spray out and pointed in his direction before he could track my movement with the gun. I pressed the spray nozzle before it occurred to me that spraying the stuff in a small, closed motel room would probably affect me as well as my target, but I caught myself in time to make sure the blast only lasted half a second. I narrowed my eyes, making them as small as I could, then dropped the can and took a few steps back to put as much distance between myself and the noxious spray as possible.
Though the peppery taste of the air was far from comfortable, the oily orange liquid landed squarely on my prey and didn’t contaminate the room unbearably. Still, I grabbed a T-shirt the guy had thrown over the back of a chair and raised it to cover my mouth and nose. When I took a tentative breath in, I almost dropped the shirt to take my chances with the pepper spray. The thing reeked of sweat, cigarette smoke, and cheap body spray. I forced myself to keep the cloth in place, but resolved to hold my breath for as long as was humanly possible before allowing myself to breathe through it again.
Unfortunately for my assailant, he had no similar protection. He’d sunk to his knees and was pawing around on the floor for the gun he’d dropped when I sprayed him, coughing and choking while tears ran through the bright orange mess covering his face. He didn’t look like much of a threat, but I knew I couldn’t let him get his hands on the gun again. I walked over to where he wheezed and scrabbled on the floor and spied the gun where it had fallen, half-hidden under the bed. I reached out with my foot and toed it toward me, then picked it up and pointed it at the guy.
“Don’t move,” I warned as I dripped blood all over the place. “I’ve got a gun pointed at you and I will shoot you if I have to.”
Alecto chuckled in my head. Perhaps you will listen to me next time , she suggested .
Glad you think it’s so funny, I thought at her. How funny will it be when the cops find my blood all over the place? That shut her up for a second. I hadn’t figured out yet how I’d ended up with my own live-in Fury, but I doubted she’d had to worry about CSI in the good old days of ancient Greece.
Maybe to pacify me, she offered up a helpful hint about my new anatomical features. You need not hold that rag to your face. This toxin you have released will not hurt us.
Cautiously, I lowered the T-shirt and unclenched my eyes, waiting to see what would happen. A thin coating of something slid down from under my eyelids. My tear ducts were protected from the pepper spray lingering in the air, though the world was tinted with a milky, white filter, as though I wore colored contacts. There was no stinging, burning or watering, as I had expected. I tied the foul-smelling T-shirt around my arm to soak up the blood flowing from it, and hoped my healing abilities would fight off any germs the guy might have left behind.
“Don’t shoot me,” my assailant gasped. I might have felt some sympathy for him if he hadn’t just tried to kill me.
I’d never handled a gun before and didn’t know what to do with it or how to make sure I didn’t shoot myself, much less him, so I set it on the TV stand behind me. Then I hit the power button on the television and turned the volume up loud. Hopefully, anyone in a neighboring room would think our struggle had all been part of the program.
I grabbed the guy under the arms and dragged him a few steps toward the bathroom, but his feet found purchase on the floor and he twisted in my grip to throw his arms around me in a bear hug. He slammed me into the wall, knocking down a generic watercolor landscape, so I head-butted him and shoved him off of me. The blow was plenty hard enough to daze him, and I gave him a push that sent him sprawling backward into the cheap fake-wood nightstand. Predictably, it collapsed.
Between the broken furniture and the blood everywhere, there was no way the guy was going to see his
Though the peppery taste of the air was far from comfortable, the oily orange liquid landed squarely on my prey and didn’t contaminate the room unbearably. Still, I grabbed a T-shirt the guy had thrown over the back of a chair and raised it to cover my mouth and nose. When I took a tentative breath in, I almost dropped the shirt to take my chances with the pepper spray. The thing reeked of sweat, cigarette smoke, and cheap body spray. I forced myself to keep the cloth in place, but resolved to hold my breath for as long as was humanly possible before allowing myself to breathe through it again.
Unfortunately for my assailant, he had no similar protection. He’d sunk to his knees and was pawing around on the floor for the gun he’d dropped when I sprayed him, coughing and choking while tears ran through the bright orange mess covering his face. He didn’t look like much of a threat, but I knew I couldn’t let him get his hands on the gun again. I walked over to where he wheezed and scrabbled on the floor and spied the gun where it had fallen, half-hidden under the bed. I reached out with my foot and toed it toward me, then picked it up and pointed it at the guy.
“Don’t move,” I warned as I dripped blood all over the place. “I’ve got a gun pointed at you and I will shoot you if I have to.”
Alecto chuckled in my head. Perhaps you will listen to me next time , she suggested .
Glad you think it’s so funny, I thought at her. How funny will it be when the cops find my blood all over the place? That shut her up for a second. I hadn’t figured out yet how I’d ended up with my own live-in Fury, but I doubted she’d had to worry about CSI in the good old days of ancient Greece.
Maybe to pacify me, she offered up a helpful hint about my new anatomical features. You need not hold that rag to your face. This toxin you have released will not hurt us.
Cautiously, I lowered the T-shirt and unclenched my eyes, waiting to see what would happen. A thin coating of something slid down from under my eyelids. My tear ducts were protected from the pepper spray lingering in the air, though the world was tinted with a milky, white filter, as though I wore colored contacts. There was no stinging, burning or watering, as I had expected. I tied the foul-smelling T-shirt around my arm to soak up the blood flowing from it, and hoped my healing abilities would fight off any germs the guy might have left behind.
“Don’t shoot me,” my assailant gasped. I might have felt some sympathy for him if he hadn’t just tried to kill me.
I’d never handled a gun before and didn’t know what to do with it or how to make sure I didn’t shoot myself, much less him, so I set it on the TV stand behind me. Then I hit the power button on the television and turned the volume up loud. Hopefully, anyone in a neighboring room would think our struggle had all been part of the program.
I grabbed the guy under the arms and dragged him a few steps toward the bathroom, but his feet found purchase on the floor and he twisted in my grip to throw his arms around me in a bear hug. He slammed me into the wall, knocking down a generic watercolor landscape, so I head-butted him and shoved him off of me. The blow was plenty hard enough to daze him, and I gave him a push that sent him sprawling backward into the cheap fake-wood nightstand. Predictably, it collapsed.
Between the broken furniture and the blood everywhere, there was no way the guy was going to see his
Similar Books
