Page 74 of Backwoods
“Homemade fireworks,” Nick said. “You know Raven?”
“I got stuck here after she got out, but I’ve heard about her.” He gave Raven a brief smile. “You’re kinda like a legend here.”
“Good to know, but we better get out of here, y’all,” Raven said. “When Miss Lula comes through that door down the hall, she’s gonna be like a hurricane.”
“Let her come, then.” Nick pumped the shotgun. “I’ve done enough running.”
50
The fearsome house manager known as Miss Lula emerged through the darkened doorway of the wine cellar. She was taller than Nick, and broad-shouldered, with long, heavy arms. Blood covered her face as if a bucket of it had been poured over her head, and a dark stain had spread across her wide bosom.
Despite her apparent injuries, she displayed no awareness of pain. Her eyes seethed with an unquenchable fury, a hunger to dispense severe suffering.
Miss Lula swept her gaze across all of them. Heart knocking, Nick stepped forward. She settled her attention on him.
“You’re the field hand they caught today.” Miss Lula glowered. “You got no business here in the master’s house. You don’t know your place, little man.”
She gripped a straight razor. Lantern light glinted on the blade’s deadly, honed edge.
“I don’t want to shoot you,” Nick said. “Stand down and let us leave in peace, ma’am. Please.”
“You ain’t going nowhere except back out in those fields, boy.”
“Don’t make me do this.” Nick raised the shotgun to his shoulder.
Miss Lula merely smiled.
“You think I haven’t been shot before, field hand?” She advanced toward him, arms swinging.
The woman’s confidence unnerved Nick. In a place such as this, where so much defied the laws of science, could he really expect a load of buckshot to have the intended effect?
“Nick,” Amiya said behind him, as if she had picked up on his fear.
Miss Lula lifted the razor above her head.
Nick squeezed the trigger.
The shotgun blazed and bucked. A spray of buckshot hit Miss Lula at center mass, knocked her back, and brought her to her knees.
Head lowered, she panted, trembled.
“Back off!” Nick pumped the shotgun.
Miss Lula raised her head. Her face was a vision of rage.
Hurt, but still mad as hell. Good God.
Grimacing, she came at him again.
Nick fired another shot. The buckshot spun her around as if she had been shoved by a gust of wind. She crashed against the wall, one arm striking an oil painting and sending it flying to the floor. She staggered, but gathered her bearings before she fell.
Nick trembled. He had only one shotgun shell left. He pumped the weapon.
Shrieking, Miss Lula raced toward him and drew back her arm to swing the razor.
Nick shot her in the head. The buckshot tore away the top of her skull. Bits of brain matter, hair, and blood spattered wetly against the walls and ceiling. Eyes wide as if with surprise, Miss Lula fell to the hardwood with a heavy thud. The straight razor tumbled out of her twitching fingers.
Breathless, Nick backed away. His ears rang. His hands felt numb on the shotgun. He let it sag out of his grip and clunk against the floor.
