by L. K. Hill
Dark masses rose up from the ground as he came level with them on both sides, and he had no way of knowing whether they were sleeping hobos, skulking monsters, or just piles of trash. He ignored them, one and all, plowing toward where Kyra had left his line of vision.
He went around the corner at a dead run and nearly plowed into her. She’d stopped six feet from the corner she’d turned and now stood, her back to him, chest heaving. He immediately realized why. The alley she’d turned down wasn’t an alley at all, but a dead end. Thirty feet from where she stood loomed a brick wall. Though the alley was dark, Gabe could see the entire space in front of them. There were shadows, but nowhere to hide. Being thorough certainly wouldn’t hurt, though.
He didn’t have a flashlight—he’d had one at one point, and had no idea when he’d lost it—so he pulled out his phone and opened the flashlight app. He ran the white light over every part of the alley in front of them. Kyra’s eyes followed it. Sounds of weeping prisoners and unies calling orders and talking on radios still reached Gabe’s ears, but it was a background noise, as muted as the Slip Mire itself this time of night. The loudest sound in his ears was Kyra’s ragged breathing.
When he’d run the light over every surface, he let his arm drop. He stepped up behind Kyra, who’d turned her back on the dead end. She stood facing the intersection they’d come from, head down so her chin rested on her chest. Gabe bent his head and spoke directly into her ear. “No one’s here, Kyra.” He laid a hand on her shoulder.
She jerked away, spinning to face him while also walking backward toward the mouth of the alley. Stumbling to the left, she pushed against the brick with her palms, as though expecting to find a trap door or trick wall. Making her way around the perimeter of the alley, she pushed and prodded, even kicking a few times.
Gabe ran a hand through his hair, a vague ache for her desperation running through his chest.
Her weight sagged against the wall. Gabe took a step toward her. The next moment she pushed herself to her feet with only a slight grimace. She stopped at the mouth of the dead-end passage and stared out into the darkness beyond.
Gabe followed her with his eyes.
Her breathing hadn’t slowed, and Gabe wondered what she saw. Perhaps she was playing through everything that happened in her mind, seeing it all. Perhaps she saw nothing. Only the blackness of the Mire that seemed to have swallowed her brother once again.
She drew in a shuddering breath and the scream that ripped out of her made him jump. “MANNY!” It echoed off the alleys, ricocheting through the darkness.
Kyra’s desperation infected Gabe and he drew a shuddering breath. The skittering of night creatures registered in his ears. Nothing else moved, as though the very Slip Mire held its breath.
Gabe crossed the space between them and put his hands on her shoulders. “Kyra,” he said softly.
“Manny!” It was so weak this time, it barely qualified as a shout. She whispered her brother’s name a third time. Her voice became a whimper.
A sound reached his ears. The sound of footsteps on pavement, retreating deeper into the Mire. Kyra pushed past him to follow them. Gabe stayed at her shoulder, but didn’t stop her. He knew he should. She needed medical attention. Shaun needed his help. But Gabe understood the desperation in her scream, the yearning in her stance. He wanted to give her some leeway. Just a little.
He let her lead him deeper into the Mire, through winding, twisting passages that smelled of pot and urine and excrement. He’d never been this deep in the Mire before. It wasn’t safe for cops. They became targets in the dark parts of the city where depravity breathed. He could only pray Kyra would know her way back out. Somehow, he was sure she would.
After five minutes of walking, they crossed an intersection of two alleys. Until then, the dilapidated buildings of the Mire had over-shadowed them, making it so dark, the alley felt like an underground tunnel, though it was open to the air. At the intersection, they happened to have reached a place where there were no buildings. The white moon cast a surprising amount of light. Gabe blinked at the sudden brightness of it. As soon as they passed the intersection, they would head into darkness again.
Wham! Someone barreled into the intersection, slamming into Gabe. He fell against the opposite wall, barely staying on his feet. The man was wiry with white hair. He both looked and smelled like he hadn’t bathed for the better part of this decade. He gazed down at Gabe for a minute, didn’t bother looking toward Kyra at all, and then spun on his toe and fled in the opposite direction.
“Damn Mirelings,” Gabe muttered.
Kyra was twenty feet ahead of him now. At least the moon provided enough light to see her by. Though she was about to step into the darkness of another alley. They needed to go back. They’d gone too far as it was. It was amazing they hadn’t encountered trouble yet. Manny wasn’t here. If they were going to find him, they would have by now.
“K…S….” What was he supposed to call her? She wasn’t in her Supra guise so even calling her that could be trouble. “Wait up.” He didn’t say it loudly, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. In the quiet of the Mire, his voice carried clearly. Even the sounds of chaos from the warehouse had faded into silence.
Kyra didn’t seem to be listening. If anything, her gait increased as she moved toward the alley. He quickly righted himself—she wasn’t going in there alone—and strode after her.
Movement from the right caught Gabe’s attention. He was still fifteen feet behind Kyra.
“Watch out!” Gabe yelled, running forward, gun in hand.
The man—very different than the one who’d just struck Gabe—stalked up behind Kyra, grabbed her by both arms and swung her around in a circle, letting go two hundred and seventy degrees from the alley’s mouth. She was flung hard into the brick wall ten feet away, hitting it with a sickening thud. Gabe thought her feet might have left the ground. Her attacker watched while she slid down the wall, landing in a heap at its base. Then he took a step toward her.
“Hey!” Gabe slid smoothly between them and shoved his glock up under the man’s chin. “Back off!”
Only then did he realize the man was speaking, a low guttural growl.
“—are you doing?”
Gabe frowned. Who was this guy talking to? The attacker stood taller than Gabe, but Gabe out-weighed him by at least thirty pounds. He had a thin nose, high cheekbones, and long hair pulled back from his face. His clothing and grooming were pristine. What the hell was a guy like this doing in the Slip Mire?
The man stared over Gabe’s shoulder, his eyes obviously on Kyra. Something about that made Gabe’s blood boil.
Kyra’s heavy breathing came from behind him, near the ground. With it, the rustle of her clothing and scrape of her shoes against the pavement as she got up. She groaned and Gabe shifted his feet. Turning his back on this asshole wasn’t an option. He just wished he knew whether she was okay.
Then she stood right beside him, chest heaving. “What do you mean what the hell am I doing? What the hell are you doing?”
Gabe dropped the point of his gun several inches, to the man’s chest. Obviously Kyra knew him.
“Don’t you know where you are?” the man growled and took a step forward. Gabe raised his gun again. The man spared no more than a glance for Gabe, but he didn’t move forward again. Kyra hadn’t moved at all.
“This is the second time you’ve bulled your way into the darkness without thinking about the consequences,” the man spat.
Gabe glanced at Kyra. Her head swiveled slowly to look toward the alley the man had kept her out of. The man followed her gaze. So did Gabe. He didn’t see anything except blackness. What did they see that he couldn’t?
Then he heard it. A soft, snake-like hiss coming from the darkness. He dropped the point of his gun to the ground, turning toward the sound. “Scavengers,” he breathed.
“Scaven—?” the man turned to Gabe, freezing mid-sentence. He eyes went up and down, taking in Gabe’s st
ance, his gun.
Shit. The man was making deductions and something told Gabe it wasn’t a good thing.
“Are you a cop?” The man’s voice was soft, but had the ring of steel to it. His hands went behind him, reaching for something at his belt.
Gabe swung his gun up again. “Hands where I can see them, man.”
The man slowly raised his hands to the side where Gabe could see them. He turned an accusing gaze on Kyra, practically shaking with anger. When he addressed her, it was through clenched teeth. “What the hell are you doing running around the Mire with a cop?”
“I’m not!” Kyra spat, but Gabe could hear it bleeding through. The edge of fear in her voice.
“Relax, Man,” Gabe said. “I chased her in here.”
The tall man shifted his hawkish eyes to Gabe.
Gabe deliberately attempted to exude less of an air of dominance, tried to make his voice unsure. “Look, I don’t know who you are or who she is or what’s going on here. She came out of that damn warehouse. Look at her, man. She’s covered in blood. She needs medical attention.”
The man’s eyes shifted back to Kyra. The moon shining down on them still hooded the man’s eyes, but Gabe thought a wrinkle in the man’s forehead deepened. Did he not notice the blood before now?
“You obviously know her,” Gabe continued. Once he began, the lies came easily. “Can you tell me her name? She won’t, and I’ll need it at the hospital.”
The man returned his gaze to Gabe. “So you chased her. All the way in here.” No part of it sounded like a question, but skepticism laced his voice.
Gabe kept his gaze steady on the man. “Protect and serve.”
The man chuckled, a chilling, throaty sound. “Okay, Officer Hero. Tell me something. How long have you been one of Abstreuse’s finest?”
Gabe kept his face passive. “About a month.”
The man nodded knowingly. “That’s fine. Take her to get the medical attention she needs. And no, I won’t tell you her name. That’s her business. I would tell you to give her a lesson on the dangers of coming more than four layers deep in the Mire, but you obviously don’t know them yourself. Both of you will need a good deal of luck to survive here much longer.”
With that, he turned to leave.
“Why are you here?” Kyra stepped toward the man.
Gabe barely kept his exasperation in. Why was she dragging this out? And what the hell was a layer of the Mire?
The man stopped, swiveling his head down and to the side, but did not turn to face them.
“I thought you were done tailing me,” Kyra said. “That it would be your henchmen from now on. Why follow—and help me—again?”
The man turned his face forward again. He took another step away from them.
Kyra walked several steps forward, closing the distance between them. Gabe grabbed her arm. “Ss…” he barely kept from saying her name, which would have exposed his lie and more than likely started a gun fight.
Kyra ignored his grip on her. She put out her other hand as though to touch the man on the shoulder, though she still stood too far away by a foot to reach him. “Dellaire,” she said.
The man whirled around and backhanded her. She hit the ground so fast Gabe hardly knew what happened.
Gun still in hand, he stepped forward, raised it above his head and slammed it into Dellaire’s nose. Dellaire reacted with lightning speed, balling his fist and punching Gabe in the stomach. The man’s fist might have been made of metal. Gabe felt like he’d been hit by a canon. Sharp pain lanced through his left side and he stumbled back several steps, but didn’t fall. Instead he raised his gun, finger on the trigger.
Dellaire took advantage of Gabe’s stumble, pulling a gun from the back of his belt and pointing it at Gabe. They stood that way for several seconds, chests heaving and guns quivering.
Dellaire dropped his to point at the ground. “Get out of here. Take her and go. Now!”
Gabe didn’t lower his gun. He took three steps forward, keeping it in his right hand. With his left he reached down, encircled Kyra’s waist, and hauled her to her feet.
He still didn’t want to turn his back on this man, whoever he was, so they walked backward for ten paces. Dellaire put his gun away, jamming it behind his belt again, and Gabe turned with Kyra.
“My brother,” she cried out, turning back. Gabe briefly contemplated throttling her. She didn’t try to pull away, but she twisted around in his grasp to face Dellaire. “I saw him,” she said fiercely. “I thought he came this way. Did you see a young man, with curly blond hair?”
Despite his annoyance, Gabe turned his head to see Dellaire’s reaction.
The man’s eyebrows drew down. “Your brother came this way? You’re sure?”
Kyra didn’t answer. She dropped her gaze, and Gabe knew she wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe Manny had never been here after all.
“If he walked into that alley,” Dellaire pointed to the one Kyra had attempted to walk into, “he’s a Prowler.”
Kyra shook her head. “No. The warehouse. He ran away. He’s just scared.”
Dellaire’s face settled into unreadability. Gabe wondered what the man was thinking.
“If your brother was in that warehouse,” Dellaire grated, “who he was with and what he did after, will be very telling. If he came this way, that’s telling too. And next time, I won’t be here to save you.”
“What do you know of that warehouse?” Kyra pressed.
“It’s not our operation,” Dellaire growled. His eyes shifted to Gabe, then back to Kyra. “Perhaps you ought to stick by Officer Hero for a while. Keep your ass out of things you don’t understand.”
The man turned on his lower body before his shoulders, and stalked away. The blackness of the Mire swallowed him.
The silence that followed was deafening. Kyra shivered under Gabe’s arm, and her loud breathing echoed in his ear. The Mire felt like death waiting to spring.
“We need to go,” he said quietly.
Her knees gave out.
Gabe caught her around the waist, not letting her hit the ground. He pulled her into his chest, anchoring her against him with one arm. He still clutched his gun in his right hand. “Kyra,” he whispered into her ear, “put your arms around my neck.”
She obeyed, and he hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips and clung more tightly to his neck, burying her face there. He was glad she clung. He couldn’t have held her with both arms and still managed his gun efficiently.
As it was, he cupped one arm under her buttocks. His right forearm rested against the small of her back, his gun still firmly in hand, ready to swing outward if need be.
He walked as quickly as he could back the way they’d come. Soon the sounds of chaos and the flashes of red and blue lights brought them back to civilization.
It felt like they’d been in the alleys for hours, but when he emerged beside the warehouse, things were almost exactly as they’d left them. Groups of prisoners being watched over by unies. Ambulances coming and going as paramedics did triage and rushed the worst-injured away with sirens blaring. Unies, detectives, and SWAT team members running every which way, trying to control the chaos.
Gabe walked toward the buses, Kyra still wrapped around him. It seemed to him that the entire world stopped to stare at them.
The would-be prisoners stared at them as they passed. Most stared around at everything anyway, their vacant eyes searching for answers. Gabe noticed the lanky, dark-haired man Kyra had asked about Manny. Beside him now sat a black woman, who looked more grounded than most of the others, but still haunted. Gabe didn’t remember her from before. Both their gazes stayed locked on him and Kyra as he passed them.
The other law enforcement officers also turned to look, questioning eyebrows arching. Most of them cast curious gazes his way, but quickly dismissed him and went about their business. Kyra still clung to him, so it would be obvious to everyone she wasn’t dead, but she was also covered in blood. Anyo
ne who knew Gabe knew he would help anyone in distress, so they no doubt thought they understood the situation. It would be a story for another time.
Paramedics looked up as Gabe approached. He could see wheels turning in their heads, trying to gauge how bad Kyra’s injuries were and how quickly they’d need to transport her. That was their job.
Others watched too. Others that unnerved Gabe. Onlookers who’d gathered beyond the barriers the unies had set up watched with various reactions. Some watched him pass with terror in their eyes. Whether it was fear on Kyra’s behalf or because they assumed something about him, he couldn’t say. Others looked mistrustful. One and all, the faces held judgement. Why would a cop have his arms around a blood-soaked Mireling, unless he had done the damage, they seemed to ask.
He did his best to ignore them, but he felt exposed. No, not him. Kyra. She wasn’t wearing her Supra getup, but even so. Would people recognize her? Would they remember this? A wave of feral protectiveness reared up, and Gabe scanned the crowd for threats.
Far back in the shadows, walking in front of the alleys Gabe had emerged from, he caught sight of Dellaire. Dellaire. Should he know that name? Perhaps the man was a part of the warehouse operation, as Kyra suggested. Why else would he have followed them back? Gabe made a mental note to figure out who the guy was.
And another man, part of the crowd, who watched Gabe with eyes nothing short of malicious. Gabe didn’t recognize the Mireling. Roughly Gabe’s size and build, a beanie covered the man’s hair completely and stubble graced his cheeks. He flipped some kind of coin absently in the air, while his eyes—glaring at Gabe—promised murder.
“How bad?” the medic asked. Gabe had arrived in front of the nearest bus and the tall Asian man pulled a gurney between them as he asked the question.
Gabe sat Kyra gingerly on it. Putting both hands on her back he guided her down until she lay prone upon the gurney. “Pretend to be hurt badly,” he whispered in her ear. He straightened and she shut her eyes. With the blood all over her, the illusion of unconsciousness was disturbing.