Page 66 of Waifs And Strays
I’d heard a lot of crazy talk over the years but this was off the scale. I almost felt sorry for the two bastards – but it wouldn’t stop me killing them and I wouldn’t regret my actions for a second.
My ears twitched and my tail waved wildly from side to side. She Who Hisses had served me well but now I had to stand on my own two feet. I retreated to one of the empty rooms and hawked up the hairball. Time to play.
My unexpected sojourn as a MacTire captive meant I had no weapons on me; although that wasn’t a disastrous situation, it was one I needed to remedy sooner rather than later. With any luck, the two hapless fools in the room down the hall would be armed. I'd soon find out.
I straightened my shoulders, cricked my neck and cracked my knuckles, then strode back to the closed door, raised my fist and knocked sharply. The two voices inside that had been continuing their inane chatter abruptly fell silent.
I waited two beats and knocked again. This time there was a hushed whisper and the sound of footsteps. ‘Who’s there?’
I mouthed my answer, ‘Your worst nightmare,’ then side-stepped to where I wouldn't be seen immediately. A beat later the door opened and one of the men thrust out a gun. I snapped my hand across and wrenched it out of his shaking fist, twisted it and smashed the butt into his face.
He stumbled backwards, which wouldn't do. I thrust my hand out again, grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked it hard, pulling the shirt and the man through the door in one swift movement. With my left hand I closed the door after him, then I drew in a breath and met his shocked brown eyes.
I dropped the gun. Placing both hands on either side of hisbony skull, I twisted hard and broke his neck with far more speed and far less pain than he deserved.
His companion was already yelling from the other side of the door and I wished he'd shut up; I didn't want all his deluded buddies appearing because they'd heard a commotion. Finally he must have remembered that he was armed because he loosed off two shots in quick succession. Both bullets smashed through the wooden door into the plaster of the opposite wall. Splinters of wood flew in all directions and annoyingly at least two embedded themselves in my cheek.
Silence descended as the shooter tried to work out whether he’d hit me or not. Given the lack of sound, it was clear that anyone else in the building was oblivious to what had just happened. Luck was most definitely on my side.
I bent down, scooped up the dead Umbra goon’s gun and checked it over. Silver bullets, as I’d suspected.
I pulled a face then listened hard, using my hearing to visualise the room on the other side of the wall. I heard a creak followed by another shot, which he blasted not at the door but at the inner wall. It didn’t penetrate the heavy Scottish stone. At least that answered one of my questions: if I wanted to ensure my bullets hit flesh, I’d have to fire through the door and not the wall.
Ducking down, I wriggled forward commando-style until I was in position. I heard heavy breathing and another faint creak, then closed my eyes and pinpointed their location. When I squeezed the trigger, I was rewarded by a painfully loud shriek and a thud. That was when I sprang up and burst through the door. Nice: from the way he was clutching his leg, my shot had done exactly what I’d hoped it would.
Getting shot is nothing like it is in the movies, it’s not a moment of pain and then you’re able to run away from your attacker or can properly defend yourself, not unless you have alot of experience and an astonishingly high pain threshold. For the first few seconds, you don’t really feel much beyond shock. The burning agony doesn’t hit straight away but when it registers, it’s horrible. You can’t catch your breath and your body vibrates with fire and pain. Before too long, adrenaline takes over and you can react more usefully but until that happens you’re a vulnerable mess. That’s why I was able to walk up to the man and calmly take possession of both his weapon and the situation.
He groaned.
I eyed his wound; it was unlikely that he’d bleed out any time soon, and with proper medical treatment he’d recover. But I wasn’t interested in whether he’d be around to celebrate his next birthday, I simply wanted to know that he could still talk.
After another few seconds, he proved that he could. ‘You shot me, you bitch!’ Uh-huh: people always felt the need to state the obvious. I could practically write the script.
I patted him down, searching for any sign that he was carrying a similar suicidal poison to the man who’d killed Quack. There was some chewing gum in one pocket and a packet of crumpled cigarettes in the other. I popped a piece of gum into my mouth and held up the fags. ‘These will kill you, you know,’ I said amiably.
He glared and spat at me, his limbs flailing as he tried to punch and kick at me. I watched his attempts with detached interest. He was keen, I’d give him that. In my old job, I’d ensured my targets died as quickly as possible; I didn’t spend time observing their pain or asking them questions. Occasionally clients had requested that I inflict as much trauma and pain as possible but neither EEL nor I would ever have agreed to such a thing. You could be a killer but you didn’t have to be a dick.
This situation, however, was very different. I croucheddown and stared at the man dispassionately. ‘What’s your name?’
He glared at me, so I waved both guns in his face until my meaning was clear.
He bared his teeth. ‘Liam,’ he muttered.
Good. I didn’t actually care what his name was but he’d broken the seal; answering one simple question freed him up to answer more.
‘Who else is in this building?’
He didn’t reply; instead his eyes promised dark vengeance. Yeah, yeah.
‘How many Umbra fuckers are in this building apart from you and your dead friend?’ If I had to keep repeating myself, I would get very irritated very quickly.
I waved the guns again and Liam looked away. ‘Three,’ he bit out. ‘And you can’t stop us! Our mission is sacred! We’re going to put Coldstream on the map. We’re going to change the world and nobody will get in our way! My death won’t change anything – in fact, it will strengthen our movement.’
Good grief. I gave him a long stare then spun on my heel, walked over to his buddy and half-lifted the corpse into a sitting position. I raised my eyebrows in pointed invitation. ‘How many others?’ I asked again.
Liam’s thin mouth tightened and fear flared in his eyes. Apparently he wasn’t as keen on martyrdom as he liked to pretend. ‘Five.’
That was better. I dropped the dead body. ‘Where are they?’
