She must have been building up the spell as I was talking. The airbolt hit Fitz in the chest and knocked him off his chair. He slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor. From the angle of his neck, it was obvious he was dead.
I scrambled for the katana talisman, still on the desk. But Reynolds beat me to it, scooping it up and then stumbling backward on her high heels.
Sounding like a rain of exploding steel onto sheet metal, the machine gun fired and a line of red stains appeared on Reynolds’ white blouse as she was knocked backward against the wall. Most people would have crumbled under the assault; she stood straighter and pointed at Harold, and he dropped the tommy gun and curled up in a ball.
I’d seen that spell only once before, but I still recognized it. I didn’t want to watch.
Reynolds touched herself and the stains stopped growing. Black and I attacked her simultaneously. Fire made a bright orange rainbow across the room and hit her full on the chest. It had no effect; her protection spell was strong, helped, no doubt, by using the katana talisman.
The warrior from the hall burst in at that moment and pointed his weapon at Black and me. “Stop!” he yelled.
“Shoot them, fool,” Reynolds screamed.
Harold squawked, a sound to shatter small trees it seemed, and came across the room, his talons cutting the carpet. He was a six-foot black bird with large eyes and obsidian talons and a yellow hooked beak. Reynolds had turned him into a rukhkh. It would have been more merciful to kill him. Harold jumped, talons out as he sailed through the air.
“NOOOO!” Reynolds wailed and pointed at Harold/rukhkh.
But it was too late; Harold landed on the other warrior. Blood sprayed from the poor guy’s chest and the talons cut deep. Harold’s huge wings beat rapidly as he carved the warrior’s flesh, filling the room with a tornado of black feathers.
I stopped watching. Harold must have thought the other warrior was threatening his mistress. How he missed Black’s and my attacks I don’t know. Perhaps in what was left of his mind, a gun was more of a threat than anything else.
Reynolds’ plan became clear. She tore off her skirt, leaving her in girdle, stockings, and high heels only from the waist down. She put her hands against the outer wall and it fell away. Her blouse was darkening as her protection spell weakened.
Harold dropped the string of bowels in his beak, squawked even louder, ran across the room shredding more carpet, and jumped out the opening. Just then Reynolds’ blouse caught fire and she jumped out the gaping hole herself. A few moments later, with Reynolds straddling his back and her blouse simply missing, Harold flew down the street, quickly being obscured by the fog.
I said a very bad oath in the ancient language. “I need a rukhkh!” I called out needlessly. And the warrior, who was dead in a very large puddle of blood, was the last lesser I could use.
“No,” Black said, “you don’t.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking at him. Was this a trick?
He bent down and started pulling up the ripped carpet. “Look in Harold’s clothes; he might have had a knife,” Black said.
Harold’s suit was a pile of shredded cloth where he’d been transmogrified. I dug through them and pulled out a pocketknife. “Here.” I tossed it to Black.
He caught the knife, opened it, and started cutting. “Get Fitz’s talisman; you’ll need a strong one. I saw what the samurai talisman can do.”
I went to Fitz’s body and pulled a pebble out of his pocket. It had scratches in it that looked as if they’d been made five minutes ago. But by the spelling and grammar I could tell it had been written before or just after Atlantis sank. It was very powerful. Almost a match for the katana.
By then Black had a large enough piece of carpet cut for me to sit on. He even elevated it off the floor. I jumped on it.
“I thought it was you,” I said, sitting on the ripped and bloody floating carpet. “I’m sorry.”
Black pointed out the hole in the wall: “Get her!”
I flew the carpet out the hole and went in the general direction Reynolds had gone. But I realized that was foolish. I decided I had only one hope of finding her. I went up and broke through the fog.
The sky above the fog was crystal clear blue, and the fog was an intense white; the brilliance dazzled me. I surveyed the white horizon. It almost looked like a flat snowy plain from my childhood home. North, I could see the orange tops of the towers on the Golden Gate Bridge. The Bay Bridge towers were nubbins in the distance to the east. The Russ Building and the Pacific Telephone Building were just poking out of the fog, the mist swirling around their tops. To the south were Mount Sutro, Mount Davidson, and the hill for Buena Vista Park. I didn’t know whether it had a name.
I had expected to see Reynolds as a speck in the distance, fleeing for her life. But I didn’t see her at all, meaning she was still under the fog bank. I moved slowly in the last direction I had seen her go. I could see the tops of buildings under the fog, but not the street.
Off to my right, not very far away, I saw the fog flowing over an obstacle. I thought it was a building just under the surface, but the object moved. I came in closer and, just as I could tell it was a rukhkh perched on a building, I jerked the carpet away as Harold and Reynolds shot out of the fog. While trying to avoid the bird’s talons and beak, I also managed to miss Reynolds’ lightning bolt.
I swung the carpet around in time to see Reynolds duck into the fog again. I chased her, diving into the cold mist. I could still see her. She looked over her shoulder and sprayed fire at me that seemed to sizzle as it cut through the fog. I swerved the carpet to miss it and heard small explosions behind me as the fire hit buildings.
The advantage I had over Reynolds was that the carpet didn’t get tired, as the rukhkh eventually would. However, as I tired, I wouldn’t be able to keep the carpet going. So the more spells I shot at her, the faster I’d lose my ability to chase her. However, she could spell so much she’d pass out, and Harold would keep flying until he tuckered out.
I had to decide how I was going to fight her.
Reynolds was cutting around buildings, trying to lose me. I saw people on the street pointing up at us as we flew overhead. I decided Reynolds must be uncomfortably cold with her shoulders and arms bare, and legs protected only by thin silk stockings.
Reynolds ducked around the Russ Building. I followed, going too fast. Harold was hovering there and facing me. His talons cut painfully into my chest and knocked me off the carpet. I hung for a long, agonizing moment from those claws. Then, as my flesh ripped, I fell, watching my blood drip from the black hooks after me.