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“No. But I can do this.” Gaia used her father’s power to raise a pew, a long, heavy oak bench, and blast it into Dekka’s chest, pinning her against the altar.
Dekka lay still.
Gaia turned away, limping and in pain. Why was this proving so hard? She’d lost speed, now she’d lost Jack’s strength, and worst of all, most dangerous of all, she’d lost control of Sam. He had gotten away, and he might come for her again. Or he might take his own life. Either way . . .
She had to heal herself and quickly.
Little Pete was doing something . . . something . . . she could feel it. She could feel his resolution. She could feel his anticipation. But she could also feel his ebbing strength.
So many left to kill. She would have to hurry.
The firing had stopped.
Edilio couldn’t see much of anything, blinded by smoke tears, trying to make sense of a battlefield. All he knew was that the firing had stopped when Gaia disappeared into the church.
Then he saw Jack and Sam. Sam had rolled Jack over so that instead of the small hole in his back what was visible was the exit wound, an explosion of viscera poking out through his shirt.
“Jesus, Mary,” Edilio said.
From the church came the loud crash of debris falling.
Edilio dropped down beside Sam. Sam was alive but looked almost as bad as Jack. There were burns on his body and arms. His shirt was tatters, a filthy, bloody rag.
Edilio began pulling at the chains.
“Edilio,” Sam gasped.
“I got you, man,” Edilio said.
“Do it, Edilio.”
Edilio shook off the request, pretending not to know what Sam was asking.
From the church a second loud crash.
Voices above called out, “Edilio! What should we do?”
“Do it, man. I tried. I don’t think I have the strength to try again, man: do it for me,” Sam begged.
“Dekka’s got her,” Edilio stalled as he pulled the last chains away. The links tore at burned flesh as he pulled them free.
“She’ll come out of there and—”
“Damn it, I can’t kill you! You’re asking me to commit murder!” Edilio exploded.
Sam stared. Nodded. “Yeah. Give me your gun, Edilio. I think I can do it with a gun. The other thing, though . . . It’ll be easier with—”
“I can’t do it,” Edilio said, shaking his head, weeping.
“She’s going to kill everyone—”
A third crash from the church.
“I’m going to go shoot her myself,” Edilio said.
“Edilio!” Sam called after him.
Edilio spun around, stabbed a finger at Sam, and said, “I’ll kill. I’ll kill. That’s enough. It’s enough! I won’t murder!”
