Lord of Order, Brett Riley [e ink manga reader .TXT] 📗

will have to check this building, or they’ll wonder why he didn’t. Jesus, help me get through this without killin anybody.

She dashed across Decatur and dove behind the Templeside Café. She had eaten there thousands of times. Now she was using it as cover to hide from, perhaps shoot at, her friends and colleagues. She bit her lip.

McClure’s pistol cracked once, twice, three times. Someone yelped and returned fire. Crusaders shouted and scrambled for cover or weapons or both. Some ran, while five others, Boudreaux included, sprinted to the building in which Long and McClure had first hidden. The figures flattened themselves against its wall.

One of them crouched under the window from which Long had fired. She put a slug through the remaining glass over his head. They all hit the ground. More troops would arrive soon, probably armed with something more powerful and accurate than sidearms. McClure was still shooting from somewhere on the river side. Someone cried out.

Two more minutes. Then we can fall back. I hope everybody’s still alive.

Behind the Temple, the guards tensed, preparing to rush.

We gotta move first, Tetweiller thought.

Stransky pinned their hostage to the wall and patted him on the cheek. Then she kissed him full on the mouth. The guard sputtered as Tetweiller drew his other pistol. Ford opened the door and flattened himself to one side as Tetweiller burst out, firing low, striking both guards in the kneecaps. Screaming, the men fell and dropped their weapons. One pistol must have been cocked. It went off as it hit the ground. Tetweiller jerked and dropped his left-hand gun, his upper arm on fire. He bent and tried to pick up the weapon, but his fingers would not close. Stransky darted forward, bumping him aside to grab it. She grinned. Tetweiller could do nothing. If the downed guards saw a masked Troubler and Stransky pointing pistols at each other, it would raise too many questions.

Santonio better put a bullet in her brain if she shoots me.

She cackled at the groaning, writhing guards. You boys take a load off your feet.

Ford dragged the captive guard outside and shoved him to the ground next to his fellows. Let’s get outta here, he said, his voice flat. We got what we came for.

Stransky blew him a kiss. You damn sure did.

Blood had soaked through Tetweiller’s shirtsleeve and dripped from his elbow, but the ex-lord did not complain. Ford led them down Royal, away from the fire. They got as far as St. Phillip before stopping in the mouth of an alley. They stayed put a while, hands on knees, breathing hard. Soon, the slap of boot heels on pavement, the click of too-long toenails. McClure and Bandit ambled down St. Phillip, the girl with her hands in her pockets. When she reached them, she crouched beside Tetweiller. The dog sat at the girl’s heel, looking sleepy.

Stransky watched the child, some emotion playing across her face—anger? I reckon you’re Troy’s ghost, she said.

McClure glanced at her. Hey, Flat Ass.

Stransky laughed. Then she started to walk away.

Ford grabbed her shoulder. Where do you think you’re goin?

She cocked her head and looked at him as if he were a dullard. Back to my people. Or maybe you busted me out just to haul me around like that little girl’s dog?

Who’s little? McClure said.

We’re takin you to a friend of ours. You’ll be safe until we can establish some protocols.

No thanks.

Tetweiller moved behind her and stuck his gun barrel on the base of her skull. He cocked the pistol. We insist, he said. And while we’re at it, give me back the gun I gave you.

Stransky never blinked, but she held the pistol out. Tetweiller holstered it, disregarding the blood dripping onto it.

Ten minutes later, Long sprinted up the street, glancing over her shoulder, satchel bouncing against her ribs. She ducked into the alley and sat, taking out her canteen and gulping water.

You’re gonna cramp up, Ford said.

She capped the canteen and stored it. Then she took a deep breath and stood, stretching her legs, knees popping. We need to go, she said, still panting. You’ll have to circle around to the sisters’. I led as many of em toward the river as I could, but some fanned out near the Temple.

Where’s Gordy? Ford asked.

Leadin a party in the wrong direction.

We gotta get back to our houses before any runners come to fetch us, Tetweiller said. They’ll go to Gabe and Jack first, but when they find out somebody hit the Temple, we’ll be their next stop.

Ford took Stransky’s elbow. She looked perturbed but did not pull away. Y’all go home, he said. If a runner’s waitin, tell em you heard the boom and went out to secure your neighborhood. And if they start firin questions, remind em who’s in charge. Questions?

No one had any.

Camp Street was deserted. Still, Ford and Stransky darted from building to building toward the sisters’, avoiding the cones of light under the streetlamps. Ford hoped Sister Sarah Gonzales would be receptive. If not, he would have to leave Stransky in somebody’s basement or set her loose and hope for the best. Of course, once she was out of his sight, she could waltz off anytime she pleased, but the patrols they had dodged on the way over should have convinced her that trying to navigate the city on her own would be madness.

They crept to the entrance, which would be unlocked, as always, for anyone who needed sanctuary or a place to pray. Stransky followed Ford inside, where the warm night became a steaming tropical misery as they felt their way along the foyer and through the swinging double doors into the sanctuary proper. The darkness was nearly impenetrable. Stransky walked into a pew and grumbled. Ford grinned. He had spent a lot of time hunting in darkness, so his eyes adjusted well, but even so, the room seemed filled with amorphous blobs. He walked with his hands extended until