Chapter 2
I reached the alley to find an old woman being robbed by two thugs, each twice her size. One was rifling through her bag while the other had her pinned against the wall, a knife to her throat.
The first thug hurled the bag to the ground. “It’s not in here.”
His buddy pressed the blade harder. “Where is it, Doc?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied with more confidence than I expected.
“That’s bull and you know it,” he said. “Give it to us, and maybe we’ll let you walk. Pretend you got away.”
“If you think I believe that, you’re far more brawn than brain,” she shot back. “Roman would never send you to kill me. I’m worth more than both of you combined.”
“Watch yourself, Doc. Accidents happen.” He shoved her harder against the wall. She gasped. Blood trickled down her neck from where the blade nicked her.
I’d done my share of petty theft, but hurting an old woman? That was a line you didn’t cross. “Hey! Why don’t you two scumbags pick on someone your own size?”
All three turned. Hope flickered in the woman’s eyes. “Help me!”
The bag-thug stepped in front of me, glaring. I’d seen harder looks from Franklin.
“Get out of here,” he ordered.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said, slipping out the knife I always carried. It was small but viciously sharp.
“Your funeral, pal.”
Neither thug looked concerned. This guy wasn’t holding a weapon, but I knew better than to assume he was unarmed. Everyone in Dreswick carried something. If they didn’t, they weren’t around for long.
The one blocking me had a couple of inches and a solid fifty pounds on me. I wasn’t going to get out of this fight without a scratch, but I’d make sure they weren’t either. Moving heavy barrels all day every day kept me strong, and growing up on the streets kept me tough.
The thug came at me head-on—he was cocky. I’d been in enough fights to know he was about to make his move when he planted his feet. I ducked and slashed as he swung, cutting his left side. He grunted, and his sudden shock almost made me smile.
Almost.
“Just take the dreg out already, Mally,” his buddy snapped.
Weird. Low-towners didn’t call each other dregs. It was a crude and demeaning term. Then I caught the blue flash in his pupils. An amp. But not just any amp. Blue meant military-grade. This guy was an enforcer, and he’d just activated his combat skills.
He came at me faster, nimble in a way I couldn’t match, and slammed the heel of his palm in my face. I dodged enough to miss a broken nose, but he still connected with my cheekbone. Stars burst behind my eyes. But pain was nothing new, and I threw myself at him.
We both hit the ground, but he twisted at the last moment so that I didn’t pin him like I’d intended.
He rolled away, jumped to his feet, and planted a solid hit to my solar plexus.
I would’ve coughed if I had any air left in my lungs.
As it was, my chest burned, the telltale sign of liquid filling my lungs. I didn’t have much time.
I swung wide with my knife. He grabbed my right wrist, taking the bait, and I plowed my left shoulder into him, and we both barreled into his buddy.
I was hoping to knock them both to the left and away from the woman, but instead we ended up slamming her against the wall.
She cried out in pain, but I had my hands too full to check on her.
Enforcers were trained how to fight in styles and techniques. Low-towners knew of only one way to fight. Dirty.
I kneed one in the groin, and he released my wrist, folding with a groan.
The second thug drew a blaster. With his friend and the woman in the way, I couldn’t reach him before he pulled the trigger. I couldn’t run unless I wanted to get shot in the back.
I was about to jump when his eyes flicked past me. He hurriedly stuffed the gun back into his coat. I remained tense but didn’t attack. He glanced at the woman, his scowl deepening, then hauled his buddy to his feet.
“You got lucky. Next time, I’m putting a hole between your eyes.”
“You can try,” I shot back with just enough air in my lungs to spit out the words.
A small crowd had gathered at the alley’s entrance, saving both me and the woman. I turned back to her. She was pale, but it was hard to tell if that was her usual look or if it was because of the knife sticking out of her chest.
“Well… crap.” I knelt and cradled her head. “Hang in there. I’ll get you some help.”
“No need. I’m dying.” Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Nothing down here can save me.”
“You haven’t met Grandmother. She can work miracles, and she takes in strays. She took me in. She—” I bit off my words. She was right. I’d seen enough knife wounds to know her lungs were filling fast, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help.
She gave a faint smile, coughing up more blood. “Yes. You’ll do.”
Her trembling hand reached into her mouth. A tooth popped free, gleaming unnaturally white. Her eyes flashed silver. An amp… but I’d never seen that color before. I felt like I was way out of my league.
“Come closer,” she rasped.
I nervously leaned in, expecting her to tell me something.
“Closer,” she breathed.
I bent down, close enough for her to kiss my ear if she wanted. Instead, she jammed the damn tooth into my ear.
“Cripes!” I jerked back, clawing to get it out, but it was wedged deep.
She smiled. “Do… good.”
Then the burning began. At first it tickled. But the spark grew to searing pain, like acid dripping directly onto my eardrum. I clutched my head. White-hot fire scorched every brain cell. I screamed. My vision tunneled as I was consumed by blinding silvery light.
Then, a cool mist rolled in, smothering the flames.
The agony faded, leaving behind a thick fog.
I managed to get to my feet through blurred vision and deadened reflexes.
I staggered out of the alley, relying on the damp, rough bricks for support.
The ten-minute walk home stretched into hours.
I tripped and hit my head against the sandstone street, then began coughing up blood.
I don’t know how I managed to get back to my feet—maybe someone helped me—but I eventually reached my apartment building.
I shambled into the dimly lit corridor that always smelled of mildew and urine, then I dragged myself up the four flights of stairs to my apartment.
My fingers were numb, like I was wearing thick leather gloves, and I dropped my keys three times as I fumbled with them.
When I finally got inside, I collapsed on the bed. Black steel vibrated in my skull.
Then nothing.