Draconic Amnesty

Chapter 11 - Hero

“Enzo’s men.” Yuki pulled a handgun, a Colt Defender 9mm, from under the table. “Were you cloaked?”

“Hell if I know.” Elias rose, cracked his neck, and reached for the painted bowl. With most of his fingers stuck in a curled position, he scooped a handful of marbles and secured them with a slight squeeze.

Glass broke in the living room. Shards landed on the carpet, a quiet sound even for his ears.

“Stay here.” She moved toward the dining room, a rapid prowl, her back hunched and head lowered.

Grease coated the lower half of his face, a full stomach protested the slightest movements, and sleep beckoned like the prostitutes at the corner of Sandy and Prescott. This wasn’t his fight; he should walk right out the front door. She even requested as much.

Muffled shots were fired in the adjacent room followed by the significantly louder discharge of Yuki’s weapon. A few bullets impacted wood; others thumped into something softer. Three sets of footsteps on the carpet, not including her. One body crumpled to the floor. The entire scene played out in his mind, sound serving as his eyes.

He stepped into the dining room. She crouched, back against a wall, gun held up. In the adjoining room, through a wide open entryway, a large leather couch with bullet holes hid the two remaining intruders.

“Get down.” She motioned for him to duck and join her by the wall.

Elias walked to the entryway and stood directly in the middle. Tilting his hand, he rolled a marble over his forefinger and readied his thumb behind it.

“They’re in there,” she half whispered, voice laced with urgency.

The top of a masked head, barely visible over the sofa, moved. Elias stepped to the side. A shot fired. The bullet flew through the couch and embedded in the wall behind him.

“What are you doing. Get down, you idiot.”

The other man stood and aimed but Elias was faster. His thumb flicked and a marble rocketed from his hand. A sudden squishing sound. The man dropped his gun and screamed, his hands covering an eye socket that seeped reddish fluid. He collapsed, a heavy thwump, and groaned in agony, rolling on the floor. Elias prepared another marble.

“Cabron!” Two more shots through the furniture. The first shattered an empty vase in the background; the second grazed Elias’s shoulder, slicing the sleeve and drawing blood.

Amidst the cries of his partner, the gunman yelled in a Spanish accent, “Da fuck you do to him, man?”

Yuki tugged at Elias’s jeans. “You trying to get yourself killed?”

“Left or right eye?” Elias asked, suppressing a yawn.

The sliding of fabric against leather. A click. He leaned his head to the right and a bullet flew past his left ear.

“I’m going to kill you, mother fucker!”

He ducked before three projectiles occupied the space where his torso had been moments earlier. “You’ll stand. When you do I’ll pop one of your eyes. Choose the one you’d like to keep.”

“Fuck man!” His voice cracked, likely attempting to conceal the sound of frantic reloading. “You on drasp or som—”

Elias leapt up and bounded over the couch, foot impacting the intruder’s head with a thwack. Dressed entirely in black, the man sprawled out on the floor like a human bearskin. Next to him, one partner curled and moaned, clutching at his face. The other lay dead on his back, the carpet underneath drenched in crimson.