Bloodsong Ch. 01

Valerie pulled again, being rewarded with a twang that sounded like a bowstring and felt oddly elastic. Mr. Showboat, reeled back within reach, wound up slammed down next to Nick, who had finished wrestling himself back to reality and looked like he regretted having done that. Valerie let him be for the two seconds it took to swing the sword and cut off Mr. Showboat's head.

Which — she couldn't cut the moron any slack at all, honestly! — Nick repaid by trying to brain her with the fuel can. She kicked the detached head at his head, then kicked him in the knee until he went down. She considered saving herself further headaches by finishing him off, but got sidetracked by having to whirl around and open fire on the second wave of grabbing limbs.

Her fire focused on the redhead, because that one was an unknown quantity and she'd prefer to get rid of those as fast as possible. Surprisingly, the first shot that hit the heart caused him to collapse and remain down. Kalidriapolos made a fretful noise and crouched to shield the body from her rain of ammunition.

Valerie shook her head. No silver immunity, then. Sweet darkness, what had that one been thinking, getting a job in the trade without meeting the minimum requirements for self-preservation?

Kalidriapolos would be out for the next while, pawing at the redhead's shirt where it was getting damp and dark with blood, the breeze coming in from that corner reeking of magic — ozone and salt and the feeling of getting kicked in the teeth. He'd be stuck healing until his patient either got back on his feet or succumbed.

Valerie prayed that the man took his sweet time doing either.

"Where do you even find these clowns?" she asked, to none of them in particular but training her gaze on Byron, who was fiddling with some weapon she didn't recognize. The staring seemed to make him feel put on the spot, as he was compelled to acknowledge that she'd spoken. Usually they didn't. None of the veteran Mayfly staff members were big on talking, which was . . . nice. It meant no insults, no lurid descriptions of how they'd fuck her every which way. Not because they weren't a pack of predators or held qualms about sticking dick and whatever else where it wasn't requested, but because they were smart enough to realize that disposing of her at once was the safer option. And that engaging her only provided openings for her to rile them up.

"You have one chance to surrender and three seconds to take it," Byron informed her, and he was ticked off. She might have gotten him to swear this time, except that Nick was sitting against the wall cradling a disembodied head and single-handedly depleting their shared well of profanity.

Valerie hoped that Astara wasn't one of those deities who took issue with having their name spoken in vain, because Nick would be boiling alive two seconds from now if that were the case.

The air on her back ignited without warning. Valerie threw herself left and to the ground, off the path carved towards her in sizzling blue flame. It smelled like burning salt, and where it landed the ground split open. She sat up behind the wreckage of the sedan, reached for the nearby corpse and propped it up to provide cover for her back while she returned less effective fire.

Cheating rats. Her three seconds hadn't even been up yet.

No one new had arrived on the scene, meaning that Kalidriapolos remained the only magic user among them, and he was not only still tending to the redhead but also crap at anything other than healing. Yet it had been magic, no doubt. Valerie might lack in-depth knowledge about its workings, but she damn well recognized it when it was lobbed in her direction. Now Byron was raising that strange weapon of his and—

Ah.

It was good that her thigh was the only part of her pressed against the heap of junk, and even then only against the tire, because the ensuing blast hit the metal frame and became a live current, making it shake and steam and reek of burnt petrol and right, there was that plan she needed to get back to. No more room to play around. Where in darkness was that can of fuel again?

She spotted it lying halfway to the jeep. Her macabre shield absorbed Axis' two hits to her back, and thankfully the blast energy didn't spread through flesh as it did with metal; it just burned. Soon she would need to ditch the body and dance, dance out of the way of death on her own. In the meantime, Nick had shaken himself out of his stupor again and was rattlesnake-ing around to make a mad dash towards safety, gods above didn't he ever learn?

"You stay the hell put!" Valerie tripped the man, doing him a favor, as he fell out of the way of a blast that nearly hit him. She pushed Nick into the wall, away from the jeep. It wouldn't be convenient to draw fire towards it. The sedan had taken so much fire damage it looked to be melting, and she'd need an escape vehicle in about a minute and a half.

Then, it stood to reason, the weaselly bastard attempted to shift, limbs tearing out of his suit and going for her neck — always the neck. Fortunately, fighting was neither his talent nor in his job description. Valerie had only the vaguest sense of what Nick did at the Mayfly, and since the reason for his working there boiled down to 'rampant nepotism in the slave trade industry', probably so did he. 

Either way, it meant that he went down fast and hard.

She was ripping the container open and drenching him head to toe with gasoline before he could work up the nerve to strike back. She pulled him up, maneuvering him so that she had the wall behind her and him in front. One of her hands fished through his pocket — where was it, she was sure she'd seen him put it in this one . . . 

"Don't shoot, it's me, don't shoot!" Nick was shouting, the others having focused their aim again — was this . . . ? No, tin of mints. Foil . . . condom.Urgh. Loose change and cellphone and cigarettes, just how much junk could one person fit in their pants, maybe she should instead go with the sword . . . oh, no.There it was. Lighter!

The others halted their march as she held it aloft. Valerie took the time to study the weapons they carried this time around. They put her in mind of Cynihean plasma blasters, which in turn had always reminded her of oversized water pistols. The reservoir that would contain water was in this case full of a suspension of swirling lightning, cerulean in color. She both didn't like the look of those things and itched to get her hands on one.

Later.Back to business.

"The first one to shoot me gets to explain to Jack, when he deigns to show himself, why his best friend is on fire." There was no forceful stressing of 'best friend'. None whatsoever.

"Cicerny, what?" The others looked unamused, but held their fire. Lazy-Eye-Brown-Tentacles seemed a bit more put out than the rest, as he proceeded to grouse: "Why is it always you? Same godsbegotten nonsense that happened in Cape Town!"

Ah, Cape Town. Good times. Valerie wished she were back there instead.

"Redmont, put that thing down. The sword too." That was Rem, weedy beanpole to Byron's — standing scowling behind him — short and stout. He mentioned the sword like an afterthought, and looked like nothing so much as someone who'd appreciate an opportunity to check out of the situation and call it a day. "We . . . won't hurt you."

He could stand to look less like it pained him to say it.

"You were shooting to kill two hot seconds ago."

"No we weren't."

"Were so! What, are you worried that I'll go to Jack and tell on you?"

They all continued to look both fed up and unimpressed, except Byron, who sighed.

"I can but pray for the day Aramis grows better taste in women and we're done with this crap."

"For what it's worth, so do I." It was clear that power dynamics had been upset in the wake of Marabeth's demise and not yet righted themselves. What with Jack having previously worked with them as first among equals, he didn't command the same respect his aunt had. In his absence, they'd follow the urge to destroy the threat she presented before minding their orders. It could be that Nick was right. That there was no deeper scheme going on, only Jack trying to keep the cows and the chickens fed while the barn stood on fire.

As though she'd summoned him, there was the devil himself, his song preceding him.

Jack took in the scene with no evidence of surprise, eyes flitting to Nick before settling on her. He hadn't shifted, but could do so between one breath and the next. Somewhere along the way he'd ridded himself of the leftovers of his shirt. It continued to mystify Valerie why any of them bothered to dress above the waist to begin with, if they knew they were heading into a fight.

Jack eyed her levelly, calmly, as if she didn't have someone he supposedly cared for held by the neck, one flick of her wrist away from getting torched.

"Why always you, Nick?"

"Me? Ask your psycho girlfriend why always me!"

Valerie didn't have patience left for any of it. Him. Them. Every instinct of hers screeched, and there it was again, burning strong in her nostrils; the blasters shot silently, but that didn't matter when she could sniff out their magic as they discharged. She was out of the way just in time, knowing fire would come from above because that was where everyone avoided looking.

The ground where she'd stood shook and cracked, glowing blue.

Jack, whose face had remained impassive throughout, was suddenly livid.

"Those are meant to be set to stun." His voice, cold as ice.

Axis, the rogue shooter, unbothered.

"My mistake." He sent down a toothy grimace, as if challenging her to accuse him of being full of horseshit, but tamely adjusted something on the underside of the blaster.

Valerie rolled her eyes and, although not convinced that they wouldn't try hitting her with anything immediately deathly with Jack in the vicinity, risked shuffling sideways towards the jeep, ignoring Nick's attempts to stomp on her feet. At times like these, she lamented her inability to shift extra limbs. It was a challenge to coordinate dragging the man while keeping the lighter in one hand and the sword in the other, and now she had to go through his pockets again —

Valerie pressed her side against the door of the jeep with the flat portion of the blade held between it and her hip, then released the handle. Nick's mastery of technology had died in the eighties and his phone was a flip brick, so she found it without having to dig much.

"This the time to order a pizza?" Nick sneered.

Jack stopped in his tracks.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Phoning the St. Louis headquarters." More properly, the personal line in her office. Just in case the phenomena surrounding the Ring also affected the end destination. The place would be empty in her absence. Even when around, she was in there so seldom that she'd had to replace the plants on the windowsill with plastic ones.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Nick's face was so awash with fear that it had gone all the way around and back to inexpressive. "The ring's not stable, you'll blow us both—"

Valerie saw the moment Jack had realization dawn, his eyes going wide, his torso and shoulders rippling as he shifted, his lips moving but the words rendered inaudible by Nick's shouting, plus the shrieking of machinery meeting magic and having a hateful time.

She motioned as though she meant to throw the phone forward and instead let her arm swing back, casting it over her shoulder. The improvised bomb spread red mist around as it sailed past the wall, missing Axis' shoulder, smoking and twirling and cutting wounds in the air as it went, marking its progress almost prettily.

Watching it go, Valerie became abruptly aware that the level of destruction about to ensue was not an intended function of the Ring, but a symptom of its instability. The spell had been dying a protracted death for days and, quite reasonably, didn't want to workwhile it bled out. The destruction was its way of protesting the forced labor, and this explosion would — sheknew, knew by the smell of the air and the way it seemed to fizz — be worse and greater than the one on the roof had been, and every other that followed would up the ante untilsomething gave.

Oh. Ohhh. This might actually be good.

She needed to get away as fast as possible to do something with it, however.

The world shook around Valerie's ears and became full of red fire, Jack barreling towards her, the wall coming down with a sound that forced its way inside her head as painfully as it pierced her actual ears. It was like a living thing, like someone's blood song, crying.

Then it stopped and it was just the racket of brick flying apart, pieces tumbling down as the structure shook. Axis was in the middle of it screaming blue murder, good for him. Unwilling to get distracted, Valerie was shoving Nick in Jack's way and lighting him up before the last brick hit the ground. There was a split second when she thought she'd mistimed, that the spark wouldn't take, but then flames erupted — more screaming. Jack looked torn as he reached for the man, presumably to roll him over the ground and smoke the fire out.

Valerie didn't stay and watch. She focused on forward, leaving the noise behind, not looking back to check if they chased her, then not looking, period, as she dashed through dust that tasted like iron on her tongue.

She opened her eyes again once she breathed clean air, stopped herself from careening into a motorcycle, kept running. She couldn't hide; she hadn't made it so far away that they wouldn't hear and follow her song. And Jack, Jack would never give up, simple as that. He'd carry on like a bloodhound, his obsession undying and unshakeable. Which left her with . . . not many options.

Thankfully, there was one plan among the dozens she'd been forming and discarding that hadn't yet been rendered unviable. Valerie ran around the bistro, through a narrow street that ended back on the main artery in front, the formerly dead-ended lane paces away. She fled in there. The others hadn't turned the corner yet, and with luck they'd assume she'd outraced them to the next block, buying her some time.

Valerie was pleased to note that the dust cloud hadn't chanced to settle in the time it'd taken for her to return.

There was the jeep. There was Nick steaming on the ground with Kalidriapolos bent over him, muttering in a stressed-sounding way. There was Axis unconscious amidst loose bricks and, lovely, something going right at last, his blaster had been ejected from his hand, apparently undamaged. She slid forward, knees bent, fingers scraping ground so that she might snatch it up with only a slight slowing of pace. No time to try and tweak whatever setting had been adjusted to make it not kill; plenty of time to unload it on every target within her sights, even Axis.

One couldn't be too cautious, and the asshole more than deserved it.

Shouting coming from behind her now. The others were back, but Valerie was already on her way out again, having reached the jeep and yanked the door open. She let herself fall backwards into the driver's seat, tossing the sword aside without looking, sending blast after blast through the open window, free hand going for the ignition key, feet to the pedals, turning to check if—

It slammed into her all at once, the song first but the fist following so close behind that she barely had time to breathe out a startled 'oh' before they blurred together. Pain — disorienting, splintering — seared through her cheek, then her neck as the blow caused her head to jerk around. A gray limb swung across her chest and looped back to trap her in her seat like the world's most unwelcome safety belt. An equally strong grip clutched her neck, hands this time. Straddled as her shoulders were, she couldn't bring up her arms to claw herself free, but she could still use the blaster if she found somewhere to aim.

Jack predicted her attempt, however, and struck at her hand, squeezing it until she had no choice but to open it and let the weapon clatter harmlessly against her boot.

"Hello again." His mouth was by her ear. His tone pleasant, conversational. Valerie couldn't crane her head in a way that allowed her to see his face, but she could hear that he was smirking as though it came with its very own sound effect. Ding. I have you now, my pretty.

"How-the-you-" she gasped out. Twenty seconds in his punishing hold and there went her oxygen savings. Valerie slashed claws at the tentacle over her stomach, since that one she could reach. By breaking it where it looped she could free her shoulders, but he anticipated her again and wound more rings around her, binding her arms to her body right down to the wrists.

"Don't struggle. Try to calm down, and I'll let you breathe." When she refused to do any such thing, and underlined her resolution with the assertion that he was a vile son of a bitch, Jack heaved a despondent sigh and leaned in — no. No. She could see where things were headed and no, out of the question. She hissed and jerked in his hold. The fingers around her neck clenched. "Or I won't let you breathe until I have no other recourse. Until you are right on the verge of passing out. Then I'll squeeze again and do it all over, and over, however many times it takes for you to act like a reasonable being."

And that said, he kissed her. Her neck, but likely just because he couldn't reach anything more interesting with the back of her seat standing in the way. Valerie froze, which made his mouth stop moving, though she could still feel his lips pressed to her skin as he hummed contently and removed a single hand from her throat. She could get air in now, though she had to fight for it.

Jack stroked her hair while she heaved.

One might even think him sympathetic.

"Good girl. Not that hard after all, was it?" He'd given her lungs a break, but this time wasn't so foolish as to mistake a momentary lull in her struggle for surrender. The hand that remained on her throat was unrelenting. Regardless, her minuscule concession to cease writhing pleased him. Valerie felt a smile imprinted on her as his mouth moved to the junction between her neck and shoulder, making skin break out into gooseflesh wherever it passed. She shook her head, trying to hit where she guessed his nose to be. Jack tutted her. "Stop that. Relax. I can make this feel good, Val. So let me."

"Let you what?" She heard her voice come out strangled, which stood to reason, since she was still being strangled and none too happy about it. His lips left her. She heard him sigh and fumble with something out of view, but the interruption didn't last and soon his mouth was back, nipping lightly at her shoulder. He looped more tentacles around her, these pressing more than they gripped, arranging themselves around her waist and shoulders and hips and draping over her like a blanket.

A familiar position, but so out of place.

Jack would hold her like this when they'd been lonely children happy to at least have each other, in a full-bodied squeeze meant to reassure and comfort. As adults he'd do it more rarely, at times when one or both of them happened to be upset. It had helped her to be held, and it seemed to helphim to have her to hold on to.

Jack continued to kiss her, his mouth gentle and warm as it explored her shoulder, licking the hidden pulse points along her neck. Finally, finally he released her throat. She'd been unresistant long enough that he seemed ready to make further concessions. That hand went under her collar, sneaking inside her shirt and sliding downwards. Valerie was too busy sucking in air, greedily and much too fast and possibly scalding her lungs, to comprehend at once what he was doing. Once she did she made a noise, angry and vicious and outraged.