walked deliberately forward into the bullets and then moved from one gun position to the next, ripping the robotic guns out of their housing and throwing them aside. Not because they posed me any real threat, but because I was getting really tired of being shot at. I wanted to make a point.
And then, of course, inevitably, the remaining hedge creatures all came to life and closed in on me. I d been expecting it all along, but it was still an eerie and disturbing spectacle as the heavy green sculptures ripped their rooted feet out of the ground and turned their blind green heads to look at me. The T. rex s massive jaws opened wide in a silent roar of rage.
I knew it! I called across to Molly. Never trust hedge sculptures!
Ugly bloody things, anyway, said Molly.
She said a Word and snapped her fingers, and just like that, all the moving hedge creatures burst into flames. Fires roared up from inside their green bodies, consuming them in moments. They lurched this way and that, sweeping their burning heads back and forth as though they could leave the flames behind. They banged into each other and fought briefly before finally collapsing to burn listlessly in awkward poses. Molly and I had to keep moving, darting this way and that to stay out of their way, but none of them got anywhere near us. We laughed breathlessly as we dodged the burning shapes. And soon enough they were all down and lying still, little bursts of flames still jerking through them, sending sweet-smelling smoke up into the early-evening sky. Molly and I stood together, looking happily around us. The whole grounds had become one big battlefield, with fires and craters and dead and broken bodies to every side.
Wherever we go, I said, we make an impression.
They started it, said Molly.
The sniper hidden in the row of trees at the other end of the grounds chose that moment to open fire on Molly. And, amazingly, the bullet punched right through all her protective fields, one by one. I didn t even realise what was happening at first. I heard the gunshot, of course, but by then the bullet had already reached Molly and been stopped by her automatic protective shield. The bullet was held there in midair for a moment, and then it forced its way through the shield, only to be stopped by the next. Long ago Molly had preprogrammed her defences, a series of varying shields just waiting to be activated. But even so, it was a shock to see a bullet smash through one shield after another, hanging on the air before her face, inching inexorably towards her left eye. The last screen finally stopped it, just short of her eye, and the bullet hung there, snarling and biting at the invisible shield like a living thing, and then Molly s left hand came up and snatched the bullet out of midair. She held the bullet in her closed fist, glowering as it forced her hand back and forth, still fighting to break free.
It s a biting bullet, she said. Made from the bone of an uncaught murderer, created to chew through anything that stands between it and its target.
The ugly thing buzzed and growled inside her hand, shaking her hand viciously through sheer brute force. I saw Molly wince as it tried to eat its way through her hand. I started forward, ready to take and hold it in my golden gauntlet, but Molly stopped me with a look. She closed her other hand around her fist, concentrated, and then clamped down hard. There was the sound of bone cracking and breaking, and the bullet fell silent. She opened her hand, and tiny fragments of bone fell out.
Nasty thing, said Molly. Now, where is that sniper? And why hasn t he opened fire again?
I think he s been watching to see what would happen, I said. And if he s got any sense, he s currently sprinting for the nearest horizon.
It came from that row of trees, said Molly.
And he s still there. The idiot.
She strode determinedly towards the trees. I yelled after her, but I knew I was wasting my breath. The sniper fired again, but this time Molly was ready for him. She gestured dismissively, and the biting bullet exploded in midair, less than halfway towards her. Through my face mask I focused on the sniper, and saw him take a third bullet from a heavily reinforced box and fit it carefully into his rifle. He didn t look pressed or hurried, just very professional. He fired again, but this time the bullet had barely left the barrel before it exploded.
Molly crossed the remaining ground at speed and hurled herself on the sniper while he was still trying to load another bullet. He tried to bring the rifle to bear as she loomed over him, but she just grabbed the rifle out of his hands with one swift movement, turned it around, and shot the sniper with his own gun. The biting bullet hit him square in the left eye, even though that wasn t where Molly had aimed. The things must come preprogrammed. The impact sent the sniper flying backwards, and he crashed to the ground, dead. But he didn t lie still. His dead head whipped back and forth as the bullet raged this way and that inside, eating up everything it found there. Whoever designed the bullets had been determined that whoever was shot by one would not recover. The head s movements grew fainter and fainter, until finally the bullet was still, satisfied. Molly looked down at the dead sniper, studying him expressionlessly, and then threw the rifle aside.
And while she was preoccupied, one of the trees beside her threw off its disguising illusion and became a mercenary soldier.
He hit Molly round the back of the head with a heavy wooden staff, and she dropped to her knees. She cried out briefly. I ran forward, but I could tell I wasn t going to get there in time. I d let her get too far ahead. I d just strolled along after her because I was sure she could handle the situation. More soldiers appeared out of nowhere, running forward to block my way. I ploughed into them, throwing their broken bodies aside. Molly needed me. I could hear the soldier who d hit her talking to her. He didn t even bother to look in my direction.
Major Tim Browten at your service, dear Miss Metcalf. The wild witch herself Sorry to have to come at you so ungallantly from ambush, but I m not stupid. This staff in my hand, this very old item that just struck you down so easily and so completely, is the Witch s Hammer of Matthew Hopkins, witch finder. Just one blow with this blessed wood is all it takes to rob a witch of her powers for a time. Now, you be a good little girl and just lie there, and let me kill you quickly and efficiently. So much better for both of us, eh? You ll only make it worse for yourself if you struggle.
I was still fighting through a growing crowd of soldiers. They were throwing everything they had at me just to slow me down.
I saw Molly try to get up, anyway, and the major hit her again, slamming the heavy wood into the side of her head with calm efficiency. I heard her cry out again. I heard the sound the staff made as it hit her head. I saw the blood leap from her torn scalp and rush down one side of her face. Molly went down on one knee, staring dazedly at the grass before her as it turned red with her blood. And then she forced her face up again to glare at Major Browten.
Don t embarrass yourself, Miss Metcalf, he said calmly. You have no magic now, remember? I took it all away with my Witch s Hammer.
I ll see your Witch s Hammer, you son of a bitch, said Molly. And raise you a protein exploder.
She brought up the small box in a steady hand and pointed it at his groin at point-blank range. She hit the button, and I swear I actually saw the major s testicles explode in slow motion. He sank heavily to his knees before Molly, and clutched desperately at the gaping wound between his thighs, blood spurting thickly past his hands. Molly looked at him with her bloody face and then put the protein exploder away. She forced herself back up onto her feet, now with the Witch s Hammer in her hands. She hit Major Browten over the head with it, a blow so hard the staff broke in two. The major fell forward, dead before he hit the ground. Molly laughed at him breathlessly and threw the broken pieces of the staff aside.
I d finally fought my way through the last soldiers and caught up to Molly. I was reaching out to her to make sure she was all right when another tree dropped its disguise, to become another mercenary soldier. Molly and I both turned to confront him, and then stopped abruptly as we saw what he was holding. It was a monkey s paw made over into a Hand of Glory. Very illegal, very dangerous, completely bloody foolhardy. In some countries you can still be executed just for admitting you ve heard of such a thing. The flames rising from the tiny wrinkled fingers were bloodred and didn t tremble at all. Molly and I stood very still. A monkey s paw is hideously dangerous in its own right, able to alter reality itself. But to add to that the gifts and power of a Hand of Glory? That s like deciding a thermonuclear device isn t dangerous enough and giving it leprosy. The soldier smiled at us and waggled the monkey s hand in our faces.
You don t need to use that, Molly said carefully. Throw it away. You risk damning your soul just by holding such a thing.
I m a professional soldier, the mercenary said easily. Major Mike Michaels. To a soldier, a weapon is just a weapon; they re all just killing tools at the end of the day. Now, armour down, Drood. Make that nasty metal suit
