Budapest » [Clintasha]

Chapter Fifty: Red Wedding

Susan collapsed on her aggressor, but her valiant sacrifice bought enough time for her father to evade the second gunshot and the bridesmaids to disburse. At the crackle of the gunshot echoing in the space, the whole church burst into hysteria. But the people on the pews in front ducking to dodge the danger provided me with a clear line of sight.

It was now or never. And looking at the room of endangered innocents, I tried my luck. I wish I could say I didn't hesitate, but for a splits-second I did; I'd never shot at a person before - much less intended to harm them. But looking at all of the civilians in danger around me, at Kate and her family, I had no choice.

I could be their hero.

My James Bond moment had arrived.

It was almost as if the room slowed down around me. In one smooth movement, I unveiled the bow: my fingers curled around the bowstring and my bent arm, steady. One eye snapped shut and tunnel vision came into play; I locked on my target. My breathing was metronome perfect, and as I breathed out, I relaxed my back muscles and the arrow soared.

Zipping between the masses, the arrow hit the gunman with an audible thwack, spearing him in the chest and flexing as the impetus was stopped. He was bowled to the floor, dropping his gun as he splayed a hand across his impaled heart. Red began to bleed through his top as I rendered him immobile.

Adrenalin was still coursing through my veins, and with the diversion of their ringleader bleeding out, I fired another two arrows in quick succession: A flashbang and a smoke grenade - both were formerly used only for showmanship, but now they saw practical use. The troop of assailants were blinded and floored by the choking canister rolling on the floor.

I was doing it. I could do it. I could be a hero.

"Get out! Everyone out!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs and I heard the thundering crash as the doors at the end of the church were busted open and the galloping of feet like a heard of flighty horses as the entire congregation fled.

"Get your sister," I told Kate, standing on the pew as a vantage point. Shadows in the smoke, I withdrew another two arrows and fired them off - my targets howling in pain as they flopped to the floor kebabed with an arrow, the howls loud enough even to be heard by me.

Kate ducked into the grey haze and came out again with her dad, cradling her sister's scarlet drenched body bridal. Susan looked limp in Kate's arms, head dangling and lulling as they were running and her legs flopping and flailing.

But my job wasn't over yet, I didn't have time to watch her carried away. Three more armed gunmen were making their exit in one of the wings of the church; fleeing the scene they'd desecrated. I slung my quiver over my shoulder and charged into the smog, my arm braced across my face as a make shift gas mask.

My eyes stung as the smoke attacked them, but up ahead I could make the outlines of the shifty outlaws and bounded deeper into the fog; I had a job to do.

I emerged to see them running into the graveyard through a side door and sprinted after them. Not missing a beat, I clipped an arrow into my bow, drew the string back and aimed. Running whilst aiming was new, having to calculate how the jostling and jumping would affect the trajectory.

Every now and then it would line up, and I timed it with my steps. My arrow shot through the gap in the door and made a thud as it imbedded into one of the troublesome trio's back; he fell to the grassy turf with a flop.

I escaped the confines of the place of worship and tailed the menaces as they dipped and darted between the headstones. If I was lucky, this would be their final resting place too.