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Ripley grabbed my wrist and pulled me away, sprinting through the gun-smoke in some direction that seemed totally random. I heard more shouts, then more gunshots, and suddenly I was falling, pinwheeling forward. My legs struggled to keep up with my center of gravity, which was shifted impossibly far forward. Ultimately they lost the battle. The pistol in my hand went flying, as I skidded headfirst into the hard-packed desert floor.
UNNNFFFF!
My knees exploded with pain, then my palms, elbows, and eventually my chin. The road-rash of having fallen too fast seemed to burn from everywhere at once. But the numbness came quickly, taking away most of the pain.
“Stay down.”
Somewhere during the chaos, Ripley had let go. The voice wasn’t his however. It sounded foreign and angrier, and far more sinister. Besides, Ripley was lying next to me — I could see that now that the dust had cleared. His eyes were closed and he appeared completely immobile, totally unconscious. Or even worse.
“Where are the others?”
Several pairs of boots appeared in my field of vision, and I flinched as someone reeled back to kick me. Instinctively, I curled into a fetal position, just before a foot glanced off my shoulder. When I didn’t cry out, a heel ground itself into the small of my back.
“I said—”
“Shoot that one!” one of them barked. “Then ask her again.”
The second voice was even louder and dripped with disdain. It was followed by the sound of several guns being cocked at once.
NO!
I squirmed free and bolted upright, not realizing just how dizzy I was. It was just in time to see a trio of pistols being leveled in the direction of Ripley’s head.
“No no no! Wait!”
Two more men swung their rifles my way. I leapt to my feet, hands out, fingers splayed. Blood ran down my ruined palms. I was staring at at least six or eight men, all armed to the teeth. Two others ran up, completing their group.
“FERRERA!” I blurted.
My eyes darted wildly from enemy to enemy. All of them had paused at my outburst, turning their heads to stare at a single man.
The warlord was significantly shorter than the others, squat and heavyset. His facial hair was so bushy it knitted together at the base of his forehead, forming a perfect, unbroken unibrow over a pair of dark, soulless eyes.
“You don’t want him,” I said quickly, before his men could carry out his order. My hand was already in my pocket. I drew it out slowly, in case one of them was trigger-happy.
“You wantthis.”
I held the emerald up high, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger. The desert sun caught it immediately, showering my forearm with a shimmering, glimmering curtain of brilliant green light.
A collective gasp went up from Ferrera’s henchmen.
I’d taken the largest of the stones back in Maine, tucking it away before Cole shoved the rest of his treasure back into the hollow of the tree. At the time, I didn’t even know why I did it. Probably because I wanted to show the others, to see if the emeralds could be used as leverage. To gain some kind of advantage Cole hadn’t thought of.
Mostly though, I didn’t want him keeping such a deadly secret entirely to himself. Especially if it could get him hurt.
I rotated the emerald sideways, making sure it cast the biggest profile and caused the biggest impact. I needn’t have bothered. Ferrera’s eyes went so wide the moment he saw it, I thought they might drop right out of his head.
“I know where they are,” I said quickly. “All of them. And I’ll tell you. But not if you kill this man.”
I swung my arm down, then tossed the gemstone underhand in the warlord’s direction. His men flinched, as if it were a grenade. Secretly, I wished that it was.
He moved quickly for a man his size, catching it in his fist. Ferrera took only a moment to examine the stone. He knew its authenticity immediately.
“Let him go,” I said, jerking my head at Ripley. He still hadn’t moved. That worried me.
“Tell me—”
“Let him GO,” I repeated more sternly. “Thenwe talk.”
