20. Cheribelle #3
I looked across the room where Penelope, Chris, and Paul were doing their best, but it seemed like Luther was almost toying with them.
Since they were all on their feet, I guessed he hadn’t used his alpha voice on them.
That didn’t really make much sense, unless he was more like a cat playing with his meal rather than a wolf going in for the kill.
There was a storm of heated emotions whipping around so thickly that it occasionally superseded my actual color vision of the real world, but Luther was a completely blank slate in the center.
Not a drop of adrenaline or bloodlust. It still felt so entirely unnatural to me, and honestly? Kind of pissed me off.
Unfortunately, there was no handy kitchenette over there, so I looked around to see what I could do. Because this time, there was no skateboard I could steal borrow, and not really anywhere I could make a surprise entrance from.
I need to be close enough to make a difference but far enough that it would be difficult for them to reach me...
I looked around desperately, everyone moving in almost slow motion, before my eyes landed on a chunk of the roof that had collapsed with Luther’s unexpected entrance. It had completely smashed the small workout area and part of an entrance that led to another waterway.
Conveniently though, it was leaning up against the wall, which put it in jumping distance of a support beam that was also within jumping distance of an elaborate, wrought-iron hanging light fixture that looked like it could hold my weight.
Time to see if those gymnastics classes and free running club paid off!
Moving as fast as I could, I jumped back to the floor, grabbed a garbage bag, tossed just about everything I thought I could use into it, then secured the bag to my arm.
It was heavy enough that it would mess with my balance, but I would just have to make sure I thought ahead and use that to my advantage.
Haha. Thinking ahead. That’s a real strength of mine...
I ignored that voice and jumped down from the counter, glancing over at Jackson.
He had his still-smoking opponent on the ropes, before running full tilt at the collapsed bit of roof.
I put my all into it, seams in my dress pants groaning at the athleticism they were not made for, garbage bag thunking against my thigh and butt annoyingly hard.
But I didn’t let up, not even when I reached the sharply slanted mess of debris.
I used my momentum to sprint all the way up it until gravity kicked in, and I had to jump that last gap.
But all my skateboarding, dancing in my kitchen when I should have been washing dishes, and running up and down my stairs every time I forgot something paid off, because I was able to launch myself high enough to grip the edge of the fallen roof piece and haul myself up.
It probably only took ten seconds, maybe twice that, but it felt like an entire eternity. When I turned, I was sure I would see all the people I had come to care for were dead, and the three assassins standing above their bodies.
Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. But what I did see wasn’t all that comforting.
Penelope was down, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle while Chris fought against the cloaked assassin in front of her. Although I knew she would heal and probably only needed a minute to be ready to fight again, it still made my stomach twist.
Then there was Luther. Apparently, Jackson had wrapped up his scuffle with the other assassin while I had been running and climbing, because he had joined Paul. They were circling Luther, who was bleeding from his one good arm.
They never replaced his prosthetic. Was that because they didn’t want to, or because they couldn’t ?
Both had interesting and dire connotations, but I didn’t have time to map it all out in my head.
I scrambled up to the support I’d seen before, then readied myself for the biggest jump I had done since I was fourteen years old.
It was farther and much higher than when I’d vaulted up onto the canopy at the black market, and this time, if I fell…
Well, that would be even more dire.
That fact certainly didn’t ease my nerves, but a yelp from Jackson below and the distinct smell of sulfur told me I had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. I didn’t even take the time to look down at whatever spell Luther had just used. Putting all my power into my legs, I jumped.
I did everything I could to close the distance, including throwing my arms forward and even swinging the trash bag to further propel me forward.
And for a moment, I was so sure I wasn’t going to make it.
It was like I was suspended in the air, personally witnessing a slow-motion failure I would not come back from.
But then I collided with the chain holding the light fixture up, the force of my impact sending me swaying until I was almost horizontal.
Despite the force of the impact, I wrapped my arms around it and held on for dear life until the threat of me being thrown off like it was a bucking bronco had passed.
Holy shit! I did it!
But there was no time to celebrate my victory, because I could feel the air crackle around me and I figured that Luther was about to use his stolen electricity spell for the first time since he’d crashed in our hideout.
Stolen? Or gifted?
Again, yet another thing that didn’t really matter right now.
I slid the ties of the garbage bag off my arm and hooked one of them around the many prongs of the chandelier, then dug around inside.
Unfortunately, both sides were now in such close quarters that I couldn’t use bleach and vinegar to make chlorine gas, nor bleach and ammonia to make chloramine gas without hurting the VanMarches just as much as the enemy.
No, I needed something more targeted, and while peracetic acid was possible, I also needed to make sure that it didn’t splash onto Jackson or Paul.
Although I knew they would heal, they didn’t need to be distracted by the chemical burns.
So, I grabbed the dish soap. Not exactly what someone would expect to be used in an offensive capacity, but I was doing the best I could with my rudimentary knowledge and addiction to falling asleep to YouTube science channels.
Dumping out half the water in one of the sparkling water bottles, I squeezed a good amount of the dish soap in, then rooted around inside the bag for something else. It took me a couple of tries, but eventually I managed to get my hands on the olive oil, and I poured a good amount in there too.
This time I shook it for several seconds, making sure it was really mixed. With the neck of the bottle clamped between my teeth, I slowly clambered down toward the base of the chandelier.
I was a bit too far to be useful, though.
I could try throwing it, but I didn’t think my mixture would really do all that good with that application.
It needed less chucking and more dumping.
So, I carefully locked my legs around two of the largest arms of the chandelier and let myself slowly tilt until I was upside down.
Talk about a head rush.
Calling upon old skills I hadn’t used in ages, I used my core to swing myself back and forth. Small movements at first, barely enough to make the attachment point of the light fixture squeak. But after a few tries, I managed to swing far enough until I was close enough to grab onto another rafter.
Batting a hundred! I mused to myself, shocked. It really was amazing what a body could do in a life-or-death situation.
I slipped a little, enough to make me gasp, but I modified my hold and hauled myself onto the rafter.
I settled into a seated position with my legs on either side of the large, wooden beam.
Not too different from the one that had almost killed Jackson before I joined in on the murder-investigation festivities.
Finally, I was in the right position. Chris and Jackson were down, but Penelope had rejoined the fight, and she and Paul were doing their best to make sure none of them were permanently downed.
It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Luther was slightly separated and looked like he was about to charge Paul. Perfect timing.
I upended the bottle in the space between them, the liquid spreading everywhere.
My timing wasn’t exactly perfect, so some of it splashed uselessly onto Luther’s head, but it was enough that his feet slid out from under him when he hit the wet patch.
He flailed, one arm pinwheeling, and then he was flat on his back.
I can’t believe that worked! Summer slip-and-slide science for the win!
Ooooh, alliteration!
As much as I would have liked to safely stay on my perch, which possibly was the most stable thing I’d been on since the kitchenette counter, I’d left all my supplies on the chandelier.
Standing, I forced myself to leap back to the hanging light fixture, then climbed up to where I’d left my chemical arsenal.
From what I could hear, Paul was not wasting the opportunity I’d caused for him.
Maybe I was high on my own supply, but I couldn’t help but feel like the VanMarches and I fought together super well for a group who had never trained together.
It wasn’t like we were Tadgh sparring with his employees to make sure they were a cohesive unit.
Although, now I couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been prudent for us to do so.
There was that whole hindsight being twenty-twenty again.
I didn’t have many tricks up my sleeve, at least none that worked for such close quarters, but I still dug through the bag. I was down to two more bottles, so that was my hard limit no matter how inventive I tried to be.
What can I do to help from all the way up here?