The door opened.
"Get back!" said Ricker. "I'll kill the first man that enters!"
Molly Borden came through the door.
"Stop," said Ricker. "I swear I'll shoot if you come a step inside."
"Put down that gun," she said quietly. Gurren and Hines stood in the door behind her, their pistols leveled but unable to shoot with her directly in the line of fire. The woman moved slowly toward Ricker.
"Stop!" he said. God! Why didn't he shoot! This woman was dead anyway. The state had condemned her. It wouldn't be like killing anybody else.
She came on, slowly, like a lion trainer approaching a dangerous animal but with no vestige of fear. Her eyes knifed into his, unblinking, commanding, like the paralyzing fangs of a serpent. His finger tightened on the trigger.
"Give me the pistol. Please." Her voice was low, throaty but with vibrant confidence. With the spell of her eyes, it urged Ricker like the subtle demand of a hypnotist. "Please."
She halted before him, a gorgeous creature, like some great poisonous jungle flower. Her cold green eyes bored into him without a waver. Her face was expressionless, a thing of tinted marble. She held out her hand.
"Give me the gun, Bill Ricker," she said softly. "They'll kill you if you don't."