Then Brother Andrew stepped out from behind a big delivery van right in Jolt’s path.
There was no time to warn Jolt as the wicked blade of the scythe flashed in the dry desert air.
15
Jolt fell backward, leaning, arching, his muscles contorting his big frame into an impossible backbend, lying almost flat as the blade cut through the air a tenth of an inch above him. The tip of the blade caught the loop of the silver chain and tore it from Jolt’s neck. The skeleton key went spinning through the air to land at Riot’s feet.
Brother Andrew was a bear of a man with biceps like bowling balls and a back that was so crammed with muscle that he looked like a gargoyle. He had put every ounce of his strength into that swing, and had it connected, it would have cut Jolt in half. Easily.
Instead Jolt fell hard on his back on the hood of a red Chevy, and the scythe struck the curved windshield and caromed upward, gouging the glass, ripping loose a piece of silver molding, causing the reaper to spin in a full circle and then lose all balance. Brother Andrew crashed against the side of another car.
All of this . . . all of it . . . inside a fractured second.
Immediately Jolt twisted sideways and rolled off the front of the Chevy. He landed on the balls of his feet and leaped backward as two other reapers rose up from hiding and slashed at him with knives.
The blades glittered with reflected sunlight, and they cut absolutely nothing.
Jolt twisted out of reach, stepped on the bumper, and jumped over their heads. Before he landed, he shot one foot backward in a vicious kick that crashed one reaper into the other. The two of them slammed into Brother Andrew, and the three of them collapsed onto the blacktop. The scythe clattered to the ground nearby.
Jolt landed in a defensive crouch, hands open and ready, knees bent, face displaying equal parts confusion and rage.
“Hey! What the hell are you freaks doing?” he bellowed. “You could have fricking killed me. What, you think I’m a biter? Are you stupid or nuts or blind?”
Brother Andrew pushed himself out from under the two other reapers and climbed to his feet. As he rose, Jolt got his first clear look at the man and his eyes widened.
“Jolt—be careful!” warned Riot, climbing up onto a nearby car.
Brother Andrew bent to retrieve his weapon. He held it in one massive fist and pointed it at Jolt.
“You got one chance, pretty boy,” he said in a voice that was low and gravelly. “Walk away. Leave the little witch with us. She belongs with us. She belongs to us. Walk off now while you can.”
Jolt looked uncertain. “Who the hell are you?”
Brother Andrew cut a look at Riot. “Didn’t she tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
The big reaper narrowed his eyes. “Who do you think she is?”
“Just a girl,” said Jolt. “A friend. Why?”
Andrew laughed. The other reapers laughed too.
“Look, kid, you don’t know what you stepped into. I don’t know what kind of story Sister Margaret told you or how she convinced you to help her, but she is one of us.” Andrew touched his tattooed scalp. “She bears the mark of the Night Church. She belongs to us.”
Jolt turned his head slightly toward Riot. “What’s he talking about?”
“Don’t listen to him,” she said quickly. “He’s crazy. They all are. And they’re dangerous.”
“More dangerous than you know,” said Brother Andrew. “Saint John and your mother charged me to bring you back. You think we’re here to send you into the darkness, but you’re wrong. That would be easy, and after what you’ve done you don’t get ‘easy.’ You’re going to come back with us, and then you’re going to be on your knees before your mother. You’re going to have to account for everything you’ve done. For all of your crimes. For all of your sins. For—”
“Shut up!” screamed Riot, clapping her hands to her ears. “Just shut up.”
Brother Andrew stopped his tirade, but he laughed quietly, shaking his head with amusement.
“Listen, mister,” said Jolt, “I think you’d better haul your fat butt out of here.”
Brother Andrew took his scythe in both hands. “Boy, you don’t know what kind of trouble you’re asking for. I’m going to tell you one last time—walk away before something that isn’t your business becomes your business. And believe me, you do not want that.”