skin.
“Got your attention now?” taunted the man.
“Fully,” she said with a snarl.
Sara jumped high into the air, knife at the ready. The man dodged back to avoid her. But it had never been her intention to stab him. The leap was just to get him to move back. When she landed directly in front of him, he had nowhere to go with a bench against his back. She swiftly twisted and kicked him high in the face. His head snapped back with an audible crack . His body fell into the bench behind him with a crash.
She stood over her dead opponent and said, “Do I have yours now?”
Turning Sara saw Ezekiel still rolling around on the ground with the fat man. They moved like two snakes in the grass, each one trying to yank the statue from the other’s hands. Then Ezekiel got some strength from she didn’t know where and yanked the statue back with a triumphant sound. When the man beneath him tried to take it from him, Ezekiel banged him atop the head with it. Twice.
When the man stopped moving, Ezekiel slowly stood up and began rearranging his clothes with a yank of his hand.
“Did it feel good?” said Sara dryly.
Ezekiel blinked at her. “What?”
“Overpowering him.”
He looked back down at his unconscious opponent and back up at her. “Actually...yeah.”
His voice was full of surprise and wonder.
He puffed up his chest. “I did pretty well, didn’t I?”
She raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “For a man who has clearly never fought in his life? Yes.”
That backhanded comment didn’t seem to deter him.
“What have you got there?” she said as she watched him turn the statue back and forth in his hands.
“The statue of Tirsaman,” he said, walking over to a bench further away.
“What does it do?”
Ezekiel mumbled something she didn’t hear. Sara decided that checking on their living opponent was more vital at the moment. She went over to the fat man to feel for a pulse and patted him down for any weapons he might have concealed on him. When she found none, she grunted and hauled him up by the arm to drag his limp body over to a corner. It was empty except for one lone chair.
Then she walked over toward the door, passing Ezekiel along the way.
“Well?” she asked.
He looked up at her and back down at the statue without answering.
“Now would be a good time to speak up, Ezekiel.”
“It’s classified. Boss’s orders.”
“Classified knowledge from the watcher who’s supposed to be guarding it and just killed someone who wanted to take it from his collection?”
He grimaced and adjusted his necktie.
“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands and striding to the door.
“Where are you going? You promised you wouldn’t leave! Two days, you said.”
She didn’t turn around or stop walking. “I meant what I said. Unless you’re going to tie that fellow up with air, we need some rope to bind this gentleman, and I saw some right outside the door.”
“Oh.”
In short order they had the man gagged and bound to the only non-magical chair in the room. When he was trussed up in the corner, she removed his friend’s body and hauled him outside to throw in the ocean, then set about helping Ezekiel right the overturned benches near the front. Those two hadn’t known how to fight but they had certainly left a mess in their wake rolling around like mud wrestlers.
“Thank you,” said Ezekiel as they put the final artifact back in place.
“You’re welcome,” said Sara as she dusted off her palms.
“It supposedly has the ability to make anyone or anything into a god,” said Ezekiel.
“Excuse me?” said Sara. She thought she had heard him incorrectly.
“The statue of Tirsaman,” he replied, shifting back and forth on his feet. “That’s what it does.”
She turned fully to Ezekiel then. “You want to repeat that? Slowly? You have a statue that can turn a person into god sitting in your dank warehouse?”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted with a sniff. “Or, well, that’s one
“Got your attention now?” taunted the man.
“Fully,” she said with a snarl.
Sara jumped high into the air, knife at the ready. The man dodged back to avoid her. But it had never been her intention to stab him. The leap was just to get him to move back. When she landed directly in front of him, he had nowhere to go with a bench against his back. She swiftly twisted and kicked him high in the face. His head snapped back with an audible crack . His body fell into the bench behind him with a crash.
She stood over her dead opponent and said, “Do I have yours now?”
Turning Sara saw Ezekiel still rolling around on the ground with the fat man. They moved like two snakes in the grass, each one trying to yank the statue from the other’s hands. Then Ezekiel got some strength from she didn’t know where and yanked the statue back with a triumphant sound. When the man beneath him tried to take it from him, Ezekiel banged him atop the head with it. Twice.
When the man stopped moving, Ezekiel slowly stood up and began rearranging his clothes with a yank of his hand.
“Did it feel good?” said Sara dryly.
Ezekiel blinked at her. “What?”
“Overpowering him.”
He looked back down at his unconscious opponent and back up at her. “Actually...yeah.”
His voice was full of surprise and wonder.
He puffed up his chest. “I did pretty well, didn’t I?”
She raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “For a man who has clearly never fought in his life? Yes.”
That backhanded comment didn’t seem to deter him.
“What have you got there?” she said as she watched him turn the statue back and forth in his hands.
“The statue of Tirsaman,” he said, walking over to a bench further away.
“What does it do?”
Ezekiel mumbled something she didn’t hear. Sara decided that checking on their living opponent was more vital at the moment. She went over to the fat man to feel for a pulse and patted him down for any weapons he might have concealed on him. When she found none, she grunted and hauled him up by the arm to drag his limp body over to a corner. It was empty except for one lone chair.
Then she walked over toward the door, passing Ezekiel along the way.
“Well?” she asked.
He looked up at her and back down at the statue without answering.
“Now would be a good time to speak up, Ezekiel.”
“It’s classified. Boss’s orders.”
“Classified knowledge from the watcher who’s supposed to be guarding it and just killed someone who wanted to take it from his collection?”
He grimaced and adjusted his necktie.
“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands and striding to the door.
“Where are you going? You promised you wouldn’t leave! Two days, you said.”
She didn’t turn around or stop walking. “I meant what I said. Unless you’re going to tie that fellow up with air, we need some rope to bind this gentleman, and I saw some right outside the door.”
“Oh.”
In short order they had the man gagged and bound to the only non-magical chair in the room. When he was trussed up in the corner, she removed his friend’s body and hauled him outside to throw in the ocean, then set about helping Ezekiel right the overturned benches near the front. Those two hadn’t known how to fight but they had certainly left a mess in their wake rolling around like mud wrestlers.
“Thank you,” said Ezekiel as they put the final artifact back in place.
“You’re welcome,” said Sara as she dusted off her palms.
“It supposedly has the ability to make anyone or anything into a god,” said Ezekiel.
“Excuse me?” said Sara. She thought she had heard him incorrectly.
“The statue of Tirsaman,” he replied, shifting back and forth on his feet. “That’s what it does.”
She turned fully to Ezekiel then. “You want to repeat that? Slowly? You have a statue that can turn a person into god sitting in your dank warehouse?”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted with a sniff. “Or, well, that’s one
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