Hammered

dashing over there unnoticed were destroyed by the vanguard of the Kabbalists, who must have been told to look out for the redhead with the goatee. I heard one of them shout, » There he goes! « in Russian, and that was the end of my attempt to » flee casually. « I sprinted full tilt for the wall, half expecting to feel a hit on my amulet as they hurled one of their » Justice! « strikes at me, or some other magical attack. Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, as I caught some air and I cleared the top, pain exploded in my back. Knives whistled on either side of me, and I understood as I fell that a few of the Kabbalists had thrown their silver daggers at me—daggers they all carried just in case they ran into a werewolf. One of the knives sank into the meat behind my left shoulder blade and another into my kidney on the right side.
    Perhaps it would have occurred to someone else—someone from Scottsdale—to bemoan the fate of his leather jacket in such a scenario. But even such slaves to fashion might be distracted from a wardrobe malfunction by a knife in the kidney, because there’s no other pain like it. It’s the sort of pain that freezes every muscle for fear of increasing the pain, and you don’t dare to scream or breathe, because even that much motion will exacerbate it.
    I fell heavily to the cobbled walkway on the other side of the wall and nearly blacked out from the pain. I yanked the knife out of my kidney and had a nice cathartic scream of agony, then went to work healing right away, because it could easily be a mortal wound. Poisons seeping into my bloodstream …
    Treating the Hammers of God with courtesy, I saw, had been a mistake. Their rules of engagement approved deadly force from the start, while mine had been about disengagement. If I had laid into them with all the gusto they’d shown in coming after me, I wouldn’t be in these dire straits now. I’d be in different dire straits, to be sure, but perhaps not so personally threatening.
    It’s bloody difficult to concentrate properly when you’re dying of renal failure and all your brain can do is squeal. I turned down the volume on my pain centers from eleven to one and then refocused on knitting up my kidney. It didn’t leave me much room to deal with the Hammers of God. My clever, half-formed plan to ditch them somewhere in the maze of shops in Hayden Square would never see fruition. Drawing Fragarach and making a valiant last stand wasn’t going to be possible either. One lucky knife throw in a half-assed ambush had put me down for the immediate future, and I still had another knife in my shoulder I couldn’t reach. The cobblestones weren’t letting me get through to the earth; there was cement underneath them, no doubt. Every bit of magic in my bear charm would have to be used in keeping myself alive, so I wasn’t sure what I’d be able to muster as a defense when they came to finish me off.
    Raised voices cut with equal parts fear and anger dimly registered in my head, and the clapping of approaching shoes against pavement signaled more grief to come.
    » Vot on, « someone said in Russian. Here he is . My field of vision quickly filled with black shoes and the severe garb of the Kabbalists.
    Then, suddenly, there were a pair of jeans and Converse All Stars inches away from my nose.
    » Hello, gentlemen, can we talk for a second? « a voice said in Russian.
    A chorus of heated Russian snarls greeted this request, all of them tersely demanding that the first speaker get out of the way, bugger off, and mind his own business. A couple wondered where he had come from.
    » I will move, but we will talk first, « the voice said firmly yet calmly, and I recognized it as that of Jesus. We were completely surrounded by men in black now. I hoped none of them had picked up the knife with my blood on it. That would be bad. Though I couldn’t imagine how it could be worse than sticking it in my other kidney.
    The tight whip of Yosef Bialik’s voice lashed out at Jesus. » Why do you interfere? This does not concern you. «
    » I beg to differ, « Jesus said, switching to English. » You interrupted my lunch, and my friend has yet to pay the bill. «
    » You are a friend to this man? This man who consorts with demons? « Bialik replied in the same language.
    » Your mom consorts with demons, « I said, though it came out as more of a phlegmy cough than a confident assertion. That was about all the fight I had left in me. I