Amazon Queen (20 page)

Then the bullets hit and nothing happened. She didn’t move; her face didn’t change. Nothing. For a split second I thought she was safe . . .

Then she took a step back. Two round splotches of blood grew on her chest and her gaze shot to me. Surprise and hurt, not physical pain, but loss. My lips parted; I took a step toward her.

And she fell backward into the stairwell.

She made no other sound, no yelp of pain, no curse of anger, nothing.

“No!” I spun, determined to knock the two women back to whatever hell had created them.

One of them, the one with the baby, lifted her gun again. I could hear Jack yelling, maybe he’d been yelling all along, but all I could see was my mother’s killers and all I could think about was reaching them, destroying them.

Overhead something shrieked. I didn’t look up, couldn’t.

There was another click; somewhere in my brain I recognized it as the sound that came right before the gun fired. I could see the woman holding the baby now. I focused on her. Her eyes were blue and watery. Her hair was gray and tucked behind her ears. She wore tiny pearl earrings and today she was going to die.

There was another shriek, louder, closer.

Something big and dark dropped from the sky . . . the bird from the woods. Its talons extended, it tore at my intended target’s face and hair.

She screamed and dropped both the baby and the gun. The gun fired as it hit the ground, but the bullet went wild, lodging into the brick wall of Mel’s shop.

The second woman paused, then dropped her gun and ran away from us toward the front of the building. At an old maple she stopped and picked something up off the ground. Not sure what was happening, I raced toward her. She glanced at me, but I didn’t think she saw me. Then she glanced back at where the other woman battled with the bird, where the babies lay on the ground.

Her thumb hovered over the box.

I spun and yelled, but Jack had already started moving, as had the bird. They both raced toward the baby seats. Jack got there first, grabbing both by the handles as he ran toward me.

There was a click, this one softer and less metallic, and the space between the two buildings exploded.

I stood straight up, my arms over my head, and cursed.

Something smashed into me from the side. An
ooof
of pain and expelled breath left my body, and I was slammed onto my back. My face was covered by something both soft and scratchy; I couldn’t breathe. I kicked out. Whatever had been covering me moved.

Dirt clouded the air blocking my view of anything but shapes. On all fours, I held my hand over my mouth and nose and peered at the world through squinted eyes. Something rustled nearby, then wings flapped, loud and close . . . the bird. I felt the air move as he took off. The dirt seemed to clear some too, enough that I could see Mel’s outside lights again and Jack. He stood fifteen feet away, his face streaming with sweat, his arms shaking and a baby carrier in each hand.

I scrambled to my feet, trying not to cough, and searched the area around us for the two women.

“They’re gone. She blew something.” Jack, his face ashen, glanced to where the woman with the tiny box had stood, then in almost the same movement slanted his head toward the stairwell where I had seen my mother fall—or what had been the stairwell. It was now filled with rubble.

I moved toward it, my legs stretching as long as they could, devouring the ground as quickly as they could.

Bern was there beside me. I didn’t know where she’d come from. I hadn’t seen her approach. But I didn’t question her appearance. I just grabbed a piece of broken concrete and tossed it off the pile. Bern did the same.

As I lay my hand on a second segment, a man appeared, his walnut-brown body naked. He dove in, grabbing chunks in both hands and tossing them onto the ground behind us.

Soon the grass was strewn with debris.

“Was she . . . is she?” I mumbled to myself, unable to comprehend that the mother I’d seen only as a super-Amazon lie trapped beneath pounds of stone.

A siren sounded; it was close.

“Humans to the rescue,” the naked man muttered.

Jack jumped forward and grabbed him by one shoulder. Jack’s fingers were pale against the other man’s darker skin. “We’ll take care of this. You have to leave. You’re illegal as far as they’re concerned, and naked. It will just cause new questions. Go to Makis’s. I’ll call you, let you know what’s happening.”

The man ignored him, kept tossing hunks of concrete, but with an increased fervor, an almost crazed energy.

Jack grabbed him again, by the arm this time, pulling him around. “Leave. You’ll just create more questions.”

The man cursed. He was older than Jack, had gray at the temples of his close-cropped hair and lines by his eyes. His body was sinewy, like a long-distance runner or maybe a swimmer, and his shoulders were unusually broad for his slim hips.

He opened his mouth in one long stretch, like the famous painting
The Scream
and a screech ripped from his lungs. Then before I could jerk or respond in any way, he was gone and the giant bird stood in his place.

He turned his neck and stared at me. His feathers were inky black except for a white ruff that ringed his throat. His eyes were brown but with a reddish tinge that made me shiver, or maybe it was the expression in the eyes, the pure unadulterated dislike pointed directly at me.

The sirens grew louder, and not far away a fire truck honked its horn, trying to clear cars from its path.

“Go!” Jack pointed to the sky.

With a last shriek the giant bird shot into the night.

I moved into his place, tossing rocks with shaking hands.

As firemen and paramedics flowed onto the property, I kept tossing. I heard people muttering behind me.

“Her mother’s under there.”

“Call someone.”

But no one tried to stop me and when two firemen dressed in bright yellow stepped beside me to help, I didn’t stop them.

We found her ten minutes later. She wasn’t breathing and hadn’t been since the first bullet hit.

I was down inside the stairwell by then, my legs up to my knees covered in dust and broken bricks. I stared at my mother’s too-pale face. I didn’t need the fireman to tell me she was dead; I knew it. She’d never looked like that, never been lacking in the confident swagger that emanated from her like light from a halogen bulb.

My heart slowed. Someone was talking to me . . . Mel standing behind me, her hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t hear what she said. The fireman said something too. He yelled and gestured.

Mel disappeared. Someone grabbed me under the arms and pulled me from the debris. I could feel it slipping over my bare legs, the rough concrete bits scratching my skin. My heels bounced as my body moved. All I could do was stare down at that face and think how what I was seeing couldn’t be true.

Amazons lived for hundreds of years . . . hundreds. And my mother, as much as she angered me, wasn’t supposed to be dead.

She wasn’t.

But she was.

After they found my
mother’s body, more humans had crowded onto Mel’s property. There were firemen, paramedics, cops, and neighbors. People everywhere.

The babies were fine. Jack had handed them off to Mandy before pulling me from the stairwell.

He’d dragged me as far as the paramedics would let him. Only about eight feet from where my mother’s body lay, he propped me up against the base of the old school and kneeled down beside me.

“Get mad, Zery. Getting mad will get you through this.” Then he squeezed my hand and stepped to the side.

Mel and a paramedic took his place. The paramedic asked me a lot of useless questions and tried to get me to agree to get in an ambulance and go to a nearby hospital. I refused. Actually, I didn’t even bother refusing. I stood instead.

Jack was right. This wasn’t the time to mourn. This was the time to be pissed.

And I was. More pissed than I ever remembered being in my life.

I looked at Mel. “They shot her.” Humans, older women, like the birders who I’d run off my property, like the one Bern had found dead. Who were they? And why were they targeting the Amazons? Why had they been here?

Mel glanced at the human male who was still trying to press a stethoscope to my chest. I shoved him. He stumbled back and fell onto the ground.

Two policemen moved in. Mel stepped between them and me, or tried to; one of the cops pushed her to the side.

My hands opening and closing at my sides, I stepped forward.

As my foot moved, dirt swirled from the stairs in a minitornado. It shot over the ground, descending over me and the officers. Coughing, I stepped back. The cops did too. And, just as suddenly, the tornado lifted. It rose above our heads, then with a puff it was gone. Dirt rained down over us.

“What the . . . ?” One of the policemen raised his hand to shield his eyes. The other, caught in a coughing fit violent enough to make him double over, waved for me to move back.

Bubbe stood behind them, her lips pursed and disapproval in her eyes. Beside her was Mel’s mother, Cleo. The older warrior mouthed “stay” in warning.

My world clicked back into place. The pain wasn’t gone and neither was the anger, but seeing Mel’s family, knowing they would both support me and punish me if I stepped out of line, reminded me of who I was and why I had to be strong and in control—why I had to be queen.

Things moved fast after that. The police broke the crowd into small groups, sending gawkers on their way while trying to corral those of us actually involved. I saw Bern in the back of the crowd beyond the front of the gym and motioned for her to leave.

A police officer approached her, and after a last glance at me she shook her head, denying she’d witnessed anything. He waved her toward the street behind us and she stalked off.

She wouldn’t go far; I knew that. But the fewer of us involved even slightly from the police’s point of view in this mess the better.

The police never got around to questioning me. I’m not sure why, but I suspected Bubbe had a hand in it. While the police were occupied clearing out the crowd, she’d walked in a wide circle around me and Jack, murmuring.

As the two officers who’d tried to question me earlier finished their crowd duties, a new group of police arrived. The first two turned as if to point at me, then stopped and stared at each other instead. They glanced at me again, then shook their heads.

I wasn’t sure if they couldn’t see me anymore or just didn’t remember me, but either worked. I squatted down on the dirt next to Jack and waited for the human part of this drama to play out.

“What happened? Where did the women go?” I asked, my voice low. I wasn’t sure how strong whatever spell Bubbe had woven was. I didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to myself, at least not as long as it appeared Mel and her family had the situation under control.

“They got spooked. They didn’t know what they were dealing with.”

Amazons
. They didn’t know they were dealing with Amazons, but if that was true, why were they here at all? I didn’t recognize either of them, but they looked like the birders. There had to be a connection.

The thought was there and then it was gone. The police were photographing my mother’s body where it lay in the stairwell.

“She shouldn’t be dead,” I murmured. Two humans against two Amazons and a son. How had we lost?

“We accomplished what she wanted. They didn’t get your brother or Pisto.”

His words held little comfort for me. My mother, who had survived fights with legendary warriors, had been felled by two gray-haired women with guns.

I stared at Jack for a second, my anger shifting to him. He sold guns, could have sold the ones those women used . . .

He laid his hand on my knee. His skin was warm, almost burning. “She chose to draw their fire.”

Still angry, I glared. “Why?”

“Why did you charge them in the first place?”

Because it was what I did. I hadn’t made a conscious choice; I’d just done it.

I licked my lips and shifted my attention to my mother’s body, now removed from the rubble. A man and a woman squatted next to her, examining her. They had found the gunshot wound.

I looked back at Jack. “Who were they? Do you know them? Did you sell them their guns?”

Shock showed on his face; he shook his head. “No. I didn’t—know them or sell to them.”

I let that set in, waited to see if my anger lessened. Finally it did. He was on my side. Because of my past, I might not agree with how he made his money, but it didn’t mean he was responsible for my mother’s death.

I nodded, letting him know I accepted his answer.

He nodded his too. We were in agreement, focused on the same puzzle. “Do you know them?”

“Maybe.” I told him about the birders and the two women I’d found at the safe camp when I’d returned from Madison.

I stared at him, willing him to see an answer I didn’t. “Why would two old human birders, if they even were part of the group I confronted, try and steal babies here?”

“Revenge?”