by Sofia Grey
The heavies gripped me and made sure I couldn’t move an inch. My heart accelerated, and I could only watch as Alistair’s bony finger approached my forehead. Fuck, no.
It felt like a drill boring through my skull, and I groaned, praying he’d be quick. Like last time, my life laid out before my eyes. Snapshots of the worst moments: the drug deals, the guys I’d delivered, Gran’s collapse, sleeping rough. “Hmm, what’s this?” The flickering images paused. Kitten. Her smile. A kiss onto my hand. Her cry of pleasure as she came in my arms. “Pretty,” murmured Alistair.
I forced words out of my mouth. “Leave her alone.”
“So much potential,” he crooned to me, but before I could respond, the finger pressed harder, and I felt my knees buckle. “Is this really what you want, Dante?”
The swirling images started again, but this time, things that hadn’t happened. Not yet. Like a kaleidoscope they blurred and shifted, changed to one picture then dissolved into another. Josh walking into Armageddon with me, a trusting smile on his face. Josh writhing in agony while I watched, standing beside Alistair. Kitten screaming my name with two men ripping away her clothes, taunting her when she begged them to stop.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please, no.”
I heard him sigh. Satisfied. The images vanished as though he’d flipped a switch, and the pulsing pain from his finger receded. My lungs burned when I sucked in a breath, and I forced myself to open my eyes.
Alistair held a narrow blade, inches from my face. “Do we have a deal, Dante?” he whispered with that inhuman rustling tone in his voice.
“Yes.”
What happened next was no surprise. One of the men wrenched my right arm forward and flattened my hand, ready for Alistair to slice into my palm. I barely felt it. My blood looked black in the dim light. It welled and oozed, before he pressed his own palm onto the wound. A brief moment of pain burned like a hot poker, and I bit my lip to avoid crying out.
“Five days, Dante. Or you’re mine for eternity.”
Chapter
~9~
9.1 Josh
By 1:45, I’d completed another drive by. No sign of Dante, no call or text. The idea of leaving him here rankled with me, should I wait another half hour? As I tossed up the options, a large black Cadillac glided to the top of the street and cruised gracefully past the club entrance. With its blacked-out windows and private registration plate ARMA 1, this had to be Alistair. I felt a spark of adrenaline nudging at my tired body.
The Cadillac nosed into a side street, and I followed carefully, keeping a good distance before I pulled into the curb and killed the engine. The only street lamps were dim. The brightest light in the alley came from the Caddy’s headlights creating a spotlight effect on a group of men standing by the wall.
Shit. That was Dante.
Held up by two huge men—probably bouncers—with a third man to one side, I could tell he was in pain from the slump of his head and the way his arms were twisted behind him. I sucked in my breath as one of the men laid a hard punch to his side. Bastards.
I was about to get out when a man emerged from the Cadillac. Every instinct screamed at me to stay where I was, there was something not right about him. I tried to quantify it. Ridiculously tall, probably almost seven feet, with a floor length black coat swishing around his ankles, but it wasn’t just that. I squinted, trying to figure out what I was looking at. It looked like mist swirling around him, as though he walked through a cloud of dust, kicked up by his feet. I couldn’t see beneath his coat for the misty cloud, and I rubbed my eyes, annoyed. I must be more tired than I thought.
I silently eased the car door open, watching as Tall Guy spoke to Dante. Four of them, plus the limo driver, versus two of us. Not good enough odds for me to wade in yet. I clenched my fists, frustrated at having to wait, but recognizing the stupidity of moving too soon. Hang on, Dante. The poor sod probably thought I’d left.
Minutes later, Tall Guy took a step back, nodded to the bouncers and they started hitting Dante, first one and then the other.
Fuck it. I had to move, before they beat him to a bloody pulp. Reaching under the seat for the baseball bat I’d stashed earlier, I took my eyes off them for less than a second, and Tall Guy disappeared.
What the fuck? I didn’t hear the door slam on the limo—he didn’t have time to go inside the club—but he’d gone. The limo pulled away, slow and smooth, bathing the alley in darkness again, and I joined the fray.
They didn’t hear my approach. I swung the bat into the back of the first bouncer’s knees, he yelped and collapsed to the floor as the second one registered my presence. “Dante!” I yelled, hoping they hadn’t beaten him unconscious. The second bouncer let go of him, turning to face me as Dante staggered back, his arms flailing. Jeez, this guy was big, all solid muscles and shaven head. He looked as though he snacked on Rottweilers. I held the bat in front of me, noting his hands bunching into fists but watching his eyes. They’d signal his next move.
He lurched forward. I sidestepped. He swung a massive arm in a loose punch, and I ducked. Darting behind him, I shoved him hard in the small of the back, and then whipped out his knees beneath him. He toppled to the ground in a groaning mass. They would only be down for a few seconds. I grabbed Dante’s arm and hauled him forward. “Come on!”
Pale eyes blinked and focused on me, widening in abject horror. “Fuck,” he croaked, trying to shake me free. “Get the fuck out of here—now.”
The bouncers were scrambling to their feet, and I tightened my grip on Dante’s arm. “You’re with me. Fucking move it, Dante.”
Dumb and Dumber blocked our path, both had pulled knives on me.
The blades gleamed in the faint orange glow from the streetlight, and I weighed up which to take on first. I’d sparred against knives in the gym a hundred times, but they didn’t know that.
“Take my back,” I ordered Dante and pushed the bat into his hands, one of which was already bleeding. He obeyed, and I stood poised, waiting for the first move.
Dumb lurched forward and made a flashy sweeping motion with his blade. Easy. A quick kick sent it flying and pulverized his wrist at the same time. I felt Dante swinging at something, probably the suited man, and I breathed deep, dragging back my focus, ready to tackle Dumber. He hesitated, his eyes flicking to his partner, moaning on the floor. I feinted left, watched him follow and chopped down on his elbow, the shock wave jarring up to my shoulder. He dropped the knife close to Dante’s foot—he kicked it away and grunted as he swung the bat again. I heard it collide with something and then a cry of pain. Dumber swung at me with his good arm and I dodged, waiting for the perfect moment to elbow him in the face. Blood sprayed from his nose, and he staggered back, stumbling over Dumb and landing in a clumsy heap. Hyped up on adrenaline, I grabbed Dante’s arm.
“Let’s go!”
9.2 Katherine
Suki shook me awake. “They’re on the way back. Josh said they’d be here in ten minutes.”
I rubbed my eyes as I tried to wake up. I’d dozed off on Suki’s bed, despite my best efforts to stay awake, and now I had no idea what the time was. I blinked and squinted at my watch; it was almost three in the morning.
Josh walked in first, with Dante a step behind. He was unsteady on his feet, but vertical and mobile to my relief. His face, though. Bruised and bloody, he’d clearly been used as someone’s punching bag, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Stunned didn’t even come close to describing him. Pale, almost white skin under the contusions, his eyes were wide and shocked, and he stared into the distance as though he was seeing horrors beyond our vision. He sagged into a chair while Suki and Josh embraced. I lurked in the background, trying to understand how I felt.
Flashbacks of Mum when I was little. My stepfather coming home drunk and bloody after another fight. I shook my head to dispel the memories. Later, I promised myself, I’ll think about that later.
Josh turned to me, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Hey, Katherin
e, you okay?”
I swallowed and nodded before shoving my fears aside. I had to wonder if Dante had been hit on the head, if that would account for his dazed expression as he stared at Josh.
“Thanks again, man.” His voice was as gravelly as a heavy smoker. He licked swollen lips and looked around, searching for something and then locked onto me. A sad smile. He switched back to Josh and held out a trembling hand. “You shouldn’t have been there.” They shook hands, and he pushed himself upright, standing there swaying. “D’you have my bike?”
He couldn’t be thinking of leaving, not in this state. I stepped forward, hands on my hips and blocked his path. “You’d better not be thinking of going anywhere. Not right now, not like this.” I jerked my chin at him, watching the wariness on his face. “Apart from anything else, you’re going to tell us what happened tonight.”
His hands dropped to my shoulders. “You don’t understand, baby.”
“So tell me.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he leaned down to rest his forehead on mine. “Anyone ever tell you you’re pushy?”
I exhaled and wrapped my arms around him, freezing when he stiffened and hissed in pain.
“Sit down, Angel.” My bottom lip threatened to wobble, but I still sounded fierce, and he complied, a hint of a smile on his poor, battered face.
When he unfastened his shirt, we collectively gasped at the bruises raked across his chest and side. Suki wrapped ice inside a towel for him while I bathed his face and washed away the dried blood. Josh poured him some whisky, and we settled down to listen to his story. Dante sat on the sofa with me while Suki and Josh sprawled on their bed. I laid a tender kiss on his cheek.
He was hesitant when he spoke. “When I was sixteen, I started dabbling in summoning. I didn’t really know what I was doing, I guess I wanted to experiment and get back at this dick in school that was always on my case. So there I was, performing a ritual, and I conjured up this spirit. Alistair.” He took a thoughtful sip of his drink. “It was the most amazing rush, the strongest power I could imagine, but I had no idea how to control it, and I panicked. It turned on me, and as I screeched for help, Gran came bursting into my room.” His eyes gazed into the distance. “It attacked her.” A whisper. “She tried to protect me, to pull me out, and she… she, ah… Oh God. She had a fucking heart attack.” His voice raced, rising in pitch. “She died in front of me.”
He dropped his head back, his breathing harsh as he tried to get himself under control. We waited. Another deep breath and he sat up, shifting position to gather me in his arms, his chin resting on my shoulder.
I could hear the racing of his heart.
“I couldn’t let Gran die, so I called up Alistair again, and this time, I made a deal.”
I lifted my head and stared at him. He was serious.
“I asked him to bring Gran back to life, as she had been. And he did.” He paused.
We listened, spellbound.
His voice became bitter. “Like I said, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I was so fucking naïve. If you deal with a demon, you have to read the fine print, and I never gave it a thought.”
I couldn’t stay quiet. “Fine print?”
He let out a breath. “Yeah. She came back as she had been. In perfect health—but with the mind of a three year old.”
There was silence as we stared at Dante, his cheeks flushed as he met our eyes.
“Sure it wasn’t just oxygen deprivation?” Josh sounded curious, but Dante shook his head firmly.
“Nu-huh. She was dead. No heartbeat, no pulse, for half an hour while I pleaded with this demon and promised my life away.” He took a sip of his drink. “She was in hospital, and they’re pronouncing her a miracle, and I’m all celebrating and feeling on top of the fucking world. And then they told me she’d need care for the rest of her life.”
I leaned my face onto his collarbone and hugged him gently. “It’s tragic, but it doesn’t mean–”
“I haven’t finished yet, baby.” Another sip.
Josh leaned across and topped up his drink.
“Where was I? Oh yeah. So the next day, this big, black limo shows up and this guy waltzes in. Alistair. He says I owe him. Big time. He has a facility where Gran can live the rest of her life in comfort and safety, but there are conditions. I have to pay him, and so every month I scrape together every fucking penny I can.” The breath hitched in his throat, and his hand tightened in my hair. “Only this month I delivered duds. Counterfeits—I had no idea. I won it in a poker game at Nan’s, and it never crossed my mind it was fake.”
I stiffened when he mentioned Nan. Would that have been before the séance in the control tower?
“So yeah, tonight was all about that.”
“So what happens next?” Josh.
Dante went completely still. When he finally spoke, it came out nonchalant. “He’s given me a few days to replace it.” I didn’t believe him for a minute.
While I puzzled over his words, Josh spoke up. “Your gran, can’t you just move her?”
“Nope. That’s one of the conditions.”
“So this just goes on? Indefinitely? And how much money are you even talking about?”
“Yeah. It goes on until I can’t come up with the money any more. If I don’t pay, she dies.”
“How much, Dante?”
He took another long sip. “It went up this month, again. It’s just over five grand at the moment.”
“A month?” Josh looked appalled. Dante just nodded and sank some more scotch. “You don’t have a job?”
“No.”
“So how the fuck do you raise it?”
He shrugged. “Poker games, séances, this and that.” He hesitated, his jaw tightened. “Sometimes I run errands for him, deliveries and that.”
The puzzlement on Josh’s face morphed into a scowl. “We’re talking drugs, aren’t we? What the hell are you mixed up in, Dante?”
Suki untangled herself from Josh and leaned forward. “You were sixteen when this happened, and you’re now, what twenty two? That’s six years. You’ve been scraping money together for six years? How long can you keep doing this for?”
“I don’t. Know.” He snarled the words. “She’s my gran. She’s the mother I never had. And she’s so fucking happy. It breaks my heart every time I see her.” He buried his face in my hair while I tried to comfort him, my own heart breaking at the same time.
9.3 Dante
I couldn’t take my eyes off Josh. Raphael. Alistair’s words continued to ring in my head. Raphael was my brother. How could this even be possible?
Somehow I managed to limp through my explanation about Gran and my never-ending debt, while trying not to stare. God. If Alistair were going to create a special level of hell with my name on it, it would look something like this. But now I had a way out, a flickering light at the end of this deep, dark tunnel. I’d be free. Gran could live out the rest of her days without this axe hanging over her head.
The last six years had been a continuous, unrelenting struggle. I’d lied, stolen, and cheated, and part of me was glad this would finally come to an end. I couldn’t do this for another twenty years. But did I have it in me to hand over Josh?
I lay in bed curled around Kitten, listening to her slow, deep breaths as she slept. I’d been locked in Alistair’s cell for an hour, yet I thought I’d lose my mind. To be tormented by him forever… My brain blanked the prospect. Five days. I hugged Kitten closer to me. Five days of freedom left.
My mouth was closed, but I still screamed inside.
* * * *
I awoke with a start. That fucking black-winged angel had been staring at me again. Jerking upright, I opened my eyes to see daylight. Where was I? A door banged somewhere, and I dragged in a deep breath as I reminded myself: in a hotel, with Kitten. The bed lay empty beside me, but I could smell citrus coming from the bathroom. She must be in the shower. God. My hands shook as I dropped back against th
e pillow, my heart still hammering inside my chest. Five days. Alistair’s voice taunted me.
My craving for Kitten already bone deep, I needed to have her near me. I craved her touch, her perfume, her voice. Just as I climbed out of bed to go and look for her, she walked into the bedroom wrapped in a large, white towel. We met in the middle of the floor and I crushed her to me, my fingers clenching in the towel. How could I leave her?
Her anxious words didn’t make sense. “Dante—Angel. I have some bad news for you, babe.”
After the utter shite of the past twenty four hours, it couldn’t be that bad.
“What’s the matter?”
She disentangled herself from my arms, took my hand, and led me to the sofa while she picked up a newspaper from the table. Tucking the towel a little tighter, she stroked my arm. “I was looking at the morning newspaper while you slept.” Her voice was grave, and I felt a ripple of fear. “There’s no easy way to tell you. A guy was knifed on Sunday night.” Her eyes searched my face. “I think it was your friend Ash.” Her gentle words washed over me, and I frowned.
Ash? Knifed? She opened the newspaper and passed it across. A grainy picture of my old friend smiled up at me. What the fuck? I tried to read the story, but the words swam on the page. Scrubbing at my face, I spoke roughly. “How did it happen?”
Kitten cleared her throat, then read the story aloud.
Police have today confirmed the name of the man brutally knifed and left bleeding in a back street. 28-year old Graham Ashton was the proprietor of Ink City, a popular tattoo business in Stretford, Manchester. Police are appealing for witnesses to this vicious attack. His unconscious body was discovered by neighbors in the early hours of Monday morning, following a disturbance at his girlfriend’s house. It’s thought he was knifed multiple times, and the police have confirmed that an illegal butterfly knife was found nearby. His girlfriend, Nanette Lewis, has not been seen since Sunday evening, and police are concerned for her safety.