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“Of course I goddamn do. This is about Ohio, isn’t it? Fuck.”
“O’Donnelly?”
Amid this ridiculous conversation, the sudden appearance of Dagda’s voice in my ear came as a shock, especially as he sounded breathless.
I cut to the chase, “Ovianar’s dead.”
“Fuck,” he hissed.
“We think the Sparrows are cleaning house. There might be someone on their way—”
“They’re not on their way, O’Donnelly. They’re fucking here. I’m going underc—”
The blast of another bullet had me looking up, thinking it was Troy again—it wasn’t.
It had been in my ear.
“Dagda?” I demanded. “Are you there?”
Dead air.
“Fuck.”
“Dagda? You’re talking to Dagda?” Troy hollered, suddenly leaping from the tree she’d been hiding in and striding over to us like she hadn’t been letting off bullets to see us dance to her tune a couple minutes ago.
She wore camouflage, her face was painted, and she’d have made G. I. Joe seem underdressed—she was prepared for an ambush.
“His line just went dead. He said they were there already,” I informed Star.
“Holy fuck,” Dead To Me blurted, eyes wide with disconcertion. “This is a coordinated effort.” She turned to Troy. “Have you been threatened? You must have been to get dolled up like that. What happened?”
Before she could answer, an alarm sounded from within the house. It echoed around the barren fields, seeming to grow in volume with every pounding beat of my heart.
Troy, wearing an eyepatch like a boss-ass bitch, gritted her teeth as her head whipped to the side to study her house. “That’s my perimeter alarm.” Another alarm blared. “The rear gates.”
As one, Dead To Me, Star, and I rasped the same goddamn words:
“They’re here.”
That was when a ball of fire surged toward us from the highway.
BOOM.
