A Shrine to an Unknown God

GIRLS WITH DAGGERS

A WEIGHT IS LIFTED from my back as Blondie grabs hold of my bag. My elbow slings backwards. I feel nothing. Just hear the crunch as it makes contact with his nose.

"He has a gun—!" Marisol is gasping as she flails wildly. "He has a gun! Fucking Christ, he has a gun!"

A loud beeping punctures the air, and a cold rain falls from the ceiling. Alekos, the passport between his teeth, has come out of his glass booth and taken hold of Ezra. Holding him with one hand, he holds a sleek black beetle-like device against the side of his temple. He shoves open the red door, triggering some kind of alarm system, and they disappear.

Anger boils in my bloodstream. What a coward, I think, running from a fight.

Beard slams Dahlia face-first into the table he had been playing at, holding her there as she struggles against his grip.

I slide beneath Muscles' legs, stabbing upwards with my dagger. The second mortal blood is spilled, time slows. My godly instincts slip in. The trickle of blood bounces onto my skin, salty as it lands on my lips. He yells and drops Marisol, grabbing hold of his bloody crotch.

She falls onto her hands and knees, gagging.

I come out the other side.

Muscles rolls on the ground in agony, his blood-soaked hands clutching at his crotch. He's no longer a threat.

I don't believe in senseless killing. He got what was coming to him and nothing more. His genitalia, now useless, will be a lesson. A constant reminder of this day. Don't fuck with girls with daggers.

Freckles unzips my bag, the zzzzzzzz barely audible over the beeping of the alarm. She looks blankly at the weapons, the knives and sword, the short spear and bow, the arrows and the small shield. Then she looks at me, crouching, bloodied, wielding a sharp dagger.

"What the fuck?" she spits.

Marisol shakily gets to her feet and then jumps on top of Beard's back, yanking him off of Dahlia in the process. Dahlia quickly turns and, using the table to push herself up, kicks the guy in the face. He throws Marisol off of him.

And then I throw my dagger at him.

It lands in his gut and knocks him off his feet. Leaving another one incapacitated but alive. I rip the dagger out.

"You two, get away from here!" I order Marisol and Dahlia, grabbing my bag and rooting through it until I find my sword. I zip it back up and toss it to Dahlia. "Get to safety." I hand Marisol the bloody dagger. "Use this to protect yourself."

"No way." Marisol looks at me like I've grown three heads. She's shaking, holding the dagger in both hands. Why did I ever think this girl was weak? "We stick together."

I remember the race we had, what seems like ages ago, when we first reached the mainland. She was an even match for me, and she won in the end. Chasing this coward down to save our friend? She might reach them before I do.

Dahlia pulls a spear from my bag. "Hell motherfucking yeah."

The three of us run out the red door, brandishing our weapons, coming out into the bright of day. We race down the alley and turn a corner—just then a woman jumps in front of me and slams me into the brick wall. I recognize her—she was the girl standing in front of the currency exchange.

My head hits it the hardest, spinning stars into my vision. Marisol and Dahlia tug at her shoulders, but she only moves when I slice my sword into her ribcage. Her blood hisses as it sputters out. She stumbles backwards. Spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, she reels her fist back, but she's slow, clumsy, and top-heavy—mortal as they come.

I duck and her closed fist slams into the brick, splitting skin and shattering bone. With her momentarily distracted, I ram into her chest, knocking her off her feet. I land on top of her and jam my sword into her open wound. Not deep enough to kill—just deep enough that the pain and blood loss knock her out.

Her eyes roll back in her head, and a jolt of panic wipes through me. Did I kill her? Fucking Zeus Almighty, did I—?

I dig my fingers into her neck, checking for a pulse. The deep hum of her heartbeat reverberates through my fingers. Relieved tears spring to the corners of my eyes.

Jumping up, I'm running after Marisol and Dahlia before my feet have even reached the ground. Further on down the street and down an alleyway, they've reached Ezra and Alekos. With an almighty roar Marisol jumps on top of Alekos' back, jabbing her fingers into his snake eyes like a spear into a fish.

He lets go of Ezra, who runs into Dahlia's waiting arms. Both the small black object and the passport clatter to the ground.

"Are you all right?" Dahlia asks Ezra. "Did he hurt you?"

Ezra is sobbing, uncontrollable. He tries to speak but is unable to through the tears. He sinks to his knees, pulling Dahlia with him, and cries into her lap as she strokes his hair.

Alekos screams and throws his feet forwards, knocking himself off his feet. Marisol, still hooked to his back, slams into the ground on her back. He lands on top of her and quickly turns over, shoving his arm into her neck, using his feet to pin her legs to the ground.

Frantic and sputtering, Marisol reaches for the black object, but it's just out of her reach.

Bloody as they are, Alekos' eyes are maniacal. He grabs the object, his arm shaking, and digs it into Marisol's cheek.