Page 85 of Deathless
“I’m sorry.” I squeezed his hand as if he could feel me doing it. “I’m so sorry we were too late for you. I hope you’re at peace now.” With some effort, I bent his elbow to place his hand on his chest. “If you have family, we’ll find them. We’ll return you to them, I promise.”
I closed the man’s eyelids just as a small shower of dirt and pebbles rained down, like someone was at the edge of the hole. Shielding my eyes, I looked up and squinted. The sun was rising and it was especially bright at the opening of my dark, underground prison.
I couldn’t see exactly who was standing at the edge of the hole, but I did catch a leather jacket and a motorcycle helmet with the visor pulled down.
“Hey, is it over?” I called up.
The helmet nodded but otherwise stood there without saying anything. There was too much pain coursing through my body to give it much thought. All I wanted was some relief and to see that my men were unharmed.
“There’s gotta be a ladder around somewhere. In one of the houses, maybe. But someone might still have to carry me. I’m kinda fucked up.”
The helmeted biker again said nothing and just stood there. My reflection in the visor was tiny, a muted blonde head in a pit of darkness. Only then did I start to sense something else through the pain. My thoughts raced through the faces of my riders, especially the ones I knew the least. Who wore a helmet like that? I couldn’t think of a single one.
“Who are you?” I tried to keep the pain out of my voice as I angled my bad arm and leg away from the figure. “Take your helmet off. Show yourself.”
The person dropped to their haunches at the edge of the trap, then lowered their feet to dangle over the side. I backed as faraway as I could while the person slid carefully down the dirt wall and landed gracefully in the hole with me.
It had to be a woman. She looked shorter than me, despite currently standing on the side panel and rear tire of my bike. She even scraped mud off her shoe against the treads of my tire. If I had use of both arms, she wouldn’t have been standing up any longer. Such disrespect.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded again.
Two small, feminine hands went to the sides of the helmet and paused there, as if drawing out the suspense to tease me. I gritted my teeth and continued to wait, refusing to play into her game.
The helmet lifted slowly, revealing a chin, lips, nose, and finally an entire face. One that I didn’t know but vaguely recognized. It hit me as she shook out shoulder length brown hair.
“You’re one of them,” I realized. “One of the cult leaders.” She had to be the youngest one, somewhere in her mid to late thirties.
“So you do have some sense after casting out our Dark Mother.” She tucked the motorcycle helmet under her arm. “And I thought you’d make this too easy on me.”
I didn’t dare flick my gaze up to the top of the hole, even though that was all I wanted to do. But I was injured with one of the crazy cult leaders right in front of me. I wasn’t taking my eyes off this bitch for a second.
“Call for your men if you want, but they won’t hear you.” She put the helmet down and proceeded to shrug off the leather jacket. Everything about her movement and tone was so casual, it was eerie.
“I’m not calling for anyone,” I said. “You can hide down here, but it’s just a matter of time. Your cult is gone. We’ve won.”
“Are you so sure about that,President?”Her tone turned mocking as she tacked on my title. “The biker queen stuck underground with a gunshot wound and a broken ankle doesn’t bode too well for your side.”
I swallowed, refusing to give in to her taunting. The Sisterhood outnumbered us, but we were better skilled and experienced fighters. Santos and Devin even took out their patrol so we’d catch them unaware, although it seemed they were ready anyway. Still, I had confidence in my people, especially with my dad and uncle joining us.
“I thought I’d be impressed meeting you face-to-face,” she went on after my silence. “The Dark Mother insisted you were the one, the perfect vessel to lead us into our new age but,” she shook her head, her expression falling into one of disappointment, “you’re just another woman weakened by men.”
While she spoke, my good hand moved slowly to the gun holster under my jacket. “I would say sorry to disappoint but I honestly don’t give a fuck.”
In the blink of an eye, I drew and fired, but even in the small space, she managed to dodge it. She came at me with surprising speed, head and shoulders low as she tackled me around the middle. Blinding pain shot up my shoulder as she slammed me into the wall. I fought against it for clarity, for all the fighting instincts I’d been taught by my fathers until they were second nature.
I pressed the barrel of my gun against her head, but she anticipated the move and pulled it from my weakened grip. Maybe it was the desperation of the moment, maybe she didn’t know guns well enough to use it, but she tossed it to the other side of the hole rather than turning it on me.
The woman clearly wasn’t an experienced fighter and left so many openings I could have exploited. She exposed her neckwhen she tossed the gun and had me pinned against the wall in an awkward, easily breakable position, had I been at full strength. Her only advantages were my damn injuries, and she was exploiting those in full force.
She would wait until I was trapped and maimed to fight me head-on. Cowardly bitch.
Numbness was setting in now, my vision darkening as my consciousness wobbled on a tightrope. If I passed out, she would certainly kill me. I had to gain the upper hand somehow, and fast.
I sagged against the wall, moaning and whimpering. Everything hurt like a bitch, so it wasn’t entirely an act, but she fell for it anyway. Her hold let up on me just slightly, and she raised her head to look me in the face.
With what little remained of my flagging strength, I headbutted the bitch right in the nose.
The crunching sound of cartilage and her resulting cry of pain were satisfying to be sure. But what I really needed was for her to back away, to be lost in her own haze of pain for a moment.
