Crane, R [ Southern Watch 03] Corrupted (47 page)

Lauren started working her way around the edge of the crowd toward that space, hoping for a better look but doubting she’d get one. Still, approaching from that side and climbing onto the platform from behind would be a better bet than trying to fight her way through a crowd too drunk on what they were watching to move the fuck out of the way.

Hendricks was balancing tentatively, his feet back on the solid ground of the running board but still painfully aware that this was not so solid as he might wish. The box rocked left to right, more than a sway, and Hendricks braced himself in the door frame, taking the shift in weight by tensing his thighs. That fucking demon still had his sword, but the bastard was a touch off balance, and that was about all the advantage Hendricks had.

He drew his pistol and fired from the hip, dimly aware that there was a body at his feet. The gunshot tore through the little car, the flash lighting everything up and the sound just about driving him backward from the force and recoil. It staggered the demon, though, so Hendricks pulled the trigger again. This time, when the flash lit the car, Hendricks realized there was a second door on the other side of the box, and he started wondering if there was a way to use this to his advantage.

Lauren had made it to the other side of the Ferris wheel when the shooting started. This time it was painfully obvious where it was coming from, the muzzle flash lighting up the car that was currently at the midnight position and starting its descent around. She hadn’t heard a scream for a while, though, and part of that worried her in a distant sort of way as she crossed around the edge of the rail that sealed the Ferris wheel off from the grounds. A square of white cloth was lying on the dewy grass, discarded, and it took her eyes only a moment to realize they were cotton panties. She stooped to pick them up without thinking it through, and it was only a moment more before the size printed in the back gave her more reason than ever to be worried about what was happening above her.

“You fucking animal,” Hendricks said, holding off on shooting the bastard again in favor of kicking him in the gut. The last two shots had made the fucker writhe, and Hendricks was highly in favor of more of that, but not at the expense of an ass-whooping. The sound of the box squeaking in its cradle at the end of the Ferris wheel arm was audible to him even over the ringing in his ears, and it sounded like that fucking buzz, that bee-like mechanical buzz, ringing in his ears like the crescendo of an orchestra. He rained another kick down on the one-armed demon’s gut, watched him flop against the far door, minding his footing so he didn’t trip over the girl. He braced himself and kicked the demon in the hand, heard the sword fall from his grasp. It was music, it was that buzzing, all in one, and it wasn’t until the demon caught his next kick with a shoulder and punched him in the balls that his thinking caught up with his instincts, and the words “Oh, shit” formed in his head.

Alison peered through the scope, alarmed at what she was seeing. She was dead-on, a perfect view in the door of the Ferris wheel car. Hendricks had entered, had looked like he was getting the job done, and then suddenly he just crumpled. But the problem was his damned coat was still in the way. Any shot she took was going to go right through him, and it would be an utter miracle if it hit anything other than the cowboy.

“Arch, I got nothing,” she said into microphone. “We’re shut out here. Can you see anything?” She suspected she already knew the answer without even checking, but she had to do something.

“Arch!” Reeve’s voice turned his head from where Arch stood on the platform, hovering over the carnie working the Ferris wheel. “What are you doing?”

“Getting that car down here,” Arch replied. Reeve was staring out at him from within the crowd, shoulder to shoulder with a boatload of people, looked like he was in a bit of a squeeze.

“Did you hear that shooting?” Reeve called to him. Arch was a little surprised how quiet the scene was, all things considered. He supposed people were awed into silence.

“Saw it, too,” Arch said, looking down at the sheriff.

“I sent Reines up there on that hill after the shooters,” Reeve said. He pointed, and Arch followed where he’d gestured to see a Calhoun County sheriff’s cruiser climbing up the side of the hill where Alison and Bill had stationed themselves.

“You sent Reines after the shooters?” Arch put a total lack of inflection into it, like he was stunned. “You sent Reines after the shooters, Sheriff? Up the hill?”

Reeve looked up at him like he was an idiot. “Yes, Arch, I sent Deputy Reines to arrest whoever is shooting rifles into my goddamned festival. Can you please, kindly, do your job and help me control the scene here so we can get up there and assist him?”

Arch just stared down at the sheriff and ignored the sudden, loud curse word that his wife practically shouted into his ear. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll start by getting this car back down to the platform.”

“Fuck!” Alison said, treading into territory she did not usually venture into with that particular word, at least not in Arch’s earshot. It seemed appropriate, though. “We gotta move, Daddy.”

“We’re gonna leave that cowboy without any help,” her daddy replied, loud enough she could hear him without the earphone. “You sure?”

“I still got no shot,” Alison said, “and if we stay, all we’re gonna do is get ourselves arrested and still not do him a lick of good.” She pulled the rifle up, folding the tripod. She gave one last look through the unsteady scope and saw Hendricks’s undefined shape still obscured by the black coat and the darkness in the car. “We gotta book it.”

Mick could feel the car moving around the circle, time ticking down on the face of the clock. He’d hammed it a bit, got the cowboy to drop his guard and get riled, and then he kicked him in the balls to make up for what he’d cost Mick.

“You fucking shit,” Mick said, reaching up and taking hold of the cowboy by the face with his remaining hand as the man clenched in spasming pain. “Why don’t we find out if I can impregnate you?” He started to push the cowboy headfirst into the bench of the car. Knock him out, bend him over, flip that coat up and show him who was boss— “This is gonna burn.”

“No, thanks,” the cowboy said and brought the pistol around. Shit. Mick had forgotten about that little stinger. “I’ve already got a girlfriend,” the cowboy said, and then he blind fired the gun right in Mick’s face. Twice.

The pain was sudden and immediate, and it took Mick a minute to realize he’d fallen half out the back door of the car after the second shot, the dark sky lit above him and the outline of the spokes of the Ferris wheel all lit up around him. Mick held on, one-handed, to the edge of the doorway and watched as the cowboy tried to right himself then came staggering at Mick in an attempt to knock him out.

It was clumsy, it was stupid, and Mick was faster. The cowboy missed as Mick slid out of the way and let the little bit of momentum the man in black had carry him forward. He looped out of the car and—the lucky fuck—caught a grip on the spoke below as they passed the three o’clock position. Mick smiled down at the cowboy’s one-handed hold, knowing that in about ten seconds his grip was going to be lost as the arm of the wheel slanted downward. It wasn’t going to be much of a drop by then, maybe fifteen, twenty feet, but it’d be enough to put the fucker down so Mick could—

Mick felt a hard flare of pain in his own balls as someone hit him unmercifully in them while he was looking the other way. He turned in time to see Molly—or was it Mandy?—with that fucking demon hunter’s sword in her hands, the blade plunged right into his crotch.

Mick screamed, lost the power of thought, and whatever grip he had left. He fell, sword still buried in his fucking cock and bollocks, and hit the dark, empty earth below. He could see that Molly whore above him, staring out of the door of the car—

Lauren had a clear view when Mick came plummeting out of the car. She had a very clear, rage-filled view of her daughter stabbing him with a sword, and she watched him fall.
I hope he’s dead
, she thought, her mind filling in the blanks of what had happened above. It wasn’t like it was real difficult; her daughter’s screams coming from the car, her daughter’s panties lying on the grass, her daughter’s supposed love interest with a sword through his groin, put there by her daughter.

A + B = Rapist motherfucker.

It wasn’t exactly a casual stroll she took over to him. It was urgent, it was hurried, it was full of fury and wrath and all manner of righteous, hateful indignation. She found him clutching himself at the site of the wound.

The cowboy fell right as she reached Mick, a shorter drop than the carnie had taken. She heard him land, heard him go, “OOF!” and gave him not a whit of attention.

Lauren Ella Darlington stared down at the bastard who had hurt her daughter, made her scream, made her feel all manner of unpleasant and unsavory things—

And she grabbed the hilt of that sword that was lodged in his nuts—visibly, obviously lodged in them, since his pants were nowhere to be found—and she plucked it out—

And rammed back in again, a little higher. Turned that fucker into a falsetto in one.

Hendricks watched the doctor—he was pretty sure it was her, the lady from the accident scene where Erin had gotten hurt—sever the demon’s genitalia with his sword. He would have cringed, but he didn’t really have any mercy left in his tank for the bastard, honestly.

“Mom!” The cry came from above, from the car that he’d just dropped out of. The girl was standing, framed in there, on her feet again. Hendricks traced the line back to the dark-haired, avenging angel standing over the demon and put it together.

“Get him in the heart,” Hendricks said, just loud enough for her to hear him, as he struggled to his feet. She glanced at him blankly. “The heart,” Hendricks repeated and mimed a stabbing motion.

The doctor stared at him uncomprehendingly for just a second, and then he watched the determination cross her face, twist it, all that rage pooling—

And she stabbed him in the heart, the motherfucker, and he glowed for a second before the black fire claimed him.

Mick couldn’t believe it. It was the mother, the fucking mother. He couldn’t have seen that coming, not in a million years. He was ready to burn her, too, like that fucking bum, but then she pulled the sword out of his balls and slid it a couple inches higher. That was a new level of desire to scream.

He was still too busy writhing from getting his junk severed to hear the conversation going on around him in anything other than muffled tones. He’d just about come out of it enough to hear the words “the heart!” when he felt a blade slip into his, and that was all she wrote.

Mick had about two seconds to open his eyes, pack his essence’s metaphorical bags, and stare straight into the eyes of a pissed-off mother before the fires of hell dragged him down into a darkness the like of which he had never experienced.

Arch saw it all from where he stood on the platform. Saw the demon fall, saw Hendricks fall, saw Dr. Darlington mosey over and stab the bastard dead—with a little coaxing from Hendricks.

He took a quick look and found Reeve making his way up the platform on the far side. It was obvious to the crowd that something had happened on the far side, but the rush and the glut was making fast movement there well-nigh impossible. He made a quick gesture, something he hoped Duncan would see that Reeve wouldn’t. The OOC gave him a nod of acknowledgment and plunged off the platform on the far side, ducking through the moving spokes of the wheel as he jumped and dodged to get to Hendricks.

“What the hell just happened?” Reeve called at him, stalking up the nearby ramp, only twenty feet or so away.

“Almost got that car down,” Arch said, nodding at the one with the door open and flapping in the breeze. There was an outline of a girl in a dress, and he had his suspicions on exactly who it was, based on the good doctor’s reaction to the demon …

“Who gives a fuck about the car, Arch?” Reeve yelled. “What the hell is going on here? Did you see who came out of it?”

“Not really,” Arch said. He doubted his lying face had gotten any better, but at least it was getting easier to spit them out now.

“Nicely done,” Hendricks said, eyeing the woman with the dark hair, who was staring at the spot in the grass where the demon had burned his way back to hell. “Can I have my sword back?” He tried to be neutral about it, as much as he could under the circumstances.

The woman stared at the hilt of it like she could see through it and dropped her grip on it. The sword tilted toward the ground like some great tower falling to the earth, thudding gently in the wet grass.

“Thanks,” Hendricks said, dodging past her to scoop it up. He brought the blade up in defense by pure instinct when he heard the thump of someone landing just in front of him—

“Time to go,” Duncan said from where he’d just jumped off the platform. “We need to make an exit.”

Hendricks looked left, then right, finding both ways starting to fill with people. Behind them, a ten-foot high fence cordoned them off from an empty baseball diamond, the red clay a pale shade of grey in the light of the Ferris wheel. “I’m not finding any exit signs.”

“Aren’t you with the FBI or something?” the doctor asked. “I could have sworn you were from the FBI.”

Duncan’s face twitched slightly as Hendricks stared at the OOC, wondering. “That’s not gonna hold up under this scrutiny,” Duncan said simply. “We need to motor.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Hendricks said, “since I’m guessing this little clusterfuck isn’t going to be easy to explain.”

“Good,” Duncan said and started toward him, “I’m glad you’re open.”

“To
suggestions
,” Hendricks said as the OOC wrapped an arm around his chest and started dragging him forward like he weighed about as much as an empty suit, “not to—what the hell are you doing?”