Tetra closed her eyes, hands flexing open and shut by her sides. “She unlocked something inside me,” she admitted, “that allowed me to c... To ca...c...ca...”
Relief flooded Val’s chest. She tried to smother a grin, but it was impossible not to enjoy herself. “What was that? What’d she unlock?”
“She…she made me… Sh-she changed me,” Tetra stuttered. “She—”
Val cupped a hand behind her ear, grinning. “Are you trying to say that you care?”
Tetra stamped her foot. “Okay, fine! Sinatria made me give a shit about someone besides myself. There. I said it.”
Val chuckled. “Well done.”
Tetra plowed on. “It hurt that you wouldn’t trust me after what happened, and I want to make it right, but this is about more than that. You’ve done so much for me when you had every right to make me do whatever you wanted. I’m not letting you die.”
Vulnerability shone in the faerie’s black eyes.
“Listen, it’s cool.” Val spread her hands, tilting the dagger’s blade. “I forgive you. You sure you want to do this? There are ten armed gangsters and a couple of workers in there. They might be armed, too.”
Tetra grinned. “Do I have your permission to hurt people?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Val told her.
The faerie giggled. “How about permission to use my magic in the fight?”
“As long as you leave anyone who sees you dead or with a traumatic brain injury.” Val smirked.
Tetra cackled. “I can do that. Let’s go save Anvil Brewery!”
Val checked the window one last time before moving toward the door. The men had neither heard her exchange with Tetra nor changed their positions. Mr. Molotov still smoked in the doorway while the others moved around the warehouse, and the two in overalls loaded suspicious pallets onto the truck.
Tetra stuck close behind Val as she moved quickly and soundlessly to the corner of the building. Val flicked her wrist to expand the shield and glanced around the corner. Mr. Molotov had his back to them. His cell phone was clamped against his ear as he used both hands to light another cigarette.
“Almost ready to leave, boss,” he muttered into the phone. “Loading the last pallets.”
Val glanced at Tetra. “Take that guy out,” she mouthed. “I’ll charge inside. Back me up when you can.”
Tetra gave her a thumbs-up.
Val braced herself and jerked her head at Mr. Molotov. Tetra sped past her with the pent-up fury of a faerie who hadn’t committed any serial murders for several weeks. Her feet made no sound as she sprinted around the corner, and she flung a handful of sparkly faerie dust at the thug. When it touched his back, he whirled, raising his gun. Tetra hit him with another shot to the face, and his eyes rolled back.
Mr. Molotov went down like a fallen tree. Val vaulted over his body and charged into the warehouse. The scarlet fog instantly descended, and the thunder of her boots was her battle cry.
Nine armed gangsters whirled. Val slammed her shield into the first and sent him skidding across the floor, then flung her dagger at the second. It pierced his arm before he could draw his gun, and he fell to his knees, shrieking as blood soaked the concrete.
Val heard the click of a gun cocking and raised her shield. The impact of the bullet on the faerrous steel came before the deafening bang. Then she heard the high whine of a ricochet. Glass shattered, and a pallet of beer collapsed in a shower of amber liquid and white foam.
She glanced over the shield, time slowing in the scarlet fog’s strange clarity. The gunman pulled his trigger again, and bullets pinged off her shield. One slammed into the floor with a puff of dust, and the other obliterated the shooter’s foot in a crimson spray. He screamed and fell to the floor, then crawled behind the pallets, leaving smears of blood.
He still had his gun, and there were more. The rustle of a tarp caught her attention. Three gangsters yanked the cover off the nearest pallet to reveal a stack of automatic rifles.
“Val, get down!” Tetra screamed.
Val hit the floor, raising the shield above her head. A spray of bullets hammered into the disc. They zinged and hummed as they bounced off the faerrous steel and ricocheted around the factory. She gritted her teeth, pinned down. Her shield held, but the hammering made her ears ring.
The amulet throbbed, and the scarlet fog intensified. Val lurched to her feet, and a bullet grazed her leg. She felt no pain through the fog, but she flung herself back to the floor and held up the shield again. The next bullet might take out her femoral artery, and not even the scarlet fog could fix it if she bled out.
“Stay down!” Tetra screamed.
“Tetra—” Val began.
The roar of gunfire turned into a chorus of screams.
Val raised the shield and peered beneath it. The three men fell to their knees, clawing at their faces. Caustic faerie dust sparkled around them.
“Get up!” Tetra yelled, running past her.
“Make up your mind,” Val retorted.
She flipped to her feet and took stock of the current situation. Three gangsters writhed on the floor, thanks to Tetra’s faerie dust. A fourth was groaning and clutching his bleeding arm. Mr. Molotov sprawled by the door, snoring. That left five in the warehouse, plus the two guys in overalls.
“We know you’re in here!” Val called, stepping over the groaning gangsters. “Make this easier on yourselves and come out with your hands in the air!”
A gun muzzle swung around from behind a nearby pallet. Val grabbed Tetra and raised the shield. Handgun bullets uselessly struck the faerrous steel, and Val hustled Tetra behind the cover of the nearest stack of pallets.
“What’s this?” Tetra murmured, looking down. A bullet had torn through the stack, spraying white powder on the floor at her feet.
Val grinned. “The evidence we need. Don’t lick it.”
“Why would I lick—” Tetra began.
