Gus growled in exasperation. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He leaned over the balustrade and pointed to another staircase at the other side of the club. Autumn was at the bottom of it, being led through the crowd by the guy with the UV dragon.
“Look.” Violet pointed out two other dark-skinned guys. They were following close behind, pushing and shoving people aside as they made their way through the crowd. A few seconds later, Autumn was led through a door with a Staff Only sign, and the two other guys followed in after.
A tremor of adrenaline rushed through Violet’s body.
She didn’t like this. Her hands shook as she gripped her flamingo clutch tight, reaffirming the presence of her switchblade. She eyed the exit on the bottom level, opposite the door Autumn had gone through, and sucked in a breath. The stench of stale beer and strong spirits almost made her gag.
Gus took off, racing down the stairs.
Violet glanced at the exit again. Every instinct demanded that she run for it. Escape. Get as far away from this place as possible. But she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not without the others.
She swallowed her fear and forced her body forward after Gus.
They ran as best they could through the crowd, retracing Autumn’s path until they reached the closed Staff Only door. Gus yanked on the handle, but it didn’t budge.
He cursed. “Of course, it had to be locked.”
“Here, let me.” Violet pushed in front of him. “Make sure no one’s watching.”
She removed the two pins holding her hair out of her face and placed one in her teeth, bending the metal and twisting the other hairpin into the shape she needed. She then slid both into the keyhole. She jiggled the hairpins, feeling for the subtle click of the tumblers falling into place.
Gus’s jaw dropped when she opened the door.
“Come on.” Violet grabbed his arm, and with a quick scan over his shoulder, she pulled him through.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Gus said in a hushed voice. The thundering club music had dropped to a muted beat as soon as the door closed behind them.
Violet shrugged. “You pick up a few skills in the foster system.”
“That’s so cool. The best skill I’ve picked up is macramé.”
Violet quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he scanned the low-lit concrete hallway they’d found themselves in. A fire extinguisher and an emergency evacuation map hung on the wall in front of them.
Violet looked down both lengths of the hallway. “Which way do you think they went?” Neither direction gave any visual clues.
“Let’s try this way,” said Gus, taking a decided step.
“Wait.” Violet stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Do you hear that?”
A faint feminine giggle echoed from the opposite direction Gus had taken.
“Hopefully that’s Autumn,” said Gus, turning about-face.
They hurried to the end of the hallway and came to an intersection, then stopped to listen. A faint chatter of voices came from the left.
“This way.” Violet linked her arm in Gus’s, her heart pounding like a sledgehammer against her ribs. They followed the hall to an open doorway, which was emanating faint jazz music from within. The sounds of conversation and laughter grew louder as they moved closer.
“Maybe it’s a private party?” Gus whispered.
“Maybe,” said Violet, matching his volume.
They peered around the open door.
Relief washed through Violet when she spotted Autumn. She had her back pressed up against the opposite wall, standing nearly chest-to-chest with the guy from the club. He hulked almost a head taller than her, slouching just to look her in the eye. His fitted shirt—made from a transparent black gauze—was embroidered with a bold floral design of cerulean, navy, and black, and his ebony skin rippled and flexed beneath the fabric with every movement. The dragon body paint now shone garishly under the incandescent light.
“That guy’s bicep is as big as my waist,” whispered Gus.
Violet’s urge to run intensified. This guy was a behemoth, a muscular powerhouse. She focused on keeping her quickened breaths silent.
Gus craned his neck a little farther into the open doorway. “I don’t see the other two guys, do you?”
The other two guys? Violet had almost forgotten about them. She darted her gaze around the room. Maybe they’re not in there. Maybe—
She twisted her head to peer behind her, checking both directions of the hallway.
“What’s the bet they’ve gone to find their next hit of steroids?” whispered Gus.
A giggle from Autumn drew Violet’s attention back inside the room. Autumn smiled, laying a hand on the guy’s arm and murmuring something. Violet couldn’t hear what over the music.
The guy smiled back.
“And like a moth to flame, another moron falls into Autumn’s trap,” said Gus in a low voice.
“What do you mean?” Violet asked. “What’s she up to?”
Then, with a flash, the guy slammed his hand against Autumn’s throat.
Violet gasped, then bit down hard on her lip to stop from screaming.
Autumn’s eyes grew wide. Her mouth gaped as she clawed at the hand squeezing her windpipe.
No, no, no! This can’t be happening again. A sob escaped Violet. Her legs went limp, and she collapsed against the wall, a surge of guilt and inescapable helplessness numbing every nerve in her body.
Gus rushed forward. “Hey! Get off her!” He jumped up and latched on to the mountain man’s arm, his feet dangling off the ground. The guy looked down at him, making a face as if he were being bothered by a mosquito.
Gus yanked on the guy’s arm, but he may as well have been tugging on the support beam of a bridge. The man released Autumn’s neck to shake Gus off, and Autumn tumbled to the ground, coughing between gulps of air.
Violet scrambled forward—but yelped as she was wrenched back by an iron fist tangled in a hunk of her hair. As she grasped at the hand holding her, her flamingo clutch clattered to the ground by her feet.
“Get up, Autumn!” yelled Gus, still clinging to the man’s arm. With incredible force, the man threw him hard against the wall. Gus oophed, his face scrunched in pain, before he crumpled to the floor.
Green dragon guy stood over Autumn, his face twisted with fury and his hands fisted at his sides. He barked at the guy holding on to Violet’s hair, and they conversed in a clipped, guttural language Violet didn’t recognize.
A cough from Autumn snatched Green Dragon’s attention. He reached for her.
“No!” Violet yelled. “Leave her alone!” She squealed when the guy behind her jerked her hair with a warning.
Green Dragon paid her no attention. He crouched over Autumn, speaking once again in that rough, unknown language.
Violet squeezed her eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to stem the flow of tears already streaming down her cheeks. She hadn’t been able to save Lyla, and she couldn’t save her friends now. Why was she so worthless? Why had she been the one allowed to live?
There was nothing she could do. There was nothing. She was nothing.
She held her breath.
“Come on, kid. Just breathe.” Nathan patted her on the back. “You’ve basically got it. All you have to do is try again.”
Violet swatted his hand away and tore at the Velcro on her boxing gloves. In a frenzy, she snatched them off and hurled them at the boxing bag swaying from the ceiling.
“Aaargh! I’m never going to get this. I just can’t.” She slumped to the ground, dropping her head in her hands. “It’s too late anyway.”
After a moment came the whoosh and loud crack of a gym towel, followed by a sharp sting on her thigh.
“Ow!” Violet rubbed her leg and glared at Nathan, who was holding the offending towel in both hands.
“Stop blaming yourself for Lyla’s death.” His lips formed a stern line and his nostrils flared—an exp
ression Violet could only guess was anger—but his eyes were soft. “We can’t go back and change or erase what’s been done. We can only go forward. We have to learn from our mistakes and promise ourselves to do better. Stop letting the past control you.”
Violet dropped her gaze to the floor. She blinked a few times, hoping Nathan would think her tears were just sweat.
The towel snapped again, and another sting flared across her thigh.
“Ouch!”
“Stop sulking. Get up. You know what to do.”
Violet opened her eyes.
She clamped her hands over the fist in her hair and pivoted her hips, stepping back and under her attacker’s arm. The motion contorted the guy’s shoulder and wrist into an unnatural, painful angle, and he grunted and doubled forward, trying to ease the tension.
In self-defense training, this was when she usually let go, and Nathan would explain the next few steps.
Not this time.
Autumn’s raspy whimpers and Gus’s slumped body pushed her into action. In two swift moves, she dislocated the man’s shoulder and broke his wrist with an audible pop and snap. He shrieked, and Violet released him. The man collapsed to the ground, cradling his arm, and glared at her, shouting what she could only guess was a string of insults.
Her sights switched to the guy still hunched over Autumn. The behemoth’s hand hovered just in front of Autumn’s neck as he looked Violet up and down. With a sneer, he turned his attention back to Autumn. Either he didn’t think Violet was a threat, or he didn’t care what she did next.
Once again, he latched on to Autumn’s throat, cutting off her desperate gasp. Tears glistened on Autumn’s cheeks, and her gaze locked with Violet’s, eyes wide and begging.
Violet spotted the flamingo clutch on the ground. She retrieved her switchblade and crossed the room in three quick strides. Her thumb found and pressed the button. Shnik.
With her free hand, she grasped the man’s chin and jerked his head up, pressing the blade right where the painted dragon’s tail coiled down from his jaw. He froze, and Autumn’s cries hushed.
“Let her go, or I’ll slice you from ear to ear,” Violet growled through gritted teeth. She tightened her grip on the switchblade; the black gemstones along the pearlescent handle bit into her palm.
Whether he understood her or not, she figured he at least knew the danger of her knife pressing into his jugular. She added some pressure, digging the tip into his flesh. He hissed and released Autumn.
“Autumn, get Gus. We’re going,” said Violet, not yet withdrawing her knife.
Autumn nodded, her eyes wide and a little bloodshot. Finger-shaped bruises were already blooming on her neck.
The green dragon guy flinched as Autumn moved away. “Zhivotza,” he said, reaching for her again.
Violet dug in her blade a little more. “Don’t move.” But her warning landed on deaf ears as the guy tried to twist his head out of Violet’s grasp. He repeated the foreign word again, this time more vehemently.
“I don’t know what that means,” said Violet, “but if you don’t keep still, I’m going to spill your blood all over the floor.”
He replied with a roar.
Before she could react, the man spun around with breathtaking speed. His heavy arm clipped her, and Violet toppled back onto the floor with a cry of agony, her eyes flinching closed on impact. Air whooshed out of her lungs. The simple act of sucking in air now sent sharp spikes of pain through her body.
When she opened her eyes again, panic gripped her chest, her shoulders, her throat. The guy loomed above, his enormous frame filling her entire vision. He pinned her shoulders to the ground, teeth bared and eyes bloodshot with fury.
She’d managed to keep her grip on her switchblade, but it felt puny and worthless. Everything Nathan had taught her about knife fighting fled from her mind. She cried, kicked, and flailed uselessly, swiping with her blade hand and punching with the other.
He caught both her wrists in a tight, inescapable grip and roared at her again, spittle flecking her face as he howled out the strange guttural words.
Tears stung Violet’s eyes. She couldn’t fight him anymore. Couldn’t fight her panic or her fear.
Just as her strength was about to run out, something above her made a metallic thunk. The guy’s face went slack, and his eyes rolled into odd angles before he slumped onto Violet.
Bessie’s neon wig and butterfly-painted face came into Violet’s view. She held a fire extinguisher over her head.
“Is he out?” Bessie asked.
Violet nodded, struggling to speak with the solid weight of the unconscious man on her chest.
Bessie dropped the extinguisher, her face white as a sheet. She kneeled down to help shove the heavy guy off Violet. “What . . . the hell? I was . . . Should I call the police?”
“No!” croaked Autumn. “No cops.”
The four of them stumbled toward the exit. Bessie supported Gus, who’d nearly regained consciousness, and Violet leaned on Autumn, slinging her arm with the switchblade over her shoulders.
They’d just stepped into the concrete hallway when Autumn paused. “Oh, wait. I left my gold clutch in there.”
“Forget it,” said Violet.
“It’s important. I’ll be quick.”
Violet winced as Autumn extricated herself from her arm. She tried to latch on to Autumn’s shoulder before she stepped inside the room, but her friend twisted out of her grasp.
“What part of that psycho’s death grip on your neck did you not take seriously?” Violet hissed after her.
The green dragon dude was still out cold, and Violet’s heart thumped in her throat as Autumn tiptoed around him to retrieve the metallic gold clutch by his arm. The guy who had grabbed Violet’s hair was nowhere to be seen, and who knew where the third guy was.
Relief washed over Violet like a tidal wave when Autumn snatched up her clutch and skittered back to them.
“Let’s go,” Autumn hissed.
Violet rolled her eyes. “Great idea. If only we’d thought of that before.”
Autumn ignored the snippy remark and slung Violet’s arm back around her neck. They tried their best to hustle down the hallway, glancing back frequently. Thankfully, no one was following them. Yet.
Violet hugged her body with her free arm and sucked in a shallow breath. Who knew how many ribs she’d cracked. The back of her head throbbed; even blinking was adding to the wave of aches in her skull.
They caught up with Gus and Bessie at the door to the club. With one last look behind, the four of them shoved through the door, the thunderous music enveloping them once again. Violet allowed Autumn to drag her through the crowd, close on Gus and Bessie’s tail, toward the exit and back out to the alley.
“Whew, that was close,” said Autumn when they rounded the corner back onto the main street.
Bessie instantly erupted with her freak-out vent. Gus was conscious enough to throw in a few snide remarks of his own, but his tone was a little slurred, whether from the alcohol or from hitting his head, Violet wasn’t sure.
She didn’t bother inserting herself into Bessie’s hysterical outbursts or Autumn’s blasé reassurances. She just wanted to get home and go straight to bed.
A dull ache in her hand surfaced, and she realized she was still gripping her switchblade. Bright orange liquid was smeared along the tip, glistening under the streetlights. Body paint must have rubbed off the green dragon dude when she’d held her blade to his throat. Except . . . She frowned. His paint was dry, and if she recalled correctly, there was no orange in the UV dragon design.
The back of Violet’s neck prickled, and she cast another glance back toward the club.
A guy with skin as dark as midnight stood a few blocks away, near the entrance to the alley. He cradled one of his arms as he scanned up and down the street. Then his eyes met hers.
Panic roared in Violet’s ears.
The man yelled and pointed at her, and a heartbeat later, th
e third guy from the club rounded the corner at a sprint.
“Guys, run!” Violet screamed.
Gus and Bessie hesitated only a moment, turning to see what was behind them before shouting in alarm and dashing forward. Violet was already dragging Autumn up the street.
Their shoes stamped against the pavement. Violet’s lungs burned, and her ribs flared in agony with each frantic pant for breath. Autumn pulled ahead as Violet’s pain caused her to slow down.
The thudding rhythm grew louder behind her. The guy was closing in.
“This way,” exclaimed one of the others, whether Autumn or Bessie, Violet didn’t care. The others darted across the road through a gap in the speeding cars, whose horns blared their annoyance. Violet chanced another look behind her before stepping out onto the road.
The guy was almost on her, his arm outstretched, his face contorted in a frenzied rage.
A scream caught in Violet’s throat as she urged herself to run faster.
As she raced through traffic, Violet could almost feel the man’s fingers brush against her back, his heavy breathing tickling her neck. And then—
Crack. Thud.
The sound of metal slamming into flesh seared itself into Violet’s brain. Tires squealed as a car swerved and skidded to a halt, but Violet didn’t stop running or even look back until she’d made it to the other side of the street. They guy’s body lay unmoving a few yards away, surrounded by a small cluster of passersby.
Violet didn’t hang around to see what happened next. Ignoring the few onlookers who called after her, she took advantage of the extra surge of adrenaline to catch up with Autumn, Gus, and Bessie. None of them stopped until they reached Violet and Autumn’s dorm room, where they locked and bolted the door behind them.
10
Cinnamon And Salt
Nathan called out his thanks and goodnight to the owner of his favorite Chinese restaurant before stepping outside. Hot steam tingled over his fingers from the plastic bag in his hand, bringing with it delicious aromas of black bean chicken, ginger shrimp, and fried rice. His mouth watered. If there was one thing the Erathi were good at, it was cooking. He rotated through the cafés and restaurants in town several times a week, always trying something different on the menu. Since moving to Brookhaven, he’d been through the Chinese restaurant’s entire selection at least three times. He no longer even needed to phone ahead for his takeaway order; the owner had caught on to Nathan’s menu selection pattern and always had dinner ready for pickup on his Chinese takeaway nights.
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