Didn’t look like no stabbing I’d ever seen…
“Wait,” I leaned down to get closer to Jeff, trying to keep my voice quiet. “If it didn’t look like a stabbing, what was it?”
“Hmmm… dunno about that, Sister Sarah. Could have been a dog, a big dog… or maybe one of those werewolves. Did you see that movie with the werewolf?” His voice trailed away as he tried to remember which werewolf movie he was talking about.
“Oh yeah,” I replied, “Totally saw it.” My eyes were drawn to the group of people crowded at the edge of the police tape. They were all watching the forensic team that was sweeping the area.
Except one.
A young man, pale and gaunt, with a dark hooded sweatshirt pulled up over his head was looking at Jeff; looking at us. I stood up, challenging him with my gaze. He blinked quickly, and slid a pair of mirrored sunglasses over his eyes.
Laudan.
I hate being stared at.
I didn’t hesitate; I walked as quickly as I could towards the small crowd, intent on confronting him. The crowd moved around me and someone crashed into me, knocking me off course. I looked around angrily for whoever it was that had jostled me, but it was impossible to know. The crowd wasn’t large, but it was packed tightly as people fought for a better view.
I tried to find the Laudan again, but he was gone.
“Shit,” I muttered, scanning the crowd.
The dark hooded sweatshirt appeared to my left and I lurched forward, slamming my hand down on the wearer’s shoulder. I gripped the slim shoulder tightly and yanked him forward.
“What the—“
I was staring into the face of a frightened young woman; her wide eyes were clear and blue, with no Laudan draga mark visible. They always tattooed the eyes of their favorites, their human shields. It was subtle, but it was there, a small violet mark in the corner of the eye. I let her go and backed away, my hands held wide.
Then it hit me, the smoke. Just a tendril at first, I thought it was another match. Something Jeff had lit and then allowed to burn out on the concrete. I looked over my shoulder to where I had left him, but he was gone.
My eyes started to water, and I began to gasp for breath.
No. No, no, no. Not again.
Not now.
I was disoriented, stumbling against others in the crowd as I tried to get my bearings. I had to get home.
“Bruja...”
It was just a whisper in my ear, but it was enough to get my feet moving.
Malleus.
I fucking ran. I did my best to take the long route, the one I had planned and run so many times before. The one that I’d designed to throw people off my tail.
Anyone.
Even Malleus.
I ran until the smoke cleared, until my magical wards and protection spells began to reveal themselves to me. Purple shimmers here and there that only I could see. I would be safe at home with Suki.
I rounded the last corner, slowing my pace just a little so that I wouldn’t look suspicious to anyone milling around. I put a smile on my face as the owner of the Pho place came out to sweep the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.
Everything was normal. Super normal.
Smile.
I dug in my bag for my keys, making a show of covering the magic I used to open the outer door. Jingling my keys loudly.
All systems normal.
The door closed behind me and I leaned against it, letting out the breath I didn’t know I had been holding.
I was home. I was safe.
But I’d feel a whole fuck of a lot better once I was inside my apartment. The bannisters glowed with the purple light of my magic. Protection spells that I’d laid and layered over the years.
Almost there.
I could feel my heartbeat slowing, and I could hear Suki yowling to be fed. She always knew when I was home.
Number 5.
I laid my hand against the deep green door and breathed a little sigh of relief and lifted my keys to the lock.
11
I heard the front door of the building slam, and jangled my keys as I slid my magic into the lock instead. Suki meowed loudly.
“I’m coming, bratcat, have a little patience, it’s been a fucked up day,” I murmured.
Just as the apartment door began to open, I heard a cold, arrogant voice call out, “Such a shame. Did you know that corpse in the park, witch?”
I grabbed the door handle, pulling the door shut as a fit of coughing overtook me. As I doubled over, a tall man with broad shoulders and biceps that strained against his woollen sweater came up the narrow stairs.
Four more men came up behind him, and I tried to get control of my breathing. I felt my magic swirl through my veins, and the smoke in my lungs dampened, allowing me to breathe a little clearer. I gasped for air, leaning against the wall. Malleus. They’d found me after all.
Five men to take me down. That seemed unfair, even by their standards. But I couldn’t use my magic, if they believed that I was human, they might leave me alone, maybe even forget about me. Another falsely accused witch.
I put my keys between my knuckles. The head of Haven’s long, heavy deadbolt key was braced tightly against my palm, the rest of the keys adding weight to my fist.
Single girl defense 101.
The narrow hallway was a dead-end, and I had nowhere to go. If I fled into the apartment, they’d break down the door, and I couldn’t let that happen. There was no telling what these fucks would do to Suki, and there was no way I would leave her.
I put a smile on my face, playing innocent, “Can I help you? This is a private building and there are no drugs or valuables in my apartment.” That was a lie, but I’d heard it in a movie once.
“Nice try bruja. We know who you are.” The one who spoke, obviously the leader, indicated beckoned the two closest thugs forward.
“Get her! Make it quick,” he growled quietly.
Shit. This wasn’t a negotiation.
The two men advanced menacingly. The closest one made a sudden lunge and managed to grab my wrist; I dropped my bag and lashed out with the key that was trapped in my fist.
I was lightning.
I was Wolverine.
I was pissed.
Guided just a little by my magic, the key connected with his left cheek and dug in deeply, cutting a ragged furrow in his face that gushed blood. I should have blinded him. The man screamed and fell to the ground, and I wasted no time in putting my boot into his throat as hard as I could, sending him sprawling.
My viciousness had surprised the second man, and he couldn’t slow his momentum in time to stop himself from tripping over his comrade. He landed heavily at my feet and I kicked him squarely in the jaw, stomping down hard.
A loud, satisfying crunch told me that this particular asshole was probably out of the fight.
“Come on guys, I’m just trying to get into my apartment, it’s been a really shitty day. You should just go home now and pretend you didn’t even come here tonight, ok?” I looked down at the two guys groaning and bleeding on the hallway carpet.
That would be fun to explain to the building manager in the morning.
The leader gritted his teeth. Two of his men had been put down quickly and quietly. I could see that he was entertaining second thoughts. Blood dripped off of my key and down my hand. My palm itched where the metal had dug into my flesh when it had connected with my attacker.
“You bruja bitch!” he exclaimed. A loud click echoed in the now quiet hallway as the Malleus leader flicked open a long switchblade. The two other thugs pulled collapsible batons from under their jackets and flicked them open with a loud snap. The three thugs advanced down the hallway, a bit more cautiously this time.
“You’re going to come with us, bruja. We have some justice waiting for you,” the leader yelled.
I knew what Malleus’ justice meant. Fire. Fuck that noise.
“Justice? I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m going to
call the cops! You guys are insane!” I obviously had no intention of digging in my bag for my phone, but I wanted the person listening at the door of Apartment 4 to know exactly what was happening. I could hear their frightened breathing, and I couldn’t blow my cover. I had to live here for fuck’s sake.
They came at me head on, filling the hallway with their bulk, the leader with the switchblade in the center. I backed up a few steps away from the two I had felled, but I was very aware of being pinned against the end wall of the hallway.
The man to my left moved forward, swinging his baton at my head. My magic reacted faster than I did, and I managed to duck the swing, but as I moved, the other baton-wielding thug kicked me in the stomach.
It hurt, he’d pay for that, but the man was off balance so the kick wasn’t as powerful as it could have been.
Small mercies.
I gasped, trying to get my breath back and fighting to remain on my feet. If I fell, I was finished.
The leader with the switchblade was hanging back, waiting for his two followers to wear me down. I kicked out at the one who had swung the baton at my head, striking him on the inside of his left knee. The knee buckled and he went down, but I knew I’d just stalled him.
The asshole who had kicked me in the stomach had regained his balance and swung wildly at my head with his baton. I ducked one swing, then a second. As the second swing whistled past my head, I crashed my open palm, still holding my blood soaked keys into up into his chin. As he reeled, I drove my knee into his groin as hard as I could. The wounded Malleus let out a long, moaning gasp of air and fell heavily on his back on the hallway floor, his baton clattering to the ground and rolling out of reach.
One down.
Two to go.
The thug I’d kicked in the knee was just getting to his feet as I turned. He winced as he put weight on the leg, and I knew I’d done some damage. He swung an angry, quick punch at my face, and I moved too slowly. His knuckles connected with my lip, splitting it. I tasted blood, and I felt my magic swirl within me.
Suddenly any trace of fear that I’d had inside me disappeared. Replaced instead by a crackling inferno of rage.
Feinting a strike toward his eyes, I kicked his left knee again, much harder this time. An extra push from my magic made all the difference, and I smiled as his joint cracked.
He dropped to the floor again, this time yelling in pain. As he hit the floor, I kicked him in the side of the head; the force of the blow caused his head to slam into the brocade wallpaper. He groaned and sighed wheezily, and then lay still, his face pressed unflatteringly against the wall, out cold. I’d have to remember to snap a selfie with him before I went back into my apartment.
The leader stood frozen in the hall; he’d watched the fight unfold in disbelief. I knew what he was thinking… this was impossible. She’d taken out three armed men.
“Look, asshole, all your buddies are down and bleeding. Someone has to have called the cops by now. You may as well run away while you have a chance!”
I couldn’t hear the person in Apartment 4 anymore; they’d better be calling the fucking cops. I should really make good on my personal threat to meet all of my neighbors in person.
“Not a chance, bruja. You might not be using your magic, but I know exactly who you are,” he said menacingly, the knife held low and to the side. He was tense, ready to spring. “You can’t run from us anymore. None of you can.”
I shrugged and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor; there was obviously nothing more to say.
The Malleus leader lunged, slashing at me, my magic pushed me out of the way just in time, but not fast enough to prevent him from scoring a hit. I felt the knife blaze across my ribs.
If that blade had been witched, I’d be really mad about it. With a smile on his face, he pulled the knife back and slashed across my body, trying to open my stomach, I was ready for him this time, and I spun out of the way, hitting the wall with a grunt.
He was on me in a second, pinning me against the flocked wallpaper. His cologne choked me as he pressed his mouth close to my ear. “I can smell the magic in your blood, bruja, you can’t lie to me,” he grunted. He ground his pelvis into my hip and I felt my stomach churn as his other hand roved over my chest and found the wound in my side. He chuckled and pressed his fingers into the wound, making me scream with pain.
“Gotcha,” he breathed and brought the knife up, pressing the blade against my cheekbone. I winced as the edge of the weapon broke the skin ever so slightly.
That was enough.
I stomped down hard on his instep, and jerked my head back to connect with the bridge of his nose. I loved the sound of breaking cartilage.
The man stumbled back, his hand covering his face, but I saw the blood pouring down his chin and I smiled with bloodied teeth.
“No, means no, you piece of shit. Take that back to your pyromaniac boss.”
Oh, shit… me and my big mouth.
A gleam of triumph lit the Malleus’ eye; he knew the he’d gotten to me. Confident now, the man changed tactics, he roared and lunged, thrust the blade straight at me, high and to the right, trying to catch me off guard. The coward.
His wild move gave me the opening I needed. I pivoted on the ball of my right foot, and twisted out of the knife’s path. I grabbed his arm tightly and used his momentum to push the blade away and slam him into the wall. An extra push from my magic gave me the force I needed to drive the toe of my boot into the bundle of nerves in his inner thigh. With a shout of pain, his leg gave out and he slid down the wall.
With a little smirk, I gestured with my hand and let my magic slam his head into the wall. I wasn’t touching him any more than I had to. It would take forever to get the smell of his terrible cologne out of my nostrils.
All five Malleus thugs lay in the hallway, in various states of pain. Some nursing broken bones. I wiped the blood from my lip with the back of my hand and reached down to pick up the switchblade. It wasn’t a bad little weapon, and I’d been in the market for a new one. Releasing its mechanism and folding it back up; I tossed it into my bag.
“Handy.”
One of the thugs groaned and I nudged him with my foot.
With a little help from my magic, I dragged each of the thugs down the stairs, relishing each thump of their heads on the wooden stairs as we descended. I left them in the alley beside the building. Judging by their groans, they’d be awake soon enough, and by the time the cops got there, they’d already have disappeared. It wouldn’t do any good to have them arrested. Malleus had their fingers in everything, and there was no telling who their boss was.
They were disposable, so there wasn’t even any point in interrogating the leader. He probably didn’t even know who had hired him. They were parasites that fed on ash and misplaced Faith.
Disgusting.
I climbed the stairs back to my apartment carefully. Suddenly feeling each of my wounds keenly. My jaw hurt, my ribs throbbed and I could feel blood crusting on my cheek.
I heard a scuffle from behind the door of Apartment 4.
Right. The witness.
I pressed my hand to my side, trying to force myself to tear up.
Come on, Ophelia. Cry. Make it believable.
I practiced a few lines in my head: I was so scared! I don’t know who they are! Did you call the cops? Please! Help me!
Right.
I knew that my lip was still bleeding, and my cheek stung. I definitely looked like I’d been through the shit. I took four short steps to my mysterious neighbor’s door and hammered my fist against it.
“Help! Oh my god, is anyone home?” My voice choked with unshed tears, gasping and desperate.
The door opened to reveal an older gentleman in a red velvet blazer with matching slippers.
“Oh! Oh, my dear! What happened to you?” He seemed genuinely shocked, but it was in his best interest not to let on that he’d been watching through the keyhole. I knew he’d seen, and heard, everything.
Forget.
The man blinked and stepped back, as though seeing the bloodstains on the wall and the carpet in the hallway for the first time. Which, as far as he remembered, was exactly what was happening, every other memory he’d had in the last twenty minutes fading away like mist.
I lurched towards him, my bloodstained hands outstretched, my eyes pleading and my face tear-streaked.
“Please help me! You have to call the police!”
The man looked confused, but once he saw the bodies in the hallway, he sprang into protective action, he patted my shoulder warmly and led me into his apartment. I told him the precise version of the story that I wanted the police to hear.
“I was just coming home from work, I’ve had the most awful day, and these men, and they followed me. They attacked me, and I don’t know what they wanted. There were five of them, they cut me with a knife and tried to drag me away but I sprayed them with mace and they ran!” I took a shuddering breath and covered my face with my hands, “I was so scared!”
The older man’s eyes filled with concern at my narrow escape. “My poor dear,” he said softly, “you were lucky to escape with your life.” He picked up his phone and dialed 9-1-1.
I’d like to thank the Academy.
* * *
I spent a few minutes with my benefactor as he spoke to the police. He was even was kind enough to provide a clear description of five men who looked nothing like my attackers (typical), and a cup of scalding hot, improperly steeped tea. He passed me the phone to give the tired sounding police officer my details, and insisted that I was fine, ‘just a little shaken up.’ I didn’t need a visit, or an escort to work. Everything was just fine, I’d been ‘spooked.’ Nothing more.
After handing the phone back to my makeshift rescuer, I thanked him for the tea, and promised to check in with him in the morning to let him know that I was all right.
I plucked my bloody keys up off the floor; knowing that I was being watched by my new friend, I slotted the key into the lock, opened the door, and with a smile on my face I took one last look at the bloodstained carpet. I’d deal with that shit in the morning. I needed a fucking drink.
Sticks & Stones: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 8