One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 11, page 2

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Zhíno Zhudıro finished his diatribe with, “Who’s insane now, bitch?” and proceeded to laugh right in the face of the startled twin of Vítí.

Fírí blinked several times and tilted her head back to look down her nose at him. With a sneer, she replied, “Uh, still you.”

It only made Zhíno laugh harder.

He felt good. Nothing hurt anymore. His eyesight was a bit blurry, but Fírí’s pepper spray hadn’t caused any pain at all. He had more energy than ever before and felt stronger than ever before, despite his gunshots and broken wrist. If those Colonial Enforcers busted in right then, he wouldn’t even bother to hide from their barrage of bullets. He was invincible.

To his ex-girlfriend, Zhíno calmly said, “If I’m insane, you Névo-brained whore of Rana, there’s no point in arguing with me. So why don’t you lay down on the altar and we’ll get this ceremony started.”

Fírí shook her head, her large blue eyes fixed upon him. “No,” she snarled. “No.”

From the far side of the chapel, the old lady called out, “That’s not the way it works, Zhíno dear.”

Zhíno turned to look at her, squinting in the dimness. “What do you mean?”

The old woman, whom Fírí had called Vata, started shuffling towards them, passing between two flaming torches stuck in the ground. Her hands were empty. “To do this right, I need you to lie down on the altar first.”

“Why?” asked Zhíno, with puckered brow. He leaned forward, placing his left hand on the altar before realizing that his mangled wrist couldn’t support any weight. Maybe his body needed fixing up, after all.

Vata reached the opposite side of the rectangular stone slab, from which she picked up the dead dog with no apparent difficulty despite her small size. She must have the same strength flowing through her as Zhíno felt. It was the strength of the god Névazhíno, the divine power of a billion animals.

Holding the dog’s body with both arms in front of her, Vata smiled kindly and responded, “The altar is for the recipient as well, dear.” She turned away, leaving Zhíno to do as he pleased.

He still wanted to kill Fírí, to enact his revenge for her betrayal, but that desire was fading. The more he stood here by the altar, under the influence of Névazhíno, the less it seemed to matter. Névazhíno was called the Love of the Universe, he seemed to remember, and now he could feel why. Despite all his anger, his lust for retribution, and his scorn for Fírí, Zhíno could not bring himself to retrieve the knife or even smack the Vítí-twin across her face.

This was the old lady’s chapel. This was the old lady’s cult. She knew the ways of the ceremonies far better than Zhíno did. If she said he had to lie on the altar now, it was because her god Névazhíno needed it that way. It was the only way to fully heal these wounds and finish off Fírí forever.

Using his functional right hand for support, Zhíno hopped up onto the altar and stretched out his feet on the slab.

He was ready for his miracle.

(next page)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 11, page 1

(start of book) (previous chapter) (previous page)

Chapter 11: Finally, Someone Gets Arrested



Emperor Bhanar of the House of Narakamíníkı dreamed of a soaring throneroom replete with imperial banners and a motorbike racetrack. At the moment, he was not racing, but merely observing the bikers zip around, flying high off the dirt jumps.

Behind him, someone was talking, disrupting his entertainment. He stood up from his throne, adjusted his fur-lined cloak, and circled the ornate wood chair. No one was there.

And yet the voices grew louder.

They were muffled, yet distinctly in a foreign language. Sarıman, perhaps. He knew Sarıman. He could speak it.

The voices said something about a room and a person--a male person. They were going to see him. Something about injuries. They were going to see “Bhanar.”

The young emperor jerked awake. The voices weren’t from his dream, but reality. Someone was coming.

Bhanar sat up on the soft bed and looked at his surroundings. A dark bedroom he barely recognized. A musty odor in the air. Where was he?

The bedroom door swung open revealing several dark forms silhouetted against the brightness beyond. Someone flicked on the lights and Bhanar had to close his eyes momentarily.

A man with a deep voice: “Just as I said, there he is. You can check him if you want, but you’ll find his legs are perfectly healthy.”

Bhanar reopened his eyes to find two middle-aged men in blue paramedic uniforms approaching him. Behind them stood the old man, Pí‘oro. Memories came flooding back to Bhanar. This was Pí‘oro’s house. His wife, Vata, had brought Bhanar to this bed, after Zhíanoso had healed his legs.

One of the medics started saying, “Hi. We’d like to look at--”

Bhanar threw aside the blanket, staring down at his own legs. He still wore his denim pants thankfully, and his shoes, for that matter, but what drew everyone’s attention was the darkly stained white cloth bandage tied around his right shin.

The lead medic reached gingerly toward the bandage, but before he touched it, Bhanar lifted his leg and twirled his foot. No pain, of course. Zhíanoso hadn’t been just a dream. Bhanar had truly experienced a miracle.

“That doesn’t hurt?” the medic asked.

“No,” replied Bhanar, a smile creeping onto his face. “The great Zhíanoso healed me. My legs are not broken now.”

He bent his knee and started untying the bandage. He had to see his unbroken leg with his own two eyes.

(next page)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 10, page 7

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Vata Kılímí bent over and scooped the knife off the dirt floor, deftly wiping it on her skirt. Hopefully the blonde’s pepper spray would pacify Zhíno. Vata needed to get him relaxed and on the altar before she could heal him. One way would be to tranquilize him with the drug Vata used on the horse and the dog, but she’d never used it on a human being before. That serum was intended for sacrifices, not recipients. If only he felt the same overwhelming grace from Névazhíno as Vata did, the young man would practically float onto the altar.

Vata reached out a gentle hand toward Zhíno, but stopped short when he lowered his hands from his face.

He straightened up and faced Fírí with a serene expression. The whites of his eyes had turned red, but he held them open as if he felt no pain. Névazhíno’s healing hands were already upon him.

“That was good, babydoll, but you’re ten years too late. You’ll never make up for your betrayal tonight.”

Vata didn’t know what betrayal he referred to, but didn’t care much either. She just wanted to heal him. Her head buzzed with the essence of the God of Animals.

Fírí backed away two wobbly steps, her eyebrows creased with worry and confusion. It didn’t appear as if the girl understood Zhíno any better than Vata did.

The horse kicked at the dirt, neighing softly, as if to remind Vata that she was waking up. Vata needed to give her a new dose or else she’d be wandering around the chapel. With the police mucking about outside, taking the horse back to her stable would be impossible.

Zhíno’s injuries--two injured arms and now irritated eyes--were obviously not life-threatening enough to require the sacrifice of the horse, but no other options presented themselves to Vata. With Névazhíno already present, time was of the essence. He certainly wouldn’t enjoy being kept waiting. O Névazhíno, what should I do?

Zhíno glanced down at his feet, then to the knife in Vata’s hand. “Give me that back, you sneaky hag. I have unfinished business with it.”

The god did not answer Vata. He was prepared to do His part, but first Vata had to figure out her problems on her own. She had to concentrate through the fog of elation caused by His proximity.

Before Vata could answer, Zhíno turned his attention back to Fírí and waggled his bandaged hand at her. “It’s too late to change your ways now, so just lay down on the altar and we’ll get this show started.”

Fírí stepped backwards again. “Don’t give him the knife, Vata. Please.”

Vata blinked. Somehow, the blonde had seen through her charade. Fírí knew she wasn’t intending to sacrifice her, and probably so did Zhíno. At least she was able to disarm him while the ruse lasted.

Vata held the knife far from Zhíno. “Don’t worry, dear. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Fírí frowned, as if she didn’t expect that response, after all.

The horse nickered and pushed herself to her feet, looking around to inspect her surroundings.

Zhíno spun on Vata, murderous rage burning in his eyes--or maybe that was just a combination of the pepper spray and torchlight. “Give me the knife, you Nuví hag! I have to punish the Tara-fucking twin of Vítí for what she’s done to me.”

Vata smiled. There he goes again, associating me with the wonderful High Goddess of Earth, as if it’s an insult. The horse whinnied, staring at Vata. I need to do something about that horse.

Fírí’s jaw dropped, her eyes focused nowhere but Zhíno. “What have I done?” She shook her head, a smile growing upon her pale face. “You’re not talking about earlier tonight, are you?” She laughed sharply. “It wasn’t me who shot at that truck without provocation. It wasn’t me who killed a policeman. It wasn’t me who made a deal with murderous thugs, smuggling weapons that will be used for a Nunıta-knows-what nefarious purpose--probably to attack the government or--”

“You betrayed me,” snarled Zhíno, as if that explained everything.

He made a swipe for the knife but Vata jerked it out of his reach, stepping away from him. She rubbed her temples with her empty hand. She had to ignore these squabbling kids and concentrate on her own situation. The swirling spirit of Névazhíno made logical thought most difficult, however.

The horse neighed again and began circling the altar towards the young blonde’s back.

Fírí snapped, “I didn’t do anything to you,” waving her hand wildly and not noticing the approaching animal.

Zhíno jabbed his index finger at her. “You Névo-brained whore of Rana, you don’t get it! You abandoned me when I needed your help the most. I was injured and hunted and in a hurry and you just left--”

“You’d gone insane!” Fírí screamed, her hands clenched in fists.

The horse sniffed at the back of the girl’s neck. Fírí swatted absentmindedly at it, her attention fixed upon her ex-boyfriend. Vata clicked her tongue to draw the horse away. It swung its head and took a step Vata’s direction.

One way or another, Vata had to re-tranquilize the animal. She began shuffling over to the shelves where she kept the serum and the syringes. The horse followed her.

In a lofty voice, Zhíno replied, “Oh, I’m insane, am I? Insane like Rékaré, you mean. I’m insane enough to hunt you down and trap you in this hidden chapel, you mean. Insane enough to kill you and heal myself at the same time.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not the Névo-brain who led her hunter to the only place in all the worlds where he wouldn’t feel pain. I’m not the one who can’t even hide her tracks!” He laughed maniacally. “Who’s insane now, bitch?”

Vata concentrated, furrowing her brow, blocking out all else but the problem at hand. Would Névazhíno object to the sacrifice of a horse when it wasn’t completely necessary? He was here. He knew the situation. He knew the horse was the only animal available.

Vata sighed. She knew she couldn’t waste one of His most glorious animals for a scumbag like Zhíno. Some way, somehow, Vata would have to retrieve a smaller animal from the back yard without the police spotting her.

If only that seemed at all possible.

(next chapter)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 10, page 6

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Séara Nulıpésha knew she had to arrest Mr. Kılímo. The paramedics wouldn’t lie to her, surely. But it just was so darn implausible--every step of the way--that Mr. Kılímo would have gone into town in the late evening, killed a Colonial Enforcer, and returned to his home as if nothing had happened. Knowing all that, she was quite willing to delay actually arresting the gentle, old man. Before she did that, she could let him take the medics to the victim they’d been clamoring about.

She let out a quick breath and said, “All right, take them to the victim without me, but I’m not leaving.”

If she was really arresting him, she could barge right in and look around all she wanted. Since she wasn’t doing that, Mr. Kılímo would easily realize that she wasn’t serious about taking him into custody.

A big, friendly grin on his face, Mr. Kılímo gestured the medics inside. “Come on in. I’ll take you right to Bhanar and show you that you’re not needed.”

The two medics walked past Séara without giving her so much as eye contact. The second man bumped her shoulder slightly. It wasn’t hard enough to definitely be on purpose, but his lack of apology made it seem that it was.

Mr. Kılímo shut the door with a thump after the paramedics entered the house, leaving Séara alone in the desert night.

Why had that medic bumped her? Here she was, doing everything she could to help them get inside, and this was how they showed their gratitude?

She turned her back on the door and crossed her arms, moisture gathering in her eyes.

Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this job. Here was her first big test and for some reason she felt like she was failing. True, she’d gotten the medics inside, but it took forever. She’d told Mr. Kılímo she was arresting him, but then she didn’t follow through on it. She didn’t even know why she had said that to him. She surely didn’t trust those paramedics more than she trusted Mr. Kılímo, so why had she taken their word for anything? They were probably just upset that he hadn’t let them inside. They were just trying to get revenge on him, and using Séara to do it. And he bumped her just to show his contempt.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared up into the night sky.

Is it always going to be like this? Will the men I work with always treat me like this, taking advantage of a poor little girl? She carefully wiped the tear away. Will I always play right into their hands and make a fool of myself?

The distant stars provided no response.

(next page)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 10, page 5

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Fírí Parızada cowered against the altar, breathing short and fast. Her crazy ex-boyfriend and the old lady were going to kill her, sacrifice her to Névazhíno. She had to do something. She had to escape.

But her muscles quivered, unable to stand up.

Why had she trusted Zhíno? He was a lying Zhéporé-spawn if there ever was one. He had always professed his love for her, but that was obviously all faked. Why did he now bother claiming she’d never been strong-willed enough for him? He’d supposedly fallen in love with the “weak” Fírí, hadn’t he? So why would he try to rewrite history now?

Zhíno loomed over her and greedily laughed. “Let’s do it.”

His cackle brought back memories of their bedroom: the grin on his face as she entered wearing those silly outfits; his laughing with excitement as she tied his wrists and ankles to the bed; and his moans mixed with abrupt screams of joy as she hit him with that awful cat-o-nine-tails and the other nasty whips and weapons.

“Come on, babydoll,” Zhíno coochicooed. “Hop on up and let’s get going!”

If the bastard took sexual pleasure from being tortured, why wasn’t he the one to be laid out on the table? Surely he’d like it. Fírí had always held back in beating him, because she loved him. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, for Vuzhí’s sake. Now, though, that love was all gone. She’d gladly hurt Zhíno, any way she could. If he wanted a strong Fírí who beat him, now was the time she was finally willing.

Still in that silly sing-song voice, Zhíno said, “Get up, whore of Rana.”

Not looking up, Fírí dropped her right hand to her sweatshirt pocket and fished for the little can of pepper spray. Her fingers rubbed against the auto keys as she wrapped her hand around the can. When Zhíno first came in, he’d demanded she give him those keys. For some reason, though, he seemed to have forgotten about them. Did he want to drive away or didn’t he? He probably didn’t care; he just wanted to exhibit his control and power over her.

Well, Vuzhí and Pétíso, that power was gone. She was her own woman now. She’d never trust that lying sack of gooseshit again.

Fírí sniffled, jutted out her jaw, and looked up at her ex-boyfriend.

Vata gripped Zhíno’s knife-wielding wrist.

“Give me the knife, dear.”

Zhíno stared at the old hag, a demented grin upon his face. He didn’t release the knife.

Hidden behind the altar, the drugged horse weakly neighed.

Fírí pushed herself to her feet, her left hand clutching the altar and her right hand still in her pocket.

“You want me to hurt you, Zhíno? To be strong?”

Zhíno’s eyes flitted to Fírí. He squinted with puzzlement. “What the plagues do you think I was just saying, Névo-brain?” He yanked his wrist free of Vata’s grasp and swirled the knife in the air between them. “What do you think I’ve been saying for years?”

Fírí pulled the pepper spray from her pocket and squirted Zhíno in the face, aiming for his beady little eyes.

“Aaaugh!” Zhíno twisted away, dropping the knife as his hands flew to guard his eyes.

“How do you like that, you worthless, Ahísıhíta-damned cretin?” An involuntary grin parted Fírí’s full lips as adrenaline entered her bloodstream. Somehow, hurting Zhíno made her feel more alive than she had in years. She chuckled. “Serves you right, you bastard.”

(next page)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 10, page 4

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Pí‘oro Kılímo walked across the front room after locking the kitchen windows and the kitchen-garage door. Little Séara had finally stopped knocking. Either she’d left or she was just biding her time, unsure what to do.

He heard a man’s voice in front of the house, indistinct.

If Séara had run off to help chase Zhíno, that left the paramedics all alone out there. Which meant Pí‘oro could direct them to Bhanar, show them they’re not needed, and get rid of them before any police tried to get into the house. He’d have to tell them some story about Bhanar not being injured after all, that the Enforcer was mistaken. The kid was in a lot of pain, sure, but he didn’t break any bones!

All of this was based on the assumption that Vata had successfully healed the foreign kid and took him to the spare bedroom to sleep. If the bed was empty when he opened the bedroom door, Pí‘oro would have to think fast. Hopefully that blonde girl hadn’t distracted his wife from performing the ceremony. Hopefully neither of them would exit the secret door into the hallway when he had the medics right there.

Pí‘oro paused in the entryway and listened. Still just male voices outside. He reached out and opened the door.

The two medics turned to face him, a few meters away. Both had been facing to Pí‘oro’s left, at the front window, as if they were thinking about breaking in. Good thing I opened the door. We don’t need any more stuff damaged tonight.

Pí‘oro growled, “Are you coming in or not?”

They glanced to Pí‘oro’s left just before a burst of radio static came from that direction, followed by a scratchy voice announcing, “Aerial One is airborne. ETA to Tuhanı, nine minutes.”

Someone was there.

Séara stepped into view less than a meter from the door, her face tilted up higher than necessary and her typical smile nonexistent. “Yes, they’re coming in, Mr. Kılímo, and so am I.”

Aw, plagues. Now he had to get rid of the girl. Pí‘oro rubbed his forehead.

If he remembered correctly, Aerial One was the Pívo County Constabulary’s only helicopter. They were joining the hunt for Zhíno, which was what little Séara the lawman should be doing, too.

Pí‘oro shook his head. “No, darling, you’re not coming in. You’re here on business, so you can stay out. Next time, how about you visit when you’re not in uniform? For now, though, why don’t you go search for the murderer in my back yard with the Enforcers?”

The short brunette bit her lower lip for a couple seconds before replying, “You’re under arrest.”

Pí‘oro snorted a laugh. “What for?” She really wasn’t a very good policeman. Not even the Enforcer lieutenant had tried to arrest him yet.

Séara took a breath to retort something, but remained silent, her mouth partly open.

Behind her, one of the medics offered, “For the murder of that Colonial Enforcer! Now arrest him and let us get to the victim.”

The old man grinned widely. “You know I wouldn’t kill anybody, darling, don’t you?” He reached out his hand toward the medics. “Let me take them to the boy and you can get back to chasing the man who was shooting at Enforcers in my kitchen a few minutes ago.”

Séara chewed her lower lip again, stepping back slightly. The paramedics edged forward.

If she didn’t agree to this, maybe Pí‘oro should just let her in. It wasn’t as if little Séara would ever do anything to harm him and Vata. Séara didn’t know about the chapel, but she’d been in every other room in the house, which meant she wouldn’t be too nosy.

After a moment, the young woman exhaled sharply and snapped, “All right, take them to the victim without me, but I’m not leaving.”

(next page)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 10, page 3

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Zhíno Zhudıro lowered his pistol, smiling. This old lady didn’t look like much, but she had strength and power where it counted--unlike a certain weak-willed blonde who huddled in a ball against the stone altar.

He let out a laugh and slapped the gun into the small woman’s hand. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” He didn’t need a gun to overpower Fírí, that was for sure, and the clip was probably empty anyhow.

As the old woman hobbled over to some shelves against the far wall, the horse on the other side of the altar snorted a cough. Glancing that direction, Zhíno’s eyes briefly passed over the bloody knife and dead dog atop the two-meter-wide slab of stone. Zhíno frowned slightly and stared down at the wreck of his ex-girlfriend.

“Why can’t you be more like the old lady, you useless whore of Rana? Show some backbone!”

Without his gun, Zhíno felt naked. The blood-covered knife called to him, telling him to reach across the massive altar and swipe it up in his one good hand--and then cut out Fírí’s still-beating heart.

Fírí whimpered, covering her face with her dirty hands.

In all the time they’d been together, up till tonight, Fírí had always been there for Zhíno, whenever he needed her. When he ran away from home, she’d left her parents to live with him on the streets. The times he was sent to jail, she’d been waiting outside for him the day he was released. When he made this deal with Gogzhuè, she’d jumped into planning their new future in Sarıma wholeheartedly.

But there were also all the other times, when the twin of Vítí obviously wasn’t thrilled about his ideas, but she went along because she was too weak-willed to argue her point of view. At the time, Zhíno had been blinded by love, but his vision was clear now. When he’d needed her to be strong, she’d been anything but. When he’d needed her to punish him, she’d been completely inadequate.

“You’ve always been as weak as Nazhoro.” Zhíno thrust his finger at her, stepping closer to the altar. “Not once did you ever whip me like you meant it.”

Fírí threw down her hands and stared up at Zhíno with reddened eyes. “I didn’t mean it!” she bawled. “I only whipped you because you said you liked it.”

“Plague that.” Zhíno raised his hand as if to hit her. “If you ever truly loved me, you would have meant it, every time. It was never as good as it could’ve been.”

Zhíno enjoyed being tied up, spanked, whipped with a cat-o-nine-tails, and other assorted fun, but Fírí had never shown much enthusiasm for it. She would perform, true, and look damn fine in those black leather outfits, but she always had a stupid look on her face as if she found the whole experience disgusting.

He jerked his hand toward the Vítí-twin, just trying to scare her, when a cold hand gripped his wrist. Fírí shrieked. The old woman stood beside him, powerful dark eyes smacking him harder than Fírí ever had physically. He grinned and lowered his hand. The old lady let go.

An hour ago, Zhíno had still hoped to deliver the smuggled weapons and explosives to Gogzhuè’s flunkies without retribution. That time was now gone. Gogzhuè would be out for blood, assuming a double-cross. So, with the police trying to arrest him--and put him in prison where Gogzhuè could kill him--and now Gogzhuè definitely trying to kill him, his chances for survival didn’t look too good. Therefore, in the few remaining hours of his life, he might as well have a little fun.

He reached across the altar and grabbed the long knife. Excitement buzzed through his body, numbing all the pain, even the little stuff he’d successfully ignored.

With a laugh, he drawled, “Let’s do it.”

(next page)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 10, page 2

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Lawperson Séara Nulıpésha pounded on the Kılímos’ front door. This was getting absurd. Why isn’t Mr. Kılímo answering? He can’t really be under arrest, can he? Despite her unwillingness to damage her friends’ house, she knew she should force her way in--or just give up and join the search for the murderer in the back yard. Besides, her hand was starting to get sore.

Just as she turned away from the door and reached for her radio to report, Séara spotted another police cruiser speeding up the driveway, flashing lights but no siren, its engine growling slightly louder than the crunching of the gravel. Even in the awkward lighting, she recognized the markings of the Pívo County Constabulary. It had to be Senior Lawman Vomıvé.

As the paramedics silently watched her, Séara grabbed her radio and flipped it on with a burst of static. “This is Nulıpésha. Unable to gain entry to house. Will resume helping search.”

One of the medics said, “Hey, you gotta help us. There’s an boy with two broken legs in there.”

Then why didn’t you enter when the door was open? thought Séara, but she held her tongue. She took a step toward the path around the house before her radio squawked.

“Negative, Nulıpésha. This is Vomıvé. Stay where you are.”

She stopped and stood facing the driveway, her hands behind her back. She chewed her lower lip as the senior lawman parked his cruiser behind hers and jogged towards her. He had been in the constabulary for almost ten years, but he had never advanced out of wearing a uniform. In the meantime, his hair had turned gray and his belt size had expanded modestly.

A few meters away, he slowed to a fast march and barked, “Pétíso damn it, Nulıpésha. Just break the window.” As he passed her, he added, “And stay with the medics!” His flashlight illuminating the dirt path ahead of him, he resumed jogging, leaving Séara alone with the medics once again.

They looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

(next page)

One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 10, page 1

(start of book) (previous chapter) (previous page)

Chapter 10: Classy Reunion



Vata Kılímí sighed as the injured young man walked away from her, his gun pointed at the blonde girl named Fírí. Sometimes reason and a stern voice weren’t enough these days.

She could still sense Pí‘oro nearby, so thankfully he hadn’t been shot in the gunfight. He was more agitated than ever, though.

The gunman was obviously the Zhíno who Fírí had been so afraid of. The girl’s nightmare had come true and now it was up to Vata to end it, settle her down, and heal the young man’s grievous wounds. She needed a coherent plan.

Névazhíno, please help me. Your troubled human animals need Your assistance.

She started shuffling down the hall after the two youths, her wrinkled bare feet scuffing along the moist soil. Zhíno had tried to insult her by calling her “Nuvíní,” the High Goddess of Earth. Nuvíní’s familial troubles were legendary, but Vata chose to believe that She was blinded by love, not from age-induced stupidity. Furthermore, Vata felt a deep connection to the earth goddess, thanks mainly to Her intermediary, Névazhíno.

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. With the crossed circle of Nuvíní painted repeatedly on the walls, Zhíno was anything but observant or intelligent.

As Vata entered the circle of braziers, the tingling touch of the God of Animals coursed down her spine. The horse, lying on the dirt in front of the altar, twitched its legs, as if dreaming of racing through the endless countryside. A meter to the left of the altar, the injured man stood, his handgun shakily pointed to the location behind the altar out of Vata’s view, from where crying could be heard.

He glanced up at Vata and asked, “What do you have to tie her up with?”

Still smiling, Vata shook her head. He evidently was still under the false impression that she was willing to sacrifice the girl. In order to disarm him, however, Vata would delay the disabusing of that concept.

She dropped the smile and fixed Zhíno with a glare, the energy of Névazhíno swirling through her blood. “First, dear, hand me the gun.”

“But--”

“She won’t go anywhere,” Vata interrupted. She stepped forward, her hand extended. Her head swam with the realization that Névazhíno was indeed with her; this swelling of power was not merely the lingering aftereffects from the sacrifice. “Give it to me now.”

The young man looked down at his pistol, a crease upon his brow, then to the sobbing Fírí, then back to Vata. Supported by the Love of the Universe, she imparted all of her will and determination into her gaze, all but threatening Zhíno to give her the gun. He stared straight back at Vata with his own steely gray eyes, tense and motionless.

In the back yard, the animals had become quite agitated, as if multiple people were being less than kind to them. It was a strong possibility that the police were searching the yard for this young man. He was a menace to society, that was for sure, but no prison would change that. Only Vata and the love of Névazhíno could heal his body and spirit. The only problem was that with all the police in the yard, selecting an animal for the sacrifice to the Love of the Universe would be nearly impossible.

After most of a minute of their tableau, a grin of mild insanity returned to Zhíno’s face.

He lowered his weapon.

(next page)