1
SERENA
From what I could tell, the two assholes were still behind me. The third one… not so much. I couldn’t risk a look back yet, at least for now. But I could still hear them, huffing and puffing, trying to keep up.
Unfortunately for me, they were gaining.
It was stupid, going out this late. Going out at all, really. I’d actually been ordered not to do it, but like most orders I didn’t like I’d promptly disobeyed. I’d done it anyway, stupid or not.
And now here I was.
“Wait! Hold up!”
One of them yelling again. Wasting their breath. I should’ve saved mine, but I couldn’t help it.
“Fuck off!”
I turned left at the next nameless junction. All of these alleyways were the same. A new series of cobblestones spun out before me, jagged and narrow, looking exactly like every other godforsaken alley I’d sprinted through in the last few minutes.
I hated this part of the city for its cleanliness. Its complete lack of anything to hide behind or jump into — a doorway or an alcove. Shit, I’d give anything for a dumpster right now.
Paris was nothing like New York.
“You’re to stay inside the hotel, Ms. Weston. Don’t fuck around. Sit on your hands like a good girl and wait to be contacted.”
Xiomara’s words rang loudly in my ears. It was the ‘good girl’ part that got me, I think. That, plus the fact that I was never any good at sitting on my hands.
Besides, I really wanted a drink.
It wasn’t the first time I disobeyed the Head of the Order. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. If Xiomara found out though, the ass-chewing I received wouldn’t be worth a hundred nights of drinking.
Well… maybe a hundred.
Footfalls. Close. Closer than before.
Shit.
Up ahead the alley forked sharply. I let instinct pick my direction just a split-second too late. The indecision cost me; for a moment I lost my footing, pinwheeling wildly, taking on even more speed as I tried to regain my legs. When I finally did, I risked a quick look back. A quick look was all I could afford.
They were almost on top of me now.
You’ll just have to do it, the little voice in my head said sternly. Don’t even think twice.
It was a dumb move, picking these darker streets. Trying to lose them here, rather than gain the safety of a more public avenue. But damn, it was almost midnight. It was unbelievable how early people went to bed here. Again, nothing like New York.
A hand touched my shoulder. Time was up.
“Gotcha!”
I dropped to the ground, curling myself into a tight ball. The momentum rolled me painfully. I could feel the cobbles stabbing across my back, my elbows slamming hard as I skidded to an ungraceful stop.
My move however, had the desired effect. Asshole number one went sailing over me, his legs completely taken out by my body. I watched as he went cartwheeling into the street, yelling in pain as he locked his arms out to protect himself from eating the pavement.
I was up quickly, and spun around to face my other pursuer. The guy with the greasy ponytail — the one who’d attacked me initially — looked almost surprised to see me. He slowed for a second, probably trying to figure out what happened to his companion, before sprinting directly my way.
Do it.
My arm shot out.
It happened in a flash, the way it always did when I went hard with it. One second I was focusing on my target, and the next I was flat on my ass… and it was all over.
The guy didn’t just fall backwards, he flew. I saw his body bend into a ‘U’, his chest collapsing inward as it took the full brunt of the impact. His ponytail flew forward as the rest of him sailed back, his face contorted into an almost comical expression of fear mixed with complete, unbridled astonishment.
That was my favorite part. I loved that part.
Then he hit the wall, harder than I’d even intended. And to be honest, I’d intended pretty hard.
I heard a muffled ‘crack’ that could’ve been his spine, or his head, or whatever else. Then he slumped to the ground, his limbs at odd angles. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
In the end though, I looked too long. Because when I turned back to find asshole number one, he was no longer where I’d left him.
Damn.
I was still scrambling to my feet when something hit me hard, in the back of the head. An explosion of silver white sparks obliterated my vision. I fell again, for a third time in as many minutes, and this time I knew I wouldn’t be getting up. I was too drained. Too dizzy. Both from the blow, and from what I’d just done.
“You still wanna talk?” I sneered. I needed time. A distraction, maybe. “You still—”
He kicked me, doubling me over. A cheap shot. It knocked the wind out of me though, which meant I couldn’t talk. I spat at him instead. He didn’t like that at all, and I really couldn’t blame him. It occurred to me that the peace and quite of my hotel room — as boring as it was — sure sounded good right now.
You’re a jackass, Serena. Xiomara’s voice again, this time in my head. An insolent, rebellious-for-no-reason jackass.
The man standing over me already had his fist raised for another blow. There was murder in his eyes. And something else, too. Something more primal, more savage and—
“Umffhh!”
I blinked as my attacker disappeared entirely from my vision. Something hit him sideways, something that knocked him clear to the other side of the alley with vicious, blinding speed.
There was an opportunity here. I seized it. I was up in a heartbeat, backing away and keeping my eyes on the two men now struggling against one another. The asshole who’d kicked me was getting the worst of it. He was on his back, getting repeatedly punched in the face by some pretty-boy blonde with a flowing, shoulder-length hair and really fast fists.
My conscience screamed at me to go help him. The rational part of my brain forced me to take another step backwards.
What are you doing?
My attacker kicked upward, connecting hard with a knee. As my would-be hero was rocked onto his back, I found myself rushing forward.
A repeating horn blared, loud and obnoxious, followed by flashing lights. I thought it was an ambulance at first, but then I remembered where I was. In Paris, the monotonous two-toned sound meant the police were arriving. And judging from the volume, very soon.
Now, even.
I glanced back again, unusually torn. My handsome savior was back on top again, raining down blows. He was going be okay. Arrested probably, but okay.
I on the other hand…
He looked up for a second, and we locked eyes. Was that a smirk? I thought it could be. My hero was beyond handsome, almost to the point of being pretty. His jacket had fallen off, his exposed body accentuating a lean, muscular physique that was slender yet still rippled with muscle. He looked like an athlete. Or with the long golden hair, some kind of surf god.
More flashing lights. The noises grew louder, and now they were accompanied by yelling voices.
Go!
My hero broke eye contact and took off running. I ran in the opposite direction, passing two full blocks before ducking through to the next alley. From there I made a series of blind turns, each crazier than the last. Every street brought me deeper, closer to the heart of the Gordian knot that made up this stupid tangle of a neighborhood.
And then I saw it; a neon blue sign. A bar or nightclub, still open: Le Sirène.
Off in the distance I could hear shouts and commands. The crackle of a bullhorn. But still, nobody in my alley. Nobody in my alley yet.
I ducked through the doorway before that happened, melting easily into the dimly-lit smoke and shadows.