Robert Charrette - Choose your enemies carefully

"You're not going to kill her." Estios curled his lip; he put his hand on Sam's chest and shoved him backward. Sam landed in a chair with an agonizing shock that sent a wave of blackness and wheeling lights across his vision. He was glad he had fallen in the cushioned chair; hitting the floor or a wall might have caused him to pass out. He didn't think Estios would have cared.

"You're too emotionally involved, Verner. I will assume that the painkillers have fogged your reasoning, and overlook your criminal shortsightedness. She stopped being your sister the day she grew fur." Estios surveyed the room. "We've wasted enough time. Put the drones on standby and transfer control to your van, rigger. Priest, you'll stay here with the wounded. Everybody else, grab your gear. We're going hunting."

Willie looked to Sam. She had never liked Estios and hated taking his orders. She seemed torn between her loyalty to Sam and the weight of the elf's arguments. Her eyes asked for a release from the burden of decision.

Seeing that no one else was going to stand up to Estios, Sam gritted his teeth. There was a table next to the chair, and he grabbed it, hoping to take some of the pressure off his ribs as he attempted to stand. Pain rocked him as he tried, and he collapsed back into the chair.

Dodger was across the room and crouched at Sam's side in an instant. The elf used one hand to steady Sam in the chair while his deft fingers adjusted controls on Sam's torso wrap. There was a brief hiss as more gas pumped into the bandage's tubes to increase its rigidity.

"He's going too far, Teresa," Dodger said. "This is a dangerous plan."

"If you're scared, alley runner, you can stay behind. We'll be playing in the real world where people get really hurt. You wouldn't like it. Why don't you go hide in your electron fantasies?'' Estios took a step toward the couch and held out his hand to Teresa.

Dodger stepped forward. "Don't go with him, Teresa."

Teresa stared past Sam, obviously meeting Dodger's gaze. Sam could see wavering emotions on her face. Dodger was out of Sam's line of sight, but he felt Dodger's tension through the elf's grip on his arm. The grip tightened as Teresa dropped her eyes and took Estios's hand.

Estios helped her up, then bent, retrieved her weapon, and tossed it to her. All the while Estios grinned at Dodger like a kid who had won a prize at a carnival.

"Get a move on, rigger," he said, slapping a hand against the back of Willie's chair. "We've got vermin to exterminate."

Estios reached for his own Steyr, which leaned against the table with the rigger board, and froze as a new voice entered the conversation.

"Touch it and your boss will need a new number one, Ice Eyes."

Hart's voice was hoarse. Her eyes, sunken and dark ringed, were open and burned with fever. Their gaze was fixed on Estios. Her left arm lay across her body, which took most of the weight of the gun she held. She pointed the muzzle at Estios. Sam had no idea where she had gotten the weapon, but she wasn't in any shape to use it effectively. He thought he noticed a slight tremor in her hand.

Estios looked at her, his face stony. Then, apparently dismissing the threat, he started to reach for his gun.

Thunder boomed in the room. Estios recoiled as splinters of wood exploding from the table drew blood from his outstretched hand.

"That was your one warning," Hart said. Her complexion was paler, and fresh sweat plastered locks of hair to her forehead. The recoil from the shot had obviously caused her pain. Her hand shook visibly now. Estios rubbed at his small wounds with the thumb of his uninjured hand.

"Put the gun down, Hart. I could hit you with a power dart before you could fire, and I don't think your spell defense is up to competition levels right now.''

"You can try me, drekhead. It's the only way you'll know.''

Estios appeared to be weighing the odds. Rinaldi reached across and grabbed the Steyr by the muzzle. He set it down again against the wall, well out of Estios's reach.

"I think that you might reconsider your position,

Estios. One cannot condemn a person for possibilities. If that were so, all people would have to be condemned, for we are all capable of crimes. As far as we know, Janice has killed no one yet."

"But she has eaten human flesh," Willie said. "The other wendigo said she was just like him. We know he was a killer."

Rinaldi shifted his stance so that he could speak to Willie without taking his eyes off the stalemate between Hart and Estios.

"We also know he was a liar. If Janice has eaten flesh, then she has committed a crime and a sin. But the crime is not a capital one, and the sin may be forgiven. I do not find it beyond the bounds of reason to think that she was under the influence of the evil she called Dan Shiroi and did not fully know what she did. If she repents, there is hope for her redemption."

"Redemption," Estios repeated in a mocking tone.

"As long as she is a wendigo, she will crave the meat. Tell me, priest. Can you change her back to the way she was, then?"

Sam's heart raced, ignited by hope.

But Rinaldi turned away from Estios and gripped his left hand in his right. He rocked his hands up and down at waist level and shook his head sadly. "Alas, no. But neither can I condone murder. That is what it shall be if you kill her without evidence that she has succumbed completely to the wendigo nature. Coldblooded murder.''

"Let her kills be on your head, then."

Rinaldi shifted as if Estios's suggestion made him nervous. "Her actions are her own responsibility. As yours are your responsibility. Every individual must make his or her own choices."

Each of Rinaldi's minor changes of position had put him closer to Hart's bed. In a sudden lunge, he snatched Hart's gun. She was too weak to fight him as he easily removed the weapon from her grasp. He slipped on the safety and tossed the pistol into a corner.

"As I said, I will not condone murder," he said to

Hart.

She threw back her head and clenched her teeth. Sam could hear her fist pound once against the edge of the bed.

"Nice move," Estios said. "For a priest. Thanks for saving me the trouble."

' 'I did not disarm Hart for you alone,'' Rinaldi said. "And I still maintain that you are premature. Janice must live as her own conscience demands. If she is weak and embraces the demands of her parabiology, I will help you hunt her down."

"I don't want any help from you, priest." "That will not stop me from joining the hunt," Rinaldi said resolutely.

Their casual talk of hunts and death and murder was finally too much for Sam. Janice wasn't an animal.

"Shut up!" he shouted. "Shut up, all of you! There won't be any hunt. She's my sister."

"She's a wendigo," Estios said. "You're a fool to protect her, Verner. That kind of collaboration would get you the death sentence in the Tir. We know how to treat those who help the wendigo. If you think that being her brother will save you from her, you're a double fool. The wendigo is conscienceless evil; it knows no family."

Sam looked at Estios, but his eyes were seeing the events of the previous night. He saw the spirit of humanity wrestle with the spirit of Blight in its wendigo embodiment. He heard the wendigo's voice pleading with Janice. That hollow voice had spoken words that didn't fit Estios's evaluation. Those caring words had come from a husk that had been burned clean of evil, but they had been born of one human spirit, twisted as it was, reaching out to another who responded. He had seen the tears of the wendigo Janice and knew that the human Janice was still alive somewhere inside.

"You just don't understand," Sam insisted. "She's sick."

"You're crazy, Verner," Estios spat back at him.

"She's a killer. She has to be stopped."