Page 114 of Gunslinger Girl
When Pity was done, Siena reached behind the seat and brought out a bottle of bourbon. She took a long swallow, then offered it over. “Want a draw?”
Pity shook her head. “Were you listening to what I just said?”
“I heard you.” Siena took another sip. “I never thought I’d be around to see the day when Selene’s ship sinks, but it sounds like she’s got some rats on board, all right. Big ones, too.”
“But we can stop everything if we go back now!” Beyond the windshield, the horizon was a steadily growing blaze.
“Oh, I’m going back,” said Siena. “But what happens to Casimir isn’t my concern. I’ve got a job to finish. Your boyfriend is still worth a lot of currency. Though I think I won’t be splitting it with Sheridan anymore. I’m not partial to being used like that.”
Pity gritted her teeth. “To hell with you, then!”
Siena’s lips thinned sourly. “Well, you got your mother’s mouth, that’s for sure. Look, if you want to play the hero and try to save Selene, that’s fine by me. But I’m collecting my bounty one way or another. From what you’re saying, I need to get Max out of Casimir quick. You can go along with that or not.”
Frustration gripped Pity with more force than the fading paralytic had. This doesn’t change anything. You were going to get Max away from Sheridan; you’ll find a way to get him away from Siena, too. But doubt rose in her like the growing dawn. “You’ll never get him out in time, not now.”
“Oh, I think I might.” Siena lit another cigarette, exhaling a milky cloud that glowed with the dawn. “But I don’t think you’re gonna be keen on how.”
CHAPTER 39
Pity’s strength returned, as Siena had promised.
Not that it mattered, she mused, feeling the tension of her restraints with every bump and shimmy of the vehicle. She was bound, wrist and ankle, and a thick strip of cotton was lashed across her mouth so she couldn’t cry out. Her guns were gone, in Siena’s possession now. And the arsenal a few feet away might have been across the world; a chain around one foot kept her tethered to the cot.
It’s all come apart at the seams.
A day ago she was trading kisses and promises of later with Max. It felt as if a month had gone by since then, and every minute that passed was one less chance to stop the approaching danger. Was the Reformationist camp stirring yet, making preparations for their unwittingly insidious march later that morning? And what about Casimir? How many of her friends were awake?
How many would be dead before the sun went down?
She glared at the back of Siena’s head. The bounty hunter was whistling, a cheerful tune that got under Pity’s skin like a flensing knife. She would have told Siena to shut the hell up if she could. She would have said a lot of things to Siena Bond.
“MMMmmmmm!”
“Calm down. We’re almost there.”
Pity went slack and stared at the ceiling. Was Max doing the same, in whatever cell Selene had him in? Part of her anger belonged to him as well. Edwin Kyros… No, that wasn’t it. Whatever his name was, he’d failed to tell her the full truth. She was going to let him have a piece of her mind, too, when she got the chance.
If she got the chance.
Suddenly, the world dipped and the light in the vehicle changed. They stopped. Siena climbed in back, Pity’s gun belt slung over her shoulder. She carried a bit of black cloth in one hand.
“Sorry ’bout this, kid,” Siena said, and she pulled a hood over Pity’s head.
Darkness, again. The bounty hunter unlocked her chains and led her from the vehicle.
Pity inhaled and exhaled as slowly as she could, the air inside the hood humid as they crossed the garage, not to the elevator this time but to a door. Pity heard the hinges as the door swung open and then shut behind them.
“Mmmm-hmmm.”
“I know where to go,” said Siena. “Not too many places in Casimir I ain’t been.”
Pity worried the gag between her teeth. Her heart was a hammer in her chest. She counted her steps to try to stay calm. One, two, three… Just like her shots in the Theatre. Four, five, six… Her heartbeat began to slow. She told herself to think of Max and how each step brought her closer to him. Wherever they were going, it was deeper than the garage and Max’s room. Somewhere none of Casimir’s own would wander into, much less patrons.
Somewhere no screams would be heard.
They stopped. Pity heard a fist bang against a metal door.
“Open up,” called Siena.
