Children of Evolution (The Gateway Series Book 2) (22 page)

"You don't stand a chance against our kind, girl," Daemon hissed, but the slur in his words spoiled the effect, as did his suddenly unfocused stare. How he was getting sloshed again out of the blue was a mystery, but one Nikki wouldn't hesitate to use to her advantage.

"Tell that to his nose."

Confusion clouded Daemon's face until Nikki's head snapped back into the face of the gypo snuffling around her ear. He fell away with a grunt, and immediately the other goon lunged for her.
 

Nage!
Michael thought.

That was not like old times. His thought made Nikki hesitate and grapple with the halfway familiar term instead of the slender man darting toward her. He caught her arm before she could pull away, then slapped her hard enough to cloud her vision with angry fireflies.

Throat
, Michael snapped as the gypo came back into focus.
 

Again she hesitated. This shout was in English at least, but was he warning her of an attack or telling her what to do? The gypo hesitated too, looking a little dazed himself, like that slap had taken more out of him than it had her. Lucky.

Nikki kicked out three times—knee, crotch, gut—and he let go of her arm and fell back. They were ugly kicks and nowhere near as powerful as she would have liked, but they did the job. They gave her a little space.

Daemon barked a command Nikki couldn't make out, maybe in another language. It sounded like he said "dare kazoo." Whatever it was, it clearly didn't mean stop. The goons each acknowledged the order with a look, stood, and started toward her again, this time looking not the least bit tipsy. The eyes fixed on her were clear and sharp.

Nikki backed away, trying to keep both of them in sight as they spread out as far as the room allowed and advanced on her. She shot a quick glance at Gideon, but he wasn't budging. He just stood there watching with that blasted unreadable expression. Daemon was talking to him again, but in a tone too low for Nikki to make out as she backed farther into the room toward Hanging Man. All she caught was, "life is forfeit." He probably didn't mean his own.

Dammit, I need my power!
Nikki thought at Michael with as much accusation as her conscience could handle.
 

What you need is a weapon
, he responded much more calmly than she felt. Easy for him to be calm, it was her body about to get pummeled. He was right though. Without her powers her best blows were too easy to shrug off, and these guys looked to be expert shruggers. One had a focused, hungry stare despite the blood streaming from his broken nose. The other had no hint of a limp despite being kicked square in the boy bits. She needed something to even the odds.

She backed into a small table against the side wall, sending several somethings clattering to the floor. She risked a quick glance and saw a collection of makeshift weapons. Bottles, chair legs, pry bars—some broken, all blood-stained. She caught Hanging Man's intense green stare before she whipped her head back around. So, not weapons—torture tools.
 

Her stomach turned over at the thought. Then her body followed as a blow she never saw coming sent her cartwheeling over the table to the rough stone floor. She lurched back to her feet with a growl, the pain just starting to swell in her cheekbone. She was a master of the sucker punch. To fall to one herself…

Crotch Shot stepped smoothly around the table, looking pleased with himself. He was the one who'd gotten the drop on her. Nose Job circled wider toward Hanging Man, clearly letting his partner take the lead. He thought everything was under control. He thought the fight was all but over, which only fueled Nikki's anger.

She felt behind her as she backed toward the corner. She'd seen something big back there before. The tools she'd knocked off the table were all small and sharp. Not only did the thought of using them make her a little sick, they just weren't her style. That's not how she fought, not what she knew. Michael was talking her through what to grab, how to hold it, where to strike with it, complete with images of her doing as he said, but like before, his backseat fighting was more distracting than helpful. She couldn't focus on him and Crotch Shot at the same time, even though Crotch Shot seemed content to let her make the next move. He was watching her like a young lion toying with an injured hare. He knew the outcome, and he saw no reason to rush it.

She hit the back wall and her hand closed on the cool metal of an iron fence post propped in the corner.
 

That's more like it
, she sent back to Michael.
 

Despite his warning, she pushed off from the wall and brought the post around in a sweeping arc. Or tried. Once upon a time she would have succeeded. She would have whipped the post around like it weighed nothing and flattened anyone dumb enough to stand against her. Not today. The post was nearly as tall as she was, and it was so heavy her mighty head-high swing was more like knee high and barely controlled. It did make the gypos step back out of range though.

Michael started thinking instructions again, but Nikki concentrated on blocking him out. He thought he was helping, but he was doing the opposite. He was rattling her, making her nervous when she needed to be anything but. She could do this on her own. She had to.

Nose Job darted toward her, and Nikki swung the post again. She didn't come close to hitting him. Her aim was dead on, she just didn't have the power to make the heavy iron move as fast as she wanted. He sidestepped her clumsy swing and clipped her on the side of the head with a taunting blow. Then he danced away again with a bloody smile.

They were toying with her, dragging this out for their amusement. She'd been on the giving end of that treatment plenty of times, but never on the receiving end. She wondered if the people she'd teased like this had felt this same infuriating—no, humiliating frustration.

Nikki, you need to
—

Stop it!
She cut him off with a mental shout loud enough to start a headache.
You're throwing me off my game.

I know, Nikki,
he thought.
I see that. I'm shutting up. Just…hold it like a staff. You'll be able to handle the weight that way.
The images coming through from him matched his words, and then some. She saw herself whirling the bar around like she was in a kung fu movie, attacking with quick strikes from both ends, her hands half a meter apart in the middle to keep the heavy bar balanced.

No more distractions. I promise.
Michael was afraid for her, she could tell, even though he was trying not to let her know it. The confidence she felt pouring through from him couldn't be faked though. Scared as he was, he knew she could do this on her own. He believed in her.
 

Take these guys, sis.

Nikki did smile this time. And while the gypos were trying to figure out what that meant, she adjusted her grip on the bar and charged.

Michael was right. Changing her grip made a world of difference. The bar was still way too heavy for her, but she could control it. More than that, she could whip the ends out and back quickly enough to put the gypos on the defensive, if not do any damage.
 

They were fast and slippery, but she was furious in her attack, clipping a hand here, glancing off a leg there. She was a whirlwind—a clumsy, irritating whirlwind, but still a force to be reckoned with.

Unfortunately, the fury giving her the edge was also wearing her out. The bar and her arms were getting heavier with each swing, and she wasn't dealing out any lasting damage, not until she used the weight to her advantage and brought the bar crashing down into Crotch Shot's ankle. The blow sent painful vibrations up Nikki's arms as the tip of the bar ground into the concrete, but it also made Crotch Shot drag himself away from the fight with a hissing curse.

Nose Job moved in, but Nikki was riding high on her victory. She drove him back with a series of swings then feinted a blow at his knees with a shout. He took the bait and jerked both legs back, his head leaning forward just as she brought the other end of the bar around high. The swing caught him square on the temple, and Nose Job collapsed under the impact Nikki barely felt. She'd hit him just right with a move that was pretty shway, she didn't mind telling herself. Hanging Man agreed.
 

"Crafty bastard," he growled from behind her.

She wasn't a huge fan of being called a bastard, but it was a step up from "little slip" she supposed. She looked back expecting to see him looking at her with a healthy dose of respect and gratitude, well deserved, but his eyes were fixed over her shoulder on Gideon across the room.

When Nikki followed his gaze, her battle high drained away. The other two goons from the hallway stepped past Gideon and advanced on Nikki after a low, angry command from Daemon. Nikki lifted the bar to ready herself, but the shakes were already setting in. Adrenaline and her tired muscles had done all they could.
 

Even her brain was exhausted. When one of the tall gypos raised his hand and pointed a device at her, she didn't register what it was until the probes pierced her shirt and every muscle in her body locked up.
 

When she managed to unclench her jaw and open her eyes again, she was curled up on the floor next to Hanging Man's leg, her face pressed against the wall, the taste of her own blood and the grime from the damp stone on her lips.

She looked up into Hanging Man's eyes, pale green and catching the light so much they almost seemed to glow. She hoped hers would look that defiant after she joined him on the wall. She hoped she'd look half that sane.

Get up, Nikki. You're not done.
Michael's voice was strong, but she couldn't tell what he was feeling. The way she was shaking, she couldn't tell anything at all.
My sister doesn't give up.

She could have kissed him, or punched him. He still knew how to get her moving, even after all that had happened. Her arms and legs didn't want to cooperate though. So instead, she laughed.
 

It was weak and scratchy, but it was a laugh. And it helped her find her voice. "Is that…all you got?" she choked out. Then she laughed again, louder.

One of the gypos kicked her hard in the shoulder. She saw it coming, but she couldn't do anything to stop it. The blow flipped her onto her back, so she could see him clearly as he placed his foot against her neck and pressed down.
 

Nikki!

Michael's shout scared her, almost more than the fact that her scrabbling hands could do nothing to shift the man's weight. She couldn't breathe, and the pressure was increasing, pushing her neck into the crook of floor and wall farther than it could bend.
 

When she heard the pop, she knew it was over. She actually thought,
It's over
, with a relief as embarrassing for her as it was concerning for Michael.
 

The weight lifted off her neck. She sucked in a deep, wracking breath.
 

You're OK, Nikki,
Michael said, repeating it over and over like he was trying to convince himself.

She was, somehow.
 

Gideon. He must have finally stepped in. After a few more breaths her brain processed what she was seeing—it wasn't Gideon.
 

The gypo who'd been standing on her was in the air above her, twitching and gasping as he dangled from the massive, manacled hand clamped around his neck. Hanging Man's hand. The metal cuff was still tight around his wrist, but the broken leather strap hung loosely from it, tapping against the gypo's chest as he struggled. Hanging Man wasn't struggling though. His outstretched arm, though taut, was completely motionless, like an iron bar itself. Like he wasn't holding a full-grown, if scrawny gypo, a meter off the floor.

"Doesn't feel good, does it," Hanging Man growled in a way that only added to the chill of the stone floor seeping into Nikki's back. He shook the gypo once, then snapped his arm to the side, hurling the dark man into the wall with such force that he didn't twitch once after he crumpled to the floor.

The other goon, the one with the stun baton, was backing away slowly, his eyes wary but fearless as he watched the Hanging Man snap the other leather strap and then lean down to unlatch his ankles.

Nikki rolled out of his way and struggled to get up. Her shaky limbs wouldn't cooperate. She made it only as far as her hands and knees—where she stayed for several seconds waiting out a head rush—by the time Hanging man freed both legs and took a staggering step away from the wall. He leaned back, arching his back with a grimace until it popped louder than the straps had. Then he leaned forward, grabbed Nikki by the back of her jacket and hauled her to her feet.
 

Only then did he look up at the goon backing away, then Gideon, and finally Daemon, whose eyes he held for a long time. The stare-down lasted what felt like minutes but was probably only a second or two—Hanging Man's face was impassive but somehow on the verge of rage at the same time, Daemon's looking like he'd swallowed something rotten.

"We're done here," Hanging Man grated.
 

After a minute Daemon lifted his hands and bowed his head, regaining his composure. Then he turned and sauntered from the room like nothing had happened, his goon hard on his heels.

Hanging Man turned his attention to Gideon. "Well, old man, you offering me a ride or not?"

Gideon

"I’m looking out for your interests, friend. If you get caught leaving port without a valid docking code, you could lose your vehicle." The arrogance perforating the feigned concern in the operator’s voice was clear, even through the shuttle’s aging speakers. "I don’t want that on my conscience."

Gideon narrowed his eyes at the com system but didn’t offer further argument. Instead, he transmitted the funds and waited for clearance. This bribe was nearly double the amount he’d paid upon arrival, which had been more than enough to warrant a blind-eye upon departure. Not so long ago, one-tenth as much would have bought discretion for a week. Not so long ago, the increase would not have concerned him.