by L. K. Hill
Gabe wrote down the address of the warehouse as Kyra spoke and handed it to Shaun.
As soon as Kyra paused, Shaun began barking orders. Gabe’s fellow detectives vaulted into action. Every unie, detective, and police bureaucrat was about to be yanked unceremoniously out of bed. The SWAT team would be called in—they were the only safe way to enter the hellish situation—and the entirety of Abstreuse’s finest was about to descend on the warehouse in the Carmichael district.
Gabe took his phone off speaker. “Okay, we’re on our way. We’ll be there in an hour or so and bust this place. Find a place to hide close by the pay phone, Kyra. I’ll swing by and pick you up on the way.”
Silence met him from the other end of the line.
“Kyra?” He knew she was still there because he could hear her breathing. It had slowed considerably over the course of the conversation. “Kyra!”
“I’m here.” She sounded too calm.
“Did you hear what I said?”
Another pause. “I’ll meet you there, Gabe.”
He frowned. “At the…pay phone?”
“No, back at the warehouse.”
Gabe shook his head, not caring that she couldn’t see it. “That’s not a good idea, Kyra. What if they catch you lurking around before we get there?”
“That’s…kind of the point. I’m going back in.”
It took a moment to sink in. Then Gabe lurched to his feet. “No. Absolutely not, Kyra! You escaped. If they catch you again, they could kill you on the spot.”
“I doubt that,” she said. “They might knock me around a bit, but it’s nothing I don’t get on the street every day. They have way too elaborate an operation going on to waste a potential victim, Gabe.”
“Why would you want to be a potential victim, Kyra? What you witnessed in there freaked you out. I heard it in your voice.”
“Freaked out doesn’t begin to cover it,” she said dryly. “But knowing you’re on your way helps. Once you guys get here, these people will scatter. They’ll do anything they can to hide what they’ve been up to. From the inside, I can observe. Maybe see things that will help afterward.”
“That’s not necessary,” he fought not to shout. “We’ll figure it out when we get there. There’s no reason for you to go back into that situation.”
When she spoke again, her voice was so quiet, he could barely make it out. “I saw him, Gabe. I saw Manny. He’s in there. I can’t stay out here while he’s in there with those monsters. It’s not in me.”
A cold, hard lump formed in Gabe’s throat. “What?” It came out as a hoarse whisper.
“I have to go back for him. He was out of the cage, surrounded by guards, which means he’s in line to be one of the next victims.”
“Kyra,” Gabe ought to be delicate here. He simply didn’t have the time. “You’re sure he was prisoner. Not a guard?”
“Of course I am,” Kyra snapped. “And I’m going back for him.”
Gabe rubbed his forehead, fighting panic. “Even if they take you back in, they may be pissed enough that you got away that they’ll decide you’re up next. You could still be dead before I get there.”
The silence stretched this time, and he could almost hear her considering. “Then you’d better hurry.”
The line went dead.
Gabe dropped the phone from his ear and stared at it in his hand with disbelief. “Shit!” He kicked the side of his desk. Whirling from it, he found himself face to face with Tyke, who looked grave.
They were the only two cops left in the building. Even Shaun’s office was already dark.
Tyke motioned toward the parking lot with his head. “Let’s go.”
Hand on his gun, Gabe bulled his way out of the station with his best friend at his side.
***
As soon as she clicked the receiver of the pay phone into its cradle, Kyra turned and jogged back toward the Carmichael District. She had to go, without thinking, or she’d chicken out. The thought of going back into that place twisted her stomach, but as she’d talked to Gabe, and heard his boss barking orders, she’d come to the realization that she had to go back.
Her adrenaline had been so high while inside the warehouse that she hadn’t felt much emotion. While speaking to Gabe, it all came crashing down on her, and she’d barely kept it together.
She’d lived among these people for months, now. While she kept herself largely isolated from them, in some small way, they’d become a part of her. Their life choices might not be admirable, but that didn’t mean they deserved to be kept in cages and tortured. The prisoners, from what she could tell, weren’t the homicidal gangster types. They were the junkies, the dependents, the weak ones. They deserved compassion. Kyra simply couldn’t see waiting around on the outside.
And Manny. She had to get to Manny. Her long, hellish adventure in Abstreuse could end now. Tonight. If only she could grasp Manny’s hand in hers, she knew she could pull him back into her world. Where he belonged. Granted, finding him in the chaotic warehouse wouldn’t be a cakewalk. But he’d walked right in front of her. It had been him. She was sure of it. At least she had a place to start. Not in the cages, but near fights and the altar.
She shuddered, and jogged faster.
Twenty minutes later, as she approached the warehouse, it occurred to her that, unless she ran into a guard, it might be difficult to get back inside. Whether they were still out looking for her, or had given up and come back, she’d still be on the outside looking in. Again.
That fear, as it turned out, was unfounded. A number of guards still mulled around outside the warehouse, talking quietly and pointing their guns at shadows. They hadn’t given up the search for her it seemed, and while no one had spotted her yet, it was only a matter of time before one did. Jenkins paced among them, barking orders at the others.
“—check the southeast side. You two, start going up and down the passages. She’s a junkie. She couldn’t have gotten farther than that. Start on the outside and work your way in. You three, head in that direction. You’ll probably meet Dorner coming back. If he hasn’t found her, tell him to keep looking. She’s here somewhere.”
Sets of footsteps faded in different directions, and Kyra dared to peek around the corner of the building she crouched beside. Jenkins paced fifty feet away, phone in hand. She could see his scowl by the light of the screen.
Kyra moved back into the shadows, feeling around in the dirt for a rock. She couldn’t have asked for a better situation. Jenkins wanted her. The last thing she wanted was to be at his mercy, but he’d take her back inside and make sure no one simply shot her. Her fingers closed around a donut-sized rock. Taking a deep breath, she spun and hurled it against the side of the adjacent building. The loud thwack it made echoed in the silence.
Seconds passed. The sound of heavy footsteps thudded toward her. Jenkins appeared, face suspicious as he shone the beam of a flashlight into the alley. He played the light up, down, right, and left. He concentrated too far into the depths of the alley to realize she was crouching five feet in front of him. When she could tell he was about to give up, she twisted her ankle, grinding the ball of her foot into the gravel.
The light beam jumped toward her, and she didn’t have to fake being blinded by it. “There you are!” His voice oozed triumph.
Kyra waited, bracing for the worst. His fingers dug painfully into her neck. He yanked her to her feet and slammed her against the brick wall hard enough to drive the wind from her lungs. The flat of his hand cracked across her cheek, making dark spots dance in front of her eyes. She would have fallen if he wasn’t using his body to anchor her there. He wrapped his fingers around her throat, forcing her chin upward.
“We’ve been looking for you.” His foul breath blew into her face. He turned his head to frown into the blackness of the alley behind them. “Where’d you come from?”
“…Don’t know.”
Jenkins raised an eyebrow at her, and she attempted to say more. His fingers
pressing into her trachea made it difficult to speak.
“Thought…I would come out on the…east side.”
Jenkins stared at her blankly for three more seconds before bursting into laughter. “You mean you tried to get away, but somehow ran in a circle and ended up back here?” He laughed harder and, despite it being a lie, Kyra felt her face burn. She briefly considered kicking him in the crotch. No, she had to play the weak, frightened Mireling for a little while longer. She fought not to grind her teeth.
Jenkins stared down into her face a moment longer. He held his phone inches from her nose, shining its light down on her.
Kyra squinted against the white.
“Have I seen you before in the Mire?” He said it so quietly, she wasn’t sure if he meant it as an actual question or was just muttering to himself. “Who are you, woman?” he suddenly barked. “Who do you work for?”
Kyra, completely blind from the white light of his phone by now, and with Jenkins’ fingers still pressed into her throat, wheezed more than spoke. “N-no one. S-street doll.”
Jenkins grunted, releasing the pressure on her throat and dropping the hand holding up his phone. Kyra inhaled painfully and blinked against the white spots still speckling her vision. “You one of Josie’s girls?”
Kyra didn’t think her heart could pound any harder than it had when she couldn’t breathe, but it did. “W-who?’ she crocked.
Jenkins chuckled ominously. “Oh you’d remember Josie. His girls always do.” He abruptly forced Kyra’s chin up, gazing down into her face from inches away. Jenkins, whom she’d met several times at Josie’s. Whom she’d run away from at least twice, though she didn’t think he’d gotten a good look at her either time. Still, if any Mireling would recognize her now it would be him. Her disguises fooled Gabe when she first met him. No way Jenkins was smarter than Gabe, but he’d seen her as Supra more times than Gabe had. Kyra’s entire body trembled against Jenkins’, and it wasn’t an act.
A lascivious smile split Jenkins’ face, revealing yellow teeth. “Maybe I had you myself once, and forgot.” Abruptly, he let go of her and stepped back. “I don’t suppose it matters one way or the other.” He cuffed her hard enough that her knees hit the pavement. “Stupid bitch,” he muttered. “It’ll be much worse for you now.” His fingers dug into her scalp and Kyra struggled to her feet as he dragged her, less because of the pain and more because she once again feared her red wig would give way. It didn’t. When he’d dragged her to her feet, he transferred his grip to her arm and began punching numbers on his phone with his other hand. “Dorner,” he said after pressing it to his ear. “I’ve got her. Bring everyone back.”
Kyra took a deep breath as he pushed open the door of the warehouse and shoved her inside.
The first thing she registered was the metallic scent. She’d noticed it before, but dismissed it. Now she knew it to be a result of all the blood in the room.
She scanned what she could see as quickly and furiously as she could, looking for Manny. No one that looked remotely like him was in sight. Where had he gone? Did they put him back into a cage to go look for her?
The warehouse was quieter than when she’d entered before. There were fewer people inside, and none yelled or hooted now. She could only assume most were out searching for her—the thought of that many psychos hunting her in the Mire made her shiver—or perhaps all the chaos of the search scared some away. Damn. She hoped that wasn’t the case. Anyone who left was a psycho the cops wouldn’t be able to lock up. Hopefully all those out searching would return to the warehouse before the cops arrived.
Fewer people did allow her a much clearer view of the room. Her head swung from side to side as Jenkins steered her down a row of cages. A cage was probably the safest place for her—chances were they’d leave her in it long enough for Gabe to get there—but she had to take in as many details as possible along the way. And figure out where Manny was.
To her left stood the raised dais she’d noted before, which held the altar and shackles. What she hadn’t seen the first time was that there was more than one. Three, that she could see, formed no particular shape, but had enough space between for plenty of people to gather around. Beyond them, in more shadowy parts of the warehouse, were other murky shapes she couldn’t quite make out.
She peered toward the back of the warehouse, trying to see the area all the cheering had come from before. What met her eyes looked like nothing so much as a boxing ring, except the sides were made of flat boards rather than rope, and it wasn’t raised nearly as high, which was why it was difficult to see before. Though the area stood empty now, strings of blood had leapt over the sides of the wood, staining the tops and outside. Various objects lay strewn about outside the wooden ring. Kyra didn’t look too closely at them. They might have been wooden stools, piles of clothing, or other garbage. Somehow, she didn’t think that’s what they were.
Shivering, she allowed Jenkins to push her farther into the warehouse. He gripped the sides of her hips, his fingers digging in painfully. She winced, but refused to react further. “You’ve caused quite a disturbance tonight,” his breath came hot on her ear. “My colleagues don’t let things like that go.” He barked a laugh. “Hell, I don’t let things like that go. You stabbed me. Since I’m the one who brought you back, I can probably ask a favor.” His lips pressed so close, she felt them moving against her ear. “I look forward to hearing you scream.” His teeth grazed her ear and she jerked her head to the side before she could stop herself. Jenkins gave a dark chuckle and wrapped an arm around her waist. He used his body to propel her down the wide corridor between kennels. Her stomach roiled and twisted.
Three quarters of the way to the back wall, he stopped. The cage he stood beside held several vacant-looking Mirelings. A heavy padlock hung on the door. Jenkins swung his head from side to side, craning his neck this way and that. Kyra swept her eyes around, taking in details while he was distracted, but there wasn’t much to see. The locked chain-link cages, the prisoners, the empty space between the flat-roofed kennels and the warehouse’s vaulted ceiling.
From off to their left, the tromp of footsteps reached her ears. She and Jenkins turned their heads in sync.
One isle over, roughly a dozen Mirelings were being escorted toward the altars by a group of armed guards. Kyra stretched and pulled away from Jenkins, craning her neck to see the group. No one in it looked like Manny.
Jenkins whistled, and one of the guards turned toward them. Motioning with one hand, Jenkins pulled Kyra back from the door as the guard came over, sorting through a ring of keys. The rest of the guards and the prisoners they escorted kept walking.
“Hey Manny!”
Kyra whipped around, eyes searching frantically for the owner of the voice or, better yet, for the person it addressed. Only the quiet of the warehouse and the chain link cages met her gaze. She thought the voice came from the front of the warehouse, near the altars. Manny must still be up that way, but she hadn’t seen him. Where would he have been that she couldn’t see? She had to find a way to get to him.
The next instant, Kyra was yanked backward. Jenkins shoved her backward into the cage with so much force, her feet actually left the ground before she landed hard on her shoulder blades. The air punched painfully from her lungs and when she inhaled again, it took several times to pull the air back in.
Despite her lungs feeling deflated and dark spots dancing in front of her eyes, she somehow got to her feet, gripping the chain link to pull herself up. Jenkins stood on the other side of it, grinning maniacally at her. Beside him, the guard secured the padlock on the kennel door. He finished and headed in the same direction the group of prisoners had gone.
Kyra was truly a prisoner. Helpless, with her brother on the outside.
Hurry Gabe. Please hurry.
Chapter 25
Kyra opened her mouth, then shut it again. She wanted to scream at Jenkins, but could she to say that wouldn’t sound weak or ludicrous? Let me out? How dare y
ou?
She settled for twining her fingers around the cold chain link and glaring at him. She didn’t care if she didn’t look like a submissive Mireling anymore. Manny was here. Nothing else mattered a damn anymore.
Out of nowhere, Jenkins produced a huge knife—a machete, if she had to guess—and swung it toward her fingers. She jumped back before it hit, the broad, flat side of the knife slapping the metal cage with a chilling thwap.
Chuckling, Jenkins swaggered away. Kyra turned, leaned back against the fence, then slid to the ground. With one hand on her face, the other on her chest, she breathed deeply until it didn’t hurt anymore. Until it hurt less, anyway.
Raising her head, she took in the kennel for the first time. It wasn’t a large area. There were only four other people in it, which meant they each had their space. A man and a woman were each tucked into the two back corners of the cage. The woman’s knees were drawn up into her chest and seemed to find the back wall of the warehouse fascinating. The man similarly had his knees pulled up. He rocked silently back and forth, his face buried in his kneecaps. To her left a filthy man who looked to be in his thirties lay on the ground. His head rested on his arms and he’d curled his legs into a fetal position. He looked far too tall for how thin he was. Finally, on her right, a black woman sat against the right wall of the kennel. Her eyes held intelligence—she was the most pulled together of Kyra’s four cellmates—but the second she noticed Kyra studying her, she turned away.
Kyra scooted toward her anyway. “What’s your name?” she asked softly.
“Don’t talk to me, bitch!” the woman snapped. Her eyes held fire, but she kept her voice low.
Kyra raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been here?” she pressed.
“I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone.” The woman turned her head, refusing to look at Kyra.
