When the howl came again, I instinctively hunched lower and clutched the Bible to my chest. A series of short, staccato yelps echoed through the glass valley. The noise was joyful and defiant, like a Rebel yell. Then I saw them coming around the corner – Gorgons on the prowl.
Mutated by generations of radiation and inbreeding, the Gorgon temperament was considered unstable at best. As a cop, I had been instructed never to engage them hand to hand or when they were in a pack. I had seen the body of a fellow officer mauled by Gorgons: he was hardly recognizable.
The boisterous pack moved closer until they were nearly to the edge of the cab that I was crouched behind. I felt over the armor for a weapon, anything I might be able to use against them if need be. My fingers found a thigh pocket. Clumsily, I ripped open the flap. My hands closed around ten small coins. Through the gloves, I could feel their distinctive size and shape. I had an idea.
I hesitated only a moment before pressing the off switch on the armor. Despite my bravado, my knees shook as I stood up, and I nearly dropped the Bible.
It was a crazy gamble. I knew that Rebeckah kept Gorgons in her employ, but even if these particular ones knew where the new headquarters was, they could just as easily lead me into a cul-de-sac and rend me to pieces.
I tossed the coins at the Gorgon's feet. With a clattering, the copper skidded along the smooth glass street in all directions.
"There's more where that came from if one of you is willing to lead me to the new Malachim headquarters."
Four pale faces stared at me. White hair shone in the moonlight, giving the Gorgons an ethereal quality. None of them moved. I thought for a second that maybe they were ghosts or a mirage.
One of them, his greenish blue eyes locked on me, dropped to a crouch slowly. His body flowed like quicksilver along a tabletop, beautiful and chaotic. When his fingers brushed the coin, things exploded. In a flurry of fangs and sharpened fingernails, the rest of the pack launched themselves at him and the remaining money.
The first Gorgon hit the pavement with a smack. Straddling him, his attacker elbowed his face into the street. Glass shattered. Blood seeped into the cracks on the street. A groan of pain mingled with a growl of violence. In a smooth recovery from the blow, the first Gorgon drew his hand back into a fist and undercut the jaw of his attacker. One of the remaining two Gorgoiis collected coins. Seeing that, the two who had been fighting each other descended upon him.
Like a mirror image of myself, a female stepped back a pace from the others. Her eyes were also riveted to the savage tangle of men, but, unlike me, she smiled to herself like a child enjoying a game.
Noticing my stare, she said, "If this is the beginning, what's the rest?"
Blood spotted the street as the Gorgon's blows continued to break the glass sheathing of the ground beneath them. "I don't know," I said, my voice wavering in shock.
"You don't know? How come you said there was more where this came from?" she asked calmly, as her friends fought each other between us.
"Oh." I shifted my focus to her eyes. I concentrated on ignoring the sounds of battle around us. "I meant credits."
She nodded pleasantly. This conversation was surreal. I could see the three men in my peripheral vision. The first one's face was crisscrossed with bloody slashes where his face had hit the glass. I tried to stay focused and not to jump at every growl. Indecision or fear would kill any deal, and I knew it. I stared at her, unmoving, as she weighed the merits of my offer.
"How much?" She sounded interested.
"Fifty." I had at least that many credits in my account. Of course, I had no idea how I would get hold of my debit card. It was back in Eion's church with the rest of my things. I'd figure out the logistics if she accepted.
One of the Gorgon men escaped out from under the other two and bolted into an alleyway. With a joyful yelp, they leapt after him.
"Christendom?" The female asked.
I shook my head, hoping this wasn't a deal-breaker. "Um ... no, US."
We watched each other. A strangled cry in the distance made me jump.
"Okay." The female Gorgon shrugged. "I'll take your fifty."
She gestured with her head to follow her. I nodded in agreement, but my feet were rooted to the spot. I'd thought I'd been cool through the whole fight, but I noticed I held the Bible to my chest like a talisman. I took in a ragged breath.
"Come on," she insisted. Looking me up and down, she added, "You don't want to be here when they come back, do you?"
I shook my head. Gingerly, I stepped across the chasm – of blood and broken glass to join her.
"Are you a girl?" The Gorgon asked as I fell into step beside her. Her hand reached out to investigate my arm, but quickly retracted when I turned sharply to look at her. "Like Rebeckah?"
I consciously reminded myself to breathe in and out. My frantic heart rate dropped slowly.
"Um ... you can't tell?" I asked, but then realized the uniform hid what few curves I had.
The Gorgon shook her head. "I thought you might be, but wasn't sure."
I pulled my helmet off. It seemed disrespectful to keep it on while talking to her, despite the radiation threat, like wearing sunglasses indoors. After putting the Bible inside, I tucked the helmet under my arm.
She watched me curiously, her head tilted to the side like a dog. I felt foolish, but I held out my hand to her and introduced myself. "I'm Deidre."
She took my hand and gave it a shake – a weak attempt, barely brushing my fingertips. I had the sense she had never engaged in the custom of handshaking. She said, "They call me Dancer."
I doubted the reference was intentional, but there was something about the Gorgon that reminded me of Degas. Though unadorned, her features were delicate, like the deceptively simple-seeming brushstrokes. The long lines of her body held majestic grace. "I can see why," I said, relaxing.
"You can?" Dancer smiled. Self-consciously, she ran her fingers through her short-cropped silver hair. On me such an action would have done further damage to a haircut already resembling a rat's nest, but Dancer's hair mussed pixielike and adorable. "Really?"
"Yes, really." Her charm was infectious. The strangeness of the Gorgons' fight seemed like years ago. Though the woman before me was clearly capable of survival, I found myself wanting to take care of her. "Dancer, where do you sleep? Are you getting enough to eat?"
Dancer smiled. "Oh, sure. The service tunnels are a great place to eat. Restaurants throw away all sorts of good stuff. You'd like it," she said.
I made a face. "They're supposed to compost."
"Yeah, but Kick says that compost chutes cost money, and people don't like to spend money, which I don't understand because I love to spend money." She shot me a hopeful look, under a veil of silver eyelashes. "Fifty credits is a lot of money."
"I guess so." Though part of me knew I was being conned by a master, I resolved to find a way to make sure she got more than fifty once we got back to headquarters. "What are you going to spend it on?"
"Oh. Lots of stuff. Candy bars and Christmas lights – blue ones, I like the blue ones best. Yeah, I'd buy a whole string of dark blue lights. Or maybe something plastic, or ..." – her eyes sparkled at the idea – " ... a shirt that no one else has ever worn. But, you know what I'd really like to do?"
I couldn't help but encourage her. "What?"
"Walk in the front door of one of those tunnel restaurants."
I held on to my smile, even as I felt the edges twitch. One look at that silver hair of hers and the manager of the place would call the police; she'd never get served. She'd end up spending my fifty credits for bail, or they'd confiscate the card as stolen property.