She might, too, if she kept at it like this. I was lucky she’d gotten me in the chest. It was ugly, sure, but if she’d gone for my arm, I’d be a sitting duck. At least now I still had the ability to pick up and use a weapon.
My sword had fallen when she knocked me over, but my gun was in its holster and easily accessible. I used to keep it tucked into my jeans, but since getting the holster, I’d run into far fewer issues where I couldn’t reach the weapon in a time of crisis.
I pulled it out and fired without taking time to aim perfectly. Mercy spun backwards, howling. The bullet had struck her right in the shoulder, and if the silver worked quickly, she would soon have one less claw to attack me with.
Staggering to my feet like a drunk, I scoured the ground looking for my sword. The gun was great and all, but if I was going to kill Mercy, I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. If ever there’d been a villain in my life who might pull the horror-movie twist of coming back to life after she was supposed to be dead, it would be Mercy. I didn’t feel like having to kill her twice. Once would be more than enough to suit my purposes.
My wayward sword had landed about five feet away, and I moved towards it, realizing with each step that my injuries had started to take their toll. Between the bullet and the new chest wound—which was healing, but taking its time about it—I was in rough shape. I needed to finish this now, otherwise I wasn’t sure I’d maintain the better odds.
Mercy lunged at me again, grabbing my hair with her good arm and driving me face first into the nearest tree. I turned in time so my cheekbone broke instead of my nose, but the pain receptors in my brain couldn’t tell the difference. Ow, was their response.
Jerking my elbow back, I repaid the favor by landing a blow right on the bridge of her nose. She started bleeding immediately, whereas my injury would hurt internally for the day it took for the bone to reset. I was going to be bruised like a prizefighter for most of the next day.
She tried to claw at me again, but I grabbed the branch overhead and kicked out with both feet, planting my heels on her chest and sending her flying back into the tree behind her. I dropped to the ground and dove for my sword, struggling to get back to my feet once I had it. There wouldn’t be any cool kick stands with how I was feeling right now. I was lucky to still be standing at all.
Considering I’d kicked her into a hundred-year-old tree, Mercy got back into a standing position pretty quickly. The arm on the side where I’d shot her hung limp, and she was breathing hard. I put one hand to my side, and when I pulled my fingers away, they were slick with wet blood.
Awesome.
“Just stay down,” I wheezed.
“Die already.”
Maybe we had a few things in common after all. A stubborn unwillingness to be killed was chief among them.
“Fine. Don’t take it lying down. Whatever. It’s going to end the same way regardless.” My threat lacked a menacing punch thanks to the way my voice hitched up from pain with every other word. At this rate neither one of us would walk out of here tonight.
She took a step towards me and her knee gave out, sending her lolling to one side before she regained her footing. If I was in better shape, I’d be delighted to know how weak she was. There wasn’t a lot of fight left in her. Too bad there wasn’t a lot of fight left in me either.
Any last words? I asked myself.
Was there anything I desperately wanted to say to her now that I had her right in front of me?
“It didn’t have to be like this, you know.” I edged forward and kept my gaze locked on her, worried her pitiful state was all part of an act. That would be right up Mercy’s alley, to pretend she was injured only to come at me full force when I got too close.
Except the shot I’d landed on her shoulder couldn’t be faked.
“Pretty words won’t change anything, kid.” She spit on the ground, the foamy red blood glistening in the moonlight.
“I never wanted anything from you. I never asked you to love me. You could have lived your life and let me live mine.”
“You’re an abomination. You shouldn’t have a life to begin with.”
This old song and dance again. Sometimes I wondered why she’d let me live long enough to give me to Grandmere if she’d thought I was such a monster. Was it her first and last maternal act?
Abandoning children was something she excelled at.
“And Ben? He’s no abomination, but that didn’t stop you from turning your son into a monster.”
Mercy leaned against the tree beside her and smiled softly. Her dark brown curls were wet at the bottom where they’d been soaking in her blood. My own blonde ones probably looked much worse.
“He’ll be fine.” She coughed.
“Do you know what I did to Peyton?” I tested my grip on the sword, making sure I wouldn’t drop it when I needed it most.
“Since you’re still alive, I assume you killed him.”
“Do you want to know how?”