There you are, thought Shanlinn Firehand as the Captain of the Watch, Vikor Creuller, swung out from the back of an oversized jaguar which had grown a police car around its spine. He was massive, nearly eight feet tall and half that wide, armed with baton and pistol and various other tricks hidden beneath his long black leather coat.
She'd killed the two guards who had been following the Moon, though, and none of the rest of them knew she'd been anywhere near him. She had to be a tempting prize; they'd been hunting her for decades, now. The dagger in her hand was a potent weapon, but not so potent as her sword; she was betting that even Viktor wouldn't note its absence until it was too late.
If this had been an ordinary operation, she would have had an escape route mapped out, with a half-dozen others as fallbacks. Instead, what she had was desperation and sacrifice.
Viktor studied her for a long moment, held at bay at the back of an alley by a group of guards with spears. "Take her," he said.
"Dawn," she answered, and let the Sun flow through her.
It was a blessed death, the light searing in this ever-dark city, carving through the City Watch, their bestial vehicles, and a substantial portion of the park beyond. She hoped the Moon had made his way through; she'd given him as much time as she could manage.
Four decades of gradually-increasing nightmare would end for her, here and now, and her sword was safely in another's keeping; she held to the hope of being reborn. And for this select group of suborned assholes, she would bring a fiery death.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Feel free to leave comments; it lets me know that people are actually reading my blog. Interesting tangents and topic drift just add flavor. Linking to your own stuff is fine, as long as it's at least loosely relevant. Be civil, and have fun!