Free Beyond the Veil by Tim Marquitz Page A

seemed to be their main weapons, but the largest of the group held what
looked like a small, hand cannon. It was pointed directly at me. The alien
grinned as he pulled back a lever on the side of the gun. The click of its motion struck a chord in my
dimmed sense of self-preservation, bringing everything into perspective
    He was trying to kill me.

Eight

 
    “Oh, hell no! You did not just try to shoot me.”
    “He did, actually.” Longinus twisted his
sword so I could see the other side. A hint of sooty blackness marred the
surface where he’d blocked the blast aimed for the back of my skull.
    “Son of a…”
    Longinus shrugged as Rala bounced into
action. She grabbed the old man, hugged him tight against her, and raced toward
the shadows at our back. They were all assholes and elbows, leaving us to deal
with the would-be hit squad on our own. I looked to Longinus, and he motioned
for me to go first. So generous.
    I pulled my guns and ducked as another
bullet—damn near the size of an acorn—zinged overhead. A quick glance behind told
me neither the girl nor her master had been hit, the pair still hustling for
cover, so that was something. My fingers twitched on the triggers, and I
returned fire. The first shot slammed into the facemask of one of the aliens.
It turns out the thing was mostly bulletproof.
    The mask spider-webbed under the force of
the blow and snapped his head sideways. His body caught up a split second
later, and he wobbled on his feet but didn’t go down. My second bullet grazed
his arm, but he didn’t seem to notice.
    “Impressive,” Longinus commented as he met
the first wave that crashed over us. One of the aliens was split in half from
stem to stern from the upward slash, the green stew of his guts splashing to
stain my boots.
    Longinus was clearly jealous that I got
more mileage out of my toys than he did. A spear zipped past my cheek in a
silvered blur. I batted away the thrusting arm and stuffed my pistol up under
the facemask and squeezed the trigger. The helmet muffled the report, but it was
like sticking a bullfrog in a blender. Blood and chunks of indefinable mush
exploded inside to coat the mask. It gushed out from underneath as I kicked the
body aside to shoot the guy behind him.
    Up close and personal, the D/A slayer
punched a hole straight through the makeshift breastplate. There was the dull
thump of the bullet impacting the armor at his back and another meaty thunk followed
right after. He grunted and stumbled forward with his eyes rolling in their
sockets. I matadored him aside, picturing my bullet
bouncing around in his squishy bits, trapped by the steel plates on either
side. It wasn’t a pretty way to die, that’s for sure.
    His buddy must have thought me cruel
because he stabbed me in the shoulder.
    The blade sunk into the meat until it hit
bone and came to a grinding halt. I twisted away but the bastard hung on,
grunting and swearing as he tried to push the sword in deeper. The wound burned
like a feral case of the crabs—not that I’d know anything about that. It wasn’t
a magical weapon, but it still hurt like a bitch. Before he could sink the
blade in any further or yank it out, I placed the barrel of my .45 to his wrist
and blew the joint out the other side in bits and pieces. He shrieked and stumbled
back. That’s when I shot him in his baby parts.
    Oddly fortunate—unfortunate?—to have
noticed the Felurians had external genitalia, I was guessing they were every
bit as sensitive as humans. Alien-boy squealed and collapsed to the floor like
a deflated balloon proving my guess to be painfully accurate.
    Another of the Felurians ran up alongside
me, and I spun, slamming him in the side of his head with the pommel of the
sword still stuck in my shoulder. It stopped him cold though I was pretty sure
it didn’t hurt him anywhere near as much as it did me. He stared at me with
wide eyes, full of offended surprise, their swirling color distorted behind the
mask. I