Half-Off Ragnarok
Page 93
“It was always going to end badly, but it didn’t have to end like this,” replied Dee. “You chose this when you killed those people—when you endangered us. Why did you do that, Lloyd?” There was a pleading note in her voice that hadn’t been there before, and as she spoke, the impact of Lloyd’s words hit me. He was her brother. His father had left Hannah and gone on to find a mate of his own species, one who could give him children who wouldn’t be outcast like he was. Walter and Dee were Lloyd’s half-siblings. They were his family.
It was unfair on so many levels that I didn’t even know where to begin. There wasn’t time for me to decide. Lloyd slithered forward, emerging from the shadows of the barn. I had just enough time to see the ragged, diseased-looking line where his tail joined with his torso, half-formed scales melting into blotchy skin. There were gaps in the flesh of his tail, places where his legs hadn’t quite merged properly. He hissed, displaying outsized fangs. I adjusted my aim, preparing to take the shot, and Lloyd lunged—
—not at me, but at Dee. She shrieked, backpedaling, and I turned, calculating the shot in the instant before I pulled the trigger. My aim was true. My aim has always been true.
Gunshots are always loud. This one seemed louder than most. It sounded like it should have carried for miles.
Somehow, we still heard Lloyd hit the ground.
Dee ran to Lloyd as soon as he fell, gathering him into her arms and sobbing into the motionless snakes that were his hair. The fact that he’d been preparing to hurt her was forgotten in her sorrow. Crow was already in flight, arrowing toward me. I managed to shove my gun back into my waistband before Crow hit my chest and buried his head under my arm, tail lashing. I wrapped my arms around him and held him, letting him shiver himself back to calm.
“Good boy,” I murmured, watching as Dee cried over the body of her brother. “You’re always such a good, good boy.”
A soft scuffling sound from inside the barn drew my attention. I glanced over to see the lindworm’s tail pass by the opening, heading back out into the forest. I smiled a little despite the seriousness of the moment. The lindworm hadn’t done anything but allow itself to be annoyed by Crow, who was admittedly very good at being annoying. There had been enough blood shed already, and I didn’t need to add another lindworm to the total.
Blood . . . “Dee, where did Walter take Shelby? Which way is Frank’s office?”
“West,” she said, voice muffled by her position. “Walk west, and you’ll find it.”
My day had included a homicidal gorgon crossbreed and an angry lindworm, and there was still a cockatrice somewhere around here that needed to be accounted for. This wasn’t the time to worry about any of that. Shelby was hurt. Shelby might be dying. And she needed me.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” I said softly. Then I turned, still holding Crow against my chest, and ran into the woods.
My parents insisted that my siblings and I learn how to navigate by the cardinal directions before we were allowed to start first grade. It didn’t come easily for all of us; Verity used to get confused, and nearly had to repeat kindergarten. I’d always been good at that sort of spatial orientation, and I ran without hesitation, somehow managing to navigate the uneven terrain without tripping over anything and slamming face-first into the dirt.
It was something of a shock when the woods finally ended and I emerged into the open field surrounding the gorgon community. I didn’t slow down, but kept running, tossing Crow into the air as I went. He took wing, cawing angrily. Hopefully, his irritation would be enough to keep him in the trees and prevent him from accidentally locking eyes with any gorgons. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been petrified yet, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I work hard to stay in shape, but that doesn’t involve very many sprints through the forest. I was panting and weak-kneed by the time I reached the door to Frank’s trailer. The door was closed. I stopped myself just short of pounding on it, managing to make myself back off enough to knock politely.
The door opened a moment later. Frank’s form filled the doorway, and his expression as he looked down at me was utterly impassive.
“Where is my wife?” he asked.
“In the woods, with her brother,” I replied. “He’s dead. She’s not. Where’s Shelby?”
“Here.” Frank stepped aside, allowing me into the trailer.
I’ve entered homes that had been taken over by ghouls. I’ve walked into Apraxis wasp hives. And I don’t think I had ever taken a single harder step in my life. I stepped inside and turned toward where I’d seen the surgical beds when we were in the trailer before.
Shelby was lying there with a blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, but her face wasn’t covered. I took a slow step toward her. “Is . . . is she . . . ?”
“She lost a great deal of blood,” said Frank. “I’ve sent a car to get some supplies from the hospital. She’s stable for now. He missed her major organs. She was, if you can believe it in a situation like this, lucky.”
“Lucky,” I echoed, as I walked to her bedside. Her cheek was warm beneath my fingers. She didn’t open her eyes. I sat down in the chair next to where she lay, leaning forward to rest my forehead against the edge of the bed. I would wait there for the next emergency.
I fell asleep in that position. The emergency never came.
Epilogue
“Good for you. Now survive the next one.”
—Thomas Price
The reptile house of Ohio’s West Columbus Zoo, a private back room where no one reasonable goes
Six weeks later
THE BASILISKS WERE AWAKE, circling each other in their carefully darkened enclosure with their wings outstretched and their tails lashing in what was either a mating dance or a precursor to bloody combat. I kept my eyes glued to the glass, waiting for the moment where one of them would make a move.
The male stopped circling, picked up a piece of the hard rocky shell that had protected him while he hibernated, and placed it gently at the female’s feet. She hissed. He offered her another bit of rocky shell. She lashed at him with her tail. He offered her a third fragment. She accepted it, striking him with her tail again—but this time it was less of an attack, and more of a caress. Beginning to croon, she turned and walked away into the high grass. He followed, head bobbing in what could only be interpreted as a victory dance.
It was unfair on so many levels that I didn’t even know where to begin. There wasn’t time for me to decide. Lloyd slithered forward, emerging from the shadows of the barn. I had just enough time to see the ragged, diseased-looking line where his tail joined with his torso, half-formed scales melting into blotchy skin. There were gaps in the flesh of his tail, places where his legs hadn’t quite merged properly. He hissed, displaying outsized fangs. I adjusted my aim, preparing to take the shot, and Lloyd lunged—
—not at me, but at Dee. She shrieked, backpedaling, and I turned, calculating the shot in the instant before I pulled the trigger. My aim was true. My aim has always been true.
Gunshots are always loud. This one seemed louder than most. It sounded like it should have carried for miles.
Somehow, we still heard Lloyd hit the ground.
Dee ran to Lloyd as soon as he fell, gathering him into her arms and sobbing into the motionless snakes that were his hair. The fact that he’d been preparing to hurt her was forgotten in her sorrow. Crow was already in flight, arrowing toward me. I managed to shove my gun back into my waistband before Crow hit my chest and buried his head under my arm, tail lashing. I wrapped my arms around him and held him, letting him shiver himself back to calm.
“Good boy,” I murmured, watching as Dee cried over the body of her brother. “You’re always such a good, good boy.”
A soft scuffling sound from inside the barn drew my attention. I glanced over to see the lindworm’s tail pass by the opening, heading back out into the forest. I smiled a little despite the seriousness of the moment. The lindworm hadn’t done anything but allow itself to be annoyed by Crow, who was admittedly very good at being annoying. There had been enough blood shed already, and I didn’t need to add another lindworm to the total.
Blood . . . “Dee, where did Walter take Shelby? Which way is Frank’s office?”
“West,” she said, voice muffled by her position. “Walk west, and you’ll find it.”
My day had included a homicidal gorgon crossbreed and an angry lindworm, and there was still a cockatrice somewhere around here that needed to be accounted for. This wasn’t the time to worry about any of that. Shelby was hurt. Shelby might be dying. And she needed me.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” I said softly. Then I turned, still holding Crow against my chest, and ran into the woods.
My parents insisted that my siblings and I learn how to navigate by the cardinal directions before we were allowed to start first grade. It didn’t come easily for all of us; Verity used to get confused, and nearly had to repeat kindergarten. I’d always been good at that sort of spatial orientation, and I ran without hesitation, somehow managing to navigate the uneven terrain without tripping over anything and slamming face-first into the dirt.
It was something of a shock when the woods finally ended and I emerged into the open field surrounding the gorgon community. I didn’t slow down, but kept running, tossing Crow into the air as I went. He took wing, cawing angrily. Hopefully, his irritation would be enough to keep him in the trees and prevent him from accidentally locking eyes with any gorgons. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been petrified yet, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I work hard to stay in shape, but that doesn’t involve very many sprints through the forest. I was panting and weak-kneed by the time I reached the door to Frank’s trailer. The door was closed. I stopped myself just short of pounding on it, managing to make myself back off enough to knock politely.
The door opened a moment later. Frank’s form filled the doorway, and his expression as he looked down at me was utterly impassive.
“Where is my wife?” he asked.
“In the woods, with her brother,” I replied. “He’s dead. She’s not. Where’s Shelby?”
“Here.” Frank stepped aside, allowing me into the trailer.
I’ve entered homes that had been taken over by ghouls. I’ve walked into Apraxis wasp hives. And I don’t think I had ever taken a single harder step in my life. I stepped inside and turned toward where I’d seen the surgical beds when we were in the trailer before.
Shelby was lying there with a blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, but her face wasn’t covered. I took a slow step toward her. “Is . . . is she . . . ?”
“She lost a great deal of blood,” said Frank. “I’ve sent a car to get some supplies from the hospital. She’s stable for now. He missed her major organs. She was, if you can believe it in a situation like this, lucky.”
“Lucky,” I echoed, as I walked to her bedside. Her cheek was warm beneath my fingers. She didn’t open her eyes. I sat down in the chair next to where she lay, leaning forward to rest my forehead against the edge of the bed. I would wait there for the next emergency.
I fell asleep in that position. The emergency never came.
Epilogue
“Good for you. Now survive the next one.”
—Thomas Price
The reptile house of Ohio’s West Columbus Zoo, a private back room where no one reasonable goes
Six weeks later
THE BASILISKS WERE AWAKE, circling each other in their carefully darkened enclosure with their wings outstretched and their tails lashing in what was either a mating dance or a precursor to bloody combat. I kept my eyes glued to the glass, waiting for the moment where one of them would make a move.
The male stopped circling, picked up a piece of the hard rocky shell that had protected him while he hibernated, and placed it gently at the female’s feet. She hissed. He offered her another bit of rocky shell. She lashed at him with her tail. He offered her a third fragment. She accepted it, striking him with her tail again—but this time it was less of an attack, and more of a caress. Beginning to croon, she turned and walked away into the high grass. He followed, head bobbing in what could only be interpreted as a victory dance.
