She tapped her Dragon Scale armor off one hand. Tucked the sleeve into her utility belt. Reached out her fingers and scraped them across the length of twisted steel, hard enough to bleed. The blood meant she intended to transition me. “I will take your soul. I will give you to my men. I’ll tie you down and cut you. I’ll rip you apart—”
“Blah-blah. That’s the best you got?” I interrupted. “Evil villain shit?”
“Oh Shining, Sugah. Don’t be tickling the devil,” Jolene murmured.
With one hand, faster than humanly possible, Warhammer reached through the blast dust into an open doorway. Yanked something to herself.
Jacopo.
Helmet off. Head lolling. Fresh blood smeared and trailing over his face.
She met my eyes. Smiled. “We will not tolerate lesser versions of us,” Warhammer said.
For an instant, when I listened to her words from a queen’s point of view, she nearly—not quite, but nearly—made sense. And that sent a shiver down my spine.
Queens were built for conquest.
“There will be no other monarchs,” she said, placing her bleeding fingers against Jacopo’s torn forehead, “for I am sovereign. I will reign over all. You will be mine. Your people will be mine. And you will die by my hand.”
Jagger stepped into the opening where the blast doors had once stood. I felt his intent, so I whacked the gun again. Something clicked. I stepped into the doorway to draw Warhammer’s attention.
Jagger initiated a three burst at her butt.
She flinched, squealed, then shouted, “Now!”
She bent and leaped. Her armor contracted and released, throwing her body and Jacopo’s into the next room. As she moved, something tickled at the back of my brain.
An instant before a rocket launched, I threw myself into the nearest room, rolled behind a bed. Jagger reacted too. I felt his connection to me sever as a blast wave hit.
The rocket destroyed the stairs at the end of the hallway, on the other side of the blast door. Taking out all our backup there.All our people. Wingding . .. “Bloody hell,” I ground out as shrapnel, debris, and smoke blew everywhere. I removed a jammed round and inserted a new mag in Bengal’s toy. Smacked it home.
I stepped into the hallway and met Warhammer’s crazed eyes again. Jacopo wasn’t with her. She fired. Full auto. I whipped away. The bitch laughed and leaped back into the room across and down from me.
“Jagger?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t. I could tell. But he was alive.
The cats dove into the room at me and pressed close to my calves, shaking with exhaustion and fear. I offered each a single stroke. Poured water for them both, which they practically attacked. It wasn’t enough for what cats under stress needed, but it would have to do.
“Jolene, are you inside any cams anywhere? And by the way. Bengal’s new gun sucks.”
Jolene said, “Heat signatures and the cats’ vest cams suggest that the enemy combatant’s commander, Clarisse Warhammer, and nine warriors have gathered in a small room at the back of the nest. It’s possible that there is an emergency stairwell at the end of the hall, and that they are attempting to escape under cover of the barrage.”
Jagger said, “You take Warhammer. I’ll make sure Jacopo is taken to a med-bay and follow.”
“Roger that,” I replied. “Jolene. Extrapolate. If there is an exit from the room Warhammer is in, where would she come out and is that outside exit covered?”
“Two of the Boozefighter made-men are at the most likely exit.”
“Two against ten,” I said. “They’ll be slaughtered. Tell them to retreat fast, into cover. And tell them to watch which way Warhammer goes.”
“Copy that, Commander.” The sentient AI relayed the order.
“All teams. I’m following Warhammer.” I said.
“I have Jacopo. I’ll follow with a support team when possible,” Jagger responded.
