As Manuel’s words drifted away on a breeze, Payne fussed with her baggy top and her loose pants. Then she smoothed her hair. It seemed like the only thing she could do to make herself more presentable in the wake of the violence.
Such a wasted effort at trying to feminize herself. And meanwhile, Manuel was still just staring at her.
“Will you say nothing further?” she asked in a low tone.
“Ah . . .” Manuel put his free hand on his head. “Yeah. Ah . . . let me go see if he’s alive.”
Payne wrapped her arms around herself as he walked over to the human man. In truth, she did not really care in what condition she had left the robber. Her priority had been to get that lethal weapon out of Manuel’s face, and she had accomplished her task. Whatever happened to the thief was immaterial . . . but she clearly didn’t know the rules of this world. Or the implications of what she had done.
Manuel was halfway across the grass when the “victim” rolled over with a groan. Hands that had been on the gun went to the mask that covered his face and shoved the knit weave up to his forehead.
Manuel knelt down. “I’m a doctor. How many fingers am I holding up.”
“What . . . ?”
“How many fingers?”
“. . . three . . .”
Manuel put his palm on the guy’s shoulder. “Don’t get up. That was a hell of a belt to the head. Do you have any tingling or numbness in your legs?”
“No.” The guy stared at Manuel. “Why . . . are you doing this?”
Manuel waved the question off. “It’s called medical school—creates a compulsive need to treat the ill or injured regardless of circumstance. I think we need to call an ambulance—”
“No fucking way!”
Payne dematerialized over to them. She appreciated Manuel’s good intentions, but she was concerned that the robber had another weapon on him—
The instant she appeared behind Manuel, the guy on the ground shrank away in horror, raising his arms and cringing back.
Manuel looked up over his shoulder—and that was when she saw that he wasn’t naive. He had the gun pointed at the man. “It’s okay, bambina. I got him—”
In a sloppy scramble, the robber got to his feet and Manuel let the muzzle follow him as the human stumbled and caught his balance against the building. Obviously, he was getting ready to run.
“We’re keeping the gun,” Manuel said. “You understand. And I don’t need to tell you, you’re lucky to be alive—you don’t aggress on my girlfriend.”
As the human tore off into the shadows, Manuel rose to his full height. “I need to turn this weapon i
n to the police.”
Then he just looked over at her.
“It is all right, Manuel. I can take care of my presence with the guard so naught will be known. Do what you must.”
On a nod, he took out a small phoning device, opened it, and hit a few buttons. Putting it up to his ear, he said, “Yeah, my name is Manuel Manello and I was held up at gunpoint in my vehicle? I’m at the Tricounty . . .”
As he spoke, she looked around, and thought she didn’t want it to end like this. Except . . .
“I have to go,” she said as Manuel hung up. “I cannot . . . be here if there are going to be more humans. It will just complicate things.”
His phone slowly lowered to his side. “Okay . . . yeah.” He frowned. “Ah, listen . . . if the police are coming, I need to remember what just happened or—shit, I’ve got a gun in my hand for no reason I can give them.”
Indeed, it would appear that they were trapped. And for once, she was grateful for an imprisonment.
“I want you to remember me,” she said softly.
“That wasn’t the plan.”