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Perhaps he has changed his tactics because he entered a city with two highly motivated people who want to kill him. Two people who, along with the rest of their coven, would be more than happy to carry out a death sentence as quickly as possible.
I hold the gun Rolando insists I carry. It feels foreign and wrong in my arms. I did promise, though. After all, this is Emerson I am dealing with.
Resigning myself to use the monstrosity, Rolando, myself, and eight coven mates that stay in Callery make our way silently up the walk, the shadows of the dilapidated craftsman looms above us.
Uphill.
I don’t like that they have high ground from the start, but we make it to the half-rotting porch without incident. The sun set ten minutes ago, and the occupants should be stirring if they haven’t already. Scouting the building reveals that only the entrance is un-boarded for access. All other windows and external doors are nailed shut with plywood and two-by-fours.
I hate the idea of all of us heading in through the front, but if we want to go another way, we’d have to alert the house to our presence before we’re ready. Cursing in my head, we take position at the front. I see Rolando toss a concussion grenade into someone’s hands, ready to throw it in the door immediately. We all signal that we are prepared. Standing back so there will be room to throw the grenade, I kick in the door and step aside.
Rolling into the pitch-black darkness of the house, the grenade makes its way to the center. I pull the door shut again. A loud explosion forces the remaining glass in the windows to shatter. We’re here, I think to myself.Ready or not, here we come.
My ears aren’t ringing with the force of the grenade, but my sense of danger is piqued. Something isn’t quite right about this.
Taking my first step into the house, I am met with a fist to the gut and another to the face.
Rolling to the side to allow my other coven members entrance, I swing the butt of my gun into my assaulter’s skull, forcing him to stagger backward. Rolando is next in, raising his rifle and firing at two of Emerson’s men entering the hall. We filter in and spread out, but each room floods with assailants. There are more people here than we realized.
Two of mine are down, bodies riddled with bullets preventing them from continuing the fight. I spray down a man with a monstrous look in his eyes, then duck into the parlor.
I don’t have time for this fucking gun.
Allowing it to drop to my side, the strap still around my shoulders, I unsheath my sword and cut down anyone who isn’t mine.
Much better.
Rolando is at my back, and I am quickly losing sight of the others. We are being swarmed. Something is more than wrong here. More men pour through the front door, meaning our driver and lookout are dead or incapacitated.
Growling, I push through the house, trusting my back is covered. One of ours slumps against a wall in the dining room. I yank him to his feet and steady his weapon in his hands, getting his back up to ours as we move. We need an exit, the front door is a non-starter now, and this isn’t a fight we can win. I have to return to the house and come back in force with heavier artillery and more bodies.
Perhaps just RPG the damn building.
Naritaka must have been discovered because Emerson is ready for us. Using his men to fight his battles for him, he doesn’t even have the balls to show his face.
The kitchen tiles beneath my feet are slick with blood, but in the distance, I see the door I am searching for. It will lead outside. We just have to break through. Slicing through the next man who charges me, I raise my gun and fire through the door—the quick pop of bullets shreds through the wood. My coven members with me keep the others back.
Our exit.
We won’t all make it.
The man from the dining room. I think his name is Chris. I didn’t know him well, but he is severely injured. No way he can outrun them.
Rolando is good with a weapon. He can keep them off me as I flee, but what kind of leader would I be if I allow such a thing?
There is only one decision to be made.
Bruised, bleeding, and still going strong, it has to be him.
I yank Rolando by his shirt and fling him at the door. He burst through the remaining wood like cobwebs. Substantially sharper, more dangerous cobwebs, but at least it gave way. “GO!” My voice is unrecognizable even to myself. I am filled with rage, fear, and tiredness that I feel deep within my soul.
More are coming. We must have seen at least fifty men so far, I have no idea where the rest of mine are, but if I don’t make a stand here, they will catch Rolando, and he won’t make it home. I pull the fridge down and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Chris. Using my gun and sword to hold them off for as long as possible, it has to be enough time.
Itwillbe enough time.
Chris falls, and I am fighting them from every side.
Their attack slows, they have won based on sheer numbers.
