Burn(18)

“I said, everyone hates you.”

He stopped. She was trembling now, her voice, too, but somehow her eyes were steady when they met his. “Everyone in this town hates you. Don’t you see their eyes roll when they say your name? How stupid they think you are? Even the most hateful people here think you’re an idiot.”

The word was too much. The sentence was too much. The entire paragraph was too much. Sarah knew it, could see it on Kelby’s face. She had stepped off a cliff and had only to wonder how far it was until she broke all her bones on the ground below.

“Sarah,” Jason coughed, getting to his feet, but too late.

Deputy Kelby stepped back, unbuckled his gun, and took it out. “You’re under arrest, girl.”

“For what?” Sarah said, but she knew. No one who looked like her could ever talk like that to someone who looked like him.

“Assaulting a police officer,” Kelby said.

“She didn’t assault you,” Jason rasped.

“Really?” Kelby said. “Then how come I had to fight back?”

Without warning, he swung the gun, hitting her jaw, knocking her to the dirt of the alley. The shock was more overwhelming than the pain, which was distant and not immediate. It was as if her head had fallen off somehow, her blood jumping right out of her skin, her whole body reacting against this this this— Above her, she could hear grunts and thuds, flesh against flesh, fist against bone. Jason had gone for Deputy Kelby. She’d been wrong. There were lots of ways this situation could get worse. She had no idea who was getting the best or worst of the fight, but there was no outcome that would be good for Jason or for her.

She tried rolling over, a hand to her jaw, wondering if it was broken, still trying to speak. “Jason—”

They still grappled.

“Jason, just let him go—”

The gun went off.

She froze. Jason and Deputy Kelby seemed to hold each other in a kind of shock.

“Jason?” she said. “Jason!”

Jason lurched back a step from Kelby. Even in the dim light, she could see the shine of blood across the white shirt Jason wore for the diner. White no longer.

“No,” she said, still struggling to rise, still struggling to talk, a loosened tooth falling to her tongue so she had to spit it out. “Jason—”

Deputy Kelby fell to one knee. He dropped the gun, as the hand that was holding it didn’t seem to work any longer. Jason took another step back, eyes wide, as Sarah saw the small wet circle on the front of Kelby’s uniform. It seemed so minor a wound, so modest against his stomach.

“Oh, no,” she heard Jason whisper.

Kelby looked up at him, his face stunned. He opened his mouth to speak but spat out only blood. He turned slightly, and Sarah saw the exit wound. A crater had opened on his upper back.

She expected him to fall forward, every bit of logic said he would, but incredibly, he started to stand again. He was struggling to his feet. Jason looked as terrified as Sarah felt. They watched as Kelby, still trying to speak, hoisted himself upright, spat out more blood, but still didn’t fall.

He reached out for Jason and died.

She could actually see it. Deputy Kelby’s eyes were still open, but something vanished. His soul? Did he have one? It didn’t matter. He died.

Before his body fell to the ground, Kazimir was there, stepping out of the air at the end of the alley, snaking his head down the passage between Al’s diner and the tall fence behind. He grabbed the falling body of Deputy Emmett Kelby in his mouth, bit him in half, then swallowed both parts in two great gulps. He took another bite out of the dirt where Kelby had bled, scooping it up like a shovel and spitting it into the field behind the diner.

In less than thirty seconds, no trace of Kelby remained, aside from the gun on the ground and the blood on Jason’s white shirt.

“You are more reckless than I expected, Sarah Dewhurst,” Kazimir said, looking at her with his one eye.

There again was the smile.





Six


MALCOLM WAS FALLING behind. Clouds had settled in as he walked south and were threatening snow. They were to be expected, of course, this was Canadian winter, but he had daily goals to meet, set for him before he departed. He had missed the very first one because of the two men and the wound to his ear. He’d missed the second even though he’d been rushing to catch up. And if snow started he was going to miss the third.

Delay had been built into the schedule, one couldn’t foresee everything, but there was a deadline he had to make. A particular place on a particular day at a particular time.

Or everything was lost.

“But that will not happen,” he said to himself, as happily as he could. “My path is blessed. My path is guarded.”

Your path will be guarded, the Mitera Thea had told him, before she’d left the last time to prepare other Cells for the success he would bring, reminding him—as if he needed it—that he was expected to bring success. Because your duty is sacred. You go to defend everything we believe in. You go to stop a war.

But I will have to kill to stop it, you say, Malcolm had replied, as he had many times over many years.

Your worry is why you were chosen, my son. An eager assassin has no moral purpose. But you know what you do. You know why you do it. The young are always the truest Believers, which also is your best disguise and why you, among all, were chosen. No one will know who you are. No one will see you coming. Not until your fist strikes knowing exactly why it does so: to save the Exalted we worship. Besides, what is a human life compared to a dragon’s? We are insignificant. We are as rats. They ignore us because we have failed them, but you, my son, you and I shall capture their attention again through this great, great act.