Chapter 73
Attacked
Two weeks went by and I moved through daily life on autopilot.
I did all the usual mundane things, slept, ate—a little anyway—worked, chatted, smiled when I was meant to smile, even laughed when I was meant to laugh.
To the outside world I appeared as I normally would.
But inside, I was a mess. Inside, I ached.
A huge permanent ball of hurt swelled against the walls of my stomach.
My heart felt as though half of it was torn out and tossed into a wasteland, and what remained was left battered and bruised.
People were all around me, but I was overcome by loneliness, a never ending abyss of emptiness. It was as if I were a solitary figure in a graveyard of ghosts. I could see them and hear them, but their attempts to reach out faded like morning mist on the breaths of a southerly wind.
I thought about him all the time. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.
When the girls asked again to go away, I politely declined, pleading tiredness.
Which, in all honesty, was no lie. The emotional pain had depleted my energy.
I took a few weeks off bar work, not wanting to run into him, just yet.
I’d be okay eventually. But I needed time to heal, to become stronger, before I had to face him again.
Fate, it seemed, had other plans.
It was late in the evening on a Thursday.
A lemon-sliced moon was blanketed by a long, heavy, solitary cloud.
The night air was cool and moist, the chill seeped into my core, but compared to the brutal cold of the mountains, it was nothing.
I walked across an almost empty supermarket parking lot.
I was the last customer to leave, having spent much longer than I realized browsing the aisles, buying things we’ would probably never need or use.
I’d left at close, right on 10 p.m. The manager, a friendly, wispy-thin guy of around thirty, had wished me goodnight and locked the door behind me with a smile.
A few lamps threw yellow, fizzled light across the murky concrete ground.
Arms laden with heavy shopping bags, I was kicking myself for parking so far back from the entrance.
I never parked close to other cars, too many people careless with doors and without the honesty to admit the damage they caused annoyed my highly strung sense of social justice.
Which made me think of Karson. We’d come shopping together once, he’d insisted on carrying all six bags, like my arms were inadequate to hold any ounce of weight.
I missed him, missed his old-fashioned ways.
I was too busy thinking about him to notice the black van that slithered through the shadowed edge of the lot.
I shuffled the bags, swapping one bag from my left hand to my right.
I didn’t see the van stop between myself and my car. I didn’t see the two men exit. The first I knew of them was when I looked up and saw them walking in my direction. One was tall, with acne-scarred skin. The other was of medium-height, with a big nose. Both were burly.
I’m not sure what it was, but the sight of them sent warning signals shooting through my body. The air thickened down my throat. My heart rate doubled.
No one else was around. There were only a few cars remaining, probably belonging to night shift employees. My car was fifty yards away. I’d have to pass them to get to it.
I tried to tell myself I was being silly. I knew enough by now to trust my instincts.
Never hesitate, take them by surprise. Ethan’s voice spoke in my head.
Twenty yards away.
I sat the bags on the ground, feigning heaviness, clenching and unclenching my hands, rubbing at them like the handles had dug in. I slipped the ring off my finger and slid it into my pocket.
“You need a hand?” a hoarse voice came from the taller man.
Humans—not witch, not vampire. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was something at least. I took a few deep breathes, straightened up, rolled my shoulders back and forced a look that resembled a smile. “No, I’m fine thank you.”
Ten yards.
“You sure?” Big nose asked, with a smile that never reached his reptilian eyes.
Five yards.
My blood began to heat, buzzing inside. I’m not meant to use my powers in public. But it’s either use them or . . . I shuddered to think.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”
Two yards.
I leaned forward and down, pretending to pick up the bags. My hair curtained my face. My mouth dried. My heart boomed against my skull.
One yard.
Big nose began his take off.
I shot my hand up. Power exploded from my fingertips.
He flew through the air, landing with a sharp thud on the concrete about ten yards away, he grunted as his body tumbled across the ground.
The tall guy stood rooted to the spot, wide-eyed, mouth unhinged. He recovered, his eyes narrowed, his mouth moved into a thin sneer and he charged forward.
I threw him upwards. Peripherally, I could see the big nose man had regained his feet. I sent the taller guy threw the air. He hit the other man like two baseball bats connecting. He let out a startled cry as they both hit the ground, hard. But not hard enough, they staggered to their feet.
Forty yards to get to the car. Could I run? No. Even if I made it to the car first, they’d grab me before I could get in.
There was a soft thud from behind.
Keep all your senses alert. Eyes, hearing, feeling, Amy. Don’t just focus on your attacker. Always act like there are more.’
There were more. His footsteps pounded toward me.
I swung my leg around as hard as I could, my shin connected with his knee. It popped sideways out of its joint.
He roared, buckled, and dropped.
Once they go down, attack again, don’t hesitate.
I didn’t.
I slammed the sole of my foot into his nose.
Crunch. The sound was like a beetle being stomped on.
He cried out and his hands flew to his broken nose, blood gushed between his fingers.
At best, his nose was broke. At worst, it was smashed.
At the same time, I heard more heavy, footsteps behind me.
I swung to see a large-framed, hulk of a man, just as his body slammed into mine.
He hit me like a tsunami. I flew to the ground, landing on my stomach, he landed on me in a full-on tackle.
Pain bloomed around my chest. The breath jerked from my lungs.
I couldn’t breathe. One arm was crushed under my body, the other was pinned by the weight of his chest. I flailed and tried to buck wildly.
A hot flash of panic and pure terror rolled over my skull and disabled rational thought.
My right hand pumped backwards, there was no power in it.
Either kinetically or physically. My fingers snapped against something hard on his belt.
A knife or gun, I wasn’t sure. My fingers fumbled for it, I couldn’t grab hold.
Then practical thought stormed back, and I willed it into the palm of my hand.
It landed with a thump. It was wooden and thick. A knife. I clutched it tightly and drove my wrist back. The knife sank into flesh. The man bellowed. Warm blood seeped over my hand and lower back.
He rolled off, clutching at his side. “You fucking bitch, I’m going to kill you.”
I scrambled to get up. I made it to my knees but now my arms were being yanked back and twisted up behind me.
Pain flared through my shoulder blades, it felt as if they were being torn from their sockets.
I cried out. The knife fell out of my hand, clattering to the ground. I was hauled roughly to my feet.
The man I’d stabbed rounded to the front.
Blood drooled down over his rolling stomach onto the waist band of his mid-wash denim jeans, turning it claret red.
I didn’t know how much I’d injured him—perhaps it was just a nick, or maybe he was tough.
Either way, it wasn’t enough. He sucked in rapid breaths.
His eyes read like a dire omen, and I knew things were about to get much, much, worse.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion.
He gritted his teeth. He clenched his fists.
Cocked his arm and slammed it into the left side of my face.
The pain was explosive. The world left for a long moment and, when it came back, my face throbbed and felt numb at the same time.
My ears rung. My vision was black snow. He hadn’t hit me with all of his force, if he had my face would have been shattered, but it was hard enough that he intended to do some damage.
Amongst a brain of soup, I felt myself being dragged backward.
My wrists were clamped together behind me painfully tight.
An arm was hooked under one arm and around my chest. The heels of my sneakers grated along the asphalt, leaving a white wake like a pallid skid mark.
He was limping heavily, grunting with each step.
I let my body remain soft for a long beat, head hung, mouth ajar, fighting to collect my senses. Through my hair and a vision of black dots I could see pocket-face. He loomed behind, getting closer. He bowed forward, getting ready to grab my feet. If he got hold of them, I’d never break free.
I didn’t know where the other two were. I couldn’t worry about them now.
With my hands pinned all I had left to use was my legs.
I came to life in one fluid movement. I planted one foot, bucked my body up, and slammed my other foot into his balls.
His mouth sprung open. His face dropped to the color of death.
Hands clutched at his groin as he crumbled to his knees, tumbled to his side, knees folded, and rocked back and forth. A squeak leaked out of his mouth.
He'd be down for a while.
The man who held me let go of my chest and yanked back on my arms with such force, I heard something pop, the muscles in my shoulders screamed.
Rather than pulling away, abruptly I flew back in his direction. My head flew back, slamming into his face.