Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton [122]
I screamed again. Jean-Claude’s voice sounded in my head, “Poison cannot harm you now.”
It hurt like hell, but I wasn’t going to die from it. I plunged the knife into its throat, screaming, not knowing what else to do. It gagged. Blood ran down my hand. I hit it again, and it reared back, blood on its fangs. It gave a frantic hiss and pushed itself off me. But I understood now. The weak spot was where the snake part met human flesh.
I groped for the Browning left-handed; my right shoulder was torn up. I squeezed and watched blood spurt from the thing’s neck. It turned and ran, and I let it go.
I lay on the steps holding my right arm against my body. I didn’t think anything was broken, but it hurt like hell. It wasn’t even bleeding as badly as it should have been. I glanced up at Jean-Claude. He was standing motionless, but something moved, like a shimmer of heat. Oliver was just as motionless on his dais. That was the real battle; the dying down here didn’t mean much except to the people who were going to die.
I cradled my arm against my stomach and walked down the steps towards Edward and Richard. By the time I was at the bottom of the steps, the arm felt better. Good enough to change the gun to my right hand. I stared at the bite wound, and damned if it wasn’t healing. The third mark. I was healing like a shapeshifter.
“Are you alright?” Richard asked.
“I seem to be.”
Edward was staring at me. “You should be dying.”
“Explanations later,” I said.
The cobra thing lay at the foot of the dais, its head bisected by machine-gun fire. Edward caught on quick.
There was a scream, high and piercing. Alejandro had Yasmeen twisted around in his arms, one arm behind her back, his other arm pinning her shoulders to his chest. It was Marguerite who had screamed. She was struggling in Karl Inger’s arms. She was outmatched. Apparently, so was Yasmeen.
Alejandro tore into her throat. She screamed. He snapped her spine with his teeth, blood splattering his face. She sagged in his arms. Movement, and his hand came out through the other side of her chest, the heart crushed to a bloody pulp.
Marguerite shrieked over and over again. Karl let her go, but she didn’t seem to notice. She scratched fingernails down her cheeks until blood ran. She collapsed to her knees, still clawing at her face.
“Jesus,” I said, “stop her.”
Karl stared across at me. I raised the Browning, but he ducked behind Oliver’s dais. I went towards Marguerite. Alejandro stepped between us.
“Do you want to help her?”
“Yes.”
“Let me lay the last two marks upon you, and I will get out of your way.”
I shook my head. “The city for one crazy human servant? I don’t think so.”
“Anita, down!” I dropped flat to the floor, and Edward shot a jet of flame over my head. I could feel the wash of heat bubbling above me.
Alejandro shrieked. I raised my eyes only enough to see him burning. He motioned outward with one burning hand, and I felt something wash over me back towards . . . Edward.
I rolled over, and Edward was on his back, struggling to his feet. The nozzle of the flamethrower was pointed this way again. I dropped without being told.
Alejandro motioned, and the flame peeled backwards, flowing towards Edward.
He rolled frantically to put out the flames on his cloak. He threw the burning death’s-head mask onto the ground. The flamethrower’s tank was on fire. Richard helped him struggle out of it, and they ran. I hugged the ground, hands over my head. The explosion shook the ground. When I looked up, tiny burning pieces were raining down, but that was all. Richard and Edward were peering around the other side of the dais.
Alejandro stood there with his clothes charred, his skin blistered. He began walking towards me.
I scrambled to my feet, pointing