The water combined with the fire, creating clouds of steam that clung to us all. My hair fell to my shoulders in heavy clumps and my shirt stuck to my skin.
The rest of the group fared no better. Mandy's and Cheryl's faces seemed to melt as their makeup ran down their cheeks. And even the men who'd been awaiting tattoos seemed to have wilted and weakened. But we all continued doing what we could, throwing dirt and stamping on falling sparks.
All except Jack.
Suddenly, he looked up. . at me. Some kind of realization glowed in his eyes, and without saying a word he dashed around the back of the building.
I pushed a sad-looking Mandy out of my way and followed.
I heard Jack's growl-the unnatural sound of a wolverine pissed off to the point of exploding. I didn't know until I turned the second corner, taking me back to the sidewalk that ran between Mel's shop and the gym, that he was still in his human form.
Almost directly under one of Mel's giant floodlights, he stood, legs apart, hands at his sides but his fingers spread, stiff. Anger radiated from him.
When I came up beside him, I saw why.
Babies, two of them tucked into their little plastic seats, sat on the ground where only minutes earlier I'd lain beneath Jack. Beside them were the two women who had walked up on us-I recognized their shoes and shorts. And in their hands were guns-handguns, ugly black squared-off looking things.
"No reason for anyone to get hurt. Just stay where you are," one called. Her voice was steady, as was the gun in her hand. Her eyes shifted in her face, looking from Jack to me, to someone I couldn't see, hidden in the stairwell.
There was movement, a blond head appeared. My mother. Of course. She placed her fingers on the concrete top of the stairwell.
I knew her plan. I jumped forward, drawing the attention of the two armed women.
The gun clicked. My heart skipped, but I dropped and rolled forward. The gun exploded and I landed back on my feet, still ten feet from the women. One of them grabbed a baby carrier, the other froze. I could see the panic in her eyes, could see the gun shaking in her hand.
I relaxed; she'd panicked. We'd won.
But as her gaze darted over me, she raised the gun again. Her friend, the carrier's handle slipped over one arm, did the same. Two pairs of eyes, two guns, both pointed at me.
I froze, determined to drop at the first twitch of their fingers, determined to outmaneuver not one but two bullets.
Behind me my mother screamed, a war cry-anger, hate, and determination flying from her lungs.
The women jerked. The guns moved and then exploded. The women's faces pulled as they stared down at the guns in their hands, then back up at me, shocked. I turned, moving as if through water, slow and surreal. My mother stood on top of the stairwell, her arms out and her mouth open.
I'd never seen her look so fierce, so full of strength and power. I realized in that split second how much I loved her, how much I needed her now that I'd lost everything else.
Then the bullets hit and nothing happened. She didn't move; her face didn't change. Nothing. For a split second I thought she was safe. .
Then she took a step back. Two round splotches of blood grew on her chest and her gaze shot to me. Surprise and hurt, not physical pain, but loss. My lips parted; I took a step toward her.
And she fell backward into the stairwell.
She made no other sound, no yelp of pain, no curse of anger, nothing.
"No!" I spun, determined to knock the two women back to whatever hell had created them.
One of them, the one with the baby, lifted her gun again. I could hear Jack yelling, maybe he'd been yelling all along, but all I could see was my mother's killers and all I could think about was reaching them, destroying them.
Overhead something shrieked. I didn't look up, couldn't.
There was another click; somewhere in my brain I recognized it as the sound that came right before the gun fired. I could see the woman holding the baby now. I focused on her. Her eyes were blue and watery. Her hair was gray and tucked behind her ears. She wore tiny pearl earrings and today she was going to die.
There was another shriek, louder, closer.
Something big and dark dropped from the sky. . the bird from the woods. Its talons extended, it tore at my intended target's face and hair.
She screamed and dropped both the baby and the gun. The gun fired as it hit the ground, but the bullet went wild, lodging into the brick wall of Mel's shop.
The second woman paused, then dropped her gun and ran away from us toward the front of the building. At an old maple she stopped and picked something up off the ground. Not sure what was happening, I raced toward her. She glanced at me, but I didn't think she saw me. Then she glanced back at where the other woman battled with the bird, where the babies lay on the ground.
Her thumb hovered over the box.
I spun and yelled, but Jack had already started moving, as had the bird. They both raced toward the baby seats. Jack got there first, grabbing both by the handles as he ran toward me.
There was a click, this one softer and less metallic, and the space between the two buildings exploded.
I stood straight up, my arms over my head, and cursed.
Something smashed into me from the side. An ooof of pain and expelled breath left my body, and I was slammed onto my back. My face was covered by something both soft and scratchy; I couldn't breathe. I kicked out. Whatever had been covering me moved.
Dirt clouded the air blocking my view of anything but shapes. On all fours, I held my hand over my mouth and nose and peered at the world through squinted eyes. Something rustled nearby, then wings flapped, loud and close. . the bird. I felt the air move as he took off. The dirt seemed to clear some too, enough that I could see Mel's outside lights again and Jack. He stood fifteen feet away, his face streaming with sweat, his arms shaking and a baby carrier in each hand.
I scrambled to my feet, trying not to cough, and searched the area around us for the two women.
"They're gone. She blew something." Jack, his face ashen, glanced to where the woman with the tiny box had stood, then in almost the same movement slanted his head toward the stairwell where I had seen my mother fall-or what had been the stairwell. It was now filled with rubble.
I moved toward it, my legs stretching as long as they could, devouring the ground as quickly as they could.
Bern was there beside me. I didn't know where she'd come from. I hadn't seen her approach. But I didn't question her appearance. I just grabbed a piece of broken concrete and tossed it off the pile. Bern did the same.
As I lay my hand on a second segment, a man appeared, his walnut-brown body naked. He dove in, grabbing chunks in both hands and tossing them onto the ground behind us.
Soon the grass was strewn with debris.
"Was she. . is she?" I mumbled to myself, unable to comprehend that the mother I'd seen only as a super-Amazon lie trapped beneath pounds of stone.
A siren sounded; it was close.
"Humans to the rescue," the naked man muttered.
Jack jumped forward and grabbed him by one shoulder. Jack's fingers were pale against the other man's darker skin. "We'll take care of this. You have to leave. You're illegal as far as they're concerned, and naked. It will just cause new questions. Go to Makis's. I'll call you, let you know what's happening."
The man ignored him, kept tossing hunks of concrete, but with an increased fervor, an almost crazed energy.
Jack grabbed him again, by the arm this time, pulling him around. "Leave. You'll just create more questions."