The man was only a few yards away, his small handgun unwavering as it pointed at Sev’s chest. His eyes targeted her just as steadily, eyebrow arching when she hesitated. “Drop it,” he said, raising his voice slightly in command.
Sev looked at Doavin from the corner of her eyes, but if she was sending him a message it was one that he couldn’t decode. She frowned as she finally bent down, crouching to set the gun on the ground in front of her.
“Good,” said the gunman. “Now both of you put your hands behind your heads.”
Doavin moved to do so immediately, but Sev was less cooperative. “No way. How do I know you aren’t going to just pick us off executioner style?”
“You don’t,” his voice dipped dangerously. “But you’re trying my patience. Do it or I’ll shoot you now!”
Sev’s hands went behind her head while she glared daggers in the man’s direction. He seemed unfazed by her animosity, his voice losing some of its hostility. “Thank you. Now start walking.”
“What?” asked Sev, incredulous despite the fact that she had already begun to move forward. “What the hell?”
The man smiled despite the fact that no one could see ithe expression. “Since you’re both so fond of the roadway, I think it’s time you got a closer look at it.”
“Yeah well, I don’t need your little tour. I know the damn road pretty fucking well.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m positive you’ve never seen it from this angle. Turn left.”
Doavin turned and came face to face with the overpass’ guardrail, stopping short. The road remained filled with the accident, but he was rather sure the hovers would provide little cushion for their fall. As he stood there looking beneath them, it became clear that was exactly the point. Sev had apparently come to the same conclusion if the volume of her voice was a sign of anything.
“Oh, fuck no!” Sev wheeled her body around to face him. “I’m not about to just waltz over the damn railing! You’re gonna have to kill me yourself.”
"Fine," said the man, smiling as he tightened his finger around the trigger.
There was the loud crack of a gunshot, and Doavin toward Sev in horror. It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t bleeding. He looked down at his torso, exhaling a relieved sigh when he saw no stain spreading across his own chest. When he raised his head it was to stare at the gunman in confusion.
The man swayed on his feet for a moment and then dropped to his knees, gun skidding away from him and freeing his hand to press against his stomach. Doavin watched as he tried and failed to get up from where he had fallen, struggling like a wounded animal that needed to be put out of its misery. His eyes were pulled upward only by the soft crunch of gravel a few meters away.
The tall figure that appeared behind the felled gunman was grim, dark eyes squinting down at his victim. Then he lifted his own gun in a sure arm and pulled the trigger, not reacting at the splatter that splashed across his legs. When he looked up, his eyes trained themselves on Doavin, and Doavin wondered if he was going to die up there after all.
“Piece of cake!” Sev explained, ignoring the bloody body in favor of running to the newcomer and giving him a peck on the cheek. “Never say my sister’s the only one who can make a good distraction!”
His eyes seemed to soften briefly, but then he shook his head. “Unnecessary.”
“Oh, whatever. Not like that many people died,” she grinned as she clasped his shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “Hey Doavin! Do me a favor and grab that gun from over there. No use wasting a good weapon.”
Doavin moved slowly, giving the dead body a wide girth and keeping his eyes on Sev’s friend. The pistol felt warm and heavy when he picked it up, and he held it uncertainly until the man reached his hand out to claim it. They stared at each other for a moment in silence,
“Doavin,” smiled Sev, “ Meet Vasil. Vasil, this is Doavin. He’s working with us now!”
Vasil didn’t speak, and Doavin felt his face flush in awkward embarrassment. He looked down, pulling his sleeves over his fingers. He watched Vasil’s knees turn toward Sev as she brushed a kiss to his cheek and began pulling him toward the car. Then Doavin’s eyes widened.
Peeking from beneath the hem of Vasil’s trench coat were several white feathers. The odd drape of the garment confirmed it: he had wings.
