Dieselpunk: An Anthology (28 page)

Tabitha, holding the shotgun in one hand, fired another blast into Rasputin’s face when he was just five paces away. It slowed him down, whipping his head back and stopping his charge, but only for a moment. “Georgie,” Tabitha yelled, “get the fuck out of here.”

She fired another shot into his knee cap as she backpedaled, but it only made him lose his footing on the slippery ice. The Mad Monk went down with a thud and a Russian curse, but quickly scrambled upright and closed the range between them with a mighty lunge.

The Templar pulled the trigger on her shotgun, but she’d run out of ammo. Instead, desperately, she threw her Grandpa’s buffalo coat over Rasputin’s head. Still swearing, he lashed out wildly, flailing, and struck her a glancing blow that sent her flying across the ice, landing next to Gurdjieff. Her lips split and Tabitha could taste copper in her mouth from the blood. Her cheekbone was probably broken too.

Tabitha scrambled to her feet and drew her pistol, saying to Gurdjieff, “Told you to get the fuck out of here.” Rasputin struggled with the buffalo coat and finally got it off. She chambered a round in the Colt 1911 and cocked the hammer. She fired three rounds at The Mad Monk, knocking his feet out from underneath him, circling away to her right and away from Gurdjieff.

“
The Phallus,” Gurdjieff yelled to the Templar as Rasputin followed after her. “Remove it!”

Rasputin, now on firm ground, rushed Tabitha. When he was close enough, he leaped on her like a wild wolf, the Templar emptying her clip into his chest. His strength and weight were just too much and she went down on her back, struggling to get free.

Rasputin growled and roared as he grabbed her right wrist with one hand and palmed her face with the other. The Mad Monk slammed her hand over and over on the stone and snow till she dropped the pistol, while at the same time trying to snap her neck to the side and break it. So focused was he, that he didn’t notice Tabitha’s left hand snaking up his chest and to his neck, feeling and groping like she had in the icy water moments before. The Templar found her prize, grabbed hold of the twine, and yanked.

Rasputin’s eyes widened and Tabitha noticed his grip weaken. Her left hand pulled the piece of white leather free and tossed it behind her. Rasputin watched it sail through the air. He let go of Tabitha’s head and tried to grab it from the air. Rasputin whimpered, then screamed, as Tabitha dug a clawed left hand into his right eye socket. She scooped a crooked finger into the socket and dug his eyeball out.

Rasputin clamored to his feet, wailing as blood gushed down his face. Tabitha tossed the gelatinous organ aside and crab-walked backwards on her hands through the snow. She stood and watched as Rasputin clutched a hand to his eye socket, blind. “Let’s see you dominate some poor fucker now,” she said and charged him, colliding with him as she stuck a boot behind his legs. He toppled backwards, landing sprawled on the ground.

The Templar followed the few steps and stomped on his groin. Rasputin wailed like a bull being castrated as Tabitha ground her boot into his testicles till she reached the snow. “Not going to rape anymore women are you, you piece of shit?” she growled, stepping aside and taking a step towards Rasputin’s head.

Tabitha looked at Gurdjieff, who merely stood by with a placid look on his face. The Templar straddled Rasputin’s torso, pulling his hands away from his face and grabbing two handfuls of his hair. She slammed his head into the concrete too many times to count, splattering brains and blood, staining the snow on the walkway, only stopping when she was sure he wasn’t moving. Even then, she pulled his head up and slammed it backwards a couple more times just to be sure.

Satisfied that The Mad Monk was dead, she stood and grabbed Rasputin’s corpse by its beard. She dragged the body out on the ice with one hand, grunting with the effort as she pulled him towards the hole the assassins had made earlier in the evening and dropped him next to it.

“Tabitha,” Gurdjieff called from the banks.

“
Just one second,” Tabitha yelled back at him. She stood upright, her gaze focused on Rasputin’s face, and drew her sword. With practiced ease she raised it behind her head with two hands and swung down, beheading the corpse. The head rolled off. She leaned down and cleaned her blade on Rasputin’s light-blue shirt with embroidered corn stalks, then shoved the quickly stiffening body into the water. She watched it slide soundlessly beneath the ice as she stood and sheathed her sword. The body gone, the Templar walked over and got the The Mad Monk’s head. She tossed it in after the body. Only after that, facing the ice-hole that served as Rasputin’s tomb, did she look down at her hands.

They were covered in Rasputin’s blood, bits of flesh and beard-hair visible beneath the nails of her fingers. She knelt back down and washed her hands in the freezing canal water. She stood, shivering, and realized her shirt was still half-unbuttoned. Tabitha began to button her shirt as she turned from the hole and started walking towards Gurdjieff. She looked up after a few steps and realized that they weren’t alone in the early dawn.

Harry Wight stood next to Gurdjieff, a look of horror on his face. Gurdjieff was as placid as ever. He hadn’t moved from his spot. Tabitha walked over to the two of them.

“
Hi, Harry,” Tabitha said, tenderly touching her face. “Fancy seeing you here. You got some friends in the assassin ring, too?”

“
No,” Harry said. “I–I–I had you followed. My God, did you see that man’s face?”

“
Sure did. Fucking did it to him myself, didn’t I? Motherfucker laid a hand on me. So you had me followed? And you didn’t help me when I was in Rasputin’s?”

“
Well, after the hit at the hotel didn’t work . . .” Harry replied, trailing off as he looked at the sheer volume of blood on the snow in front of the trio.

“
Didn’t work? What do you mean?”

“
Harry sent the two killers after you last night, Tabitha,” Gurdjieff said.

“
Motherfucker,” Tabitha said, looking back and forth between the two men. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Harry.”

“
I was under strict orders,” Harry Wight squeaked. “I’m sorry, Tabby.”

“
Bet you fucking are,” Tabitha said as she drew her pistol and shot him in the right kneecap, spraying red all over the snow. Gurdjieff didn’t flinch, but Harry sure did. The State Department agent fell to the ground with a scream. She holstered her pistol and said to Gurdjieff, “Can I have my coat?”

Gurdjieff held it out for her and Tabitha slipped into it as Harry  moaned in pain. The old buffalo coat was a little damp from being over Rasputin when he was soaking wet, but it was better than no coat at all.

Tabitha walked over to the Phallus of Osiris and stuffed the limp cylindrical piece of leather in her coat pocket next to the shotgun shells. She walked back to Gurdjieff who still stood next to Harry’s now-crying form. “Better get that looked at, Harry, before shock sets in.”

“
Why?” Harry whimpered. “Why did you shoot me?”

“
Three reasons,” Tabitha replied, looking out towards the spot where she’d dumped Rasputin. “You had orders to kill me and you didn’t ignore them, so you ended up killing an innocent girl. Then you left me upstairs with that motherfucker Rasputin so I could be hypnotized and almost raped, and, lastly, and this is the best reason, I told you I would the next time I saw you.”

“
But my knee . . .”

“
Lucky I only shot one, cocksucker. Georgie, you ready?”

“
Of course.”

Tabitha and Gurdjieff walked back up the steps to the borrowed car.

“You know,” Gurdjieff said, “I have a retreat that is of great help to many people. It is in the south. Perhaps you would join me there? I can aid you with the management of your anger.”

“
Sorry, still gotta deliver this to the abbot,” Tabitha said, patting the Phallus of Osiris in her coat pocket. “Besides, I’ve got plenty of other work to do. Like you said, there’s a storm coming.”

They both climbed into the back of the car and roared away into the early Petrograd dawn.

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