Have I mentioned I’m a bit cynical?
Prepared to be disappointed, Veronica and I hit the last twenty feet of the count. Signaling for her to stop a few paces after that, I ejected a cartridge from one my extra clips and hid it in the clouds at my feet. Forged in the blood of an angel and demon, the shell contained just enough of a magical trace for me to pick it out with my senses. Distinctive enough to for me to find it again, yet weak enough to not draw too much attention, it’d give me a starting point to backtrack to the portal.
As ready as I could be, I waved Veronica forward and ducked low to take the last few steps all at once. Just as we passed the count, dark lumps started to take shape ahead of us, seemingly huddled on the ground.
Veronica slipped right while I went left, each of us staying close enough to be seen. As we circled, the shapes became easier to see, the effect of the fog lessening with the distance.
There on the ground, in a pile of duct-taped limbs, were Baalth’s men. Apparently unconscious, all three of them sat in a triangle with their backs propped against one another while their heads drooped. The gentle movement of their chests, as they breathed, and the low rumbling of Marcus’s snores, made it clear they were still alive. On one hand, it was kind of a letdown.
While a certain part of me rejoiced at seeing them all trussed-up and vulnerable, just waiting for a bullet to put them out of their misery, a more sensible part reminded me of Baalth’s deal. I was horribly conflicted. For once, they were worth more to me alive than they were dead.
Isn’t life funny?
I growled to myself and scanned the fog. Unable to see anything resembling an obvious trap, as if I would, I reluctantly crept forward. If there was something out there waiting, I was just gonna have to oblige it. Nothing else I could do.
Veronica seemed to agree. She circled the perimeter, urging me on with a nod.
My heart beat a double-bass solo in my chest as I neared the trio. Nothing in their postures made me think they even knew I was there. The steady whistle of their breath never altered, their lowered faces remaining limp and unresponsive. It was eerie. Though bound by shit-ton of tape, I felt uncomfortable being this close to three guys who, at one time or another had all tried to kill me. Given their tied up circumstances, I couldn’t imagine they’d be happy to see me when they regained consciousness.
I veered around to Poe. Of the three, he’d be the least likely to react poorly when I woke him. At least I hoped he would be. I took a second to look him over before I did anythingHe appeared exhausted, his face lined, but none the worse for wear. I didn’t see any wounds or obvious injuries, but that didn’t really mean much. If Karra put them down with her swords, there wouldn’t be much in the way of evidence. All it took was a scratch from her weapons to lay an elephant out. A tiny shiver ran up my spine at the thought.
Chilled by the idea she might be lurking in the fog, pissed off and ready to kick my ass, I stopped hesitating and got on with it.
With the barrel of my gun, I poked Poe in the chest. He awoke with a start, his icy eyes wide. He stiffened under the grip of the tape, then suddenly relaxed as his eyes met mine.
“Mister Trigg?” His face slipped into its normal mask of controlled indifference. “Pardon my impertinence, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, I just can’t picture you in the role of savior.”
“Don’t let it get to you, Poe, I’m on the clock. Baalth wants you boys brought home.”
He nodded, a flicker of relief coloring his face.
I felt a little better as I squatted down and went to work on the tape, nothing having jumped out and bit us yet. Veronica stood watch, just in case.
“What happened?” I asked the mentalist, making small talk while I pried him loose.
Poe stretched his newly freed arms, rubbing at them to return the circulation, while I moved around to release the other two flunkies.
His hands moved to his temples, massaging them. “We’d just reached Old Town when a mass of ghouls ambushed us. We managed to get a call out to Baalth right before we were suddenly attacked from behind by Reven’s enforcer. Caught off guard, I believe we were knocked unconscious, awakening right now, apparently. I don’t recall anything after the ambush.”
“She didn’t use her blades?” Paranoid by nature, my gut tightened into a knot.
“She may have. It all happened so fast, I’m not entirely sure.”
I stopped loosening the tape and turned my head to stare at Poe. He stared back, the dark bags under his eyes made pits of them. His leathery face was calm and cool as he got to his feet. There wasn’t anything in his manner that made me think he was lying, but something felt weird.
I glanced back at McConnell and Marcus and noticed their eyes were underlined in black circles, as well; their faces taught, tight. They looked a hell of a lot better than the last time I’d seen them, but they still looked drained. That’s when the lights clicked on. All their wounds were healed.
“Veronica!” I screeched as I got to my feet and tried to back away.
I didn’t get far.
In a blur of motion that shredded the remaining tape, one of Marcus’s massive fists crashed into the left side of my face. A maelstrom of bright dots exploded in front of my eyes and I felt my legs go rubbery and give way. I hit the ground hard, my head spinning with the impact while sucking in a lungful of smoky nothingness.
You’d figure clouds would be softer and taste a little better.
No stranger to being hit, instinct took over. I rolled to my feet and raised my. 45. My vision cleared as I settled into a defensive posture.
I really didn’t like what I saw.
Not five feet away stood Marcus, defined by the gun he was pointing at my face. It was the one he’d stolen from me not too long ago. Loaded with angel/demon slaying bullets, the barrel-end wasn’t the side I wanted to be on. With God and Lucifer on hiatus, death had become a permanent condition. One I hoped to avoid.
Marcus, on the other hand, was all for putting me in a hole. He didn’t hesitate to put the gun to use. I saw the muzzle flash as I dove into the fog. The sudden, searing agony that lit up my side told me I hadn’t been fast enough.
Once more I hit the ground, pain shooting down my leg and across my chest in nerve-shattering waves, my stomach roiling. I fought down the nausea and used my momentum to carry me over into a crouch, bringing my gun up as I did.
Through clenched teeth and watery eyes, I realized it was too late. Marcus had followed me. He stood in front of me, the deadly abyss of his gun barrel just inches from the bridge of my nose. I closed my eyes.
I could handle dying if that’s what it came down to, but knowing it was Marcus who‘d be hammering in the last nail was a serious kick in the balls. As if realizing what I was thinking, he chuckled low in his throat, no doubt savoring the moment.
Hunkering down, I heard the creak of his knuckle as he squeezed the trigger just before the discharge silenced the world. A wave of blistering heat smacked me in the face and I tumbled back, clutching to my head. My skull throbbed, a thunderstorm of hurt. A warm wetness oozed across my palm and down my arm as I writhed in pain, sinking into the fog of Limbo. A cold blackness settled in.
“Frank!”
I heard my name called from a distance, muddied and shrill. It took me a second, but I recognized the voice. It was Veronica. I tried to answer, but the darkness, eager to drag me down, filled my mouth, choking me.
She cried out again. Desperation colored her voice. There was something else there as well, something sharp and acidic; angry.