Olivia was after me too, and I desperately wanted to buy myself one minute to get the gun that was still taped to my back. But this proved impossible with the golem chasing me, Terminator-style. For a while there, it was the world’s dumbest Benny Hill sketch. Then Olivia caught on to the golem’s uncomplicated plan—follow Scarlett anywhere—and positioned herself to circle around to where I would be, instead of following me. Then she just had to wait for me to come to her, a triumphant smile on her face.
But she had miscalculated, either because she’d gotten used to vampiric powers or because she’d gotten used to me submitting, or both. Instead of allowing her to push me into the golem’s arms, I took the offensive. I had no training in martial arts or self-defense, but I did know that Olivia had had a knee injury in college. I kicked out with my right leg and hit the side of her left knee as hard as I could, slipping in the process but managing to remain on my feet. Olivia cried out with surprise and pain, falling on her butt and clutching at her leg. By now the golem had caught up with me, though, and it wrapped one hand around my upper left arm, just as it had before. The generator started suddenly, and the room was filled with dim lamplight, even as the water from the sprinklers began to slow. I didn’t pay attention to any of this, though. I knew if it caught my other arm I was screwed, so I flailed wildly, working to evade the golem’s searching hand.
Olivia screamed again, only a few feet away now, and I managed to turn my head to see Jesse clutching a handful of her hair. He must have turned the generator on so he could see what the hell was happening. Olivia had gotten to her feet and pulled her gun out from somewhere, and Jesse had his other hand on hers as she tried to keep the gun from his grasp. His arms were longer, though, and one big hand was wrapped around hers where it clutched the gun. I heard two shots fire into the ceiling, but I had my own problems—the golem had wrapped his free hand around my entire upper body, trapping my whole right arm instead of trying to grab my wrist. I cried out in pain as it squeezed me in place like we were hugging. The air reeked of stale water and industrial clay. It was like being in a pressured mud bath.
“The head,” Jesse yelled at me. “You have to rub his forehead—” His voice cut off in a strangled yelp. Olivia had bitten him on the forearm.
That sounded ridiculous, but I wasn’t exactly suffering from an abundance of planning. Before the golem could do anything else I wrenched my left arm with everything I had, feeling it almost pull out of the socket. I felt the wet clay give a little, gritted my teeth, and did it again. I heard myself scream with the pain, but I managed to slip my left hand free. I reached up, pushed the scrub cap backward off the golem’s head—and could just make out a word carved into its forehead. My name. I flailed my arm, throwing the golem and myself off-balance as I tried to avoid his grasp. We began to tip backward as I scrubbed furiously at the writing with the heel of my hand. Suddenly all I could think of was Erin, and the way the heavy clay and the weight of the magic had crushed her. My back hit the ground—tilted to the side a bit rather than straight on, thank God—and I had one second to brace myself to be crushed. Instead, though, a few hundred pounds of loose wet clay crumbled gently around me, filling in the spaces between my limbs, coating my hair and face. The golem was dead.
I found myself in a pile of mud just as the water from the sprinklers trickled into a drip. There was a metallic thud, and I turned to see Jesse pulling Olivia’s arms behind her back in the classic handcuffing-a-suspect position you see on television. She was facing me, and her expression was terrifying: wild-eyed and hungry. She actually lunged in my direction, but Jesse was ready for it and caught her weight easily.
“Settle down,” he said sternly. To me, he said, “Scarlett, are you hurt?”
“Not as much as I will be when this morphine wears off,” I said truthfully.
Jesse frowned. “Morphine?”
I shrugged. “Long story. Mallory?”
“Dead.”
“Did you…”
Jesse shook his head. “I took off the amulet, and then I tried to just knock her out, but it was like her body had just…emptied.”
“Kirsten would probably know why,” I said. “Maybe she OD’d on magic or something.”
“You’re mine,” Olivia snarled at me, completely unaware that we had been talking. Spittle flew from her mouth as she spoke. “Wherever you go, whatever happens to me, you will always be mine. I made you.”
Without being particularly conscious of it, I had started wriggling my way out of the pile of clay and backward, away from Olivia. “I’ve got her,” Jesse assured me. “Just stay close enough to keep her human.”
That got through my momentary panic, and I stopped backing away. Jesse glanced around for a moment, and then frog-marched Olivia a couple of feet to an examination room with a long metal handle on the door, shaped roughly like a staple. He did something quickly with the handcuffs, and when he stepped back Olivia’s hands were cuffed together in front of her, through the door handle.
Jesse slumped down to the floor a few feet away, leaning against the wall. He looked as tired and beat-up as I felt, which was quite an accomplishment. I was campaigning pretty hard for most fucked-up looking.
“What do we do with her now?” I asked.
Jesse sighed, looking miserable. “I have no idea. She should go to prison, but a human prison can’t hold her. Dashiell said I should call him when I caught her, and he’s probably on his way here anyway. But he’s just going to kill her.”