Wonder Woman: Warbringer (DC Icons #1)(63)

“Okay,” Alia said, “okay.” But Diana wasn’t sure how much of what she was saying was getting through. Alia was breathing hard, her eyes wide, her pupils dilated.

“When I count three, I want you to roll right and get behind the next table, understand? That’s how we’re going to do it. I count three, you move, no time for hesitation. We’re going to get you to Jason and Theo.”

“Promise me you’ll find Nim.”

“Your cause is mine,” said Diana.

Alia blinked as if her terror had driven the meaning of the vow from her mind. “All right,” she said, then clutched Diana’s wrist. “Be careful.”

Diana felt a grim smile on her lips. She was afraid, but swelling against that fear was a tide of exhilaration. Her fight with Jason in the hotel hallway had been a tussle. This was a battle. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being careful at all. Was this what it meant to be an Amazon? A sword’s edge went dull if left unused too long. She was ready to hone her blade.

“On three.” She slid into a crouch. “One.” She braced her hands against the table’s legs. “Two.” She nodded to Alia. “Three!”

She waited only long enough to see Alia drop and roll, then flipped the table on its side in a clatter of dishes. Gunfire rattled off its surface. She ripped the metal legs from the table, seized it by its edges, and hurled it with all her might.

It spun through the air like a huge discus and crashed into the phalanx of soldiers, but she didn’t stop to watch them topple. She leapt behind the next table, slamming gracelessly into Alia as a spate of bullets followed her.

“Again!” she yelled.

Alia rolled and Diana tossed the table, diving to the ground as gunfire chased her tumbling form. She hissed as a bullet grazed her shoulder—more like a burn than a sword slice.

Diana heard boots thundering over the ground. “They’re coming around. Keep moving!” she commanded Alia.

But it was too late—a soldier had flanked them on their left. She saw him raise his gun, fire. She threw her body in front of Alia’s and felt the bullets strike her arm, her side. Pain like she’d never known hammered at her body in sharp, reverberating jabs, each gunshot a fist of fire that drove the breath from her lungs. She heard a loud ping as a bullet struck the bracelet on her arm and looked down. It hadn’t even made a dent. But the ricochet…

“Are you hit?” Alia gasped from beneath her. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she said. But that wasn’t quite true. Though she wasn’t bleeding, her skin was covered in red welts, and her body ached as if she’d taken the worst beating of her life. Maybe bullets would have glanced off an Amazon at the height of her strength. Diana just knew she didn’t want to get shot again.

With a click, the soldier on their left slammed home a second clip and readied to fire again. A shot sounded and a circular black wound appeared on the soldier’s thigh. He screamed and crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg.

Jason peeked out from behind the temple, the gun from his ankle holster in hand, and gave her the briefest nod.

“Alia, I need you to run for the temple. Get to Jason. I’ll cover you.”

“How?” Alia cried. “You don’t have a weapon.”

I am the weapon, she thought. “Just go.”

“I’m not going to leave you to be slaughtered.”

“Alia, now!”

Alia ran. This time when Diana threw the table, she stood her ground. This is madness, railed a voice in her head, but by then ten soldiers were opening fire.

She didn’t stop to think, just let herself react. Time seemed to slow as the air came alive in a hail of bullets. This was like no sparring match or staged skirmish, and some part of her knew it. Her muscles responded with effortless speed, instinct guiding her movements. She forgot her pain as she barreled toward the line of men facing her down, deflecting their gunfire as she ran. The bullets made silver streaks in her vision, strange music as they clanged against her bracelets, their impact like the hard patter of rain on a metal roof.

She rolled into a somersault, came up, glimpsed sparks glinting from her wrists as another shower of bullets flew. She could hear triggers being pulled, the jangle of the metal casings hitting the floor, smell an acrid heat that she knew was gunpowder.

“What the hell?” she heard someone cry as she crashed into the row of men, breaking their ranks, sending them flying into the remaining tables. She felt hands seize her as the soldiers who hadn’t been knocked down fell upon her in a wave, trying to wrestle her to the ground. They were kindling in her hands, insubstantial. She threw them off, and one struck the temple’s gate hard enough to buckle the stone pillar.

Is this all you are? something inside her demanded. Cowards clutching your guns? Give me a challenge.

Diana heard a high, whining sound, like the rising shriek of a firework. From across the reflecting pool, another man was aiming something at her. It was far larger than the other weapons, its barrel terminating in a wide, ugly mouth.

“Diana, get down!” screamed a voice.

Nim. She was on the floor where the musicians had been gathered, their instruments now abandoned. Her face was tearstained, the heavy kohl that lined her eyes trickling down her cheeks, and Diana saw a pretty blonde in an elaborate gown lying motionless beside her.