My Heart be Damned (29 page)

The heat was horrible. I pressed my bicep against my mouth, trying not to breathe in any smoke. I lost sight of Marshall. The only part of the house not entirely ablaze was the front door, which hung off its hinges. I ran forward, stopping when a part from the dormer above the door fell right in front of me, missing me by inches. Something rushed at me from behind, and I fell to the ground, my face skidding against wet grass.

Instantly in fight mode, I rolled over and jumped to my feet, blocking an uppercut. Coming face to face with my attacker, I
recognized
the tattoos on his head.

This fire had been no accident.

“You’re coming with me,” he barked. He had soot on his face from the fire, and he'd singed some of his clothes. I hoped he’d been burnt.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I hissed. “What did you do?”

He smiled, and I noticed one of his teeth was missing. His black hair was greasy and fell in curtains around his face.

“The old man had something that belonged to Seal,” he said. He began to circle me, and I backed up, edging away from him.

“I’m going to kill you,” I seethed.

There was a high-pitched laugh as a woman walked slowly and surely from the street to stand beside the grease ball. She was absolutely stunning, with long brown hair that fell past her waist. Her skin was pale, translucent almost, and from the way her blue eyes sparkled, I could tell she was powerful. No tattoo though. Maybe not an assassin, but judging by the looks that he was giving her the grease ball seemed to fear her. Respect her.

“I don’t much like your chances,” she said, smiling at me, as if, I was a child asking a stupid question. “There are two of us, and you have no weapons. Your...friend is otherwise engaged trying to save the old one. If you come with us without a fight, I promise to make your death quick.”

I raised an eyebrow. “
Er
, rude much? You’re interrupting something here.”

She didn’t seem to care for my comment, which was a shame because I was proud of myself for staying cool.

“You think you know what’s to come?” she demanded, stepping forward, fists clenched. “You are so completely in over your head. Kidnapping one of us will accomplish nothing. He barely knows anything. You think Master Seal would divulge his plans to a low minion?” She laughed. It was false and hollow. “Bless you.”

My mum had trained me to stay unresponsive when prodded with banter. I could think about what the bitch said later. Right now, I had to focus on staying alive. I
channelled
the anger towards her
patronising
words and turned it into fuel. Then I swung forward and my fist connected with her nose.

She flew back, slamming into a tree behind her. The assassin ran at me then, yelling at the top of his lungs and his shoulders positioned to slam into me. I dropped into a squat, thrust my right leg out, and tripped him. He fell to the ground, a mess of limbs. Then the woman was back,
leveling
punch after punch at me, and I threw my forearms up, blocking them all. In the end, I grabbed her fist and slammed my free hand into her face three times before she pulled away. She lashed out at me, her long nails scratching my cheek. Then she sent a spinning kick right into my chest. I fell back, turning mid-fall, and catching my weight on my hands. Using my momentum, I cow-kicked her in the stomach. She doubled over, and I twisted an uppercut right under her jaw as I straightened up. It sent her staggering. I assumed she wouldn’t be able to find a comeback move in time, which was my stupid fault, because then I wasn’t prepared when she lunged forward, hands grabbing for my neck.

Her talons squeezed hard into my skin. What was with the strangling? I clawed at her hands as she lifted me from the ground. My feet dangled in the air.

“You put up a good fight,” she said, out of breath. “But it’s over now.”

The assassin moved to stand beside her – a united front.

“It’s not over,” I croaked out. “You haven’t even seen my bitch moves.”

“Your what?”

I reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back. Then I lifted my knees and pressed my feet into her chest, kicking back and flipping out of her grip. She stumbled backwards, her face a beautiful mix of fury and pain.

Behind her, Marshall stumbled out of the burning house, clutching Albert’s limp body. He fell to his knees, a mess of spluttering coughs, and tried frantically to beat some life into Albert. I turned my attention away, trying not to be distracted by the sadness I would surely feel if I allowed it.

“Get a message back to Seal that we have the girl,” she snapped to the Damned assassin. He nodded once and took off at a run. Filled with dread, I watched him go, and quickly tried to think of some way, to stop him.

Suddenly, a knife whipped through the air and stabbed the assassin in the back. I stared at the fallen Damned in shock. So did the bitch next to me. Where had that come from? I whirled to see behind me.

Marshall was
meters
away, his hand still outstretched from where he’d thrown the knife. Slowly, he looked down at his hand, as if he hadn’t
realized
he’d done it, and then
trudged back to Albert’s body.

Without giving the female Damned a chance to make any more moves, I ran over to the assassin and yanked the knife out from his back. I pointed it at her and slowly advanced, enjoying the look of panic on her face.

“You won’t stab me,” she hissed, but she looked scared.

“Want to place a bet on that?”

She stopped and turned contemplatively towards Marshall. “He looks sad, doesn’t he? Tell him Miranda says to watch his back.” She winked at me.

Why would a Damned warn Marshall of that? I turned back to stare at him. The confusion must have registered on my face.

“You don’t know...” She grinned and clapped her hands together.

“Shut up,” I hissed.

“Word of advice from one girl to another: if Seal doesn’t kill you first, he will.”

I refused to comment. Refused even to acknowledge what she said.

“But Seal will get to you first.” She stepped to the side, sliding away, and for some reason, I let her. “I’ll deliver you to him personally. Be seeing you real soon.”

Then she was gone. I shoved the knife into my skirt’s waistband and rushed over to Marshall, dropping to my knees next to Albert’s body. Marshall was still performing CPR, and I watched him, wondering how long he’d been trying to bring Albert back.

Albert’s eyes stayed closed, and his chest stayed still. I bit down on my lip, trying not to cry. Every now and again, Marshall would beg Albert to pull through. To come
back. The pain in his voice was so raw that it cut at my soul. In the distance, sirens wailed,
signaling
our cue to leave. Gently, I placed a hand on Marshall’s arm as he pounded against Albert’s chest.

“We have to go,” I whispered.

He looked at me in shock, as if he hadn’t known I’d been there. “
Amerie
? What? No! I can’t just leave him here.”

“Marshall, I know that you don’t want to, but we can’t be caught here. Now come on.”

Marshall shook his head. “He can’t be dead.”

“The ambulance is his best hope. Come on.”

He let me pull him to his feet and together we stumbled across the dewy grass to his car. I was a little worried he might not be able to drive in his condition, but he seemed to run on autopilot, backing us out of the driveway and guiding us onto the road. His gaze stayed fixed on the pavement, and he kept the speed at the limit. I stared at him the whole ride back, wondering if I should say anything, and what I would say if I did. I remembered how I’d felt when I’d been told about my mum. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Nothing anyone could say would bring her back. Though Albert wasn’t Marshall’s dad, they were as close as any father and son.

So, I stayed silent. I let Marshall have his thoughts. I let him mourn in his own way, and when a tear spilled down his cheek, I pretended that I didn’t see it. When we finally got to my house, the tension was so thick it suffocated me. In a selfish way, I was glad to be home and able to distract myself from Albert’s death, but Marshall had to take this home with him.

“Marshall...”

“Don’t,” he muttered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I nodded, staring down at my lap. “Okay. So,
erm
, you wanna meet up after my shift tomorrow and talk about Saturday?”

“Saturday?”

“Stealing the Coat of
Tarham
.”

“Oh.” His gaze stayed fixed on the windshield. He didn’t once look at me. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Okay.” I grabbed my bag from the floor beside me. “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t say anything, and I climbed out of the car and walked to my house without looking back. I had made it all the way to my room and to the window before he pulled away. I crossed my fingers that he’d get home safely. Then I did something I hadn’t done in just over a year. I dropped to my knees, and I prayed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Old Habits Die Hard

The next morning, I woke up a full hour before my alarm was due to go off. Rain slammed against the window and echoed through my dark room. I rolled onto my side and pulled the covers up around my neck. My night had been plagued with nightmares of Albert’s dead body. Poor Albert. I tried to think of something else, but all I saw was the heartbreak on Marshall’s face. Admitting defeat, I climbed out of bed and hopped into the shower.

The rain didn’t let up even as I left for school. I yanked my hood up and trudged through the rain up to Maxwell. At least tomorrow was Saturday, and that meant we would have the Coat in our possession. Except that, we didn’t have Albert to tell us how to destroy the statue.

I wanted so badly to talk about last night with someone, but I was running a little late, as usual, and the first time I saw Mercy was in Chemistry. Luckily, it was a practical lesson, which allowed us the chance to talk without having to whisper.

“Partners?” Mercy asked as soon as Mr. Ball had set the task.

“Of course.”

She scooted her stool closer to me. “Okay, I’ll get the Bunsen burner set up, and you can get the other stuff.”

We set up our experiment, wearing the unfashionable glasses and aprons over our school clothes. From years of experience, I’d learned to multitask in class if I wanted to talk to Mercy. There was no way she was going to get low marks because we’d spent the whole time talking.

“So, what’s with the scratches on your face?” she asked, her eyes scanning the instructions scrawled across the black board.

I played with the prongs in my hand. “We went to go see Albert last night and tell him the good news
─
”

“The old dude?”

“Yeah. But Seal had sent an assassin, and some idiot woman to get back the Damned Albert had been keeping hostage.” I paused. “They set Albert’s house on fire and Albert ...died.”

“Oh my God,” Mercy breathed, turning to stare at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I guess. I’m still numb to it. But you should have seen the way Marshall crumbled. Albert was like a dad to him.”

Mercy shook her head and popped something into the beaker over the Bunsen burner. “He won’t go and, like, try and get revenge, will he?”

This time I shook my head. “No. He’s not like that. He’s not stupid.”

“Well, that’s good. Are you gonna check up on him or anything?”

I waited for another student to walk past before answering. “We’re gonna meet after my shift, to discuss tactics for tomorrow.” I
paused and dropped the prongs.

“Okay, you’re not telling me everything,” Mercy said, sliding her goggles down to the end of her nose as if they were glasses. “Spill.”

I shrugged, not even pretending to participate in the task anymore. “The chick I fought last night said some stuff about Marshall. Just, I
dunno
,
kinda
threw me.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said Marshall would kill me if Seal didn’t get to me first,” I muttered.

Mercy raised an eyebrow. “And you believe her?”

“Well, The Damned can’t lie. So, she has to be telling the truth...”

“Maybe she got it wrong somehow. There’s gotta be a whole lot of ways to get around that loophole.” When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Look, babe, I don’t know Marshall too well, but from what I’ve seen, he’s a good guy. Otherwise, he wouldn’t go out of his way so much for you. He cares about you.”

I looked up from the table and nodded. “Yeah, you’re definitely right. I think maybe I’m all weird over this because of Albert dying and us being so close to finally ending this.”

Mercy smiled. “You always freak out when you don’t need to. I’ve come to love you for it.”

I shook my head at her with a bemused smile. Then, feeling guilty about my lack of participation, I picked up the spatula and began to stir the concoction in our beaker. I had no idea what we were supposed to be producing, but it stunk like burning rubber.

Though it was one of the busiest days that I’d ever seen at The Hut, I was happy for it. With so much to do, and so much to get right, I barely had time to remember my own name, let alone think about Albert’s death and Marshall’s distress. Still, it didn’t stop me from looking over to the pool tables, hoping he’d be there hustling students, or even watching me creepily. When my shift finally ended, Marshall was still nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” Sam said, walking over to me.

I pulled on my coat, barely listening as my eyes scanned the room hopefully for Marshall on last time. He wouldn’t ditch me, not when tomorrow was so vital to what we were doing.

“Hey, Sam.”

“You finished your shift?” He looked down at my jeans and boots. “Guess so.”

“Yeah. All done for the night.”

We walked together, weaving through the crowd until we reached the booth where Mercy and Chuck sat. Neither of us slid in to join them.

“She shot you down yet?” Chuck asked, smiling cockily at Sam.

Sam stuck his middle finger up at him. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Asked me what?” I turned to the side so that I had a clear view of the door.

“We’re all heading out to this house party down by mine,” Sam said. He placed a hand on the slightly sticky table and shuffled his weight onto it. I wondered if he thought he looked cooler like that.

“When?”

“Now. We’re heading down there now. But we wanted to wait for you in case there was a chance you’d come along.”

Mercy snorted and slid her coat on. “She’s not gonna come. I told you, she has plans, Sam. Not to mention she’s supposed to be grounded.”

“I thought I’d ask anyway,” Sam snapped, shooting her a warning glare.

I’d barely paid attention to anything any of them said. My eyes still scanned the room, hoping that maybe Marshall was just running late.

He’d be here. He had to.

I stared at kissing and flirting couples, jealous of how happy they seemed to be, and jealous that I didn’t have that. I’d finally found someone worth caring about, and it had to be the most complicated relationship on earth.

“So,” Sam said, waving a hand in front of my face. “What
d’you
say?”

I snapped out of my daze. “Sorry, Sam, but I’ve got plans.”

His hopeful expression faded, and then suddenly turned to frustration. Without
realizing
, I stepped back, putting space between us.

“Why? Meeting that dude that follows you everywhere?”

I nodded, narrowing my eyes at him. “His name is Marshall, Sam. And yeah, I am meeting him. It has nothing to do with you.”

Sam shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Well, I’m sorry to say that you’ve been stood up. I saw him about half an hour ago when I was driving down here. He was walking in the opposite direction, heading into this shitty factory down the road.”

My blood ran cold. “Where?”

“Roosevelt way. Why?”

I didn’t answer. I shoved my rucksack on and barged through the crowd, pushing anyway who got in the way. Anger rushed through my body, as if someone had injected it into my blood stream.

He’d quit. He promised me that he’d quit.

As soon as I pushed through the doors, and out into the rain, I broke into a run, not stopping until I reached Roosevelt way, about two miles from the Hut. My chest heaved as I slowed down, my eyes scanning the dilapidated area for the factory his stupid fight club would be held.

I turned a corner leading to more factories, when I saw a crowd gathered outside one of them. I didn’t have to rely on my senses, to determine what they were. Damned, and a whole lot of them. Logic argued with emotion inside of my head. I had to get Marshall out of there. He was fighting while consumed with grief, and that was always
the worst emotion to channel. It could make people unpredictable. Sloppy. But then, I was walking into the lion’s den, too. Who was to say I’d make it out alive?

I squared my shoulders and kept going. The crowd didn’t seem to be queuing to get inside; more like congregating outside, talking loudly and animatedly about the fights happening. I squeezed through them, ignoring the ones who could sense what I was. Their heads turned to follow me, some angry, some curious, but none of them stopped me.

A bald man with a giant beard sat in a booth just inside of the doors, metal bars running down through the pay window. Standing next to the booth was another burly man, piercings covering most of his face. He held a black metal detector wand, and when he saw me, he used it to point at the booth. Hesitantly, I walked over. A huge sign behind the cashier said ‘Unless you’re in the ring, no fighting’. Then a smaller sign next to it said ‘£10 entry and a free bet with every visit.’ I sighed and dug my hand into my jean pocket, taking out the money I’d made in tips today. Marshall was totally reimbursing me for this.

“Ten pounds,” he said gruffly. I slid the money through the bars and turned to walk through another set of doors when a hand clamped around my arm. I turned and yanked the hand away.

“Calm down, love,” the burly man said, his smile just a little too close to a leer. “Just need to search
ya
.”

“In your dreams.”

He rolled his eyes and waved a metal detector. “With this.”

“Oh.” I spread my arms out and let him sweep the detector over my body. When he ran it over my bag, it beeped wildly, and he grabbed the bag off my back.

“You got any weapons in here?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed and unzipped it, shoving his hand down to the bottom, and pulling out one of my daggers. Thankfully, not my
favorite
one and one I didn’t care too much about either. Then he threw it down in a box I hadn’t noticed at his feet. It was filled with weapons.

“You can get it on the way out. Have fun.”

I took my bag back and pushed through the next set of doors that led me right into the main room. A massive fighting ring had been set up in the middle. Hundreds and hundreds of people crowded around it, holding betting sheets, and screaming out unintelligible words at the fighters. Cigarette smoke swirled around me, and I tried fanning the air around my face futilely. Scanning the crowd, I
realized
not all of the people in here were Damned. Some were human too. No one fought or caused a scene.

I pushed my way around the back of the room, keeping pressed against the wall. The last thing I wanted to do was draw extra attention to myself. All I had to do was find Marshall, and get him the hell out of here. It couldn’t be so hard, right?

The two people in the ring were
pummeling
the crap out of each other. Humans. Amateurs. They fought sloppily, and there was so much blood sprayed across the ring’s
floor that I wanted to gag. I found a relatively quiet corner and tried to focus my hearing on just Marshall’s voice. Pushing through all the shouting, the yelling, the conversations, and curse words, I finally caught a faint hint of him. My head snapped in the direction it came from, and I saw him. He was following someone through the crowd, looking irate, and screaming something at his retreating form. I took off after him, not caring about remaining hidden anymore. Marshall and the guy he berated disappeared through a fire exit door and I followed them.