Sister Death (Acid Vanilla Series Book 4) by Matthew Hattersley (best short novels of all time txt) 📗

It felt like Danny’s heart might burst through his chest. He went to speak but Acid held one finger up, still listening at the door.

The room went silent, before a scuffling noise could be heard, coming from the corridor, followed by the sound of a key card being shoved in a lock and the high-pitched beep as it opened.

“Hey, what’s going—”

Before he had chance to finish the sentence Acid flew into the bedroom and tackled him over the far side of the bed.

“Get down,” she yelled. “Now.”

Twenty

Acid and Danny tumbled over the side of the bed as the door slammed open and Magpie Stiletto burst into the room, firing as she went. Bullets pounded into the duvet, sending feathers spiralling into the air. Acid returned fire, forcing her old colleague along the wall and into an alcove obscured from the main bedroom by a partition wall. She fired a few more shots into the plasterboard, hoping she might get lucky, but the angle meant Magpie was out of range.

“I was ready for you, bitch,” she called out. “How do you like that?” She kept her aim high, finger tight on the trigger.

“Maldito perro,” came the hissed reply. “You may have been ready, but there’s no way out for you. Not this time.”

Acid ducked for cover as Magpie leaned around the side of the wall, firing a string of bullets that thudded into the headboard. She held her nerve, turning to Danny and giving him what she hoped was a reassuring look. Times like this, worry got you killed as fast as a bullet. She put a hand over the side of the bed and fired back a couple more shots in retaliation, driving the bitch back into the alcove.

“Think you can get over there and grab the bags if I cover you?” she asked, as another bullet whizzed overhead. Danny looked at her with wide, worried eyes. His mouth flapped. “The bags, Danny.” She gestured at her travel bag and his holdall, lying next to each other on the opposite side of the room. Normally she’d have left them there (in her line of work it was usual to abandon her possessions at the drop of a bullet casing), but their passports were inside, not to mention the Fabergé egg.

He swallowed. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll keep her back. Once you’ve got the bags, we’re going through the window.” She glanced behind her as more bullets studded the wall and into the mattress too, so close she could smell the scorched material.

Danny eyed the window cautiously. “Bit of a drop, isn’t it?”

“There’s a terrace a few feet below.”

“A few feet?”

“Okay, it’s a drop, but it’s our only way out,” she said. “We don’t know how much ammo she’s packing. I can’t hold her off forever.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Acid gripped the Viking pistol to her chest. “Straight over there and then out the window. On three. One… two…” She knelt upright, taking aim at the lip of the partition wall. “Three. Go.”

As Danny scrambled across the bed, she fired off a flurry of shots, splintering the wooden frame of the wall and sending plaster dust flying into the room. With one eye on her old nemesis and the other on Danny, she got to her feet, squeezing off a couple more rounds as she moved to the sash window which was already half open. She was able to keep her aim high whilst lacing her other hand under the frame and sliding it all the way up. Danny slid back across to this side of the bed with the bags held tightly to him.

“All right, go,” she yelled, covering him with another hurl of bullets as Magpie appeared around the side. They exchanged fire, shooting wildly and without prejudice, but Acid was almost out. She glanced at the window to see Danny straddling the frame, making a big deal of it. Bloody hell. Another second and Magpie would have the upper hand, if she didn’t already. With a yell, she hurled herself at Danny, grabbing him around the waist and propelling them both out into the warm evening sun as bullets shattered the glass.

They were only one floor up but they seemed to be falling forever. Enough time for Acid to position herself for impact, twisting her hips and grabbing the two bags from Danny to cushion their fall. A second later they crashed onto a small wooden table that was standing in the centre of the terrace. A sharp pain burnt up her side as the table legs gave way and they hit the concrete with a muffled thud. On her back, she pointed the Viking at the window, firing off the last of her rounds at the shadowy figure taking aim from the room.

The gun crack echoed around the open space and Magpie stumbled backwards as if she’d been hit. Not waiting to find out, Acid clambered to her feet, pulling Danny with her.

“Come on,” she told him. “This way.”

They hurried over to a set of patio doors left partially open and slipped into a vast suite much grander than hers. Passing through the room swiftly and without words, they got to the front door, which Acid pulled open cautiously. They’d escaped but by only one floor. If Magpie had survived that shot, she’d already be on her way down.

A glance up and down the corridor told her they were clear. For now, at least. She gave Danny a nod and they slipped out into the dimly lit corridor. The air here was still, almost dead, with not a soul around.

“There,” Danny whispered, pointing at a gold sign that read Ascensor. “This way.”

Acid halted. They were six flights up, but the elevator wouldn’t be her first choice, or even her second or third. Often where there was an elevator, there were stairs nearby. Stairs she imagined Magpie was currently traversing two at a time.

“Too dangerous,” she replied. “We need to find the emergency exit.”

Experience told her these