Page 15 of Project Elfhome


  Focused on the Explorer, Law missed Bare Snow’s cowboy boots coming off. She became aware that the female was undressing as the elf shimmied off her underwear. “What are you—whoa!”

  This was because Bare Snow had pulled her blue sundress up over her head. Elves apparently didn’t wear bras; the female was totally naked. The harsh artificial light of the streetlight gleamed on Bare Skin’s white skin, picking out a delicate, nearly invisible design on her hips and abdomen. It seemed like someone had stenciled her with Celtic knots across her torso with a concealer pencil. She would have never guessed that Bare Snow had such elaborate tattoos because of how much skin her clothes exposed, but even if she’d flashed panties, the lines would have been covered by her dress.

  “What are you doing?” Law managed as she realized that the markings were spells like the ones tattooed down the arms of the sekasha. An ink that matched Bare Snow’s skin color had been used so that they were almost invisible.

  “Going hunting.” Bare Snow pulled out two long wooden knives. Where had she been hiding them? They looked like the sekasha’s magically sharp swords. Did this mean that the assassins of Elfhome were some kind of holy ninjas? “Stay by the car. I’ll engage them.”

  “By yourself? It will be safer if we tag team—holy shit!”

  Bare Snow had whispered something in Elvish. The spell tattooed on her body gleamed for a second and the female vanished from sight. Even the wooden knives vanished. There was a distortion on the seat beside Brisbane like a shimmer of heat.

  The distortion vanished as Bare Snow went out the window.

  Law breathed another curse in surprise and dismay. It was one thing to know that Bare Snow’s mother was a trained assassin; it was another to realize that she had taken eighty-some years to teach her daughter everything she knew before she died. Worse, even if they found Windwolf, Bare Snow’s profession was written on her skin. Nothing they could say could outweigh that evidence.

  “Yup, stay far, far away from the viceroy while saving him.” If they did it right, it should be easy as pie. But as Widget noted: pie really wasn’t that easy.

  Law cautiously opened her door and stepped out of the Dodge. It was almost midnight. Night had closed in tight. Rimfire washed in ribbons of green and red over the river, marking how close they were to the border, and yet so far. The sumac bushes had taken over the parking lot of the old wire spring and form factory. Beyond the factory’s low-slung modern buildings, there were rows of brick warehouses from the 1800s. The windows were a checkerboard of broken glass, empty holes and boarded-over. On the other side of the street, the long train rumbled and squealed and whined to a shuddering stop. The engine must have reached the Rim, miles down the track, and was waiting for Shutdown.

  Somewhere nearby were Windwolf, his stalkers, and by the sound of it half a dozen large dogs.

  Brisbane took advantage of the open door and scrambled out of the cab, grunting and grumbling at the effort. The problem with having a porcupine as a pet was trying to stop it equaled getting dozens needle-sharp quills embedded into your hand.

  “Brizzy!” Law whispered. “Shit.” True to his nature of being contrary, he beelined for the white SUV, grumbling loudly as he went. “Oh, Jesus Christ!” Which was both profane and a very short prayer for divine intervention. “Shhhh!”

  He wouldn’t be quieted any more than he’d be stopped on his waddle to the Explorer. Porcupine grumbling sounds weirdly like a baby trying to talk. She could almost imagine him trying to explain why he was going to get them all killed for the sake of something delicious he could smell in the SUV.

  Law jerked her baseball bat out from behind the seat and headed for the SUV. If she could find what was luring him to the Explorer, she could use it to get him back in the Dodge. “That’s it. I’m getting a dog. A little one. One I can just pick up and run with.”

  There was no one in sight. Not the driver of the SUV nor Bare Snow. A block or two away, the dogs were howling with frustrated excitement. They’d lost Windwolf or he’d found a perch spot out of their reach. What was Bare Snow doing? Was she heading toward the dogs or was she looking for the driver?

  Brisbane scrambled into the open back. He obviously was following the scent of ripe saenori. Someone else had also recently arrived from Summer Court. The back seats were folded down and it looked like a small armory arrayed inside. There was even a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher.

  “Shit,” Law breathed. Andre and his people had come armed for bear. She suddenly felt outmatched. “Brizzy. Come on. We need to go back and get my shotgun.” And maybe a Molotov cocktail.

  Brisbane ignored her, digging through a travel sack tucked beside the rocket launcher. “Naaaah, nori, aaah,” he muttered and as always her brain desperately wanted to translate it into something understandable. Something reasonable. Something less stupidly stubborn.

  Law growled. She leaned into the Explorer, carefully nudged him aside and fumbled with the fabric in the shadowed interior. “Come on. Come on.” There were four of the fruits in the bag. She tossed them quickly into the weedy darkness beside the car. Complaining, Brisbane followed the fruit.

  Law heard the heavy footsteps approaching; boots crunching on gravel. Bare Snow had taken off her cowboy boots. Law ducked down, gripping her baseball bat tightly. Key to a good ambush was to catch the person totally unaware and make the first hit hard as possible. It wasn’t the first time she’d jumped a male with a gun, but never one this heavily armed. It wasn’t a case of “a knife” or “a pistol” or “a rifle” but all of the above plus a few grenades to boot.

  She rose just as he came around the back of the SUV. Her bat was cocked back as far as she could get it. All her strength and mass went into a line-drive hit. Warned by her movement, Andre started to raise the assault rifle he’d been carrying. The bat hit the rifle barrel with a crack of wood against metal. The rifle flew out of his hands, crashing into the sumac bushes along the berm of the road.

  He lashed out faster than she’d thought possible. She tried to roll with the punch but it was like trying to dodge lightning. His fist connected with her chin, and the night flickered to total blackness as she fell stunned to the ground. He shouted something and slapped his hand down onto her chest. There was a crinkle of paper and a flare of light and then it felt like electricity shot through her body, making her shudder.

  He stomped down on her chest and pinned the paper to her as she writhed on the ground. He stared down at her like she was a pinned frog in a science class. “Who are you? You look like one of those foragers. Picking weeds and mud crabs.”

  “Fuck you,” she snarled out between her clenched teeth.

  He snorted. “Doubtful. That spell works like a Taser on humans. You’re not going to be doing anything until I allow it.” He glanced about for his rifle. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

  “Going…to stop…you…from killing…Windwolf,” Law forced out. Hopefully he might think she had a whole army at her back and flee.

  “A little river rat like you?” A laugh slipped out before he frowned at her with worry. “How do you know what we plan? Who have you told?”

  Law thought of Widget sitting with her foot up in the air and all the children at Usagi’s. “Fuck you.”

  He pulled out a slip of paper with a spell inscribed on it. “Who knows?”

  “Everyone! Andre Brousseau. Everyone knows what you are.”

  He knelt to slap the paper against her cheek and spoke an Elvish word.

  Pain like a hot dagger shot through her face. She screamed.

  He leaned close. “Who knows?”

  There was the warning rattle of Brisbane’s tail. The porcupine might be slow and stubborn but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Law was being hurt. Law cried out louder to cover the noise.

  Motion warned the elf. Andre glanced up as Brisbane’s spiked butt swung through the air, backed by sixty pounds of muscle. It caught Andre full in the face, driving a hun
dred of the long barbed quills deep into his flesh. Andre screamed. He jerked off of Law and scrambled backwards with Brisbane in pursuit. The slow-moving porcupine had no hope of catching the male, but Brisbane was at least chasing him away from Law.

  “Get ’em, Brizzy! Sic ’em.” Law clawed at the spell on her chest, her body still jerking and writhing. Her hand finally obeyed her enough to rip the paper off. The spasms stopped but all her muscles continued to tremble.

  She fumbled with her baseball bat, trying to get to her feet. Her hands wanted to stay tight fists. Her legs didn’t want to hold her up. Andre’s face was full of quills, making him look like he had a massive starched beard, but somehow Brisbane had missed his eyes. He backed up to the SUV and then half-fell into it.

  If he picked up one of the many guns inside, she was screwed. She abandoned her attempts to pick up the baseball bat and stumbled toward the SUV as fast as she could make her wobbly legs move.

  Andre fumbled in the truck’s dark interior. He shouted something over and over again. On the fourth shout, she realized it was an Elvish name. He was calling for backup. He found a rifle, swung it up, aimed and pulled the trigger. The click of the hammer landing on an empty chamber was the loudest noise that Law ever heard.

  He swore, snatched up a magazine, and loaded the rifle. He lifted it again.

  Law slammed the hatch shut onto his legs.

  He screamed and pulled the trigger. The muzzle flash brightened the interior of the SUV. The bullet smashed out the back window and grazed Law’s upper arm. It felt like someone hit her in the shoulder with a lead pipe. She lifted the hatch and slammed it down on his legs again, throwing all her weight against the panel. There was a muffled scream from within the Explorer and four more shots fired. Bullets whined over her head. Then there was stillness and the scent of blood filled the air.

  What the hell?

  Law risked glancing through the hatch’s shattered window.

  One of the bullets had ricocheted and torn through Andre’s throat. Blood had sprayed the inside of the Explorer.

  “Oh God, what a mess.” She’d put men in the hospital before, but she’d never killed a man before. Technically she hadn’t killed him; she’d just beat the snot out of him before he shot himself. She wasn’t sure if the police would see it that way.

  A shout and the sound of running boot steps made her realize that was the least of her worries. Andre’s backup was arriving. They were going to be pissed when they saw his quill-filled dead body. There were four of them, lean and dark, racing toward her like a pack of wolves.

  “We’re so dead, Brizzy.” Law heaved the Explorer’s hatch door open and pulled the assault rifle from Andre’s dead fingers. Her hands were still shaking from the effects of the spell. Blood was pouring down her left arm from where the bullet cut through her, making the rifle slick.

  The lead elf suddenly went down as if clotheslined. The others jerked to a halt, weapons raised.

  “It’s the Death Wind!” one of them shouted. The remaining three drew swords and put their backs together. Law couldn’t risk shooting until she knew where Bare Snow was.

  St. John’s church bells started to ring in midnight. They were seconds to Shutdown. Pittsburgh would return to Earth that had no magic. Bare Snow’s invisibility spell would fail; she was about to become visible. The female elf probably didn’t even know what the ringing bells meant.

  Law shouldered the rifle and trained it on the males as she counted the chimes of the bell. One. Two. At twelve, she’d be able to fire.

  Three. Four. Five.

  It nearly seemed like time stopped as the bell rang. The swordsmen stood tense, waiting, knowing what would happen next. Their calmness infuriated Law. They had planned to murder Windwolf—perhaps already succeeded—and had lured Bare Snow halfway around the world to pin the killing on her. They were going to stand there as time ran out until Bare Snow was left helpless. They knew they had all the time in the world.

  Six. Seven. Eight.

  Somewhere toward the airport, someone was setting off fireworks. The distant thunder of the explosives was rolling up the river valley.

  Nine.

  The dogs howled a block away. Windwolf hadn’t made the Rim. A maze of a large junkyard was between him and the McKees Rocks Bridge.

  Ten.

  One of the swordsmen suddenly fell as if his legs had been swept out from under him. The other two leapt to defend him, furiously hacking at thin air. Law saw the distortion of air that was Bare Snow. The female was lying on the ground. Had she been hit by a sword? Law pulled the trigger. The bullet caught the tallest male in the chest.

  A moment later, the other two were on the ground, bleeding, possibly dead from Bare Snow’s knives.

  Which was a good thing as Law’s vision started to blur at the edges from blood loss.

  Brisbane waddled over to her, sniffed at the blood dripping on the ground and then stood on his back legs to press his front paws against her hip.

  “It’s okay, Brizzy.” She leaned against the SUV. “Bad guys all dead. I’m going to fall down now.” She slid down the side of the Explorer to sit hard on the ground.

  Next thing she knew, Bare Snow was kneeling beside her, talking to her about something while bandaging Law’s arm. She struggled to pinpoint something very important that they should be doing.

  “Windwolf!” Law cried when she remembered. “You should go, find him, and make sure he’s okay.”

  Bare Snow pulled her to her feet. “I will go once you’re not out in the open, where you can be easily found. You’ve lost a lot of blood and there is no magic for a healing spell. You’re going into shock. You need to lie down and be warm.”

  * * *

  Being in shock was kind of like being drunk but not as pleasant. There was a time of dark non-remembering and then she was lying on a floor in a dark building with no idea where or of how she had gotten there. At least she didn’t need to vomit.

  Gray of predawn was filtering through a massive multipaned window. Brisbane crouched at her feet, muttering happily as he ate something yummy. By scent, Law guessed it was the saenori fruit from the Explorer.

  As she sat up, Bare Snow ghosted out of the darkness. She was wearing the blue sundress and cowboy boots, looking too beautiful for words.

  “Law! You’re awake. Oh, good, I was so worried.”

  “What happened with Windwolf?”

  “He was wounded by the dogs, but he was saved by a very brave and clever young female. She’s a wood sprite; they are very moral and resourceful.”

  Law scanned the auditorium-sized, filthy, empty room and realized that they were in one of the empty factory buildings in the Bottoms. They were probably less than a hundred feet from where the fight had taken place. Who the hell did Windwolf stumble into out in this desolated area? “You spoke with her?”

  “Oh no! I was careful to keep out of sight. I kept watch until I was sure she was taking good care of him. Much better than anyone else could since we’re on Earth. She lives in this little metal house with broken automobiles all stacked on top of each other.”

  She meant the junkyard. Now that Law thought hard, she remembered that the owner was a young woman and her older brother or cousin or something. They were said to be eccentric but good, honest people. In Law’s book, eccentric was a good thing.

  Bare Snow settled beside Law with a squeal. “Oh, it was wonderful! I wish you could have seen it.” She clasped her hands over her heart and sighed deeply. “You should see the way that he looks at her. He sees her—all of her—and accepts her as she is. He’s falling in love; I am sure of it. I wonder if he will ask her to be his domi. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  It did sound wonderful. To be accepted as she was instead of pressured to change until she was a reflection of someone else’s idea of right. Only that reflection wouldn’t be her. Law would have been erased. There would be some empty shell of a person in her place.

  “We can go home now,” Bare S
now whispered.

  “What about those men? Those males.” Elf males weren’t men; assuming that all Brousseau’s people were ancient elves like himself. “The ones we killed. Are they still laying out on the road?”

  “I disposed of the bodies,” Bare Snow whispered even softer.

  “Oh.” Law waited for the guilty feeling to set in and it didn’t. The bastards were out for blood; they deserved it. “Good.”

  “So,” Bare Snow spoke barely audibly. Her hands were clenched into tight fists. “Can we go home now?”

  Home. Together. Law’s mind jumped to naughty thoughts and she blushed. A heartbeat later, Law realized why Bare Snow was so quiet. The female was really asking Law if she could move in with her. As much as Law felt she was alone in the world, it was nothing compared to Bare Snow’s isolation. The elf was utterly and completely alone. Worse, she had bared all her secrets to Law. The tattoos. Her magical knives. Her assassin training. Everything her name hinted at. The name that made every elf that heard it turn her away. The name that made Bare Snow’s grandparents disown her.

  And the poor kid was afraid that now Law knew everything, that she would turn Bare Snow away too.

  Law reached out for Bare Snow’s hand. Part of her felt like she should warn the female about the barn and the Tarzan swing and the roof that leaked like a sieve and the winters in the cave-like milk house. But really, the ugliest, scariest part of Law’s life was her inner avenging angel that liked to track down men and beat the snot out of them. Bare Snow met her and wasn’t frightened by her. Crazy Lady might have randomly dialed phone numbers until Law answered, but she’d found two soul mates.

  Besides, Law was fairly sure that Bare Snow was going to love the Tarzan swing.

  “Yeah. We can go home.”

  DRABBLE

  Fleeting Impressions

  1. Wraith Arrow had warned me that Pittsburgh was not Earth. I did not understand. It wasn’t until we had crossed over the border on the train did I start to know what he meant.

  2. I had not expected to hate Earth. I had always thought I wanted to be free of my ability. To be like every other warrior of my Hand. Five fingers moving in unison, not four and one jerked about by some random force. We are all taught to fight blindfolded. On the train through the Pennsylvania farmland, for the first time, I knew what it was like to be truly blind. And I didn’t like it.