Strange Aeons [Book 1]

9. High Noon in Boston [part II]

He raised, painfully, while his shoulder sorely protested being moved around with the knife still in place inside and peeked over the counter with the utmost prudence.

There was an ibis, perched on the windowsill.

Quite a big, black-and-white, gracious ibis, standing in all of its elegance, looking inside the room as if it was his own home, with its little eyes filled with hate and disdain. It was searching the room for one specific thing, and it froze when it locked eyes with Chico, transfixing on him.

In a matter of seconds, just the time to blink, and Chico screamed when he found another knife, lodged in his left thigh. The pain of the deep wound was astounding, even if it had missed his artery by inches.

The Ibis... the invisible knife throwing... Justin? Truetime?

His brain was trying to work faster, despite the blood loss. He took off his shirt and tried to tie it around the leg wound to slow the bleeding, but he was bleeding badly, even with the knife still in place. Moving wasn't doing miracles.

Luckily, a mage is never really alone. It took just a thought and the dark silhouette of Soballende crawled down from his shoulders, creeping on the wall.

He slithered in the few shadows of the room, until he had a good visual of the Ibis, who seemed to be meditating. He had just opened his wide black wings, when Soballende exited from the shadows right beneath him, materializing in his black cat form mid-air. Chico heard the snapping of his fangs on the air, as the ibis avoided the attack at the last moment, losing just some back feathers to his enemy.

A classic feline-bird chase scene ensued. Jumping graciously from surface to surface, Soballende was trying to intercept the ibis with tall jumps and pirouettes, while the winged beast started screaming menacingly, avoiding the attacks.

This time, a throwing knife passed sharp through the air, with a hiss. But it missed by a mile, hitting the bathroom mirror. Seven years of mala suerte, thought Chico. But if that shot meant something, was that the surgical hits of some time before were now much less surgical. The ibis was the key. Clearly, without the bird, he had lost some of his control on the situation.

Time for him to lose it all.

The ibis was so focused on avoiding Soballende's attacks, he lost track of Chico's movements.

Slowly, gently, he raised a hand on the kitchen table, feeling around. Luckily, Banshee was a messy cook. He was sure at least one knife had to be there.

And after two attempts at finding it just by touching, there it was.

Still moving slowly, he took it up. He just needed Soballende to bring the ibis within his reach. He told him so through their mental link, and without even blinking, the black cat started to pace his attacks with a more refined aim and scheme.

The ibis, mad with panic, thought only about saving his hide, not noticing that Soballende's last attack had been largely wrongfully calculated. Chico jumped from behind the flying animal, plunging forward with the meat knife and slicing off one of his wings with perfect precision, his shoulder throbbing with waves of pain.

The ibis's pain scream was heart-breaking, as the animal fell to the ground, spurting blood everywhere. With adrenaline crazed eyes, Chico took the animal's neck in his right hand, firmly. The bird weakly tried to squirm free from his grasp.

Chico raised the bird and the knife towards the window.

«Mira!» he shouted, to his mysterious attacker. And with the precise and premeditated movements of a madman, took the head of the ibis between his teeth and tore it away from its body with just one, incredibly powerful bite.