Page 204 of Fury

“You should’ve thought of that while you were counting your dough,” said Watts.

Lenox wrapped a hand around the Kimber, his chin raised, glaring at Taz. Flint leaned over and grabbed the Ruger. My pulse drummed in every vein, making my heart beat loudly, evenly. The clarity washed over me like cool rain on a sticky summer day.

I unstuck my knife from Taz’s hand, and he groaned loudly, his side slumping against the table. Catch moved forward and led Taz outside the room.

I loved a ritual, especially one of my own creation. Rites were necessary, making the ordinary special and un-ordinary. Furthermore, a ritual invoked a visceral understanding. And that emotional connection in turn served the continuity of who we were, which was crucial to our survival.

Outside, past the metal sheds, past hulks of rusted cars and bikes Flames had embedded in the earth to leave their mark on the property, in the clearing of the brush, we stopped.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” muttered Taz.

“It never is.” I flicked a hand at his colors.

Taz removed his cut and handed it to me. I picked at the seams of the president’s patch on the worn leather with my knife, ripping it off, handing it all to Catch.

The sweat beaded on Taz’s forehead in the late afternoon sun, his grayed hair lifting in the hot breeze. I shoved him back, and he stumbled.

I raised my gun, Watts and Lenox and Flint aiming theirs.

Boom. Crack. Crack. Clip.

Taz flew back, collapsing to the ground.

Lenox lit a cigarette, his hand shaking. Watts muttered to himself. Motionless, Flint stared off into the distance. I said nothing. After a moment they turned back to me. The somberness was heavy in their eyes, because they knew and they understood. I had just leveled the playing field, and we were all standing on it together, fully present, passionate in our commitment, and potent in that unity. Informed and fueled in our new reality.

I’d always been steeped in that fuel, and was just as flammable.

After a quick glass of whiskey, Lenox, Flint, and Watts took off. I remained outside in the field. The wind had picked up and made Taz’s shirt flutter on his still body on the flat ground. A heap of spent flesh in the dirt.

Four prospects huddled over him. One looked up at me, the others waiting behind him. I nodded, and they raised Taz’s bullet-riddled corpse.

My pulse thudded in my neck. The Broken Blades would get what was coming to them. And so would Scrib.

The heat of the sun’s glare burnished the dry brown brush with a coppery gold. I raised my face toward the sky, my skin warming. That huge open blue sky. Not one cloud visible today.

No, not today.

58

Awisp of cool air curledover my skin, and I hugged the pillow closer.

Still cold.

No, exposed.

Something heavy was in the air, and that something was hanging over me. I opened my eyes, my body tightening around the pillow.

Cedar, a hint of tobacco. Metal and cinnamon gum.

That something washim.

A large figure loomed in the dark. The thud of his clothing hitting the floor had my pulse jumping rope double time.

“Finger? What are you doing?”

“Getting in your bed.”

I sat up, pulling the sheet over my bare body. “You break into my house because you want a fuck?”

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