Hellboy rolled toward Liz, and as he knelt and brought the pistol up, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck singed. A roar of flame curved over his head and struck the dragon on the face.
"Burn," Liz said. Her voice sent a shiver through Hellboy. He would trust Liz to death and beyond, but hell, she had hidden depths.
The dragon reared up and flapped its huge wings. They scraped walls, smashed doors, and scored the tiled floor. When it opened its mouth to inhale Liz's fire, Hellboy knew they were in trouble.
He aimed the pistol. "One good shot," he said. "That's all I ask. One ... good ... shot." He pulled the trigger and suddenly believed in the power of prayer. The bullet hit home in the dragons throat.
The giant lizard froze, stiffened, let out a small squeal. The hole in its throat spewed something colorless that distorted Hellboy's view of the monsters head — gas or heat, he could not tell — and then its eyes rolled up in its head.
"Oh, Liz," Hellboy said, "this is going to be — "
The dragon exploded. It gave a wet, dull thud that thumped through the ground into Hellboy's legs and set his eardrums pounding. Its neck was pushed apart by a ball of fire. Blood, flesh, and bone spattered the walls and powered in through the coffee shop entrance. Hellboy barely brought up his hands before he was hit by a slab of meat almost half his size. It was warm and stinking, and it rolled him to the floor and slid against the back wall with him. He tried to push it away but found that it was burning, pockets of gas in its flesh popping and sparking and dribbling fire down across his face and neck. It fused the meat to him, and he started to smell like a bad steak.
"Dammit!" He kicked up and out, shoving aside the still-melting chunk of meat, and then Liz was there adding her weight. The piece of dragon parted from Hellboy with a sucking sound, and he kicked it away. "Now, that is grim."
"The dragon's still burning," Liz said She was covered in blood, and a shiny, oily scale was stuck to her forehead. Hellboy plucked it away and held it up to the fires cast by the monster.
"Looks almost pretty," he said.
"You've got time to collect trophies later," Liz said. "One down, four to go."
"Yeah, and if they're all that easy to kill — "
"You call that easy?"
"Comparatively."
"Compared to what?"
He shrugged. "Give me a minute, I'll think of something."
Liz smiled, and a hail of bullets slammed into Hellboy.
* * *
Liz stumbled back, tripped over a discarded rucksack, and fell. Hellboy had pushed her. Maybe he'd seen the policemen out of the corner of his eye, or perhaps he'd sensed the danger. Bullets stitched his chest and threw him against the wall. He slid to the floor muttering something, but Liz could not make out the words.
"Stay still!" someone shouted. Liz, lying on her back, put her hands in the air. She was breathing hard. Blue flames licked her fingernails. She raised her head and looked at Hellboy, and he stared back with a look of almost comical surprise on his face.
"Keep your hands still!" the same voice shouted.
"They're up where you can see them, asshole!" Liz said.
"She's American, guv."
"Hey, that's no dragon. That's Hellboy."
"I swear," Hellboy whispered, "anyone calls me a dragon again ... " Then his eyes closed, and his chin dipped to his chest.
Liz stood. "If you're going to shoot me, do it, but make the first bullet count." She did not even look at the policemen. In two strides she was at Hellboy's side, kneeling down and gasping at the sight of the blood seeping from his wounds.
"Holy shit, I shot Hellboy ... " a voice said.
Another voice, this one whispering. "You better hope he stays down a while."
"HB?" Liz said. She leaned in close, angry, terrified, flames lighting the undersides of her fingernails. "HB, open your eyes at least?"