Page 132 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
Martial arts favored the underdog. Trouble was, the tsunami and its aftermath had left Kateri with more than her fair share of artificial joints. She didn’t jump well, she didn’t run swiftly.
John Terrance stood halfway across the room. Before she reached him, the rifle was pointed at her.
She went in low and tackled him around the ribs.
John Terrance staggered.
Over her head, the rifle discharged.
Behind her, she heard wood splinter, glass shatter.
Still hanging onto his waist—hereeked—she balled her fist and slammed the junk he had so proudly cupped.
The air whooshed out of him.
She jumped away, stumbled when he grabbed her hair.
He jerked her head back, smashed the rifle holster against her throat.
She gagged, fell to her knees.
“Look up,” he said.
When she did, the black eye of his rifle barrel was pointed between her eyes.
“I’m going to enjoy this.” His breath, smelling of rot and infection, rolled over her. His eyes, blue and malicious, gleamed with vivid rapture. In slow motion, he wrapped his finger around the trigger. “You’re sweating, Sheriff Kwinault.”
“You should be sweating, too.” Kateri breathed. Just breathed. If she was going to die, she would first put the fear of a god into John Terrance. Today, he would see the frog god. Putting aside her fear, she placed her palms flat on the floor. She looked past the end of the rifle into Terrance’s eyes and called on the Lord of the Deep.
Terrance took a step backward. “What’s wrong with your face?”
Kateri knew what he saw. The cold green gaze of the frog god looked out of her eyes.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
Kateri prepared to die.
Then… salvation! Lilith loomed behind him, raised Edgar Allan Poe’s raven over her head and slammed it down on his skull.
Kateri ducked.
His bullet whistled past Kateri’s cheek.
Lilith slammed the bird down again.
John Terrance fell to the floor, bleeding and unconscious.
Lilith hit him again. And again. She shouted at him, “You think you can kill her? You piece of crap, not while I’m around. She’s a pain in the fanny, but she’smystupid, lousy sister.” She kicked him in the ribs, lifted the raven again.
Kateri raised her hand. “Wait!”
Lilith paused. Her hair was mussed. She had a livid, growing bruise on her cheekbone. And she was clearly, absolutely outraged. She kicked John Terrance’s inert body again. “If anybody’s going to kill her, it’s me. Goddamn it!”
Kateri staggered to her feet. Her knees were shaking. Her hands were shaking. She laughed too loudly. “You’re going to have a black eye!”
Kateri didn’t know it was possible, but Lilith got madder.
She turned on Kateri and stalked toward her like a cat stalking an eagle.
