Swords & Stilettos

Chapter 2: Zoe

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you stare death in the face. It's a total cliché, but I assure you, mine did, even though I have only lived seventeen years. Sadly, I hadn't lived long enough to do anything. No dates with a boy—I'd never even kissed one. I'd never been to college, never been to a formal ... in fact, I'd never even left the state of Minnesota. I longed to travel the world, to see places I'd only read about. I couldn't die yet. My life was just starting!

My family's faces flashed in my mind. I saw my mom, tall and slender, baking molasses cookies. Dad push mowing the grass and those pale, brown eyes I'd inherited were covered by oversized sunglasses. I saw my little sister in the mirror while I braided her blond hair.

"No one is coming to save you," the yellow-tipped haired guy said. His voice was eerily calm. "I'm sure your friend is dead. Now move!" He jabbed the barrel of the gun between my shoulder blades, but my legs wouldn't move. I stared straight ahead, afraid the slightest movement would prompt him to pull the trigger. I needed to stall so I could formulate a plan. Any plan.

I turned my head toward the gunman. "Who ... who are you? What do you—?"

He raised his free hand and slapped me across my face, leaving a painful sting and a throbbing eye. Falling sideways into the crates, I sliced my left forearm and landed on the floor. The coppery smell of blood permeated the air. He sneered at me and poked his foot into my ribs—hard. I curled into a tight ball, protecting my head.

"I can't believe you're the Redeemer everyone's worried about." He grabbed my upper arm and yanked me onto my feet.

It had to be a case of mistaken identity, I realized. How could this guy possibly know me? Footsteps approached and Yellow Hair's nose-ringed partner strolled up the aisle and into sight, wiping a sword on his sleeve. Through my good eye, I could see a generous bloodstain all over his clothes, and my heart plummeted. Since we were the only ones here, the blood could only mean Kieran was either badly hurt or dead. I dropped my chin to my chest, trying not to scream, but my whole body shook.

"Why must you play with your kills?" Nose Ring asked Yellow Hair. "Just shoot her! I disposed of the guy she came with." He sauntered toward us. "He won't be a problem anymore."

"No!" I cried, and my legs gave out. I dropped to the floor, meaning to brace myself with good arm, but screamed as pain shot up my wrist when it slammed onto the pile of broken crates.

In the shadows to my left, a dark clothed figure emerged out of my captor's sight, his index finger pressed to his lips. The tall, mysterious man winked at me, then slid back into the darkness.

"I know all about you," Yellow Hair said, walking backward to stand in front of me and pointing the gun at my chest. A lock of greasy hair slid down, covering half his face. "And I know what you are."

I fought to breathe through the suffocating realization that I'd just lost my best friend, and I was about to die as well. Pain brought my world back into focus. I clutched my arm with the cuts and sat back on my feet, suddenly furious. Why was this happening? What had I ever done to these guys?

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Hope jumped to life. I squinted into the darkness, but there was nothing.

"Ha, ha, ha!" Yellow Hair laughed.

"No!" I said again, shaking my head as tremors wracked my body. Tears spilled down my cheeks, stinging my swollen eye, splatting water drops on the dirty cement floor. "You couldn't have k-k—"

"Shut up," Yellow Hair ordered. He poked the barrel against my shoulder and looked at his partner.

"Kieran can't be ... dead."