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"M'Reese," the Old
Man said.
Reese bared her teeth, his
use of that name caused rage in her to well up. But she didn't charge
into the room, screaming. Didn't try to unload the shotgun in the Old
Man.
Because that's not how Sam
would do it.
"Fuck you, Half-goat," she
said, and kicked off the pumps. The smooth floor was unexpectedly warn
against her bare feet.
Then she did charge into the
room. Because she was Reese, after all. But she didn't scream. And she
didn't try to shoot the Old Man.
Three steps into the room
and she spun on the balls of her feet, ignoring the pain in her leg as
the Old Man's cut threatened to re-open, bringing the shotgun to bear
and bracing herself as she slid backwards across the marble tiles.
Six more devils and three
men were lined up against the wall where they couldn't be seen from the
corridor. They came away from the wall toward her.
She fired low,
blast-pump-blast-pump, knocking the legs out from under he closest
attackers, tripping up the ones that came behind, the force of the shots
knocking herself back into a kneeling position. Five shots from the
shotgun and she let it fall and dived out of the way, rolling, her
elbows and knees smacking against the unyielding floor, jolting her with
pain but not stopping her.
And then she was back on her
feet and pulling the katana out of its scabbard.
Swinging the sword like a
baseball bat she took the top off one devil's head, and then the arm of
a man, probably some kind of undead since it didn't seem to cause him
any pain.
She swung, she hacked, she
spun, she thrust. Clawed hands grabbed her from behind, tried to pin her
arms and wrestle her to the ground. The claws tore through wool and silk
and skin, but she spun free and the battle continued.
She found herself in a
corner of the Defilum, the bodies and pieces of bodies of the six devils
and the three men arranged before her across the floor, the katana
gripped in both hands in front of her, edge down, her heart pounding,
her breath coming in deep lungfuls.
And the Old Man still stood
on the far side of the Defilum, smiling at her. He brought his two
unlike hands together in staccato applause, like shots from a gun.
"I have always loved
watching you work," he said after he finished clapping. "And I think I
owe you an apology. I always figured Sam for the most dangerous of the
two of you,"
The Old Man made no move to
come to her, and the devils seemed content to remain behind him. So
Reese forces herself to slide the katana back into its scabbard.
"Perhaps I left the wrong
one of you alive," the Old Man said.
"You don't seem," Reese
said, still breathing hard, "too worried about it." She picked up the
shotgun and pulled shells out of a pocket that hadn't been shredded and
proceeded to reload.
"No," the Old Man said. "Not
worried at all."
The sound of men and devils
shouting and boots and clawed feet on marble came from the corridor.
"And here I thought it would
just be the two of us," Reese said, hefting the shotgun. "A romantic
night out."
She thought about sending a
shot at the Old Man, but knew it would be wasted. The bastard was too
smug, and must be behind some kind of shield or protection. So she
reserved her five shots for the more mortal--and unprotected--people
about to join the party. She backed further into the corner.
Men in body armor and devils
burst in the Defilum, some of them with riot shields, all of the
carrying cudgels.
"Fuck me," said Reese as she
realized that she was to be taken alive yet again.
"Yes," she heard the Old Man
saying, laughing. "That will probably be on the agenda as well."
Reese swung her shotgun
around as the men and devils rushed her. If the Old Man wouldn't kill
her--
"Stop her!" shouted the Old
Man.
She held the barrel to her
face with her left hand, and used her right thumb to push down on the
trigger. But the first of the men smashed into her then, striking with
his riot shield, knocking the gun so that it fired straight up. She felt
her eardrum burst and the burn of powder on her face. Then more men and
devils piled onto her and the beating began.
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