Free Going Under by Justina Robson Page A

stood in the cloud, her gun at her side slowly remoulding itself, as though bored, into a long, curving blade. "Because they have no chance against me."
    "Is there some problem with this I'm not understanding?" Thingamajig sighed. "Do you have any idea how many demons want to be in your position?"
    "But that's just it," she said, all the while continuing to track both of her victims.
    "If you say `it's not fair' I will be forced to extreme measures," the imp snarled. "It ain't. But look, now you've had your identity crisis and you've given them a sporting chance. If you wait much longer you'll disappoint the audience."
    She had not noticed the interest coming from elsewhere-but yes, dirigibles and boats were turning in their ways and the fast-moving craft of single demons were heading in her direction, some winking with camera lenses.
    "I don't like to kill," she objected, electing the demon she had first seen, the one with the gun.
    "Liar."
    She arrowed after the target on an indirect angle, watching its movements and deciding it was weaving its path only to distract. She looked ahead for any destination that was likely to be useful to it, but there was nothing in particular that stood out. In the meantime she identified it: Demon Duellist 388, Vekankal. His personal note: Die, bitch.
    Articulate, she said to herself, startled to realise how angry and hurt the two words made her. She didn't even know the guy. Her speed increased and the paparazzi vehicles began to lose ground.

    `Goncise. Tath stretched out, reaching his aetheric body to just below her human skin. Where he could he always avoided the metal prosthetics, though he could run through them almost as easily as through flesh. Metal usually fouled elven aether senses, but hers did not. Another point she should have thought about more carefully when believing that human science had remade her. Her gut twisted for a moment and she tasted burning in the back of her throat.
    Behind her now the second demon had slowed down. It moved cautiously, keeping her almost directly between itself and its partner. So that answered the question about whether the MV was still functional. Lila stayed airborne as she closed in. Her body seemed strangely rigid with a feeling that at first she didn't recognise.
    Rage, said the imp. Pure and simple. Rage at the whole unfair stupidity of the system. Rage against the machine. You might win this fight, but you're still trapped like a fucking rat. His voice became as gritty as if he'd been smoking sixty a day his whole life long; two steps away from a cancerous rattle. She could hear him smiling as he picked her thoughts clean and she chose the right caliber of hot lead to slow her target down. Guns didn't kill demons. Demons killed demons.
    You don't even know why you came here and stayed here and hitched yourself to that whitemare, Teazle, except of course that being allied to him seems like a good step better than being on his hit list. Plus his attention was incredibly flattering if also a bit creepy and you're scared of him.
    Lila pointed her right arm at the running demon in the city below her. It was in a crowd, shoving its way through, the heavy power unit of the MV slowing it down. The distance between them was about four hundred metres. Her forearm vibrated pleasantly with the thrum of perfectly engineered metal parts oiling themselves into position. Click. Blam. She took out the power unit first and hesitated ... the demon dropped the useless thing and spun around, searching for her, spraying a random fire of its own missiles into the air.
    And you feel like it's fucked your relationship with the elf. And it has. And you know it. Before it even started. And you thought you were doing such a smart thing, such an adult and responsible and carefully planned out and clever thing. It would put you in a great position of power as well as largely out of the way of serious harm, give or take the odd deathmatch of note, and Zal would be all