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I watched the snake—which had recovered enough that it was glaring at us once again. “Are you done raging? It’s about to attack.”
The slayer abruptly quieted herself, switching to combat mode with remarkable swiftness. “You distract it, I’ll aim for its good eye and mouth?”
“Fine,” I agreed.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Jade
Ruin blazed towards the snake surprising both me and the monster.
I thought it wouldn’t be too hard to fight with him since I’ve done it with Tetiana, but it still feels off.
It was just as well—there was a very real possibility Ruin might come after me once we were finished with this. Better to be on my guard than lulled into a sense of comradery. (Not that I was likely to forget how easily he’d chased after me before.)
Ruin ducked when the snake tried to smack him with its tail, and the appendage whipped over his head smashing one of the flower planters on the street.
I winced at the ruined wooden planter. “Could you also try to limit property damage?”
Ruin stopped, then turned around and stared at me ignoring the angry snake. “You not only want my help in beating this, you want to put conditions on the help?”
“You’re obviously an older vamp, so you probably don’t know how money works.”
“Slayer.”
“I meant that you’re probably independently wealthy, so you don’t understand if we trash downtown it’s going to be expensive—for the Cloisters, for humans…” I trailed off, struggling to find a way to put it in perspective for the old vamp—who, statistically speaking—had to be absolutely loaded with money. “It’ll be bad,” I concluded.
A deep sigh leaked out of Ruin. The snake struck, trying to bite him. Ruin side-stepped it. When the snake smashed its face into the ground, he kicked it in its wounded eye with enough force that its head snapped to the side.
“Fine,” Ruin said, sounding disgruntled. “But there is going to be a price foryouto pay for all of this, Slayer.”
I didn’t like the sound of that but there wasn’t anything I could do about it at this point, so I waited for the snake to turn to face Ruin, then took a shot at its good eye.
My shot bounced off the tiny scales around its eye.
I need to get closer.
I pointed my gun at the pavement, then moved in.
The snake ignored me. It was reared up focusing on Ruin—the bigger threat.
It tried striking again and this time instead of attempting to swallow or bite him, the snake flicked its forked tongue at him.
I shot at the snake, holding back for Ruin when he passed in front of me—trying to lure the overgrown monster into the middle of the street—before taking another shot.
Both times I missed.
I stewed in the knowledge that my shooting skills had apparently atrophied—that was something I’d have to add back into my rotating practice schedule—and crab walked closer.
Ruin ran back in front of me, passing so close his sleeve almost brushed my mask. He climbed up the pole of a traffic light with little effort. He stood, balanced, on the pole, taller than the snake.
The snake followed his path with its head giving me a clear shot.
I raised my gun and squeezed the trigger, steadying my hands as the gun vibrated from the recoil.
This time my aim was right on, and I hit the snake in its good eye.
It flopped backwards, flipping so its head was on the ground. It bunched its body up and wriggled.
