Chapter Sixteen:

Chapter Sixteen:

"Get up." The woman said firmly. She had a commanding voice even though it was husky. Chime glanced at the body under the door and realized it was better if she did as she was told. She rose from her crouch slowly, arms hanging by her sides limply. Was there blood visible on her hand? Running down her arm? And where were the security guards? There had been gunshots, damn it. She almost found it amusing that she wanted security now when only a moment before she had been hoping to evade them.

"Back away." The woman ordered. And as Chime took a few steps back the woman came forward, stopping beside the unconscious body. She nudged the girl but there was no response from her. With a sigh the woman tilted her head at Chime. "Did you kill her?"

Chime forced an innocent expression, hoping her pain wasn't noticeable on her face. "Why don't you ask her? Maybe she can talk through a mouthful of blood and teeth."

The woman didn't respond to that for a moment. Then her lips pulled away from her teeth and she kicked the door off the small girl, flinging it toward Chime angrily.

Chime batted it down reflexively, ignoring the loud crashing it made as it hit the floor at her feet. She cocked her head. "Let me guess. Human?"

The woman paused in her visual study of the unconscious girl. Her head came back up and Chime saw herself reflected in the mirror of her shades. "What?" she demanded, a frown creasing the smooth skin of her brow.

"I said-" Chime began again.

The bathroom door opened once more, cutting her off. And a tourist, dressed in khakis and a bright yellow shirt entered. She took a step, catching sight of Chime and the two strangers and then came to dead stop as she saw the gun in the woman's hand. The red-haired assassin whirled, quick for a human.

And Chime chose that moment to pull out her new weapon.

The tourist gasped, big brown eyes moving from the assassin's weapon to Chime's. The assassin rose, spinning back around to face Chime and automatically lifting her weapon.

Chime already had her Sig pointed at the woman's forehead. "One more time." She said wearily. "Are you human, yes or no?"

The woman had stopped lifting her gun and now she held it before her tensely, shoulders lifting and falling warily.

"Yes or no? It's a simple question." Chime argued casually. "But why am I asking. If you had been Night World I would have had some kind of fight on my hands…"

The woman slowly inhaled and straightened, composing herself. Her face turned hard and cold as ice and it didn't win her brownie points.

Chime sighed. "Get out." She said.

The assassin almost frowned again. But Chime spoke once more, blue eyes flickering toward the tourist. "I said, get the hell out." She repeated coldly.

The tourist backed up, trembling and then whirled and raced out with a sob. The red-haired woman tilted her head, obviously watching the tourist scramble out from beneath her shades. The door slammed shut behind her and then Chime was alone with the assassin again.

She smiled. "Tourists." She said lightly. "You'd think they'd learn…" she came forward, pressing the barrel of her weapon against the woman's forehead. "Give it to me." She ordered, lifting her hand and suppressing the wince that threatened to break out along her face.

The woman smirked but she reversed the weapon after a moment and placed it into Chime's hand. Chime smiled and glanced at it. Another Sig. That was fine with her. She secured it behind her back, close to her tailbone but a bit to the side. And then her eyes caught on the woman's belt and widened. "Ooh!" she said excitedly, leaning in for a better look.

The woman exhaled, her breath rattling, as the barrel pressed further into her third eye.

"Are those clips?" Chime asked, eyes gleaming at the numerous packs attached to the woman's belt. "Take it off, please."

The woman swallowed but slowly lifted her arms. She moved to dig behind her back and Chime watched her with a knowing smile. She was going to try something, she saw it coming a mile away. It made her smile widen.

The belt came loose and Chime reached in with her wounded arm, grasping it. And then the woman's right hand came forward, a small blade in her hand gleaming wickedly in the bright lights if the bathroom.

Chime brought her gun arm down automatically, pulling it away from the woman's forehead to slam it against her wrist. The attack was deflected and then she leaned forward, bringing her leg up behind her back. Her boot smashed into the woman's face with a cracking sound and Chime righted herself with a frown as the woman staggered backward, clutching her eyes. She had only meant to stun the woman, not break anything.

The woman stopped, hand covering her eyes.

Chime lifted her weapon again, holding the belt against her side. And she exhaled quietly in relief as the woman lifted her head. Her mirrored shades hung in shattered pieces from the wire frame which was still looped around her ears. She blinked repeatedly, pulling the shades off and flinging them aside.

"You're really stupid, lady." Chime said to her, a cold anger rising inside her once she was sure the woman was all right. She cocked her head at her. "Do you know what I am?"

"A bitch?" the woman growled, fingers pressed to a cut below her eye. They were a lovely green, her eyes. A light green and they stood out perfectly against her blood red hair.

Chime laughed humorlessly. "Only to those who hold me at gunpoint." She said with a slight shrug. And her voice became hard again. "I don't think you understand what you're up against. Perhaps you were hired to kill me. Perhaps you just wanted some money, you and your friend." She nudged the unconscious woman's foot with her boot. "Whatever the case, you really don't want to screw with me right now."

The woman's eyes moved toward the knife which had slid to a stop under one of the bathroom sinks.

"I don't know how many more people are in this with you and at the moment I really don't care." Chime continued firmly. "But I am walking out of here alive and…" she broke off and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, "You know what? You're coming with me."

The woman straightened slowly, eyes widening a bit.

"Yes. You definitely are." Chime nodded. She sauntered over to the sink, eyes trained on the woman as she bent and retrieved the knife, placing it into her opposite boot. Then she lowered the gun, securing it along her back with the other Sig so that both handles pointed out of her sides.

The woman took a step back, watching Chime slowly. She swallowed tensely and asked quietly, "Why do they want you?"

Chime arched an eyebrow, coming forward, the duffel bag a bulk on her hip. "You tell me." She said coldly. "You work for them."

The woman's expression became quizzical. "I heard they've been looking for you for a while. A few years."

Chime paused. "Who?"

The woman shook her head. "I don't know who they are and I have never seen them. I work for someone who receives orders from them." She clenched her jaw. "He said it wouldn't be an easy job."

Chime squinted. "Was that a compliment?"

The woman smirked. "They said you were old." She said in what seemed to be spite. "You're one of them vamps, right? Shifters don't live long."

Chime sighed and twirled her finger. As the woman turned her back on her warily she came forward. "They didn't tell you much of anything, I can tell." She said, coming up behind the woman. She glanced down at her arm quickly, frowning at the line of blood dripping off her hand.

"Not a vamp?" the woman asked in surprise.

"Dragon, lady." She answered and she didn't know if the word had any effect on the assassin. She placed a hand on the woman's spine. "Let's move out."

The woman's shoulders fell in defeat and she reluctantly reached for the knob, pulling the bathroom door open.

Several loud commands rang out as they stepped out into the quiet hush of the airport. Chime took in the entire scene in seconds, looking about quickly.

Males dressed in a uniform of sorts were in defensive positions surrounding the bathroom door. She took count, light blue eyes surveying the situation. Seven men, all with weapons drawn. And civilians off to the sides, cowering and watching in wide-eyed interest from behind pillars.

The woman suddenly stiffened. "Oh, sh-" she whispered, her head snapping up to look toward the second floor overhead.

A single gunshot rang out. And the assassin lurched backward with a gurgle, crashing into Chime heavily.

The security guards whirled to look up toward the second level overlooking the main floor, Chime looking up also. But the security guards didn't see the man with the rifle. Only she did.

And when more gunshots rang out she began to move. They were all aimed at her, the gunshots. The woman in her arms was limp, a bloody mess made of her chest. Chime grimaced as she clutched the corpse with her wounded arm, holding the body against her. Another shot struck the woman in her shoulder, spraying blood and a third whizzed by Chime's head.

She ducked.

The security guards opened fire on the second level, their shots going wide. Chime couldn't believe it. They couldn't see him behind the pillar and she was staring him dead in his face.

With an impatient growl she shoved the woman's corpse away. She moved to take a step and the security guard directly before her took a shot in the throat, crashing to the floor and sliding in a mess of bright blood. Chime whirled away to avoid the blood, to avoid the sight of the dead security guard but it was there, scorched into her memories. With an angry glare she looked toward the second floor, murderous thoughts flying through her mind.

The man aimed the rifle down at her again.

She cursed, bending low, muscles tensing. And with a mere thought she was springing forward. She sailed over the body of the guard, a blur of black and blue, all grace and agility. She landed in a cat-like crouch five feet away and rose to her feet just as a shot streaked by the back of her head. Without pausing for a breath she threw up her arm instinctively to cover her face.

And finally she ran. She adjusted the duffel bag to rest along her spine and, leaving the remainder of the guards to cover her, she broke into a sprint. Or rather, it was a sprint for her. It was an all out race for a human. She ducked her head low, arms pumping, and she took off at an inhuman pace, each step taking her away from the bloody scene. She felt a slight shifting in her muscles, knew her human form was rippling to allow her the speed of a cat, the quicksilver reflexes.

People were screaming. She realized it as she ran but it was all a muffled vision. The adrenaline surging through her wasn't allowing her to feel pain and she knew once she got her muscles to relax her arm would be on fire and her ribs would be throbbing. She was vaguely aware of the gunshots. She could hear them following her at her heels, heard them breaking up the floor. Pieces of marble continued to spray her from behind.

But she didn't care. She realized it as she ran. She didn't care what the hell was going on around her. It was almost like believing that if one covered themselves from head to toe during the night the boogie man couldn't get them. She believed it then and she believed it now. If she looked ahead nothing would drag her back. There was no danger behind her, nothing to fear. Just herself and what lay in front, what lay before her.

She focused on running, on keeping her jaw locked tight and her eyes narrowed. Her hair floated behind her, along her shoulders and reaching out from under her bandanna. That almost made her pause. Her disguise was fading away. Her bangs were still black but her hair was growing to its normal length. The duffel bag continued to bounce along her spine, the barrels of the SIGs digging into the sides of her tailbone.

For a moment she wondered what would happen if they went off.

The floor to ceiling windows on her right side suddenly burst. Inward. She ducked her head automatically, protecting herself with her good arm and she veered away. But her ears rang with the shattering of glass. And small shards of it attacked her, tangling in her clothes and her hair, digging into her bare skin. Her boots slipped across the debris, nearly taking her down.

She ducked toward an escalator, darting under the second level. She couldn't see him now. Which meant he couldn't see her to shoot her. She came to a crouch beside the escalator wall and peeked around to survey the situation.

The floor was littered with the bodies of the security guards, all minus two who huddled behind corners and pillars. People were also strewn across the floor, many injured, very few dead. But even one innocent death was too much.

Was this all because of her? Because they didn't want her reaching Rayne? Now that she had the scrolls she was an even bigger threat. But was it because of that or because she was alive and awake?

It was then she remembered the windows had burst inward. She looked over quickly, at the bright light seeping in through the broken gaps and she saw a figure there, a dark form. It was a blur. She blinked to correct her vision, to focus it but when she opened her eyes the figure was gone. Just gone. She rose a bit, frowning in disbelief.

An explosion went off, echoing through the sudden quiet off the airport. A sharp force slammed into her good shoulder, flinging her backward. She toppled roughly onto her duffel bag, sliding across glass and marble.

And for a moment she lay there, in shock and pain. Her head had slammed into the hard floor, igniting sparks behind her shut eyes. And her entire body was aflame, agony shooting through her like wildfire. She couldn't move. At all. She had gathered herself stiffly and she felt as if she were made of cardboard. One wrong move and she'd snap into pieces.

She couldn't believe it. And through her pain she laughed, rather hysterically. Two shots and a stabbing in one week. And then there had been the incident with her house. It was comical, so unbelievably insane. She managed to open her eyes, opened them to slits and she saw a tall figure out of the corner of her eye, the rifle guy from the second floor, coming down the escalator. She turned her head slowly, painfully, to watch him through narrowed eyes as he rode down the escalator, carrying his rifle like a damn guitar. She twitched her shoulder and winced, couldn't help the reaction. Blood rose from it, and she was aware of a puddle widening under her prone body. Her dragon healing was sluggish, it would take hours to heal a wound like this.

Today was a good day to die, she decided finally. She turned her head to look toward the sun streaming in through the shattered windows. It was a warm day, would have been happier had it not been for assassins.

Hey, mom. I went to the airport today. Guess what happened? Yep. Terrorists...

She sighed wearily. She wanted her mother right then and there. Her mother had always been her comfort. She had been there to heal her cuts and blow kisses across scrapes. Sang to her to take away her tears.

Sing to me, mother. I think I'm going to cry.

The man was above her and she turned her head slowly to look at him. She smiled. It was him. Always him. The one that had burned her house down. The same one who had been after her and Thea in Washington.

He pointed the rifle at her. "She has decided you can't be allowed to live. You are much too powerful and can't be allowed to side with Daybreak." He told her flatly.

She sighed wearily, breath rattling loose from her crumpled form. Her arm bent up along her waist, her wounded elbow protesting. "Who has decided?" she asked in a whisper.

The man smiled, black eyes glittering. "An old friend." He answered. Then he paused, cocking his head. "Actually, she was never your friend."

Chime gazed at him for a long time. And then she chuckled humorlessly, eyes closing momentarily. "It's Maya." She stated. "Isn't it." And she wasn't asking because she knew it was the truth. It had to be.

The man shrugged. "You'll never know." He said coldly.

Chime twitched as the barrel of the rifle touched her forehead. It was cold, unwanted. Sent painful shivers down her spine.

The man leaned down and grasped the strap of the duffel bag, pulling it to free it from under Chime's limp body. She ducked her head, hand snaking under her hips, and the strap was pulled from her.

"It's a shame, too, that it has to end like this. So quickly." The man continued, winding the duffel bag strap around his lean wrist. "You were such a good opponent. Kept me on my toes."

Chime eyed him, suddenly wanting to tell him that he talked too much. But he seemed distracted. The Goddess knew he was distracting. She wanted to put herself out of her misery just to shut him up.

Then he looked down at her, one last long glance. "Goodnight, my rival." He said, pulling the duffel bag onto his shoulder.

Chime's right hand lifted, wounded shoulder screaming in protest, and she clamped onto the barrel of the rifle, jamming it aside and into the marble floor. The man staggered a bit, caught off balance, and he hunched forward awkwardly, refusing to let go of the rifle.

She pulled out one of the SIGs, leveling it against his smooth forehead and clenched her jaw.

"Good night-" she uttered, closing her eyes.

The rest of her sentence was cut off by a muffled gunshot, a sharp force jolting down her wounded elbow. Blood sprayed, flying everywhere, catching her in the face and the man toppled backward, falling to the floor heavily.

"My rival." She whispered and she opened her eyes and stared at his body, good shoulder raised off the floor. She realized she was trembling violently, the Sig wavering in her grasp. She remained where she was, ready for him in case he suddenly rose but praying to the Goddess he didn't.

She felt the sudden urge to weep.

Instead she gave a dry, whimpering sob as she slowly settled back onto the cold, hard floor. She had almost died. She had been in danger of it for the passed few weeks but only today had she come within seconds of it, seconds of having her head blown off. She whimpered again, her hand falling to the side limply, finger tangled with the trigger, and she stared up at the ceiling.

The humans had been cannon fodder. Hired to bring her down if possible but their lives had been expendable if they couldn't. The vampire was dead, finally. Had the figure outside been his partner from the Washington airport? No. He had blown all the windows. Vampires didn't have a power to shoot.

How many more of them were there?

A shout rang out from the side, back from where it had all started. The bathroom. And the cry woke her up from the dreamy state she had unwittingly lapsed into. She raised herself again, weakly and saw the very first human assassin take a step out of the bathroom, dark eyes wide at the scene before her.

The two remaining security guards were aiming at her.

Chime lifted herself with a muffled groan, wincing. Her shoulder was of little good but her elbow was on its way. She realized distantly that she was one big throbbing pain, sore in so many places she could no longer distinguish.

Just as she sat up the woman saw her. Her dark eyes narrowed in disbelief and she stiffened, staring at her. Then her gaze dropped to the vampire's corpse beside Chime and her jaw fell open.

One security guard shouted at her and the assassin looked at him dumbly.

Chime wondered in the back of her head if she had taken all the weapons from her when she had been unconscious in the bathroom.

A moment later her question was answered. Moving faster than Chime would have expected the woman streaked to the side, reaching into her jacket. A weapon appeared in her hand and with a tightening of her jaw she began to shoot, taking down one security guard immediately.

Chime slowly came to one knee, clutching her Sig and wounded shoulder with her gun hand. She lifted her eyes wearily, black hair falling down either side of her face and onto her tattered and bloody jacket.

The security guard remaining was shooting frantically, speaking rapidly into a small radio he held.

The woman ran low, ducking to the side and attacking back, brilliant lights sparking from her sleek weapon.

Chime rose, eyes trained on the woman. She straightened painfully, her face slowly darkening into a mask of serenity. Of purpose.

The woman threw herself behind a pillar, pausing momentarily to catch her breath.

Time seemed to slow. Chime frowned, watching the assassin as she loaded another clip into her weapon.

The security guard ceased to shoot and all around, people waited anxiously, muffled sobs echoing in the stillness of the airport.

Chime felt misery well up inside as the assassin laid her head back against the pillar. She seemed so unbearably young all of a sudden. Like a child. She watched her as she inhaled deeply and then expelled the breath. And then she watched the girl as she crossed herself, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Chime lifted her weapon, a fine trembling coursing through her body. And she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath to calm herself. To prepare herself. And to plead for mercy.

Forgive me, My Goddess.

The woman pulled out something, a pocket knife, from the back of her jeans. She flicked it open, staring at it blankly. And then she flung it, back in the general direction from which she had come.

It served its purpose.

The security guard followed the knife as it flew, squeezing out shots. And the woman whirled, gathering herself and breaking into a feverish sprint. She left the safety of the pillar, racing for the other side of the escalator to hide behind.

Chime tightened her jaw and fired. Once.

The shock coursed up her arm, jolting her elbow. But she barely felt it. All she felt, all she knew, was that a bright red splotch appeared along the girl's ribs, splashing the white shirt in hideous color. The girl pitched backward with a pained shout, slamming into the hard floor.

The security guard stared in disbelief at the writhing assassin on the floor.

Chime exhaled , lowering her weapon. She felt the guard's attention shift toward her but she was too far from caring. This wasn't her face and it wasn't her body. She secured the Sig along her back once more, under her belt of clips and then leaned down stiffly, grasping the strap of the duffel bag. She lifted it weakly, winding it around her head to rest along her good shoulder.

The security guard called to her.

Chime looked at him and shook her head wordlessly, wearily. She turned her head toward the windows and saw the cars pulling up. More officers. She turned away, kicking aside the dead vampire's rifle, and she began to stumble away toward the back.

People watched her as she trudged. And she kept her eyes down in shame. All because of her. Her knees trembled, threatening to give out and she gritted her teeth, forcing more strength, pulling all her remaining energy toward her legs. One step. And another. One leg after the next.

A footstep sounded directly behind her.

She whirled automatically, hand going for one of her SIGs along her back. But she missed it somehow and when she faced the person behind her the world didn't stop spinning around her. She blinked as a man came into focus momentarily. Then she exhaled, knees dissolving under her and she slumped into blackness.