by Sandy James
Rebecca made a valiant effort to block the blows, but her strength was ebbing. Three more swings found her on her knees. The fourth disarmed her, the sword falling from her hands and landing on the sand.
Megan, to her credit, didn’t celebrate her victory. Instead, she clasped Rebecca’s wrist, pulling her back to her feet. “You’ll get me next time, Rebs.”
Rebecca didn’t look like she believed her. “Yeah. We’ll see.”
“I mean it,” Megan insisted. “You’re getting better every day.”
The link between his new Amazons had already formed. Damn, but they pleased him.
Sparks shook her head. “See? She’s weak.”
“Together, they’re strong.”
“God, but you’re a stubborn ass.”
He tried not to grin at her, but the corners of his mouth twitched in spite of his discipline.
“Fine. I want her to learn, Celt. I really do. I’ll spend more time with her, I’ll—”
“Nay,” he interrupted, not wanting to debate the point any longer. Artair knew what was at stake for Sparks, and he understood her near panic that she still couldn’t sense Trishna or Helen. Two Amazons in the wind. While that might have happened in earlier decades, earlier centuries, modern communication should have helped them stay in touch. All calls—tangible and mystical—went unanswered.
The search was already on to discover who had attacked Maria. Every night, Artair pored through the old texts, looking for some hint of which demon or demigod was foolish enough to target the Amazons. Most kept their distance, realizing the power the Amazons wielded. The only time their paths usually crossed was when humans were victimized. Rhiannon was checking on some of the names he’d provided, but nothing of any value had been discovered.
The last time he’d “lost” an Amazon was the beginning of the twentieth century. His Fire, a woman named Adele Brennen, had been sent to bring a gueebuce to heel in Brazil. Gueebuces weren’t particularly dangerous, but those evil spirits were known to snatch virgins and pitch them into active volcanoes. Adele had assured him she could handle the job on her own and was sent to the Andes Mountains to find the one wreaking havoc on Chilean villages.
She’d been wrong.
When she’d failed to respond to her sisters’ spiritual calls, Artair took the remaining Amazons to find her. All that remained was her ravaged body.
Losing his Fire had been difficult. Sparks had been called to replace Adele, and it had taken Artair years to warm up to his new recruit. He’d learned a lesson that he would never forget. Lost Amazons wouldn’t be allowed to remain “lost” for long. As soon as he had any information on Helen and Trishna’s whereabouts, ready or not, he was leading these women to find them.
Sparks needed reinforcements, but Guardian and Sentinel were both concerned that Rebecca wasn’t a typical Amazon.
Could she eventually learn?
When the goddesses called together all four new Amazons, would Rebecca hold her own? He hated that Water and Air weren’t training where he could supervise their progress. Instead, a new Sentinel—the one who would replace Artair—saw to their induction and reported daily to Artair.
Thank the Ancients, Rebecca trained in Avalon where he could keep an eye on her.
“You work hard enough, Sparks. If the lass needs more training, I’ll give it. Time for them to climb. I’ll see to the weapons and join you shortly.”
Sparks used her best drill sergeant voice to send Megan and Rebecca scrambling from the sandpits to the climbing tower where they would scale the wall and then rappel back down. He brushed aside a quick pang of guilt for sending the new Amazons to the tower again, knowing Rebecca was deathly afraid of heights. She had never come out and told him, not in words. But the fear was etched on her face each time she’d scaled the sheer wall, nothing short of terror in her eyes. Yet, there had been no tears. She did all that was asked of her without complaint.
He tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t be concerned with Rebecca’s feelings, that she was just another on the long, long list of women he’d trained to be warriors. Except the voice in his head kept whispering, “Liar.”
* * *
Rebecca stood at the base of the wall she despised. She was glad Artair wouldn’t watch her climb. It was embarrassing enough having Sparks and Megan see her fear, especially because there was no way to hide her emotions from them.
The more time the women spent together, the more she felt their connection, their sisterly bond. They shared feelings, sometimes even thoughts. It was more than a little eerie and often left her feeling emotionally naked. Would she ever get used to being that open with the other Amazons, especially the two sisters she’d yet to meet?
At least they weren’t connected every minute of every day. She could steel herself to guard some of her thoughts and assumed the others could as well.
Sparks and Megan started up the tower first in one of their usual races. Adjusting her ropes, Rebecca shut her eyes, swearing to herself she wouldn’t cry. Figuring she’d learned the mechanics well enough to climb the stupid rope, she went at her task blind. The panic wasn’t so bad if she didn’t look.
Her muscles screamed at the exertion, but she crept slowly up the tallest wall of the damned tower. Hand over hand. An inch at a time. She would make it this time, and that made pride rush through her although she wouldn’t celebrate until she found the uppermost ledge with her own hand.
Megan let out an excited whoop when she reached the summit first. Rebecca peeked to see her give Sparks a high five when the older Fire got to the platform. She quickly closed her eyes again, fighting the dizzying vertigo that always haunted her when she glanced up or down steep drops. Taking a deep breath against the lightheadedness, she started to climb again.
Megan cheered when Rebecca’s hand brushed the ledge. Rebecca couldn’t help but smile as she hauled the rest of her body up and onto the platform. Sparks grinned as she leaned back against a support pole, crossed her arms over her breasts and nodded.
“Hoo ya!” Megan stared down at her, pumping her fist in the air. “You finally did it! I knew you could!”
Rebecca rolled to her back and sprawled on the wood, grateful the ordeal was over but basking in Megan’s pride over their accomplishments.
Then she remembered she still had to get back down.
As Sparks worked on preparing her rope, Megan grabbed hers, readying herself to rappel back down. The woman was perpetual motion, never needing to stop and rest. “See you at the bottom, Rebs.”
Rebecca’s instincts kicked in, making her glance to Megan’s rope. A large section of her rope had become twisted and knotted. Megan was going to jerk to a sudden stop halfway down the wall.
Rebecca’s heart started pounding a rough cadence. Megan would surely lose control and topple the rest of the way to the ground. “Wait!”
But Fire was already on her way down.
Rebecca grabbed her rope. She had to get to her sister.
Throwing herself over the side, she swept her vertigo aside and scrambled down the wall. Megan was faster, so Rebecca opened her hands to let the line slide through at a speed that burned her palms. She kept her gaze down, watching Megan move closer and closer to the tangled knot that would send her hurtling to the ground.
The knot hit her hand and Megan let go, tumbling backward. Rebecca caught Megan’s arm just in time. She held tight to her sister as she quickly locked her own rope to free her other hand. Panting for breath, the two of them stared at each other for a few suspended seconds.
Hanging upside down, her red ponytail dangling and her ass brushing the wall, Megan burst into laughter.
All the fears Rebecca had for what could have happened vanished, and she couldn’t help but smile at Megan’s cheekiness. Working the knot loose, she helped Megan right herself, and they rappelled down the rest of the wall side by side.
Rebecca didn’t realize she was on the ground until she started to habitually gather her ropes. Her fear
s came flooding back as her mind’s eye saw Megan lying on the ground, battered and broken. A shudder ripped through her, and a wave of nausea roiled her stomach.
“Thanks for bailing my ass out up there,” Megan said, slapping Rebecca between the shoulder blades, jostling her already queasy stomach. “That’ll teach me to check my ropes before I throw myself down a damn wall.”
Rebecca nodded, wondering if she was turning green. She dropped her ropes and ran to the trees.
I will not throw up. Staring at the ground, she took deep breaths. I will not throw up. I will not throw up. Never again.
After the wave of nausea subsided, she turned back, hoping to return before anyone noticed she’d left. She collided with Sparks.
“Sorry.” She backed up a few paces, a bit chagrined that the older Amazon hadn’t even budged an inch when Rebecca had plowed into her.
“That was brave.” Sparks handed her a peppermint, and then she fished a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, tapped one out and lit it with her thumb. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Yeah, well…” Rebecca inclined her head back to the trees. “It’s not brave to almost barf when you’re afraid.”
“It’s brave to do something that terrifies you to keep someone you care about safe. You and Megan are sisters now, aren’t you?”
Rebecca nodded without hesitation. She and Megan were like night and day, sweet and sour. Just like real sisters—different, yet still so much alike.
“You proved it on that tower.” Sparks drew a deep pull from her cigarette and blew the smoke out in a slim stream. “I might be wrong about you. You just might make an Amazon yet.”
“Gee, thanks. I think.”
“Let’s see how you do when I shoot you.”
“Excuse me?” Rebecca screeched.
“Artair’s getting a gun. I’m gonna shoot you both a few times so you won’t be afraid of bullets.” Sparks smirked. “I almost peed my pants the first time my Guardian aimed a revolver at me.”
“You’re insane. I’m not going to let you shoot me.”
But Rebecca did. Though Artair had to spend a good ten minutes bellowing at her to get her to stand still. After listening to his badgering, death would be easier to take than another agonizing lecture.
She and Megan stood holding hands while Sparks loaded and aimed Megan’s pistol. Rebecca tried to draw on Megan’s strength, but her sister’s normal cockiness had vanished.
“What do Indians always say? Oh, yeah. ‘Today is a good day to die,’” Megan said with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, well… I don’t think any day’s a good day to die. But it appears I don’t have a choice.” Rebecca threw a glower at Artair. “Isn’t Sparks supposed to be Guardian? I don’t think our Guardian should murder us.”
“Would you feel better if Artie killed us?”
Rebecca squeezed Megan’s hand, sending the strength of their connection to her sister. “Let’s just consider this our swan song as Amazons. You know—going out in a blaze of glory.” She started to hum the Jon Bon Jovi song of the same title.
Megan chuckled, regaining her aplomb.
“Ready?” Sparks asked, shifting her aim between her two targets. “Who gets it first? Shoulder or chest? Either of you have a preference?”
“Shoot the gun,” Artair barked. “Keeping them waiting is worse than the deed.”
Rebecca gave Megan’s hand another squeeze and closed her eyes. The first crack of gunfire made them fly back open.
The shot hit Megan in the chest. She jerked as she stumbled back. Rebecca waited for blood to soak her shirt, but it never did.
Megan brushed her hands over her breasts. “You missed!” Then her fingers found the hole in her T-shirt. Reaching up under the shirt, she poked her finger out of the bullet hole. “I guess you didn’t miss.” She whipped her shirt over her head. A large red welt was forming on her tanned chest, but the bullet hadn’t penetrated her skin. “Holy shit.”
The second shot reverberated in the air before Rebecca could even prepare herself. Her shoulder hurt as if someone had just given her an extraordinarily strong poke with a bony finger. “Damn! That smarts!” Running her hand over her shoulder, a finger slipped in a hole. The bullet fell from the shirt onto the grass. Rebecca picked up the small piece of hot metal.
Sparks came striding over, looking horribly pleased with herself. “Told you. Bullets can’t pierce your skin. They sting like a son of a bitch and leave some nasty bruises, but only blades and arrows can truly hurt you. Oh, and revenants.” She pulled the collar of her shirt aside to show a scar where her neck met her shoulder that appeared to have been made by a row of jagged teeth.
Rebecca stared at the scar, glanced back at the bullet and was grateful she’d eaten a light lunch. “It’s so small.”
“The scar?” Sparks asked, crooking her neck and turning to try to look at her own shoulder. She reminded Rebecca of a cat trying to chase its own tail.
Artair came over to stand next to Rebecca. She resisted the urge to lean on him for support, moral and physical.
“No. The bullet.” Pinching it between her index finger and thumb, Rebecca held it up for them to see. “How can something so tiny cause so much damage?”
“It goes in small,” Megan said, “but…coming out is a mess.” She shrugged in nonchalance that Rebecca knew Fire didn’t feel. “It’s why I stopped being a cop.”
“A cop? You were a cop?” Her eyes had to be as big as saucers. Artair and Sparks didn’t seem to be suffering the same surprise.
Megan nodded. “For a couple of years.”
For the first time since she’d met Megan, Rebecca caught something close to vulnerability. Perhaps having a friend taking potshots at you with your own gun could cause some maudlin reflections.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rebecca asked.
“No.” Megan dropped her chin. “Maybe a little.”
Sparks pulled out two cigarettes. Handing one to Megan, Sparks shot a small flame from her thumb. Megan leaned in to light her cigarette before Sparks touched the end of her own to the fire. “Then talk.”
“Some stupid kid got caught holding up a convenience store. I told Jimmy not to…” The cigarette Megan cradled between her fingers shook just enough to betray her feelings. “My partner was a hotheaded jerk. He wouldn’t listen to me.” She flicked some ashes on the ground. “Two shots to the chest. The kid was dead before he hit the ground. I turned in my badge the next day… I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“So I’ve got a kindergarten teacher and a cop.” Sparks took a pull on her cigarette then blew the smoke out.
Rebecca coughed and fanned the air with her hand to clear the haze.
Sparks gave her a lopsided grin. “Smoke bother you?”
“Would it matter?”
“No.” Sparks chuckled before she coughed a couple of times. A few long moments passed before she confessed, “I was a flapper.”
Rebecca laughed before she could stop herself.
A small burst of red fireworks shot from the top of Sparks’s head.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said. “I’m just… A flapper? An honest-to-God flapper?”
“Twenty-three skidoo.” Sparks smirked. “I even did a little bootlegging.”
It was Megan’s turn to laugh. “Well, how about that. Did you know Al Capone?”
“Spilled some gin on him once. He was nice about it. Though most of the time, he was a mean son of a bitch. I can’t tell you how many of my friends were scared to death of him. But then I got the call. Artair here,” she nodded at the Sentinel, “came walking in the speakeasy with Helen at his side and hauled me out. Can you believe it? And he was wearing that same damn kilt and sword. He scared the piss out of the worst of the worst.” She chuckled again. “A couple of the guys thought he was taking me when I didn’t want to go, and the Celt had to bang a few heads together. How many did you put on the floor?”
“I cannot remember.”
“Trust me. It was more than a handful. Then he introduced me to Helen and brought me here.”
Rebecca waited for Sparks to say more, but the well of words had run dry. At least she was opening up. Since the night Sparks had seen Artair kiss her, her mentor seemed angry. The only mention she’d ever made of the event was when she was trying to tweak Artair’s temper.
Artair. If he went to get Sparks, that made him—
Damn, he had to be over a hundred years old. But he was so handsome, he didn’t even appear to have hit forty yet. Just how old was the Sentinel?
And how old was Sparks? A flapper? That meant that she was at least—
Good God. How old did Amazons live to be, assuming they didn’t get killed by some demig or revenant?
Rebecca’s mind swam. She glanced at Megan who, as usual, seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride.
She turned her mind to weightier thoughts. “How will we know?”
Sparks arched an eyebrow. “Know? Know what?”
“When it’s time to fight. How will we know when the bad guy is making his move?”
“Because people start to disappear.” Sparks’s expression grew tight, hard. “And then people start to die. Lots of people.”
Megan’s asked, “Why disappear first?”
Artair was the one to answer. “Demigs need followers. They brainwash eager people, gullible people, to be priests and priestesses. The demig trains some of them to be necromancers, to control the dead. People who don’t bow to them are killed and become revenants.”
Sparks nodded. “Some demigs—hell, even some gods and goddesses—only think of humans in terms of controlling them. The one who controls the most wins the game. For this round. Some of the Ancients wouldn’t mind if they snapped their fingers and every person on the face of the Earth died. They wanna create new dimensions, harness new powers, cure themselves of their boredom. Some like the thrill of having people follow them.” She sighed. “They’ve never come after us before.”