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back up the ax handle into her hands, and she froze for a moment, knowing that she’d probably killed a man.
    Oh, Goddess, I didn’t mean it! she thought, staring as he dropped with a boneless limpness.
    Dennis had different reflexes, or perhaps he’d merely had enough adrenaline pumped into his system by the brief lethal fight. He punched the head of the ax into the gut of the giant with the baseball bat, and followed up with a roundhouse swing that would have taken an arm off at the shoulder if the big man hadn’t thrown himself backward with a speed surprising in someone that size.
    The blade scored his left arm instead of chopping it, and he fled clutching it and screaming curses; he sounded more angry than hurt. His smaller friend with the Balisong ran backward away from the suddenly long odds, the flickering menace of his knife discouraging thoughts of pursuit.
    He halted a dozen paces away, his eyes coldly unafraid; they were an unexpected blue, slanted in a thin amber-colored face. Juniper met them for an instant, feeling a prickle down her neck and shoulders.
    â€œYo, bitch!” he called, shooting out his left hand with the middle finger pointing at her. “Chico there was a friend of mine. Maybe we’ll meet again, get to know each other better. My name is Eddie Liu—remember that!”
    Then he looked over Juniper’s shoulder, shrugged, turned and followed his bigger friend in a light, bounding run.
    She turned to see Eilir coming up with an ax handle of her own, and her gaze went back to her friend and the policeman.
    â€œEither of you hurt?” she said.
    Dennis leaned back against the wrecked truck, shaking his head and blowing like a walrus, his heavy face turned purple-red and running sweat beyond what the gathering heat would have accounted for. The policeman had a bleeding slash across the palm of his left hand where he’d fended off the Balisong.
    Juniper tossed down her ax handle, suddenly disgusted with the feel of it, and helped him bandage his wound. Out of the corner of her eye she was conscious of Dennis recovering a little, and dragging off the body of the man she’d—
    Hit. I just hit him. I had to, she thought. I really had to.
    She was still thankful he moved it, and avoided looking at the damp track the bobbing head left on the pavement.
    â€œYou folks ought to get out of here,” the policeman said. “I’ve got to get to the station and find out what’s going on. Go home if you’re far enough from the fire, or head up to campus if you’re not.”
    He walked away, limping slightly and holding his injured left hand against his chest; the nightstick was ready in his right. Juniper pulled her daughter to her and held her, shivering. She looked into Dennis’s eyes; her friend wasn’t quite as purple now, but he looked worse somehow.
    They started up Monroe, heading back towards the Hopping Toad in silence. Dennis stopped for an instant, picked up the revolver of the looter she’d . . . hit . . . and weighed it in one big beefy hand. Then he pointed the weapon towards a building and pulled the trigger five times.
    Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
    â€œRemember what the fireman said?” Juniper asked quietly. “About the dynamite not working? And what are the odds of that many cartridges not working?”
    â€œYou know,” he said in his mild voice, “I never really liked guns. Not dead set against ’em like John, but I never liked ’em. But . . . y’know, Juney, I’ve got this feeling we’re going to miss them. Pretty bad.”

CHAPTER THREE

    S he’s sinking fast, Havel thought as he scrabbled at the restraining belts that held him into the pilot’s seat.
    Got to get out! Out!
    â€œMom’s hurt, Mom’s hurt!” a voice shouted, almost screamed; Signe Larsson, he thought. “She can’t move!”
    The interior of the plane was dark as a