Page 11 of Helsing: Demon Slayer
Four
Diannetrippedonsomeone’sfoot and went down, hard, on her right knee. The sharp pain cleared some of her fuzzy thoughts, but now she struggled to stand. People jostled around her, and several of them stepped on her bent leg or pushed against her back.
“Jaz! Tess!” she said, raising her voice almost to a shout as she looked for her friends, who seemed to have disappeared.
As she came to her feet, someone’s elbow connected with her cheek. That pain wiped her head clear, brought water to her eyes, and nausea to her throat. Retching, Dianne threw out an arm to keep her balance, hit a meaty body part, and heard a grunt. She couldn’t see because her eyelids refused to stay open after the inadvertent punch. Terror rolled through her as she felt herself pinned in, nearly blind, and being pummeled by endless elbows while bodies rolled her farther away from Ryan like rollers in a car wash.
Almost as soon as she thought of him, The Beast appeared next to her. Her eye above her injured cheekbone had started to swell, but the uninjured eye widened enough to see his massive form blocking the demented dancers behind him while he grappled with the others surrounding her. He pulled Dianne into his side, holding her easily with one arm as he pushed people out of his way. He looked like the god of thunder and felt like heaven.
She’d never been so glad to see someone in her life.
Unfortunately, there was no way off the pool deck from this side. They would have to either fight their way through the mass of people in front of the band or head along the side where fewer people watched the end of the party, mostly sitting at the tables. The Beast turned to head that way, but her injured knee crumpled, and she staggered, kept upright only by his firm grip. And people began streaming from the pool deck as the song ended, clogging their path forward.
Without warning, The Beast lifted Dianne, one handed, up and over his shoulder, his forearm pinning her thighs against his rock-hard abdomen. Giving a little shriek, Dianne clutched at his neck to keep from sliding sideways.
“I’ve got you,” he growled.He growled. The words rumbled through his chest and the soft bristles of his beard rubbed against her forearm.
The people on the side of the deck, who’d remained more subdued than those dancing, moved out of their way like the Red Sea parting. Dianne saw the slack look on some of their faces, but on several she thought she saw something sly, malicious even. A tremor rolled through her at this vision.
Behind them, shrieks filled the air. Dianne looked up to see other men carrying other women, some struggling. Worse, she thought she saw some of the preteen children also being roughly handled, while in the dim light and confusion, she imagined that there were knots of people on the deck boards in sexual positions. Most seemed enthusiastic, but to Dianne’s horror, she saw a teenaged boy grabbed from behind and held by a middle-aged man while another man shoved his own shorts down. She looked away.
What was happening here?
Germaine appeared out of nowhere to block her view as they entered the hallway into the ship’s interior. She looked disheveled. Her light-brown hair frothed around her face, wild and tangled. Her clothing sported rips and tears. Only one foot still wore a sandal, whose strap was broken. She clutched at The Beast’s arm holding Dianne, hardly slowing his stride.
“Dianne! Thank God you’re okay!”
“Keep moving,” said The Beast without looking at Germaine, who tripped along at his side. “We’ve got to get clear of this deck before they seal the exits.”
“What do you mean?” asked Germaine as they rounded the corner toward the elevators.
“Put me down. I can walk,” said Dianne at the same time.
Ryan ignored both of them. To Dianne’s surprise, he passed the elevators and headed toward the stairs in the middle of the deck. She saw a small group of passengers waiting in front of the elevators watching them with their mouths hanging open. Then Ryan plunged downward, the relentless rhythm of his jogging causing Dianne’s stomach to clench as her blurry monocular vision sought to make sense of their surroundings.
Germaine paused at the top of the stairs, looking over her shoulder toward the hall that they’d just left. Violence and noise rumbled their way. She shook the broken sandal from her foot and then plunged after Dianne and Ryan, practically running to keep up.
They went down three decks. At the landing to Deck Eight, Dianne gasped out in time with his steps, “I’m going to throw up if you don’t let me walk.”
Instead of putting her on her feet, The Beast switched his hold so that he cradled her in his arms. Then he turned toward the stairs again.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Dianne, realizing that it wasn’t her cabin on Deck Eight.
“To my cabin,” he said. “On Deck Four.”
“Di, you don’t know this guy. Don’t let him take you anywhere.” Germaine sounded breathless. She halted on the landing in front of the elevators. She looked up the stairs where tumultuous, discordant voices rushed towards them. “We should wait this out in our cabin.”
The Beast looked at Dianne, his eyes serious and direct. “It’s not going to get better. You need to trust me. This is why Olivia sent me.”
Dianne went with her gut. Looking at her friend, she said, “Come with us.”
Germaine shook her head, panic clear on her face and in her voice. “I can’t.”
Behind Germaine, the elevator dinged, and the doors started to slide open. Hands began pulling at the edges, trying to force them wider. The deranged babble on the stairs sounded like it was only one deck above them.
Ryan didn’t wait for more discussion. “Hold tight,” he said, his jaw set.
Dianne’s hands came around his neck of their own volition just before he headed down the stairs. The last view she had of Germaine was her friend’s back as she sprinted barefoot toward the hallway leading to their cabin.
