Machetes and Guns

Never use a machete in a concrete jungle.
I tend not to use machetes in any situation, metaphorically. They help you go faster, but they leave a trail. And the only reason to go faster is to hide.

A city street is a quickly changing scenario. If you can see the paths, the patterns, you can run, hide, escape with ease.

That's how I knew he was from out of town.

He shoved, pushed, and threatened, leaving a wide trail to follow. He may be powerful, but he's not a genius in any sense of the word. But somebody hired him, so I shouldn't take anything for granted.

I came around a corner and saw him walking invisibly, trailing his fingers across arms, waists, throats. One foot after the other, a hypnotic step. This man was used to walking down the center of the street, expecting traffic to stop for him. And by the rings on his fingers and bells on his toes, I surmise that it did.

I hunched and took on a hurried, busy walk. Counting spots of gum on the sidewalk. Bumped his sensationless shoulder and marched on. Seek and ignore.

That was a stupid, stupid mistake. How easily we forget, having been so long a gun in a world of knives, that we forget the damage another gun can do to us.

When I got home, he was waiting for me.

I ran.

My lairs are blinking off the grid. one by one. Seemingly at random.

He knows them all as well as I do, and he's going to find me soon.

But I also know his.

Be prepared, Shadow-Demon, for the Fire-Dancer comes.