I saw the barrel of the gun whip up and felt the sting of the barrel on my temple. The pain was sharp enough to make it though the dazed senses. It was then that Dalia moved. I thought to myself in a moment of sublime stupidity that I hadn’t told her to go yet.
Dalia sprang up from the floor and ran towards the elf, flinging a pillow before her. The elf, startled by the sound partially turned and instinctively lined Dalia up for a shot and squeezed a few rounds off. I saw the bullet catch her high and throw her backwards and towards the ground. I heard the elf curse and stare at the still heap of woman on the ground.
I knew that this was the only chance I would get. The Glock was in my holster and I didn’t think I would have time to reach it. I could only hope that he was a full blood and not a half blood like me. I grabbed the iron medallion around my pressed it as hard as I could into the cheek of the elf still holding me.
I was satisfied to hear a sizzling and crackling sound as the skin on the elf’s head charred and sloughed off his face, leaving a bit of his prominent cheekbone showing the half lit room.
He screamed and dropped me clutching his ruined face. I didn’t know if he had gotten enough iron in his system to kill him or whether he would just be disfigured. Frankly, I didn’t care. If I had more time I would have made sure by using the Glock loaded with my Fey specials. He lay on the floor, screaming and rolling in the broken glass among the small fires started by the super heated debris of his lightning attack.
I staggered towards Dalia and the sounds of gunfire were coming more clearly through the door. Marty must still be up, I thought as I reached Dalia. She was laying face down on the floor, unmoving. I could see the exit wound and although her shirt was masking the wound, I could see it was still bleeding profusely. I turned her over and I could only see one wound and it looked like she was still breathing, if raggedly. If I could get her out of here, I thought I could save her. I put her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry and rushed towards the front door and she moaned incoherently.
I put her down on an antique hall tree that had a bench and gingerly opened the front door and poked my head out. It wasn’t a pleasant sight that met my eyes. There was gunfire coming from the darkness and striking the front porch. That wasn’t the worse thing. I was pretty sure that the gunfire was coming from Marty and wasn’t actually aimed at us. It was aimed at the Ogre.
He was tall and broad and had an almost bestial look that was so common among his kind. I got nothing against Ogres as a group, but in general they seem to be mostly composed of assholes. This guy didn’t seem any different.
I could see that Marty’s bullets weren’t having much effect. He was obviously shielded against that kind of thing. The bullets would hit his black leather and after a moment of trying to burrow through the thick leather, they would give it up as a bad plan and fall harmlessly to the ground. The only evidence of the hit was the kinetic energy that was transferred to the ogre, but he was too bulky to be knocked off his feet. He was firing some kind of assault rifle at the muzzle flashes from Marty’s Uzi and I couldn’t tell if his aim was on target or not.
The neighborhood was starting to stir. I saw a few lights coming on and I was pretty sure that the cops would be on the way soon. I also suspected some of the sound was being suppressed. Probably the only thing that they heard was crash of lightning that had blown out the glass.. Just as well, I wouldn’t have wanted to try explaining to the HPD what was going on and who all these mutants were.
The van had sped up the street once the action started and blocked the driveway so that the Sienna was stuck there. It looked like a dwarf behind the wheel. He saw me standing in the door and started point at me, trying to catch the ogre’s attention. That just wouldn’t do.
Ogres aren’t the same as other Fey, say for example, Elves. They aren’t craft users so I was pretty sure that his shield was probably the result of Elf or Dwarf magic. In any event, it wouldn’t be proof against my Fey specials.
“Hey!” I shouted “Ugly!” I drew the Glock and sighted as the Ogre started to spin around. He smiled or growled, it’s hard to tell with ogres, and was leveling the gun at me when I started firing. Ogres aren’t susceptible to iron the way elves are but the bullets went through his shields like they weren’t there. I got off five shots before he even noticed that he had actually been shot. He looked surprised as I continued to unload the clip into him, one shot after another. By this time he was trying dodge and backup at the same time. As he spun trying to retreat from the iron bullets that were striking him I could see that some of my shots had barely penetrated his thick skin. That was problem with shooting ogres, they take a lot of killing.
The obviously ogre sized M16A dropped from his hands and he finally fell face forward to the porch. He wasn’t out yet as he caught himself and used his hands to prop himself up. He was panting like a dog as blood dripped from several of wounds. I gave him a push with my foot and he finally toppled over, still trying to get back up.
I called out to Marty and reloaded the Glock with another clip of Fey Specials and staggered towards the van. The dwarf who had been inside the van had managed to extricate himself and had landed on his feet. He was obviously shocked to see somebody walk away from gunfight with an ogre and that bought me a little time. He wasn’t sure what was going on and he wanted to wait before committing himself to an action.
I made my way around the Sienna and I could see that the Dwarf had placed himself in a position where I could he see the front the house and me. He looked confused and didn’t seem to know what to do. I suspected that he was low man on the team and was used to taking orders from someone, probably the elf.
“We don’t have an ocean of time here, dwarf. Mortal authorities will be arriving soon and it won’t suit either of us to be found here.” I waited for him to respond. My head was pounding from the concussive blast of the lightning and I was having a hard time staying focused. “Maybe there is way we can both get out of this without being discovered by the authorities, Mortal or Fey.”
I heard a sound behind me and saw Marty run up to the porch and stare at the still thrashing ogre. Smoke was beginning to pour from the open front door as the house began to burn. He just shook his head and worked his way around the minivan to where I was. I sent him back in the house for Dalia and told him to load her into the Sienna. He turned and went back to the house hopping over the convulsing ogre.
“I’m listening. Make it quick. I bore easily.” The dwarf was a tough talker and I was pretty sure that he could back it up if he had to. More lights were coming on and I could see movement on some of the other porches. It was too dark to see much, especially with the streetlights conveniently “out”. I was sure the dwarf was aware of the mounting activities of the neighborhood.
“I propose a simple trade. You roll that van of yours back and let us drive out and then you can fetch your team and get the hell out of here.” It wasn’t bad deal, it just probably not in line with his orders.
“Why should I bother? It looks like most of my team is dead anyway. The fire should cover my tracks and this undermount grenade launcher should take care of you bunch of bastards nicely.” He grimly waved his M16 and showed me that he wasn’t bluffing.
“They aren’t dead. At least not yet. You know how hard ogres are to kill. He’s hurting, no doubt, with at least nine slugs in him, but he’s not susceptible to iron. He could make it if you can get him to some help.” I paused and I watched him grunt in acknowledgement of exactly how tough ogres were. “Your elf isn’t shot, but he does have a nasty burn on his face and he may be iron poisoned. I won’t lie to you, he could be dead. But he was still alive when I left him. He will certainly die if you don’t get him out of there. I don’t know about the other guy.
“I give you my word on the Compact that neither I nor any of those loyal to me will oppose your recovery of your team in any way as long as you do not interfere with us leaving.” A wave of nausea swept me as I leaned against the minivan.
My head was pounding and my vision was starting to waver. I had been concussed before and this certainly seemed like a doozy. I just had to hold it together a little longer.
Behind me I heard the Sienna door open and spared it but a glance. If it wasn’t Marty then there wasn’t much I could do about it. I hoped Dalia was still alive.
Up the street, I saw blobs of light moving in the darkness. Probably flashlights. I hope that none of them got shot for being so curious. The dwarf seemed to be considering his options and he finally sighed and lowered his weapon. All he said was “Okay. Get the hell out of here! But fair warning, when we catch you, you will be the deadest sonovabitch who ever lived.”
I was never really sure if it was my speech or the rapidly encroaching neighbors that spurred him to a final decision. The last thing I remember was sliding in next to Marty as he put the minivan in gear and sped off into the night. I gave in to the pressure in my head and passed out.
Chapter Eighteen
My head was pounding and it felt like little men with heavy boots were mining in my head with pickaxes. Not only were my ears still ringing, but my vision was a little blurry. The sight that greeted my eyes was the morning light filtering through the overcast sky. It took me a few minutes but I gradually realized that I wasn’t in the mini-van any longer.
I took a deep breath and straightened up and realized that it might have been a mistake. I looked around me and automatically felt for my gun. It was still there, snuggly cosseted in my shoulder holster. I was in some kind of sedan and Marty was at the wheel. There was a faint smell of smoke and blood. I carefully turned around and found Dalia covered with a blanket, she looked a little pale but that’s kinda normal for a Fey. I also noticed that her Glamour was gone, revealing her Elfin nature. Her ears were pointed and she had that impossibly delicate structure that hid a deceiving strength. Marty was driving and he looked worse for his activities. His eyes were puffy and red and he had gripped the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white and straining. I couldn’t identify where I was exactly. The landscape sped by and I came to realize that we were someplace outside of Houston. The gray skies couldn’t hide the fact that we were heading east.
“Where are we?” I croaked.
“Good morning, sunshine.” He said sardonically. “I was afraid that you might be in a coma. We are currently heading east on Interstate-10, towards New Orleans. We just passed the exit to Alexandria.” He looked at me and said, “Pardon my French, but you look like shit. I hope you feel better than you look.”
“Not really.” My voice was starting to steady as I started coughing up smoke clogged phlegm. After a few minutes of what felt like trying to spew my lungs onto the dashboard, I was able to get it under control. “Can you find a place to pull over? I need to piss and stretch my legs.”
Marty grunted and turned the car around. Apparently he had spotted a rest area a few miles back. He didn’t say anything the few miles that it took to get there. He drove in and pulled all the way to most secluded parking space he could find. I got out and quickly discovered that while my head still hurt most everything was where it was supposed to be. I was stiff, but a few stretches put that right. My clothes were stained with blood, probably Dalia’s, and various burns from the firefight last night. I asked Marty about clothes and he told me that the only clean clothing we had was Dalia’s and he didn’t think it would fit me. I was forced to agree.
I went into the bathroom and took care of necessary business and washed my face and proceeded to spot clean my clothes as much as possible. I’m not vain, at least not in regard to my sartorial splendor, but I didn’t want to attract any more attention than I had to.
Feeling fresher than when I had entered, I came out to discover Marty leaning against the trunk of the car and smoking a cigarette.
“I thought you quit.”
“Seemed like a good time to start back up.” He looked at me with hard eyes. “We need to talk.” He dropped his smoldering butt and ground it out with his heel. His coat opened and I could see that his holster was still unstrapped.
“Yeah, we do. But indulge me for a few minutes more. What happened after I passed out?” Marty seemed calm, but that didn’t fool me. He was tightly coiled and close to snapping.
“I’ll tell you this, an already crappier night got worse while you were getting your beauty sleep.” He took out another cigarette and lit it, apparently trying to make up for the years that he hadn’t smoked. “I drove down the street slowly, hoping that maybe no one pays any particular attention to the minivan, after all, they didn’t know anything weird was happening yet. As soon as I hit the highway, I could hear the sound of sirens and I knew it was time to ditch the van. I knew it was only a matter of time until the started looking for the minivan that was registered to that address, so I went to see Carlos. You remember Carlos?”
“Yeah, he runs an auto lot in South Houston, one of those pay by the week places that caters to illegals. Isn’t it the one with the Model T on the sign that says they have been in business since 1910?”
“That’s him. It’s also a cover for a chop shop. You owe him a big favor by the way. Not only did he fix us up with this nice Crown Victoria but he has a cousin who’s a doctor, or at least he used to be before he came north. Not a bad street doc. He fixed Dalia up. She was still bleeding a little and bandaged her up pretty good. He gave me a couple of dressing changes and bag of pills for pain in case she needed them. He also took a look at you decided that your head was too hard to break. Cleaned up a few cuts and bruises and declared you cured of being dead. Carlos was discreet, He didn’t ask questions, although I am sure he had quite a few, hell he even didn’t ask about the her ears, although he did make the sign of the cross when he saw them. It cost us most of that money you had hidden in the money belt, but it got us a clean car that no one is looking for.”
“What happened to the Minivan?”
He smiled. “Carlos again. He assured me that no one would ever see it again, at least in one piece.” He paused for a moment and took a long drag on his cigarette. “My sister’s gonna kill me. First, I get her house shot up and burned out and then I get her vehicle chopped. I hope whatever is going on is worth all the crap I’m going to have to put up when all this is over.”
“Why are we heading to New Orleans?” I asked. Don’t get me wrong, I love New Orleans, but I couldn’t think of any reason to go there.
“I wasn’t sure where to go and considering how fast they tracked you to my sister’s place, no place I could think of in Houston would really be safe enough. Actually, I was hoping that you would have come around before now so you could give me a little direction and clear things up for me.” He looked at me doubtfully. “If you are up to it I could use some help with the driving. I haven’t slept much and I am pretty much wiped out. Maybe we could hole up some where and recover, I’d like to get Dalia into a real bed instead of back seat, she could use a little peace and quiet. She’s been in and out of consciousness and isn’t resting easy.” He paused and glanced at Dalia through the back window.
“What is she Jake? She has the oddest eyes and her ears make her look like a Star Trek reject. And what the hell was that thing you shot on the porch, it couldn’t have been human. It had tusks and horns for godsakes!”
He was waiting for me to answer his question, but more importantly he was waiting for the truth that I had promised. I owed it to him and at first I thought the words would stick in my throat, but I found that I wanted to tell him and so I did.
“Not human exactly, not Mortal certainly, but still with all of our Mortal faults. It was an Ogre. She is an Elf, full blood by the way, sorta rare here. I’m much more common as halfbreed although there aren’t so many of us around that you would notice.” Marty just looked at me trying to decide if was just being cute. He gradually came to realize that I wasn’t any cuter than normal.
“Your’e saying you’re…an Elf?” The look of disbelief was plain in his face.
; “No, a halfbreed, although technically we are called chimera. An Elf is only an Elf if he is a full blood. Actually, I would call myself a Fey. You know, short for Faerie. This kind of thing is very important to most Fey, so keep it in mind. It might prove useful later on.”
It took him a few minutes to digest what he said and look for inconsistencies before he realized that it was too absurd to apply Cartesian logic to. I could also see that he knew that I believed what I was saying and that he would let it play out to see where it went.
“I always knew there was something weird about you.” He said calmly. “I thought maybe you used to be in the CIA or something. I didn’t realize that you were crazy. Do you really expect me to believe that you are a halfbreed Elf? You’re human, just like me!” He flicked his cigarette off and waited for a reply.
“Not unless you were born in the year 1900 and are over a hundred years old. Look, I know how weird it sounds and I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t have to. But circumstances have forced me into a corner. It’s not through either. There are more things that I have to tell you that I am afraid you might not want to accept.” He started to interrupt and I held up my hand up. “This will go a lot quicker if you let me finish before asking questions. Let me ask you another question first; that thing I shot on the porch, nine times by the way, was it human? Did those tusks and horns look cosmetic?”
He stopped to think about it for a moment. “No. They looked functional, lethal in fact. From out in the bushes where we were trading shots he looked like a giant of man, but when I got to the porch I could see that he was not proportional. Ya know what I mean?” I nodded my head.
“Yes, Ogres are more heavily muscled in the torso than they are in the lower body. Not so much that it makes them ungainly, just enough so that they are extremely strong in their upper body. Don’t think that just because they are strong that they are stupid. They aren’t. They are incredibly skillful fighters and they know the things they want to know. Ogre society is pretty closed even to other Fey. They nominally serve the Court of Dawn, although individual Ogres often take service with the Court of Twilight.” He eyes were wide open and staring. He was having a hard time taking all this in. Not that I blamed him, it was hard for me to grasp sometimes, let alone someone who didn’t believe in the Fey or had never heard of them.
Naming Day (Jake Underwood Book 1) Page 17