Dark Remnants
Page 20
“This city. Is. Mine!” With the final word he slammed his shoulder into Kyra’s chest, knocking her backward.
With a cry, Kyra lunged into a sitting position on her bed, chest heaving. She shook her head several times, trying to clear it, then rubbed her eyes. Her fingers came away covered with the pale makeup she wore. She looked around wildly. She’d fallen asleep on top of the coverlet, and now the pillowcase she’d been using had smears of makeup on it as well. In her hurry to get to Norse’s, she’d only been able to do her face, leaving her arms and neck in their normal state. Her clothes had covered them, though, and Gabe had been too distracted—or perhaps just too exhausted—to look that closely.
Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep again anytime soon, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bathroom.
In typical hotel fashion, the bathroom was directly beside the only door. Stepping over the heavy suitcase she’d set in front of door, as well as the chair she’d wedged under the doorknob, she flicked on the bathroom light. Being alone here spooked her and she couldn’t be too careful. Now, the dream had left a shivery pall over her, and the hotel room seemed darker. She double-checked the locks before going to the bathroom to disrobe.
Even smeared, her makeup was efficient. She’d learned to put it on expertly so that her face appeared gaunt and sunken, even though it wasn’t. She looked like someone she was not—a stranger in the mirror.
She started to remove the wig, but even that felt like work. Her arms were leaden—like they had been in the dream. She fell into a squat because standing seemed too hard, and leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink. She’d known when she decided to come here searching for Manny that it would be hard. She’d known it would be dangerous, and that some days she would hate it and want to quit. Manny was worth it, so she was okay with that.
What she hadn’t counted on was how much it would cost. Cost to her was one thing—she could deal with it and maybe even deserved it—but cost to other people? That much, she hadn’t thought about. It was why she was doing this alone, why she didn’t want to trust anyone, or bring anyone else in: there was too much potential for them to get hurt. But she hadn’t done any of those things with Evelyn Carlotta, and still an innocent child had been hurt.
How could she square that with her conscience? She wasn’t sure she could. She slid down to the floor and let the tears come. She didn’t know how long she sat there and cried—an hour? Maybe longer? Most of her makeup slid off her face with the tears and onto her torn slacks and tattered top. Only when the tears dried was she able to stand and unclip her wig. Only then did she feel focused enough to consider the dream.
A strange dream. She wondered why her mind had gone there. She thought back to the moment that man crossed in front of her while she and Nichols crouched in the alley. She’d felt vague fear when she heard the man muttering. Perhaps her mind had zeroed in on that. At the time, they’d been running for their lives from homicidal gangsters, and she hadn’t wanted to make any noise by confronting the man, but that didn’t mean he was dangerous. Her mind must have just filled in the blanks.
Then something occurred to her. The man’s bare legs struck her as strange too, but she hadn’t thought about it again until now. It was summer out and the heat of the city was such that many people wore shorts or cutoffs of some kind. The prostitutes certainly weren’t shy about wearing short skirts. But to have bottoms this short on a man was odd. It wasn’t just his calves that were bare, but most of his thighs as well. That meant short shorts—the kind worn by male athletes in the seventies and eighties. The kind people cringed about now.
Sadie described the man who was probably Mallory’s killer as wearing something similar. Something so short that a shirt tied around his waist concealed the clothing he wore on his bottom half completely.
Kyra sighed. That didn’t mean it was the same guy. What were the chances of that? Again, Kyra’s mind, still in shock over the past few days, was honing in on random details and making her dream about them in extreme ways. She tried to banish the thoughts from her head, but couldn’t shake the dark remnants of the dream.
In fact, that was the only thing she had to show for the past few days: the remnants of dark images and feelings. She just wanted to be rid of them.
She shook out her hair and washed her face at the sink. She was trembling, but couldn’t stop. She’d killed a man tonight, and she didn’t regret doing it, but it was something she’d never done before. He was a killer and a pedophile, and had been about to kill a detective. That, Kyra couldn’t abide. The bad guys didn’t get to kill the good guys for doing their jobs and enforcing the law, or trying to protect innocent little girls. No, Kyra would do exactly the same thing again if put in the same situation. And yet, she couldn’t stop the shaking of her arms.
Detective Nichols. Gabe. She banished the image of him peering into her face from her mind. She couldn’t afford to cross paths with him again. Though, given that he policed the same streets she walked, avoiding him might be difficult. She’d just have to be on her toes.
She turned on the shower, letting the scalding water fill the bathroom with steam. Shucking off her clothes, she stepped in. The water was hot enough to burn her skin, but she didn’t care. Lying to most people in the Slip Mire didn’t feel like lying; just like something she had to do to find Manny. Lying to Detective Nichols was different. It felt…more wrong somehow. Between that, and what happened to little Evelyn, Kyra felt like she was covered in a muck that wouldn’t wash off easily. She needed to purify herself and basked in the pain of the scalding water.
She wouldn’t leave the hotel again for days. She needed to go back to the drawing board; decide what to do next. Maybe Detective Nichols was right. Maybe trying to subvert the gang was too dangerous. But she knew Manny had joined their ranks. If she could infiltrate it, she could go right to him. The alternative was just talking to other people in the Slip Mire and hoping she eventually ran into him. There was no rhyme or reason to that plan. It was all chance, and she wasn’t sure she could handle that. She would go mad in this place if she didn’t have a strategy to focus her energy on.
No, she would take a few days to get her head straight. Then she would work a new design. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy, so she couldn’t bolt the first time things got messy. Her brother deserved more than that. She would do what she had to do to bring Manny home. No matter what the consequences to herself. It was the least of what she owed him.
She sank down in the tub, letting the water wash over her, dissolving the grime of the day. She sat there until long after the water ran cold.
End of Book 1
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Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for joining Kyra and Gabe as their adventure together in Abstreuse City begins!
Want to know how Kyra and Gabe will cross paths next? If Kyra will find her brother? Book 2 of Street Games, Desolate Mantle is available on Amazon.
Damaged Hope, Book 3 of Street Games will be available 10/10/2017.
Pre-order for 30% off list price now! Sale price only available until 10/07/2017!!!
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If you loved the book and have a spare moment, I would really appreciate a short review. Your help in spreading the word is gratefully received.
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Also by L.K. Hill:
If you enjoyed reading about Kyra and Gabe, check out The Botanist, a stand-alone crime fiction by L.K.Hill.
Do you enjoy other genres? Visit L.K. Hill’s website to che
ck out her dystopian and historical fiction series.
Dystopian:
Persistence of Vision, Book 1 of Interchron (writing as Liesel K. Hill)
Quantum Entanglement, Book 2 of Interchron (writing as Liesel K. Hill)
Historical Fiction:
Citadels of Fire, Book 1 of Kremlins
Bastions of Blood, Book 2 of Kremlins
High Fantasy
The Hatching, Prequel to the Dragon Magic Series
About the Author
L.K.Hill is an award-winning author who writes across three different genres. Her historical fiction and crime drama is written under her initials, L.K. Her sci-fi, fantasy, and dystopian are written under her full name, Liesel K. Hill. A graduate of Weber State University, she comes from a large, tight-knit family and lives in northern Utah. She's a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (lds.org) and cherishes her faith, family, and country. She plans to keep writing until they nail her coffin shut. Or the Second Coming. Which ever happens first. ;D