Won't Back Down: Won't Back Down

by Unknown

  "I should've remembered," Coyote said later, a lazy smile curving his lips and dark hair fanned across his pillow.

  "Mrph?" Jove grunted. Words were still a bit beyond him and only the need to breathe gave him the impetus to flop over onto his back.

  "Back in Meridian. You carried on so with that red headed trot, I didn't get a lick of sleep that night. But damn if you didn't leave an impression." He said it warmly, as if recalling a fond memory.

  "Eternity's tits, that was six months ago." Still, Jove remembered that night all too well. "Bastard ended up robbing me after."

  "Mm. I could've told you what he had in mind." But Coyote didn't look the least bit cut up about it.

  "Least he didn't get Ada—" Jove went still as a stump on a prairie, eyes narrowing to slits. "You were in Meridian?"

  Coyote had the audacity to grin. "Room right next to yours in that flophouse they called a hotel. You almost caught me, too. Thank Providence you got distracted."

  "Sonofa—"

  Coyote pounced, pinning Jove before he could take up arms. "Easy there, boy. I told you, you got good instincts."

  Jove flexed against Coyote's grip and decided maybe he didn't mind it near as much as he let on. Coyote didn't need to know that, though, and Jove doubled down on his glare. "Except when it comes to you."

  "Particularly when it comes to me. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had some talisman worker in you."

  Jove gave him a hard stare.

  "... So to speak." Coyote briefly fought a smile, but then grew serious. "Point is, the only reason you never caught me before is because I didn't let you. And believe me, it was an effort. No one else has ever gotten so close."

  Jove knew this was about more than them just being outlaw and bounty hunter. That line had been crossed before either of them had noticed. It had been crossed the first time Coyote could have caught Jove unaware and put a bullet in him but didn't. Or maybe it had been crossed the first time Jove saw Coyote's face smiling out at him from that wanted poster. He didn' know when it had become about the chase for both of them, and not the escape or the capture. All Jove knew for sure was that there was no way to go back. He didn't want to go back.

  He'd do whatever it took to keep Coyote alive, though. And if Jove managed to save his own skin in the process, well, that was just gravy.

  "Those are some real pretty words," Jove said not unkindly. "But they ain't worth a pig's fart when Napier still expects you to kill me and he can make you do it."

  Coyote sucked his teeth. "Shoot, that wouldn't even be an issue if Zoe had kept her mouth shut. But there's no point carryin' on about it. Besides, I told you." His grip on Jove's wrists loosened a hair and he shifted back slightly. "There's been a change of plans."

  Jove arched a brow. "Yeah, you mentioned. Now shoot or give up the gun."

  In response, Coyote brought their hips together and hells if that didn't get Jove's attention. "How'd you like to become a thief?"

  *~*~*

  A lot of preparation went into throwing a last-minute gala that was doubling as a trap to catch a very uncommon criminal. Security needed to be planned to the last detail, catering had to be arranged, and everything needed to be cleared out so the Canton Cultural Society's main hall could be prepared. Exhibits were being moved out so Napier's could be moved in, leaving them all vulnerable in the shuffle.

  Everything was in chaos during the hours before the gala and anything could go wrong. There was no better window of opportunity for Coyote to make his move.

  So the bulls were left scratching their heads when the only wrinkle in the whole event was someone ordering the wrong canapés. For all the guests knew, the gala went off without a hitch. All of Canton's wealthiest persons were crowded into a hall to ogle a king's ransom in art and talismans, all the while oblivious that the guest of honor was a no-show.

  And all the while, Jove waited.

  That had been the hard part. Getting in had been almost laughably easy.

  "Do you trust me?" Coyote had asked him hours before.

  The question had caught Jove off guard. There were a host of reasons why Jove shouldn't. Coyote was a talisman user and a thief, slicker than two eels fuckin' in a bucket, and, hells, Jove didn't even know his name, not his real one, anyway. But Jove had been following Coyote for over a year, and his instincts hadn't been wrong about him yet. The words came easy as anything, surprising them both. "I do." Gods help him.

  The kiss made it all worth it, a slow claiming of his mouth that promised more and left Jove in a freefall. He knew there was no saving him when Coyote slipped Ada into his holster, back where she belonged. Busy marveling at her familiar weight at his hip, Jove hardly even noticed when Coyote's magic settled over him.

  Hours later, though, Jove wanted to scratch his skin off.

  Coyote had laid the magic on thick. He'd used the coin in a way that made Mr. Ainsley and his guest seem like a cheap parlor trick and then tucked it away in Jove's pocket. Then, the magic had felt like little more than a warm prickle. Now it felt heavy, hot, and itchy as a winter coat on a summer day. But the disguise held even without Coyote's presence. It allowed Jove to sneak into the gala along with the catering staff, then slip away to hide among the crates near the back of the storage space where the items not on display had been stowed for the time being. Jove spent the next few uncomfortable hours listening to the muffled sounds of hoity conversation and bland music. Patience had aided him aplenty in his line of work, however, and it was worth it when the music finally stopped, Napier's collection was boxed up and added to the already crowded room, and the lawmen made one last sweep of the hall.

  Still, Jove didn't move. He waited another thirty minutes after he heard the Society's doors lock before slowly getting to his feet. Every bit of him ached and his joints popped loud enough in the silence to make him freeze. When no one came running, Jove let himself breathe again. The hard part was done. Only thing left to do was get the box and get out. Simple. And then after that... Well, that part they hadn't figured out yet.

  The light knock that came from the back of the room nearly made Jove jump out of his skin until he remembered he'd been expecting it. He made quick work of the lock on the delivery door and peered out into the dark alley beyond. "What took you—?"

  The alley was empty. And then Coyote's voice came out of thin air.

  "You gonna let me in or just gape like a slack-jawed goat?"

  Letting out a breath to calm his nerves, Jove slid the door open enough for Coyote to slip inside. "I hate to point out the obvious, but there's an awful lot of boxes in here. How are we supposed to find your box in all of this before morning?"

  "Don't worry, nervous Nancy. I know exactly where it is. I can feel it. Here." Jove watched as a crowbar that had been leaning against a crate came floating over. It was a testament to the current state of his life that Jove didn't even blink as he plucked it out of the air. There was a tug at his elbow— "This way." —and Jove followed.

  Coyote guided him through the labyrinth of stacked crates until, several more twists and turns later, he finally said, "Here." He took Jove's hand and put it on the crate he meant. The moment he did, Jove felt a shudder go through Coyote, and suddenly Coyote was standing next to him, clear as day. Jove could feel the weight of his own illusion melting away as well. That couldn't be good, but all Coyote said was, "Open it. Hurry."

  Jove had never heard that quiet desperation in Coyote's voice before. He never wanted to hear it again. He set to work on prying the crate open, the creak and groan of nails against wood was loud in the large room, but Jove worked fast. In moments, he had the crate open. Nestled in packing straw, the box almost glowed in the dimness of the store room, the carvings in the blue stone seemingly lit from within.

  Coyote reached for it, but his hands stopped inches from touching it. He leaned forward, putting his weight behind his hands, but he might as well have been bracing against a wall. "Shit." Coyote punched the crate. "Shit. I'm not.
.. I was hoping..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Jove, could you?"

  Just like in Napier's office, Jove could feel the hum coming off the box before he even touched it. Holding it was like shoving his arms in a hornets' nest except it didn't hurt, not exactly. His bones felt like they were going to vibrate right out of his skin, and it took all his concentration to keep a grip on the damn thing. It was lighter than he'd thought it would be.

  He nearly dropped it anyway when the lights suddenly blazed to life overhead. A murmur of voices drifted through the room from the door that led out to the Cultural Society's halls.

  "Go. Now." It was a whispered command as Coyote pushed Jove back down a narrow path between the crates.

  "But—"

  "I'll be right behind you. Go!"

  He hesitated. The voices were getting louder. At last Jove moved. He was no stranger to sneaking about, but it didn't do him much good now when he had no earthly idea where he was headed other than the general direction of away. It occurred to him that Coyote should be the one leading the way if they were going to make it to the back door without getting turned around, and he glanced behind him to say as much.

  Except Coyote wasn't there.

  "—this is highly unusual. And at such an ungodly time of night!" The voice was peevish and far too close for comfort. Box clutched against his chest, Jove slunk back behind a stack of crates.

  "I'm sorry, truly, Mr. Lang, but I'm simply not comfortable leaving this particular item here overnight."

  Napier.

  Jove bit back a curse. Where the seven hells had Coyote gotten off to? And how was Jove supposed to get out of there undetected without him?

  "I understand your collection is precious to you, Mr. Napier, but I assure you, everything was locked up tight when—" Mr. Lang broke off on a strangled cry. They'd found the crate.

  "You were saying, Mr. Lang?" Napier's voice was so cold Jove swore he felt the room grow chilled.

  "I-I don't understand! The room was locked up tight—"

  "That's hardly stopped him before. Whelk, check the rear."

  Oh, wonderful. When Providence turned, she didn't do so by half-measures. Jove dropped a hand to his hip, reassured by Ada's familiar grip even as he inched away from Whelk's approaching footsteps. His palms were tingling and the box buzzed unpleasantly under his arm.

  "I'll go get the police—"

  "No." The single word left no room for dissent. "I'll handle this."

  "Are you sure that's wise?"

  Napier ignored the question, instead raising his voice to ensure he was heard. "You're still here. I can feel it. There's nowhere for you to go." His words seemed to make it so as the delivery door slammed shut and the heavy lock slid home, the sound carrying through the room. "You might as well come out now. Before I make you."

  Jove's heart dropped into his gut. He'd never been one to ask the gods for anything more than a good hand at cards or a decent bottle of booze, but at that moment, Jove held his breath and prayed to whatever god would listen to give Coyote the good sense to stay put.

  Mr. Lang's gasp told Jove more than a bolt from the heavens would have just what the gods thought about his squandered devotion. Looked like he was on his own.

  "Is that...?" Mr. Lang seemed to run out of air before reaching the end of his question.

  Napier sighed. He never could abide stupid questions. "It is. Unfortunately for you."

  "What—?" The gunshot seemed especially loud in the large room, the sound ricocheting off the high ceiling. Jove was moving before he had any say in the matter, gun drawn as he snuck down one aisle and then the next.

  "Boss?" Whelk shouted, voice incredibly close.

  "I'm fine, Whelk. Just trimming a loose end." Napier sounded more like he was discussing the weather rather than the late Mr. Lang.

  "You didn't need to do that." Coyote.

  He was close. Jove eased up to a break in the stacks and peeked around the edge of a crate. Not twenty feet away stood Napier and Coyote, both looking down at the crumpled heap of a man on the floor. The late Mr. Lang was missing the back of his head, and Napier, still dressed in black-tie from the gala, was holding a revolver.

  "We couldn't have him bringing the law into this, could we?" Napier sounded like he was discussing nothing more than the weather. "Besides, this could have all been avoided if you weren't so predictable. You might as well have pulled the trigger yourself." As he said it, he handed the gun to Coyote, who took it with a shaking hand. Jove couldn't see his face and he was a little glad for it.

  Napier reached up to pat Coyote's cheek. "There's a good boy. Don't even think of pointing that thing at me." The order was casually given, but the box under Jove's arm flared suddenly and he hissed.

  Two heads snapped in his direction and Jove ducked out of sight. Maybe he hadn't been spotted. Maybe—

  "Whelk, there's someone else here! Bring him to me."

  Damn. He scooted back down between the crates. He could hear heavy footsteps getting closer, but it was impossible to tell from which direction they were coming. Jove wasn't about to stick around to find out. He veered down a path to the left. The last time he'd been in a tight spot like this he'd cornered a horse thief in a canyon just outside of Gowe. At least then he'd only had himself to worry about.

  "Who did you bring with you? Tell me the truth."

  The box flared again, but Jove didn't make a sound this time. He had to keep moving.

  "I didn't bring anyone with me." Napier's question left just enough wiggle room for Coyote to tell him the absolute truth without tell him a damn thing. Jove felt a flair of pride.

  Rounding another corner, Jove saw a break in the stacks ahead. If he was right, it would bring him close enough to Napier to put a bullet in his head. Nothing would give him greater pleasure. Jove drew Ada and started forward with determined steps.

  And walked right into the stock of Whelk's hand cannon.

  Jove reeled back, stars exploding behind his eyes. He fell back against a wall of crates and only just managed to keep his grip on the box and his gun. He could feel warmth dripping down his face and taste copper in his mouth. Hells and damnation, did he have to go for the face?

  "Found him, boss!" Jove heard the triumph in Whelk's voice and his vision cleared in time to see Whelk step out from behind a large crate. His sawed off piece was pointed at Jove's head and his wide face split in a nasty grin. "I'm going to enjoy this."

  "Doubt it," Jove muttered and then tossed the box at him.

  Whelk's face went slack in shock. His gun clattered to the floor, leaving his hands free to pluck the box out of the air. Jove had the satisfaction of watching Whelk's expression go from one of triumph to realizing his mistake before firing three shots into his chest, smooth and fast as a rattlesnake strike. Whelk fell back still clutching the box.

  Coyote had taken real good care of Ada while he'd had her. Just when Jove thought he couldn't fall for the wily bastard any more than he already had.

  "Whelk?" For the first time Jove could ever recall, Napier sounded uncertain. Good.

  Jove scooped up the box from Whelk's dead hands, the tooth-rattling hum of it almost welcome, and strode out into the open. It was a bit inconvenient to find Napier facing him when he made his entrance, but Jove was getting used to the idea that Providence worked on her own whims, not his. It was almost worth it, though. Jove got to see Napier's eyes go wide when he spotted him.

  Coyote's face went ashen even as he looked mad enough to tan Jove's hide and wear it. "Gods damn you, Jove! I told you to get!"

  Gun trained on Napier, Jove shrugged. "Might've heard mention, but I'm not too bright." He pulled the trigger.

  And felt his heart stop when Coyote shifted in front of Napier just in time to catch the bullet with his shoulder.

  "Not too bright?" Napier stepped out from behind Coyote. "You overestimate yourself, Mr. Whittaker. And so does he. I don't know how or when you two hatched this little plan of yours, but he wor
ks for me, and he will do so until I no longer find him useful. I think he needs to be reminded of that. Shoot him."

  Jove felt the box flare just before a bullet ripped through his arm. Ada clattered to floor, slipping from suddenly numb fingers. The pain singing along his nerves made Jove's vision bleed black around the edges. He almost wished he'd blacked out, if only so he didn't have to see the look on Coyote's face. This was not how this was supposed to go.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jove." Coyote was shaking and sweating, brown skin almost grey. Jove thought it was from his wound until he realized Coyote's whole body was tense, straining. "Run. Please, run."

  "No." It had taken him this long to find Coyote. He wasn't leaving him.

  "Touching," Napier said as if he'd just stepped in a steaming pile. "You must care for Mr. Whittaker quite a bit to miss like that. I suppose I'll need to be more specific. Shoot him in the heart." The box flared again and Jove held his breath.

  "No." There was hardly any sound behind the word at all, Coyote's jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

  Napier chuckled, turning away to nudge at Lang's body with a shiny black shoe. "You know you can't fight it for long. The gods know you've tried."

  Jove could see the veins in Coyote's forehead bulging, the tendons in his neck standing out as he fought against Napier's command. The red stain spreading from his shoulder grew bigger as Jove watched. He had to stop this.

  He met Coyote's eyes. "Do you trust me?"

  Coyote's stiff nod was enough. Jove angled his body, raised his good arm slightly, sent up a silent prayer—and grinned. "Shoot me."

  Napier's head snapped around. "No, don't!"

  But Coyote had already pulled the trigger, hitting his mark dead center.

  Magic shrieked through Jove's bones, but he still held on to the box as cracks radiated out from where the bullet sat embedded in its side. They raced along the surface faster than his eyes could follow until the blue stone was covered in glowing silver spider webs. It gave one last pulse and then the box shattered in Jove's hand, exploding in a burst of hot light. He jerked back, expecting to find his skin bristling with splinters. But there was no broken glass, no stone shards. Nothing remained but a name, a shining silver scrawl left hanging in the air before Jove. His breath left him in a rush, and he looked over at Coyote. His dark eyes had lost that burning desperation, replaced by another fire.