

  I spun and yelled, but Jack had already started moving, as had the bird. They both raced toward the baby seats. Jack got there first, grabbing both by the handles as he ran toward me.

  There was a click, this one softer and less metallic, and the space between the two buildings exploded.

  I stood straight up, my arms over my head, and cursed.

  Something smashed into me from the side. An ooof of pain and expelled breath left my body, and I was slammed onto my back. My face was covered by something both soft and scratchy; I couldn't breathe. I kicked out. Whatever had been covering me moved.

  Dirt clouded the air blocking my view of anything but shapes. On all fours, I held my hand over my mouth and nose and peered at the world through squinted eyes. Something rustled nearby, then wings flapped, loud and close. . the bird. I felt the air move as he took off. The dirt seemed to clear some too, enough that I could see Mel's outside lights again and Jack. He stood fifteen feet away, his face streaming with sweat, his arms shaking and a baby carrier in each hand.

  I scrambled to my feet, trying not to cough, and searched the area around us for the two women.

  "They're gone. She blew something." Jack, his face ashen, glanced to where the woman with the tiny box had stood, then in almost the same movement slanted his head toward the stairwell where I had seen my mother fall-or what had been the stairwell. It was now filled with rubble.

  I moved toward it, my legs stretching as long as they could, devouring the ground as quickly as they could.

  Bern was there beside me. I didn't know where she'd come from. I hadn't seen her approach. But I didn't question her appearance. I just grabbed a piece of broken concrete and tossed it off the pile. Bern did the same.

  As I lay my hand on a second segment, a man appeared, his walnut-brown body naked. He dove in, grabbing chunks in both hands and tossing them onto the ground behind us.

  Soon the grass was strewn with debris.

  "Was she. . is she?" I mumbled to myself, unable to comprehend that the mother I'd seen only as a super-Amazon lie trapped beneath pounds of stone.

  A siren sounded; it was close.

  "Humans to the rescue," the naked man muttered.

  Jack jumped forward and grabbed him by one shoulder. Jack's fingers were pale against the other man's darker skin. "We'll take care of this. You have to leave. You're illegal as far as they're concerned, and naked. It will just cause new questions. Go to Makis's. I'll call you, let you know what's happening."

  The man ignored him, kept tossing hunks of concrete, but with an increased fervor, an almost crazed energy.

  Jack grabbed him again, by the arm this time, pulling him around. "Leave. You'll just create more questions."

  The man cursed. He was older than Jack, had gray at the temples of his close-cropped hair and lines by his eyes. His body was sinewy, like a long-distance runner or maybe a swimmer, and his shoulders were unusually broad for his slim hips.

  He opened his mouth in one long stretch, like the famous painting The Scream and a screech ripped from his lungs. Then before I could jerk or respond in any way, he was gone and the giant bird stood in his place.

  He turned his neck and stared at me. His feathers were inky black except for a white ruff that ringed his throat. His eyes were brown but with a reddish tinge that made me shiver, or maybe it was the expression in the eyes, the pure unadulterated dislike pointed directly at me.

  The sirens grew louder, and not far away a fire truck honked its horn, trying to clear cars from its path.

  "Go!" Jack pointed to the sky.

  With a last shriek the giant bird shot into the night.

  I moved into his place, tossing rocks with shaking hands.

  As firemen and paramedics flowed onto the property, I kept tossing. I heard people muttering behind me.

  "Her mother's under there."

  "Call someone."

  But no one tried to stop me and when two firemen dressed in bright yellow stepped beside me to help, I didn't stop them.

  We found her ten minutes later. She wasn't breathing and hadn't been since the first bullet hit.

  I was down inside the stairwell by then, my legs up to my knees covered in dust and broken bricks. I stared at my mother's too-pale face. I didn't need the fireman to tell me she was dead; I knew it. She'd never looked like that, never been lacking in the confident swagger that emanated from her like light from a halogen bulb.

  My heart slowed. Someone was talking to me. . Mel standing behind me, her hand on my shoulder. I couldn't hear what she said. The fireman said something too. He yelled and gestured.

  Mel disappeared. Someone grabbed me under the arms and pulled me from the debris. I could feel it slipping over my bare legs, the rough concrete bits scratching my skin. My heels bounced as my body moved. All I could do was stare down at that face and think how what I was seeing couldn't be true.

  Amazons li
ved for hundreds of years. . hundreds. And my mother, as much as she angered me, wasn't supposed to be dead.

  She wasn't.

  But she was.

  Chapter 15

  After they found my mother's body, more humans had crowded onto Mel's property. There were firemen, paramedics, cops, and neighbors. People everywhere.

  The babies were fine. Jack had handed them off to Mandy before pulling me from the stairwell.

  He'd dragged me as far as the paramedics would let him. Only about eight feet from where my mother's body lay, he propped me up against the base of the old school and kneeled down beside me.

  "Get mad, Zery. Getting mad will get you through this." Then he squeezed my hand and stepped to the side.

  Mel and a paramedic took his place. The paramedic asked me a lot of useless questions and tried to get me to agree to get in an ambulance and go to a nearby hospital. I refused. Actually, I didn't even bother refusing. I stood instead.

  Jack was right. This wasn't the time to mourn. This was the time to be pissed.

  And I was. More pissed than I ever remembered being in my life.

  I looked at Mel. "They shot her." Humans, older women, like the birders who I'd run off my property, like the one Bern had found dead. Who were they? And why were they targeting the Amazons? Why had they been here?

  Mel glanced at the human male who was still trying to press a stethoscope to my chest. I shoved him. He stumbled back and fell onto the ground.

  Two policemen moved in. Mel stepped between them and me, or tried to; one of the cops pushed her to the side.

  My hands opening and closing at my sides, I stepped forward.

  As my foot moved, dirt swirled from the stairs in a minitornado. It shot over the ground, descending over me and the officers. Coughing, I stepped back. The cops did too. And, just as suddenly, the tornado lifted. It rose above our heads, then with a puff it was gone. Dirt rained down over us.

  "What the. .?" One of the policemen raised his hand to shield his eyes. The other, caught in a coughing fit violent enough to make him double over, waved for me to move back.