“Shit.” He skidded downwards, feet first, plowing towards his sudden and unexpected assailant, hoping to knock her off guard. She fired, the bullet ricocheting off the metal window frame, and swore back at him. In Russian, no less.
In the moment it took her to shift her grip on the gun, Luke dove for her wrist and managed, barely, to grab it. She was fast, violent, and clearly intent on doing him damage. “Damnit, stop that.” He grabbed both of her wrists and tried to bend the bayonet out of her grip with a foot. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I want to hurt you.” Her accent was thicker than Agmund’s, but Luke had figured out worse. “I want to kill you.” She made it sound downright gleeful.
“I don’t want to die, sorry.” He peeled the gun out of her hand, finally. Where was Agmund? He dodged her teeth and a kick aimed at his nuts. He was going to need at least four hands to handle her. “Look, I’m just here to pick up a package.”
“Everything is like that to you. Package. Shipment. You are no better than the rest.” Her teeth caught him on the bicep and went for blood; Luke gritted his teeth and held on tight. If he lost her wrists, she was going to be in the wind.
“Agmund!” He shouted as loud as he could. “Damn it, Bear! I need a hand!”
“You will need two soon.” She was, Luke realized, trying to gnaw off his arm. He wondered idly if she had the ability to do so. Less idly, he wondered where the hell the Bear was.
“Need something?” It wasn’t the Bear, but it was the next best thing right now: Caity popped up behind him. “Oh, you made a friend.” With surprising strength, the tiny woman grabbed the back of the girl’s hair and pulled, muttering Words under her breath as she did so. “Oh!”
The girl’s face was red with Luke’s blood when Caity finally forced it up, but that wasn’t, Luke was pretty sure, why she’d exclaimed. They’d seen those eyes before. “I guess you found her.”
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