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ib cage, though his face betrayed no discomfort, which meant he probably was using
the frogs’ batrachotoxins to block pain. Marla hoped she’d cracked a few of his ribs.
“Bethany, hit him!” Marla shouted.
“Oh, I’ll hit, all right,” she said, and something in her voice made Marla turn, but it was
too late. Bethany had a Taser-gun in her hand, a matte-black weapon whose shape
reminded Marla of a fluke or a lamprey, something nasty that wriggled and struck in the
dark. It was unlikely the weapon had the range necessary to hit Mutex, which meant
Bethany intended to use it on Marla, as if that weren’t obvious by the glee on her face,
her slit eyes and flickering tongue, the blush of heat and excitement in her cheeks; she
was intoxicated by her own treachery. There was no time for Marla to move, to strike,
or even to reverse her cloak, and once she was shocked by the electric current, she
would hit the ground, and once she hit the ground, she was meat.
A guttural voice filled the train car, sounds that made the small bones inside Marla’s
ears grind together, a language harsh as glacial ice cracking. She saw Rondeau entering
from the next car, his mouth open, his face twisted, and she realized that he was
Cursing, loosing a profanity fit to offend the ears of a god. The random wave of
destruction triggered by his Curse made the flat-screen television implode in a crash and
tinkle of glass, caused the reinforced windows in the train car to crack, and made the
Taser-gun short out in Bethany’s hand, breaking and sparking. Bethany gasped and
dropped the Taser. Marla sensed movement behind her and turned to see Mutex rushing
toward her at merely human speed. Rondeau Cursed again, and the train platform
cracked, one side rising as if in an earthquake, tilting Mutex off balance, sending him
tumbling into the ground again. Bethany was still staring at her hand, which was
scorched and smoking, when B slipped up behind her, armed with a heavy cast-iron
skillet he must have taken from the dining car. He struck Bethany on the back of the
head, and she fell, eyes rolling in her head. B stared down at her, then dropped the
skillet and wiped his hand on the front of his shirt. He looked at Marla, his eyes wild.
“She was trying to kill you,” he said, and Marla just nodded, since there was no time for
anything more in the way of thanks or reassurance.
Mutex was on his feet again, standing in the middle of a field of torpid frogs, his arms
crossed, looking at Marla, his face impassive.
Marla crossed her own arms, mimicking his stance. Rondeau stood on her left, and B on
her right. “So,” Marla said. “Time for us to have a chat?”
“You have caused me problems,” Mutex said. “I can no longer ignore you in the hopes
that you will leave. Perhaps you will see reason, and cease to pry into my affairs. You
are a stranger here, and have no stake in this place. I am offering you an opportunity to
leave unmolested.”
Marla snorted. “Yeah, sure. I’ll give you a chance to convince me. Let’s parlay.
Bethany was helping you, huh?”
Mutex cocked his head. “Of course. When you first set foot on the stairs, she alerted
me, and told me to come help her kill you. You are developing an unsavory reputation
in this city, and we both felt it was best to dispose of you now.”