The Strange Path (21 page)

“Not before I kick your ass.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and he flushed.

Her eyes flickered to movement behind Dominick. Daniel neatly took out the second kid with a roundhouse kick. He paused long enough to pull the body into the darkness before approaching. “Too late.”

Cora rounded the corner behind Daniel, and rushed forward. “
Ninsumgal
!”

Manuel dropped his baggage behind Whiskey with a meaty thump. Cora brushed past Dominick to throw herself into Whiskey’s arms. Bronwyn appeared out of the darkness next to Daniel. She winked at Whiskey, fangs on display. Considering how little Bronwyn cared for her, the smile didn’t ease Whiskey’s nerves.

“Such big threats from such a little man.” Fiona studied Dominick. “And threatening a woman, no less. Your parents must be proud.”

He glared at her. “Fuck you. This is between me and her. Nobody else.”

Fiona appeared taken aback. “Is this so, sweet Whiskey? I certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt your playtime.”

Whiskey scowled at her, mind whirling. “Yeah, it’s between me and him. It’s personal.” She eyed Daniel and Bronwyn behind Dominick. “Let him out of here.”

“We’re not finished,” Dominick said.

Fucking macho idiot!

“I think not,” Fiona said simultaneously.

Whiskey smelled the fear rolling off Dominick. They both knew he was in over his head here, but his disagreeable personality wouldn’t allow him to back down. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a way to get him out of the alley, and still save face with himself and his street family. If he walked out unscathed, the other two having been knocked unconscious by unknown assailants, it’d look like he’d run from a fight.

Undaunted by his abrasiveness, Fiona grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved, demonstrating quite a bit of strength as he stumbled away from Whiskey. He cursed at the rough handling, rubbing his arm.

Cora relinquished her hold on Whiskey, and joined her friends as they circled him, taunting and jeering at him. He turned with them, trying to keep them in sight. They reached in and pinched or poked him when his attention fled elsewhere, laughing as he yelped out in pain, and whirled to catch the perpetrator. Whiskey scowled at their antics. They played with him, like a pride of cats with a tiny, defenseless mouse, each trying to outdo the other, escalating their attacks as they went. She looked back at the street, wondering if anyone heard his calls.

“Will you not join us, my little
lamma
?” Fiona called. “This is for your benefit.”

Dominick looked at Whiskey, his face a mixture of shame and withering hope she could get him out of this, his strawberry birthmark stark against his pale face. Hell-bent for a little action, Fiona’s pack bristled with fervor. Maybe if she assisted, she could control the outcome.
It’s not like the snitch doesn’t deserve a beating anyway.
Disgusted, collecting her annoyance and irritation with their victim, she focused on getting the two of them through the next few minutes. It didn’t take much to arouse the simmering anger that had been with her since she’d discovered Castillo’s betrayal.

Forcing a grin, she became part of their circle. Stepping forward, she slapped Dominick hard. “You fucking idiot.” He spun away from her, right into Bronwyn’s arms.

Her attack sealed his fate as the pack’s onslaught became rougher. Each successive assault caused more damage, the women more vicious than the men in their midst. They took their time about it, prolonging his suffering for their amusement. Whiskey knew better than to pull her punches, and gave as good as the rest of them. At the very least, if Dominick became unconscious, they’d leave him alone. To that end, she sent a good number of attacks to his head and face in an effort to knock him out. As the assault continued, Whiskey’s fury turned to exhilaration. A cloud of blood and fear settled around him. It pulled at her spirit, releasing her from her initial inhibitions regarding the situation. Excitement flowed through her, overpowering the ache of sore knuckles, and the distant part of her that abhorred the torture she inflicted.

A cell phone rang, and Fiona stepped out of the circle to answer it. Several minutes later, she rejoined them. “Let’s wrap this up, children. Alphonse and Zebediah are waiting at the car.”

Dominick reeled in their midst. Blood ran down his chin from a broken nose. His eyes were nothing but black hollows in his face. His thin T-shirt had ripped, stained red with his blood. He staggered in their little arena, hardly conscious.

Whiskey caught a flash of metal in Cora’s hand, realizing she had a knife. Did Fiona mean to bring this to a more final end? Sudden fear shot through Whiskey, dissipating the bloodlust. She didn’t want to be involved in a murder. She stepped in front of Cora, and punched Dominick with everything she had. “Drop, fucker!” Sharp pain shot through her hand as her knuckles split.

He didn’t fall.

“Do it,
Ninsumgal
.” Cora shoved the knife into her hand.

Rage pulsed through Whiskey.
Why the fuck doesn’t he go down?
Rather than use the blade, she punched him again, her fist ramming his broken nose. With her sensitive ears, she heard the bones and cartilage break more, a gruesome crackling sound that would stay with her forever. Dominick stared at her with eerie, dead eyes. Whiskey shivered. If she didn’t know better, he was already unconscious, his body failing to take his physical state into consideration. He slowly crumpled to the ground, his head hitting the concrete with a significant thump. The smell of blood grew stronger, but relief flowed through her.
Maybe they’ll leave him be now.
“Shit, that hurts.”

Manuel paused to spit on their victim before giving Whiskey a once-over. “Not bad for a—you know.”

Whiskey frowned in puzzlement.

“That was a compliment, sweetness.” Fiona stepped over Dominick’s prone form as if he were merely a puddle to bypass. “Shall we leave? I expect someone will have heard enough to call the authorities.”

Feeling drained, Whiskey followed them. She heard a groan in the shadows from the kid Daniel had felled. Bronwyn stomped his head hard enough for Whiskey to wince. She glanced behind her, pleased to hear his heart still beating. Casting farther back, she tried to locate Dominick’s pulse. She saw blood oozing from her knuckles.
Why can’t I hear his heartbeat?

 Cora gently removed her blade from Whiskey’s hand, spiriting it away to God knew where. Her touch familiar and intimate, it distracted Whiskey, arousal pumping through her already singing veins.

“This way, my
lamma
.” Fiona waved them down the street.

Whiskey felt a measure of relief that they walked away from Tallulah’s. A handful of street kids loitered outside. A couple had kept their eye on the alley, and now ducked inside when they saw her. In a few minutes, other members of Ghost’s family would come out to see what had happened. Getting away from here was a fine idea, but not if it meant heading back into the serpent’s lair. “I’ve got somewhere else to be.”

Fiona turned to look at her, eyes hard as diamonds over a serene smile. “You’ll not be joining us?” she asked. “A hot bath after your strenuous evening, a soft bed to rest in, and a warm body to keep you company?”

“No,” Whiskey stated. 

The cloying sweet stench of flowers expanded around her, leaving her no doubt as to whom the essence belonged. She recalled Dorst speculating on the connection between Elisibet’s violence and the innocuous nature she held, and wondered the same. Perhaps Fiona and Elisibet were more alike than different. The idea repulsed her. She pushed the smell away from her, like she’d done with Castillo at the café earlier that evening. Fiona’s eyes narrowed and, for a brief moment, a cold abrasiveness slid against Whiskey’s senses. Anger flared in her chest. She physically stepped forward, shoving hard with her mind. Fiona faltered, retreating, face pallid. The smell of flowers dissipated to nothing, and Whiskey took a deep breath in a vain attempt to dispel the last of it.

After a long examination, Fiona raised her chin. “Then allow us to at least escort you to someplace less...hazardous.”

Whiskey nodded, hearing a commotion at the youth club doors. “Good idea.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. She wondered if they’d force her into the car. When they arrived at the Lexus, she saw Alphonse and Zebediah lounging upon the hood.

Cora  slid enticingly into Whiskey’s arms. “Are you certain,
Ninsumgal
?” 

The wave of lust nearly overwhelmed her. “Yeah.” Unable to help herself, she gave Cora a blistering kiss. “I’ll see you around.”

Cora smiled. She pressed closer and gave Whiskey another long, moist kiss. “I certainly hope so.”

Whiskey forcibly reminded herself that this seductive woman had wanted her to knife someone. “Thanks.”

“Just remember us,
Ninsumgal
.” She reached up to trace Whiskey’s lips. “I know I’ll remember you.”

Whiskey shouldered her pack, surprised they’d let her go so easily. Cora sidled to the passenger door. Most the others were already inside the vehicle, but Fiona leaned against the driver’s door.

When she had Whiskey’s undivided attention, she strolled closer. “Keep the Ducati for now. It’s not safe for you out here.”

Whiskey almost snorted at the humor of the situation.
Like I’d be safer with you?
She knew honest appreciation would appease the woman’s dominant streak. “Thanks for everything, Fiona. You guys saved my ass again tonight. I’ll never forget this.”

A satisfied smile crossed Fiona’s lips. “That’s all we can ask, my dear little
lamma
.” She leaned up, and gave Whiskey a peck on the cheek.

Whiskey watched until the taillights disappeared around a corner several blocks away. Blowing out a breath, she took in her surroundings. She couldn’t go to back to Tallulah’s any more than she could Malice now. She had enough money left over from Castillo’s donation for a meal or two, and the keys to a motorcycle currently parked three or four miles away. She had no friends, only enemies and opportunists waiting in the darkness for her blood. She had a whole host of complete strangers who would take one look at her, and assume she was the reincarnation of some dead bitch come back to wreck havoc once again.

“Christ. What the fuck am I going to do now?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Not wanting to waste time, Whiskey continued to put distance between herself and Tallulah’s. While she walked, she considered her dwindling options.

Ghost’s family had been at the flophouse a few nights earlier, Whiskey with them. Once they found Dominick in the alley, the hunt would be on. It wouldn’t take much to have someone check the abandoned building for her. The youth shelters were closed for the night. It wouldn’t do to get spotted in one of them anyway. She’d do herself no favors seeking asylum in a shelter—no street kid would come in to get you, but you couldn’t stay forever. They’d be waiting outside. Besides shelters didn’t call the police even if asked by their patronage to do so, something about making sure their clientele felt “safe” to come to them for assistance without being ratted out to the authorities.

Fiona had told her to use the motorcycle for her own purposes. Parked downtown, it might as well be a world away. Cruising that area at this time of night begged for further complications. The old-timers would make mincemeat of Whiskey. Besides, once she had the bike, where would she go? If she abandoned the
Ñíri Kurám
, what would happen to her?

While woefully ignorant of Sanguire society, she knew that the
Agrun Nam’s
knowledge of Elisibet’s doppelgänger made things more difficult. Once she disappeared from their radar, she wouldn’t be surprised if a general all-call went out to every European Sanguire living in North America. Where the hell could she go to get away from them without a birth certificate or state identification? How far did Elisibet’s influence and memory go? Would Whiskey be safe if she, by some bizarre chance, relocated to China or something?

An abrupt vision crossed her mind, a laughing Asian woman dressed in a traditional Japanese kimono. It stopped Whiskey in her tracks. She carefully examined the image, catching a nostalgic whiff of ginger root, and realized the woman was Sanguire.
Fuck! How far did Elisibet get back then?

Sirens in the distance brought her back to the present. She glanced guiltily over her shoulder, and started walking again.

Digging her hands into her pockets, she felt a strange set of keys. They were to Dorst’s apartment, the ones he’d given her before she left this evening. God, had it only been a couple of hours? She pulled them out to examine them. Maybe he’d let her crash there tonight. He might know what she should do now, too.

Relieved at the alternative, Whiskey stuck the keys back in her pocket, and looked around her surroundings. She could be at Dorst’s place within the hour, putting her farther from Tallulah’s.
Icing on the cake.

***

Whiskey fidgeted at the outer door for a moment, then pushed the buzzer. It had to be almost one in the morning. Better give him some warning. She waited a full minute, receiving no response from the speaker, or the subtle click of the lock opening. Maybe he wasn’t home.

She turned away and studied the street, considering. He’d said to come by at any time. Granted, he probably hadn’t meant a few hours after leaving, but the circumstances didn’t allow for much else. She chewed her lip, digging in her pocket for the keys.

“You are a difficult woman to keep up with.”

Whiskey jumped, looking into the shadows cast by decorative bushes and trees. Amber and steel washed over her, and she dropped her guard. “Reynhard, you scared the crap out of me.”

Dorst eased out of the darkness, his face dimpled in delight. He made one of his elegant bows. “Sincerest apologies, my
Gasan
. It still remains a pleasure to see you so soon.”

She sensed an expectant air from him. “Did you know I was going to be here?”