Page 8 of Waifs And Strays
Ribbit agreed. ‘Help yourself by helping us. The boy means nothing to you.’
I turned into a narrow alley and walked past a series of brightly coloured posters advertising events for the upcoming winter solstice when all Coldstream residents were granted a public holiday. ‘And you mean nothing to him,’ I said pleasantly. ‘You ought to accept that.’
The words were barely out of my mouth when one of the werewolves slammed a fist hard into the spot between my shoulder blades. My money was on Ribbit rather than Quack – he seemed the type of guy to hit someone when their back was turned.
I was sent flying and landed face first onto the dirty cobbles, and it was certainly Ribbit’s hand that grabbed a hank of my hair and yanked my head upwards to spit words in my ear. ‘You should have taken the money.’
Probably.
I jerked my leg up and kicked his knee hard enough to make him release his grip on my hair and howl. I sprang upwards and spun in mid-air to face him. My ribs were bruised from my fall and I was already panting. When had I gotten so out of shape and unused to pain?
I grimaced, then threw up a hand to block a blow from Quack. She snarled and threw another punch. I ducked and narrowly missed it. My reflexes definitely weren’t what they used to be, and that was galling.
‘I think you dislocated my knee, you bitch!’ Ribbit shrieked.
I raised an eyebrow: it wasn’t dislocated, it was probablybarely bruised. I raised my leg and kicked his other knee and this time there was a sickening pop.Thatone was dislocated.
He collapsed, a writhing, howling pile of whine. One down. One to go.
Quack was staring at me as if I were a psychopath. I had plenty of empathy for my fellow man – or woman – but if you came at me from behind you had to take the consequences. It was rude. With that thought in mind, I eyed her height. This would hurt, but it would be worth it.
Most people think a headbutt involves smashing your forehead into your opponent’s forehead, but an effective headbutt requires you use the strongest part of your skull and slam it into the weakest part of your opponent’s face. Depending on your species, that’s usually your crown and their nose. The move wouldn’t have served me well if it had been a full moon and Quack had been in wolf form, but at that moment it was all I needed. And I was shorter than her, which gave me a useful advantage.
I launched my head forward with all the force I could muster and broke her nose. All in a day’s work. Maybe I wasn’t so rusty after all.
Bright-red blood streamed down her face, but Quack was stronger than her friend; despite the pain and obvious humiliation, she wasn’t ready to quit. Her eyes were full of venom – and she’d located a knife from somewhere in the folds of her jacket.
She meant business. She jabbed it forward, slicing the blade through the air with unerring speed. I was caught off-guard and the tip caught my cheek, piercing my flesh. It hurt more than it should have done and I wondered briefly if the metal was coated in poison. It was the sort of daft thing I’d expect from inexperienced fighters like these two, although I reckoned Ideservedto die horribly after allowing myself to be cut with such ease.
I sighed, snapped forward and curled my hand around her wrist, squeezing it tight. Quack cried out and dropped the knife. There: that was better.
I bent to pick it up so I could examine the blade for signs of a poisonous coating. As I did, I caught sight of two slitted eyes watching me from behind a pile of damp cardboard boxes. It was She Who Hisses. She must have been hanging around the market searching for easy pickings around the fishmonger’s stall.
I kneed Quack in the stomach so that she collapsed beside Ribbit, then I pocketed the knife and moved away from the moaning werewolves. It was time to coax a kitty. Perhaps this day wouldn’t turn out to be so pathetically shite after all.
Chapter
Four
Nick was sitting on the doorstep when I returned home and heaved myself through the garden gate. He Who Roams Wide was lying on the grass less than three metres away. As a large black tomcat with a brazen attitude, not much fazed him, not even a twitchy teenage werewolf. He was similar to He Who Must Sleep in that regard, even though they had little else in common.
The cat ignored my entrance but Nick leapt to his feet in alarm. ‘Jesus!’ he exclaimed. ‘Have you been in a fight?’
My clothes were dirty and torn in several places. There was at least one deep scratch on my cheek and several on my hands and arms, but nothing about my appearance was related to my fight with Quack and Ribbit. My current state was all down to She Who Hisses.
I pulled a face. Nick darted to my side and grabbed my arm as if to help me stumble into the house. My glare intensified and thankfully he got the message and released me. I was perfectly capable of walking.
Sensing my displeasure, He Who Roams Wide lifted hishead and looked at me. ‘Yes,’ I told him. ‘It was She Who Hisses.’
The cat blinked. ‘No,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘She ran away.’Again.
His tail flicked and he lowered his head back to the ground.
Nick squinted, his confusion obvious. ‘She Who Hisses?’
‘The black cat you scared away yesterday,’ I explained.
‘That’s her name? She Who Hisses?’
