Page 68 of Demon
“Gannin for a slash, darl. Be back in a minute.”
I was two or three. Nipping to the row of plastic cubicles, just sited a few metres back from the party area. Enough time for someone to move in on her when I was gone. They were there when I got back. I saw the jackets first; the bull heads embroidered on the leather, staring at me. Laughing at me. And I felt the anger rise. I almost ran back to where I had been sitting, covering the ground in big, long strides, my fists already balling at my sides, my arms tense as I desperately tried not to swing before I’d asked the questions.
Ciara stood up. She hadn’t seen me, but I could see her. See the tension filling her body, the little step back and the glance around her surroundings. The taller of the two, with the shaved head which reflected the neon lights that spilled off the stage, stepped closer. He reached out, hooking his arm around her waist, his face far too close to her. But it was the redhead I crashed into, forcing my right fist into the back of his skull. He collapsed forward, first onto his knees, and then tipping, his face smashing into the grass in front of him.
The crowd around us parted, moving away, and somewhere, over the music, there might have been a shout. But I couldn’t really hear the music anymore, only the blood rushing in my ears. Stepping over the body at my feet, I grabbed the soft flesh of baldy’s throat. He made it easier, turning to face me, leaving his throat open to be squeezed until he drew his last fucking breath.
“What the fuck?” he growled over the deep vibrations of the bass.
“Get the fuck off my lass.”
“Your lass? She told Thrash here that she was no one’s ol’ lady. So, no harm done.” He glanced at the unconscious mass of red-haired muscle lying face down on the floor and then back at me.
“She’s with me. You look at her the wrong way again and I’ll rip your fucking eyes out.”
There was a swarm around us. Men in leather cuts, pulling at my arms.
“Fuck’s sake,” I heard Indie behind me. “He’s just laid out the Notorious’ VP. That stupid fucker will have started a war.”
Chapter Thirty Three
Ciara
Men rushed at us, grabbing at Demon’s arms, pulling him back. But his hand didn’t leave the man’s throat. He squeezed harder. The bald man clawed at his flesh, desperately trying to prize his fingers away.
“Demon!” I shouted, a high-pitched wail over the music.
More men piled in, an arm slipping around Demon’s neck. Fury. He pulled hard, then paused, slipping another arm behind Demon’s head, and squeezed his elbows together. Demon pushed his chin down, but Fury had attached to him like a limpet, and slowly Demon’s lids fluttered, his fingers losing grip, his eyes rolling back into his head. When his hand dropped away, Fury pulled at him, backing out of what was now a scrum of writhing bodies. From my left, a whole load of others had joined in, pushing and shoving, fists flying over my head.
Fury dragged Demon free and suddenly he was lost behind the bodies that had closed in on us. And I was here alone. Stuck in the middle of a giant biker punch-up. My heart bounded against my ribs frantically, terror flooding my system like the wrong fuel. And I couldn’t move, only fall to my haunches, my hands jammed over my ears, my legs turning to jelly. I’d just stay here. Till it finished. Till the fighting around me, over the top of me, stopped. Till the heavy booted men stopped knocking me, stopped treading on my feet and standing on my legs.
Something scooped under my arm, pulling me to my feet, yanking me backwards. I screamed, thrashing my arms at him frantically. The hand wrapped around my bicep squeezed harder, another looping around my waist, pulling me from the fight, wrenching me backwards out of the scrum, away from the flailing punches and the striking legs.
“I’ve got her!” It was Magnet’s voice. “Suzy, get her out of here!”
“Ciara! Come on!” Her voice was soft, but urgent, pushing me away. I could see her face, but not clearly. I couldn’t see anything or anyone clearly.
Panic still bounded round my body, squeezing my throat, making it hard to breathe. I was push-pulled up a hill, away from the frantic flashing of neon lights and the war cries of drunken men. The blurriness was fading. My heart had stopped beating in my ears. Then suddenly I could breathe; cool air rushing at my lungs, making me gasp again.
“Suzy. Wait,” I gargled, barely able to get the words to form over my tongue.
No part of me felt like me. It was like I’d been thrown into someone else’s body, detached, numb. My feet stumbled over a tuft of thick grass, the incessant pulling from Suzy and the heaviness of oxygen deprived limbs making regaining balance impossible, and I fell to my knees. The pressure in my chest expanded again, a blackness closing in.
“Ciara? Are you ok?”
I shook my head. Even my tongue felt numb. Suzy pulled at my arm, relentless.
“I…I… just need a minute.”
Behind me the sounds of shouting men had faded, but there was still a drone in the air, a static in the atmosphere. If I turned around, I expected they were still fighting. My heart thundered again. Demon. Was he safe?
“He’ll be ok, Ciara.” I stared at Suzy blankly. “You asked about Demon.”
Maybe I had. I hadn’t felt my lips move. I’d only thought the words.
“Fury looked like he was going to break his neck.” Some part of my speech was coming back again. My heart was slowing. As long as Suzy didn’t try to move me just yet, I might avoid the embarrassment of passing out.
“Fury was just choking him out.”
