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Badb - Bodyguard — Description

The firefight was over, almost as abruptly as it began. I had barely any time to register that we were even in danger before I felt an insistent firm hand on my shoulder, pushing me to the ground. I folded like paper, Morrigan’s skirt blossoming around us as she summoned a pistol from the hidden folds of the gown. Still pressing me down, her hand like a vice, she rounded and began to fire, short bursts of fire from her pistol overlapping into a continuous roar. Only then did I see the puffs of dust and debris surrounding us, in time with the distant reports of much larger weapons from the platform a few levels up.
A moment later, there was nothing but silence, and heavy breathing that I realized was from my ragged throat. I must have been screaming, but I had no recollection of it. I peeked over my shoulder at Morrigan, who was intently watching the distant platform. A mechanical sound preceded the magazine sliding free of her pistol’s grip, and she let go of my shoulder to smoothly replace it with a new one, conjured through slight of hand I could not follow from my angle.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, her eyes never wavering from their target.
“I don’t think so,” I managed, flush with shame at the sudden onset of delayed fear. “Are we safe now?”
A flock of crows were cawing overhead, and several alighted on the platform the gunfire had come from.
Morrigan muttered something I could not quite catch under her breath, and sighed, her expression softening. “Yes, sorry about that. Gangers, I expect, wanting revenge for something or another.” Her nonchalance was almost unsettling, as though this were a daily occurrence for her. She stood smoothly and then offered a hand up. “Our evening is going to be delayed I’m afraid. I’ll need to speak with the constabulary.”
As I made my way off the ground, accepting her assistance gratefully, I had to dig around in my memory for that word. “Oh, the police, you mean. Yes, I imagine so. Are we going to be in trouble?” I looked over at the platform and gauged the distance at a little more than 50 meters. I could just make out the form of a gun that had been mounted on the railing there, and a body crumpled near it. As I examined it, a crow landed nearby and hopped its careful way closer to the body. It seemed like a long way for a pistol shot, but I was no expert.
“I have a good working relationship with most of the districts. I don’t expect any trouble.” The gun had vanished once more into the folds of her dress. The lines of it fit her so snugly I could not imagine where she kept the holster. She gestured to the car I had so recently exited and I sat gratefully in its passenger seat, listening as the sirens grew closer.
***
This post was inspired by the prose from Pillow Talk:
It precedes Pillow Talk, but is on the same day.
Enjoy!