Page 14 of Angel

The man with the eyepatch rolled his one eye at the prospect. “She ain’t got use of her legs, dumbass.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose and he took a step away from her like her condition was contagious. Bree fought the urge to roll her eyes. The kid really was a dumbass. She might only be fifteen in comparison, but at least she had use of her brain.

“Git her in the chair,” Eyepatch ordered. “Snakeskin should be about ready.”

“I’m not touching her!” The prospect’s nose scrunched in disgust.

Before Eyepatch could argue or push the order, an idea came to Bree. “I can do it myself,” she insisted.

Eyepatch studied her for a moment and then nodded. “Hurry up.”

As Bree reached for her chair to bring it around next to the reception desk, she heard the prospect make a gagging sound. “King didn’t say anything about a cripple working here.”

The slap across the prospect’s face made Bree jump and nearly lose her focus. Using her upper arm strength, Bree pulled herself out of the chair into a standing position. Her paralyzed legs hung limply under her. All she had to do was lower herself into her chair, but she made a show of having to scoot and grunt her way closer.

“Can’t you see her cut, you fuckin’ moron? She’s Via Daemonia too. Way I see it, her bein’ here is good for us. Two birds, one stone.”

As Bree guided herself back into her seat, she slid her phone under her left hand and knocked it off the counter. It landed on her seat just before she did. While she couldn’t feel the phone beneath her bottom, she was confident it was there. She hadn’t heard it hit the floor. Bree prayed Eyepatch and the prospect were too busy not helping her to notice her sleight of hand.

Bree strapped her legs to the footrest. She’d learned the hard way what happened if she didn’t. She might not be able to feel her legs, but they still had blood flow, tissue, and muscle that could be damaged.

A furious scream came from the back rooms. Bree forced her tears and worry for Angel back. She would be of no use to Angel if she lost her focus.

Once positioned in the chair, Bree wheeled herself around to face the men. “Please don’t hurt us.” She made sure to add a whimper to her voice. From experience, she knew the sort of reaction that would bring from this type of men. They lived off of the fear of others. It was like a drug to them.

Eyepatch laughed harder than when he’d discovered her wheelchair. Barely breathing, he ordered, “Follow me.” And then walked through the doorway to the back rooms.

The building that housed Angel’s tattoo shop was old. The entire strip area of Main Street was and were even marked with a Pennsylvania Historic Marker. Unfortunately, none of that helped Bree or Angel as it meant the outer building and the walls separating each individual business were brick.

Like that alien movie, no one would hear them scream.

The tattoo studio was set up like a doctor’s office. The front reception area held the desk and waiting chairs. In the back were four additional rooms, connected by a single hallway. The three tattooists had their own private room with a curtain instead of a door and the fourth was a lockable storage supply room as well as Angel’s office. At the very end of the hallway was the emergency exit door that was supposed to sound an alarm when opened.

Eyepatch led Bree into Patrick’s room. He’d painted his walls a bright and cheerful purple with several rainbows, teddy bears, and candy drawn on them. In the center of the room was the medical couch that allowed Patrick to manipulate the client’s position. Since Patrick also did piercings, it gave him easy access to certain body parts too.

The couch, however, was empty.

Horror seized Bree as she rolled through the doorway. Angel’s hands, still tied, were now secured to the wall by one of the hanging light fixtures. She was semi-conscious and sweating profusely. There was blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth, likely from a slap or a punch.

Two things, Bree noted right away. First, the man with the Taser was now wrapping the wires around the end of the Taser. That meant Angel was no longer attached and, as long as they didn’t have another Taser, was not going to receive any more shocks. Second, she was still fully dressed.

“What the fuck is this?” Taser Man asked, indicating with his chin towards Bree.

“She’s Via Daemonia, Skin,” Eyepatch told him, reminding Bree that he’d called Taser Man ‘Snakeskin’. He lifted Bree up by the scruff of her denim cut. Fear gripped her, but only because lifting her might expose the phone she was hiding beneath her butt. Eyepatch dropped her back down unceremoniously. If Bree had feeling below her hips, that might have hurt.

“I meant the fucking chair,” Snakeskin sneered. He tossed the used Taser onto the counter. “This town really is fucked up. Allowing women into the club, hiring fags,” he indicated around the rainbow-colored room, “and letting cripples live. No idea why King wants this place so badly.”

Bree stored that away for future use. Whoever had ordered them to attack Angel, his name was King.

“Prospect, did you close up the front?” Snakeskin asked.

The kid nodded once. He was hanging in the doorway like he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do. “Locked and flipped the closed sign. Even turned off all the lights.”

Snakeskin snorted. “Going for extra points.” He nodded his chin out of the room. “Go keep watch.”

The boy practically ran out of the room.

Bree looked towards Angel hanging on the wall. She was starting to come out of the effects of the Taser more. The moment she realized her predicament, her eyes went straight to Bree’s and widened in horror.

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