poke with a bony finger. “Damn! That smarts!” Running her
hand over her shoulder, a finger slipped in a hole. The bullet fell from the
shirt onto the grass. Rebecca picked up the small piece of hot metal.
Sparks came striding over, looking horribly pleased with
herself. “Told you. Bullets can’t pierce your skin. They sting like a son of a
bitch and leave some nasty bruises, but only blades and arrows can truly hurt
you. Oh, and revenants.” She pulled the collar of her shirt aside to show a scar
where her neck met her shoulder that appeared to have been made by a row of
jagged teeth.
Rebecca stared at the scar, glanced back at the bullet and was
grateful she’d eaten a light lunch. “It’s so small.”
“The scar?” Sparks asked, crooking her neck and turning to try
to look at her own shoulder. She reminded Rebecca of a cat trying to chase its
own tail.
Artair came over to stand next to Rebecca. She resisted the
urge to lean on him for support, moral and physical.
“No. The bullet.” Pinching it between her index finger and
thumb, Rebecca held it up for them to see. “How can something so tiny cause so
much damage?”
“It goes in small,” Megan said, “but…coming out is a mess.” She
shrugged in nonchalance that Rebecca knew Fire didn’t feel. “It’s why I stopped
being a cop.”
“A cop? You were a cop?” Her eyes had to be as big as saucers.
Artair and Sparks didn’t seem to be suffering the same surprise.
Megan nodded. “For a couple of years.”
For the first time since she’d met Megan, Rebecca caught
something close to vulnerability. Perhaps having a friend taking potshots at you
with your own gun could cause some maudlin reflections.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rebecca asked.
“No.” Megan dropped her chin. “Maybe a little.”
Sparks pulled out two cigarettes. Handing one to Megan, Sparks
shot a small flame from her thumb. Megan leaned in to light her cigarette before
Sparks touched the end of her own to the fire. “Then talk.”
“Some stupid kid got caught holding up a convenience store. I
told Jimmy not to…” The cigarette Megan cradled between her fingers shook just
enough to betray her feelings. “My partner was a hotheaded jerk. He wouldn’t
listen to me.” She flicked some ashes on the ground. “Two shots to the chest.
The kid was dead before he hit the ground. I turned in my badge the next day… I
don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“So I’ve got a kindergarten teacher and a cop.” Sparks took a
pull on her cigarette then blew the smoke out.
Rebecca coughed and fanned the air with her hand to clear the
haze.
Sparks gave her a lopsided grin. “Smoke bother you?”
“Would it matter?”
“No.” Sparks chuckled before she coughed a couple of times. A
few long moments passed before she confessed, “I was a flapper.”
Rebecca laughed before she could stop herself.
A small burst of red fireworks shot from the top of Sparks’s
head.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said. “I’m just… A flapper? An
honest-to-God flapper? ”
“Twenty-three skidoo.” Sparks smirked. “I even did a little
bootlegging.”
It was Megan’s turn to laugh. “Well, how about that. Did you
know Al Capone?”
“Spilled some gin on him once. He was nice about it. Though
most of the time, he was a mean son of a bitch. I can’t tell you how many of my
friends were scared to death of him. But then I got the call. Artair here,” she
nodded at the Sentinel, “came walking in the speakeasy with Helen at his side
and hauled me out. Can you believe it? And he was wearing that same damn kilt
and sword. He scared the piss out of the worst of the worst.” She chuckled
again. “A couple of the guys thought he was taking me when I didn’t want to go,
and the Celt had to bang a few heads together. How many did you put on the
floor?”
“I cannot remember.”
“Trust me. It was more than a handful. Then he introduced me to
Helen and brought me
hand over her shoulder, a finger slipped in a hole. The bullet fell from the
shirt onto the grass. Rebecca picked up the small piece of hot metal.
Sparks came striding over, looking horribly pleased with
herself. “Told you. Bullets can’t pierce your skin. They sting like a son of a
bitch and leave some nasty bruises, but only blades and arrows can truly hurt
you. Oh, and revenants.” She pulled the collar of her shirt aside to show a scar
where her neck met her shoulder that appeared to have been made by a row of
jagged teeth.
Rebecca stared at the scar, glanced back at the bullet and was
grateful she’d eaten a light lunch. “It’s so small.”
“The scar?” Sparks asked, crooking her neck and turning to try
to look at her own shoulder. She reminded Rebecca of a cat trying to chase its
own tail.
Artair came over to stand next to Rebecca. She resisted the
urge to lean on him for support, moral and physical.
“No. The bullet.” Pinching it between her index finger and
thumb, Rebecca held it up for them to see. “How can something so tiny cause so
much damage?”
“It goes in small,” Megan said, “but…coming out is a mess.” She
shrugged in nonchalance that Rebecca knew Fire didn’t feel. “It’s why I stopped
being a cop.”
“A cop? You were a cop?” Her eyes had to be as big as saucers.
Artair and Sparks didn’t seem to be suffering the same surprise.
Megan nodded. “For a couple of years.”
For the first time since she’d met Megan, Rebecca caught
something close to vulnerability. Perhaps having a friend taking potshots at you
with your own gun could cause some maudlin reflections.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rebecca asked.
“No.” Megan dropped her chin. “Maybe a little.”
Sparks pulled out two cigarettes. Handing one to Megan, Sparks
shot a small flame from her thumb. Megan leaned in to light her cigarette before
Sparks touched the end of her own to the fire. “Then talk.”
“Some stupid kid got caught holding up a convenience store. I
told Jimmy not to…” The cigarette Megan cradled between her fingers shook just
enough to betray her feelings. “My partner was a hotheaded jerk. He wouldn’t
listen to me.” She flicked some ashes on the ground. “Two shots to the chest.
The kid was dead before he hit the ground. I turned in my badge the next day… I
don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“So I’ve got a kindergarten teacher and a cop.” Sparks took a
pull on her cigarette then blew the smoke out.
Rebecca coughed and fanned the air with her hand to clear the
haze.
Sparks gave her a lopsided grin. “Smoke bother you?”
“Would it matter?”
“No.” Sparks chuckled before she coughed a couple of times. A
few long moments passed before she confessed, “I was a flapper.”
Rebecca laughed before she could stop herself.
A small burst of red fireworks shot from the top of Sparks’s
head.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said. “I’m just… A flapper? An
honest-to-God flapper? ”
“Twenty-three skidoo.” Sparks smirked. “I even did a little
bootlegging.”
It was Megan’s turn to laugh. “Well, how about that. Did you
know Al Capone?”
“Spilled some gin on him once. He was nice about it. Though
most of the time, he was a mean son of a bitch. I can’t tell you how many of my
friends were scared to death of him. But then I got the call. Artair here,” she
nodded at the Sentinel, “came walking in the speakeasy with Helen at his side
and hauled me out. Can you believe it? And he was wearing that same damn kilt
and sword. He scared the piss out of the worst of the worst.” She chuckled
again. “A couple of the guys thought he was taking me when I didn’t want to go,
and the Celt had to bang a few heads together. How many did you put on the
floor?”
“I cannot remember.”
“Trust me. It was more than a handful. Then he introduced me to
Helen and brought me
Similar Books
