alone. Just as I had been at age twelve when I wandered out of the forest after
being stuck in Beast form for decades. But this time, I remembered some of my past,
and the memories left me flayed just as the pilot had been. Just as the man had been
in the old memory. Had he? I remembered blood. I think. But the distant past was shifting
and changing and drifting away.
Black road. Blink. Bloody body. Open eyes. Black road.
My own bleeding was all internal.
I was stupid and pathetic and spineless. Everything I’d done, every decision I’d made,
had taken me to a place I had never intended to go—working long-term for the vamps
instead of just beheading the crazy ones. Learning that some of them were thinking,
feeling creatures. Not human—but not worthy of death just because of their vamp-nature.
Black road. Blink. Bloody body. Open eyes. Black road
.
Tears started to fall behind the face-shield, caught by the air currents sweeping
up underneath like mini tornadoes, cool and damp across my face and into my hair.
I deserved losing my best friend because I’d killed her sister. I had blood on my
hands and on my soul and I’d added to the toll tonight—it was my fault that the men
in the jet were dead, because I hadn’t considered that someone would come after me,
because I hadn’t taken precautions. I didn’t recognize myself anymore in the killing
machine I was becoming.
Jane is killer. Only killer,
Beast murmured.
“Go away,” I shouted into the teeth of the wind. She growled and went silent. I gave
the engine gas, speeding into the dark, passing headlights that left smears on my
retinas. Bent low over the bike, leaning into the turns, taking chances that would
have been deadly to anyone with human reflexes.
Black road. Blink. Bloody pilot. Bloody bearded man. Nails. Antlers. Open eyes. Black
road.
The bloody body was a nightmare memory brought forward in time. Was the man from my
past someone I had cared for? A white man? How would that be possible? And I’d never
know, not for sure.
Lost. They were all lost. Everyone I knew from my first life.
Etsi
, my mother,
Edoda
, my father,
Elisi,
my grandmother. All gone. All dead. Decades and decades ago. And now everyone I truly
loved and truly trusted from my current life, Molly and Rick, were gone. I screamed
out my grief, in long, hoarse sobs as the miles and black pavement raced beneath me,
and wind buffeted the misery that dogged me. I screamed until there was only the wind
against my clothes and the road beneath my tires.
Black road. Blink. Bloody pilot. Open eyes. Black road.
When the tears finally stopped, my voice was hoarse and my throat was raw. I was empty
and purposeless and useless.
Jane is killer only,
Beast thought at me.
“Shut up,” I whispered. “I didn’t kill the man with the antlers through his body.”
Jane is killer only.
In a small town outside Seattle, I passed a bank with a well-lit ATM and pulled over.
If I had to go to ground, I needed money. I inserted my card and punched in the special
PIN that allowed me a onetime withdrawal of an unlimited amount of cash. I removed
five thousand dollars and added it to the wad of money Bruiser had given me for this
gig. I wasn’t sure why I might need to go into hiding, but the imperative was there.
Take money. Stock up. Be prepared. Now I had to get back to New Orleans, which meant
flying commercial, so I had to get rid of my weapons.
Two blocks over, in a brand-new strip mall, I found a one-stop shopping spot, most
stores still open. In a high-end luggage store I paid cash for two hard-bodied cases
used for shipping electronic musical equipment. Outside, I took my weapons apart so
they couldn’t fire, packaging the pieces in separate shipping containers, so that
if someone stole one case, there weren’t enough parts to make a whole weapon. It isn’t
easy to ship firearms and I didn’t want any problems. In a UPS
being stuck in Beast form for decades. But this time, I remembered some of my past,
and the memories left me flayed just as the pilot had been. Just as the man had been
in the old memory. Had he? I remembered blood. I think. But the distant past was shifting
and changing and drifting away.
Black road. Blink. Bloody body. Open eyes. Black road.
My own bleeding was all internal.
I was stupid and pathetic and spineless. Everything I’d done, every decision I’d made,
had taken me to a place I had never intended to go—working long-term for the vamps
instead of just beheading the crazy ones. Learning that some of them were thinking,
feeling creatures. Not human—but not worthy of death just because of their vamp-nature.
Black road. Blink. Bloody body. Open eyes. Black road
.
Tears started to fall behind the face-shield, caught by the air currents sweeping
up underneath like mini tornadoes, cool and damp across my face and into my hair.
I deserved losing my best friend because I’d killed her sister. I had blood on my
hands and on my soul and I’d added to the toll tonight—it was my fault that the men
in the jet were dead, because I hadn’t considered that someone would come after me,
because I hadn’t taken precautions. I didn’t recognize myself anymore in the killing
machine I was becoming.
Jane is killer. Only killer,
Beast murmured.
“Go away,” I shouted into the teeth of the wind. She growled and went silent. I gave
the engine gas, speeding into the dark, passing headlights that left smears on my
retinas. Bent low over the bike, leaning into the turns, taking chances that would
have been deadly to anyone with human reflexes.
Black road. Blink. Bloody pilot. Bloody bearded man. Nails. Antlers. Open eyes. Black
road.
The bloody body was a nightmare memory brought forward in time. Was the man from my
past someone I had cared for? A white man? How would that be possible? And I’d never
know, not for sure.
Lost. They were all lost. Everyone I knew from my first life.
Etsi
, my mother,
Edoda
, my father,
Elisi,
my grandmother. All gone. All dead. Decades and decades ago. And now everyone I truly
loved and truly trusted from my current life, Molly and Rick, were gone. I screamed
out my grief, in long, hoarse sobs as the miles and black pavement raced beneath me,
and wind buffeted the misery that dogged me. I screamed until there was only the wind
against my clothes and the road beneath my tires.
Black road. Blink. Bloody pilot. Open eyes. Black road.
When the tears finally stopped, my voice was hoarse and my throat was raw. I was empty
and purposeless and useless.
Jane is killer only,
Beast thought at me.
“Shut up,” I whispered. “I didn’t kill the man with the antlers through his body.”
Jane is killer only.
In a small town outside Seattle, I passed a bank with a well-lit ATM and pulled over.
If I had to go to ground, I needed money. I inserted my card and punched in the special
PIN that allowed me a onetime withdrawal of an unlimited amount of cash. I removed
five thousand dollars and added it to the wad of money Bruiser had given me for this
gig. I wasn’t sure why I might need to go into hiding, but the imperative was there.
Take money. Stock up. Be prepared. Now I had to get back to New Orleans, which meant
flying commercial, so I had to get rid of my weapons.
Two blocks over, in a brand-new strip mall, I found a one-stop shopping spot, most
stores still open. In a high-end luggage store I paid cash for two hard-bodied cases
used for shipping electronic musical equipment. Outside, I took my weapons apart so
they couldn’t fire, packaging the pieces in separate shipping containers, so that
if someone stole one case, there weren’t enough parts to make a whole weapon. It isn’t
easy to ship firearms and I didn’t want any problems. In a UPS
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