Page 13 of Capitol Matters (Marionette #2)

Standing from the swirling cloud of darkness, I called across the bank lobby, “Avery!”

The conjurer spun round, his face alight with thrill. “That’s right. Come out and face me!” he crowed. “It’s high noon, and we’re gonna have ourselves a good, old-fashioned shootout.”

I emerged from behind the pamphlet counter in time to watch a tumbleweed roll from Avery’s hand and bounce across the floor.

Slowly approaching the kerchiefed conjurer, I replied, “You know, I’d love to do that, but,” I held out empty hands, “no gun.”

“They don’t give you a gun?” His bottom lip puckered.

“Nope.”

Reaching to his waist, Avery unholstered one of his matched pair of revolvers. “Want one of mine?” He offered it up .

“That’s not…” I shook my head. “Listen, Avery, have you thought about this? You can pull hundred dollar bills out of your ass. Why are you robbing a bank?”

Tucking the pistol away, the conjurer spread his arms in reference to the scene he’d created. “Because it’s Monday,” he said. “Because I can. And because the sheriffs in this town would rather hunker down and wait for backup than take the open shot that’s right in front of them.”

My grimace clashed with Avery’s crooked smile.

“Called it, didn’t I?” he bragged.

Sure did.

“You’re on the wrong side of this fight, Farrow,” Avery continued. “Saddled with weak-minded people who don’t think like we do.” He gestured to the pamphlet counter, removing any doubt he knew the investigator was in our midst. “That’s who’s holding your reins, cowboy. If you think you’ve traded up in the world, you might want to think again.”

Propping his hands on his hips, Avery swung a leg in an exaggerated turn toward his accomplices. “Time to clear out, boys,” he told them.

My relief that they were leaving before the tactical team arrived was fleeting because the conjurer followed his statement up with another.

“Kill ‘em all,” he commanded. “Coppers first.” He glanced back long enough to tip his hat at me. “That includes you, Fitch.”

Gunfire split the air.

My heart lurched, and I dropped to the floor, far from cover and scrambling to think of a plan. Holland was right. We were outnumbered. Even with Avery prancing away, there were eight rookies laden with bank bags, and every one of them was aiming my way.

Before they could take another shot, I singled out two men climbing over the teller counter. Both had bright red handkerchiefs tied across their faces and black Stetson hats pulled down to shadow their eyes. Their guns flashed chrome in the muted light, and I caught them with a thought. I grabbed the men’s arms, holding them stiffly straight, then slowly turning them so their bodies rotated to follow. They spun toward each other, and their eyes stretched wide as they realized.

It took only a twitch to tighten their fingers on the triggers.

Twin shots rattled off, and the men dropped to the floor, oozing blood and brain matter.

Shouts and cries clamored from hostages and Hex members alike.

If the rest of the rookies had any sense, the deaths of their fellows would be reason enough to clear out. Forget Avery’s kill orders. He’d bailed already. He’d left them here to die because I couldn’t let them get arrested. I had no doubt they would roll over on me given the chance.

A ponytailed cowgirl stood alone in the corner with a bank bag clutched to her chest and a revolver in her hand. She kept her stance and her aim squared off with me.

Of course, there remained the possibility the lowlifes willing to fill the Hex’s ranks were simply too dumb to live. In that case, I could hurry things along.

I snatched the gun from her grip, whipping it through the air toward me. I would have caught it if something hadn’t grabbed my ankle and pulled. Falling forward, I landed hard on my knees and elbows and slid backward, my fingers raking across the carpet. I rolled onto my back as the unseen force slung me around the pamphlet counter where a cloud of shadow pulsed and swelled.

Holland’s face appeared over mine and, for the first time, I wished she’d kept her sunglasses on so I didn’t see the fury in her eyes.

“Is that what you wanted to show me?” she snapped. “I never doubted you could kill people, Fitch. What I can’t fathom is why you choose to. It would have been just as easy to disarm them.”

Twisting ropes of darkness began wrapping up my legs, binding them together while stretching toward my arms.

“I did that, too. Weren’t you watching?” I rushed to speak, writhing away from the shadow that remained unaffected by the waves of mental power I thrust at it.

The investigator shook her head. “Talk later. For now, I have to stop this from turning into a bloodbath.”

Her form dissolved, flattening into a black spot that slid across the ground. From my prone position, I lost sight of her almost immediately.

I squirmed and strained, fighting the darkness that sucked on me like quicksand. It would be a body bag next because I was certain shadows didn’t make me bulletproof, and Hex members were closing in.

The woman I disarmed had taken off, but three others had formed a firing line across from the sniveling heap of hostages.

I raised a hand toward the gunman closest to me, but the shadowy restraints looped around my elbow and pulled it to my side with a jolting force that felt almost personal.

Holland appeared as a flash of color and substance rising before the Hex member. She knocked the gun loose, then threw a punch that staggered the man before she pooled into shadow once more.

His comrades turned their revolvers toward the floor, firing wildly at what looked like a stain in the carpet. They burned through six rounds each in a flurry of bullets, then discarded the empty guns with curses and complaints.

While the trigger-happy duo turned dizzying circles, shadows consumed them. With simultaneous grunts, they were pulled to the ground. Their cries for help prompted the others to abandon their bulging money sacks and join the fight.

The wave of force I slung across the floor bowled one over mid-charge. His comrade stopped moving as Holland rose before him. She held her own gun this time and used it to pistol-whip him across the face.

The shadow cocoon grew past my shoulder, drawing in my free arm till I was wrapped tightly together. The growing pressure on my chest and, moments later, my neck became concerning. Breaths came in short gasps, and my ribs ached. I could do little but watch as the Hex members able to flee started staggering toward the door.

Holland appeared once more, this time bent over the frightened civilians .

With her back turned, she didn’t see the villain reentering the scene. Avery, still wearing his gunslinger getup, nearly collided with the newbies on their way out.

“What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. When he spotted the investigator, he groaned. “You’re still alive?”

Holland jerked upright… and paused. Startle blanked her eyes like a deer on the highway while Avery’s hand cocked back. He could have drawn one of his guns, but this wasn’t part of the act. He’d been trained, too. Instinct had taken over.

He swung forward, and a conjured dagger spun through the air, end over end.

I swore and struggled but couldn’t break the hold of Holland’s shadow as it noosed around my throat. I didn’t need my hands to cast magic, but it helped, especially with breathlessness muddying my thoughts. Fixing my concentration, I managed to nudge the dagger off course. It whizzed past the investigator’s head and buried in the wall behind her.

The civilians shrieked. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I heard a gun fire.

Blood burst through Holland’s back, spraying red mist in the air.

My mouth fell open, stunned as if I’d been hit myself.

Avery holstered his pistol. “Can’t get good help these days,” he muttered.

He walked forward on a beeline to Holland. It hadn’t been a deadly shot, and he knew it. She was far too lively, scrambling to shield her precious hostages while pressing one hand to her injured shoulder.

I could breathe again, though it took a moment to register with the air knocked out of me. The dark blanket that had bundled me wisped away, and I shoved onto my hands and knees.

The two Hex members who had burned through their ammo trying to shoot Holland’s shadow also stood straight, emboldened by Avery rejoining them. Even the couple who had dashed for the exit turned to resume the battle. No one wanted to look like a coward in front of their maniacal leader.

Eyes wide and heart pounding, I stood.

It would do no good to take Avery’s guns or the knife he now held above his shoulder, Psycho -style. He could make another. I would have to get his attention a different way.

“Avery,” I called over, my voice low and level.

His head tipped my direction, one brow cocked.

“I’ll kill them all,” I said.

The rookies stared and scowled, but Avery showed no malice.

“You’re bluffing.” His lips formed a sly smile.

I angled my gaze toward the men I’d downed. Rather, they downed each other with telekinetically directed head shots.

“I’m not,” I said.

He couldn’t see it, but all four rookies already had my mental hooks in them. Breaking spines was surprisingly easy. One slipped vertebrate could do a person in. Or paralyze them, which was still a win in my book.

The conjurer and I locked eyes until he broke into a grin. “Cold blooded, Farrow,” he said. “I like it. ”

Six shooters, cowboy hats, and kerchiefs began to disappear. Avery alone kept his costume intact while the others were stripped down to basic pants and shirts.

Avery twirled a finger like a lasso through the air. “That’s enough fun for today, fellas. Time to go.”

“Are you kidding?” One of the nameless newbies gestured to me. “There’s five of us and one of him.”

Avery slapped the back of the other man’s head, bending him forward. “That kid could snap you like a glowstick. Get outta here.”

Still muttering, the new recruits did as instructed. I kept my grip on them until they were out the door and out of sight. Avery lingered with his hands on his hips as he looked at the fallen investigator.

“In case it was unclear, he saved your ass.” He tossed his head toward me. “Show the guy a little appreciation, won’t you?”

Despite the pain pulling her features taut, Holland looked as ready to spit in Avery’s face as agree with anything he said.

He huffed a laugh, then waggled his fingers at her. “Toodles.”

The conjurer walked away, taking the same path his minions had to the exit. I didn’t dare look back and risk him blowing a kiss and my cover at the same time. What had already transpired would require enough explanation without Avery’s flamboyant ass piling on.

Seconds dragged until I decided they wouldn’t return, then I rushed to Holland’s side.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, her voice edged with pain. She shooed me with one hand, creating space so she could stand.

The bank customers trembled and talked amongst themselves while aiming wary glances at me.

Stepping back, I watched the investigator peel the suit jacket away from her wounded shoulder. Blood soaked her white satin blouse and slicked the bare skin of her arm.

The Capitol healers could patch her up, though. That assurance eased my concern enough for me to brag, “Told you I could handle it.”

Her eyes flashed a warning. “What did you say?”

“I saved you,” I explained. “And the hostages. I handled it.”

Holland stabbed a finger into my chest, hard enough I had to brace against it. “You don’t get credit for solving a problem you created.”

“ I created?” My forehead creased in confusion. “How was this my fault?”

She pressed in. “If you had waited in the car—”

“They would’ve killed all the civilians, and you would’ve died trying to stop them,” I argued.

Didn’t she see that? Avery knew she was there before I arrived. He wouldn’t have let her escape. In the gang’s endless hunt, investigators were prized game.

Outside, sirens approached. The long-awaited backup had arrived.

I jerked a thumb toward the bank’s front door. “You want me to go tell them you’re in here?” I asked, oozing sarcasm. “Or keep more customers from coming in?”

“Cute,” she replied snidely. “And no, let me handle this. The worst thing you can do now is run your mouth and accidentally implicate yourself.”

I rolled my eyes, but she didn’t slow, growing more severe as she said, “I watched you kill those men, Marionette—”

“It’s Fitch,” I corrected.

Her head shook before she pushed past me. “Not when you act like that, it isn’t.”