Lana could barely see him through slit eyelids. Lex stood over her, hands still around her neck, waiting for her final death throes.
No.
Her eyes fluttered. Lex didn't notice.
Not like this.
And then her eyes were open, her right knee swinging in a wide arc. She dimly heard a satisfying thumping noise. Whatever she had hit had been soft. She hoped it was his groin. He let out a roar and released her.
Lana rolled over, coughing and gasping as air returned to her deflated lungs. She lay there on the floor for a moment, savoring the pleasure of breathing.
"You bitch," Lex muttered. He lay on his side a few feet from her with his knees clutched to his chest. They lay there, a few feet apart, each temporarily in too much pain to move.
"You know," Lex said in between deep, panting breaths, "some would say that to kick a man there is unsportsmanlike."
She let out a delicious, satisfied laugh.
Lex struggled to rise up on his elbows. Lana attempted to slither away, but he caught her by the hair and yanked her towards him. She let out a sharp cry as she felt skin separate from scalp.
He was sitting up now. "You are…"
And he backhanded her. Lana reeled as blood dripped from her cheek.
"The most despicable wife I have ever had…"
He backhanded her again, the other side this time.
"And that's really saying something."
He sat there for a moment looking at her. His nostrils dilated quickly and his eyes glittered silver. This is what Nero must have looked like, Lana thought, as he burned Rome to the ground.
She let her own eyes glaze over in pain as she deliberated through the throbbing haze. Her mind traveled to their sparring sessions, kickboxing and martial arts. Lex's advantage had never been exceptional strength or speed. He was maybe slightly above average for a man of his height and weight. The way he outclassed his opponents was through strategy. He excelled in all matters tactical.
Lana knew that this advantage was lost, at least for the time being. It's difficult to think clearly when the mind is clouded by rage. Lex must have been mad as hell—she knew he hadn't come there to kill her. If he had, he would have had a weapon on him. He would have planned better. For instance, Lex hadn't even considered the fact that her legs were again free to do as she pleased. His mistake, her gain. She mentally readied herself for the blow.
CRACK. The sound rang out like cannon fire as her knee once again made contact. Blood jetted from his nose in a stream of scarlet, and as he clasped his face with his hands he allowed her to escape.
She scampered away, stood, and looked at him. She breathed heavily. A few strands of hair were matted to the mess on her cheek.
In the tercio de muerte, the matador will often turn his back to the bull, proving both his courage and his mastery over the animal. He will flaunt his cape to invite the bull close to him. In order to triumph, the fighter must ultimately maneuver the bull into a suitable position for the escotada—the final blow. To fail to do so is to risk being gored to death.
"You're possibly the worst husband since Henry the Eighth, Lex," she told him calmly. There was nothing to lose, now. "You had my replacement all ready, didn't you? Well, almost. You were close enough that I had to get out of there."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Lana," he growled. Blood continued to dribble between his fingers.
"Oh, don't I?" She edged away from him slowly. Unfortunately, it was towards the back of the chapel. Lex stood between her and the exit. "So you're telling me that what I found in your lab was a carnival puppet?" She laughed, shook her head. "Was I not enough for you, Lex? Was it that you were afraid I didn't love you? You would've been right." She noticed him balling his fists.
"I did at first, of course." She continued to walk slowly backwards. "But you were relentless, weren't you? Hiring a hypnotist to break up me and my boyfriend." A fleeting started look. "Yeah, I found out about that, too. Then having me followed. Spying on me as I ran daily errands just so I could get out of the house for a little while. So was that it, Lex? Did you know I had fallen out of love with you?"
Lana stopped and narrowed her eyes. "Or were you just afraid that I'd run into Clark's arms the first chance I got and deprive you of your little prize?"
Her plan worked precisely as she hoped it would. Lex dashed towards her. When he was almost within arm's reach, she grabbed one of the bronze candlesticks and swung as hard as she could. She was no major league pitcher, but her implement was heavy, a two foot narrow cylinder of solid metal. As it made contact with his abdomen Lex fell to the ground. He made a low moaning noise and doubled over in pain.
This was her chance. She darted away, giving him a wide berth, and ran for the exit.
Just as she reached the door, it swung open. She gasped.
Standing there was the man from earlier, the giant who had been following her on San Luis. He was at least a foot taller than she, maybe more. White hair topped a young but menacing face. It wasn't ugly, exactly, but there was something about the angles… It was as if an alien who had never visited Earth had been given a vague description of what humans looked like, and this is what he had drawn.
And there were the eyes. It wasn't their color, an ordinary brown with a circle of amber around the pupil. And it wasn't the shape. It was something that lurked behind them, insidious and threatening.
He had the eyes of a predator.
His mouth curled into a sneer, and he reached to grab her arm. Just as she opened her mouth to scream, a hand reached out from behind him and tapped his temple. He slumped to the floor.
The owner of the hand was a statuesque beauty. She stood tall, feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed. She reached out and took Lana's hand in her own. She moved jerkily, as if unused to this level of air pressure. There was a familiarity to her that Lana could not place.
"You must be Lana." A guileless face looked into her own speechless one. "We need to get you out of here."
The girls quickly exited the chapel. Lana was surprised to discover that it was nearly dark outside.
The stranger stopped suddenly, turned, and found her eyes again. Her flax-colored hair shifted in the breeze.
"Not that this is the best time for introductions," she said. "But my name's Kara."