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"I'm-all right-" she said, not at all sure that she really was. Andre strode
silently past her, face grim and purposeful. The man seemed to sense his
purpose, and smiled again-
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But Andre never faltered for even the barest moment.
The smile wavered and faded; the man fell back a step or two, surprised
that his weapon had failed him-
Then he scowled, and pulled something out of the sleeve of his
windbreaker; and to Diana's surprise, charged straight for Andre, his
sneakered feet scuffing on the cement-
And something suddenly blurring about his right hand. As it connected
with Andre's upraised arm, Diana realized what it was-almost too late.
"Andre-he has nunchuks-they're wood," she cried out urgently as Andre
grunted in unexpected pain. "He can kill you with them! Get out of here!"
Andre needed no second warning. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Leaving Diana to face the creature alone. She dropped into guard-stance as he
regarded her thoughtfully, still making no sound, not even of heavy
breathing. In a moment he seemed to make up his mind, and came at her. At
least he didn't smile again in that terrible way-perhaps the weapon was only
effective once. She hoped fervently he wouldn't try again-as an empath, she
was doubly vulnerable to a weapon forged of fear. They circled each other
warily, like two cats preparing to fight. Then Diana thought she saw an
opening-and took it. And quickly came to the conclusion that she was
overmatched, as he sent her tumbling with a badly bruised shin. The next few
moments reinforced that conclusion-he continued scatheless while she
picked up injury after painful injury. She was a brown belt in karate--but he
was a black belt in kung fu, and the contest was a pathetically uneven match.
She knew before very long that he was toying with her-and while he still
swung the wooden nunchuks, Andre did not dare move in close enough to
help. She realized (as fear dried her mouth, she grew more and more winded,
and she searched frantically for a means of escape) that she was as good as
dead. If only she could get those damn 'chuks away from him! And as she
ducked and stumbled against the curb, narrowly avoiding his strike, an idea
came to her. He knew from her moves-as she knew from his-that she was no
amateur. He would never expect an amateur's move from her-something
truly stupid and suicidal- So the next time he swung at her, she stood her
ground As the 'chuks came at her she took one step forward, smashing his
nose with the heel of her right hand and lifting her left to intercept the flying
batons. As it connected with her left hand with a sickening crunch, she
whirled and folded her entire body around hand and weapon, and went limp,
carrying it away from him. She collapsed in a heap at his feet, hand afire with
pain, eyes blurring, and waited for either death or salvation.
And salvation in the form of Andre rose behind her attacker. With one
savate kick he broke the man's back; Diana could hear it crack like a twig-and,
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before her assailant could collapse, a second double-handed blow sent him
crashing into the brick wall, head crushed like an eggshell.
Diana struggled to her feet and watched for some arcane transformation.
Nothing.
She staggered to the corpse, her face flat and expressionless-a sign she was
suppressing pain and shock with implacable iron will. Andre began to move
forward as if to stop her, then backed off again.
< She bent slightly, just enough to touch the shoulder of the body with
her good hand-and released the Power.
Andre pulled her back to safety as the corpse exploded into flame, burning
as if it had been soaked in oil. She watched the flames for one moment,
wooden-faced, then abruptly collapsed.
Andre caught her easily before she could hurt herself further, lifting her in
his arms as if she weighed no more than a kitten. "Ma pauvre petite," he
murmured, heading back toward the car at a swift but silent run. "It is the
hospital for you, I think-"
"Saint-Francis-" she gasped, every step jarring her hand and bringing tears
of pain to her eyes. "One of us-is on the night staff-Dr. Crane-"
"Bien," he replied. "Now be silent-"
"But-how are you-"
"In your car, foolish one."
"But-"
"I can drive."
"But-"
"And I have a license. Now, will you be silent?"
"How?" she said, disobeying him.
"Night school," he replied succinctly, reaching the car, putting her briefly
on her feet to unlock the passenger-side door, then lifting her into it. "You are
not the only one who knows of urban camouflage." This time she did not
reply-because she had fainted from pain. The emergency room was empty-for
which Andre was very grateful. His invocation of Dr. Crane brought a thin,
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bearded young man around to the tiny examining cubicle in record time.
"Godalmighty! What did you tangle with, a bus?" he exclaimed when stripping
her sweatsuit jacket and pants revealed that there was little of Diana that was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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