Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Where to?” Ethan asked.
“The festival,” Kierse answered at once. “People are cover.”
Ethan nodded, taking Gen’s hand as they all veered toward Little Italy.
They were rounding the corner when something suddenly felt off to her. Instincts took over as the hair on the back of her neck pricked and unease slithered into her belly. She leaned into that feeling. Whatever it was, whatever edge it gave her, she slid into it. Her focus centered on the next turn the second before a gun whipped around the edge and pointed directly in her face.
Gen screamed. Ethan gasped. Kierse returned to real time in that instant, stepping toward the intruder as he barreled toward them. She reached past the gun with only a second to spare and brought her hand down decisively against the delicate bones of his wrist. The man cursed as the gun clattered to the ground several feet away.
There was no time to ask questions. No time to wonder who the hell this man was. The gun was out of the picture, but in a contest of his strength against hers, it wasn’t looking up. She could fight, but she wasn’t built for it, and she didn’t want to if she didn’t have to. Stealth had always been her MO. Stay hidden, avoid notice, and if all else fails, run. One on one, this giant of a man would surely overpower her.
So Kierse dragged the man closer to her rather than trying to push him away. In the moment of confusion, she drove her knee up into his groin as quickly and efficiently as possible. He gasped and toppled to the ground.
No time to waste. Kierse whipped around to Gen and Ethan and yelled one word of direction. “Run!”
Chapter Seven
No one needed to be told twice.
Gen and Ethan hurtled past the man. Kierse was close on their heels. She glanced over her shoulder just once to see the man struggling to get back to his feet, barking orders as he did so. She seared the image of him into her mind. He was dressed completely in black with a beanie obscuring his hair. He was over six feet tall with red cheeks, eyes as green as an emerald, and a crooked smile. An oak tree pin was affixed to the lapel of his peacoat. Was that a Druid? What the hell did a Brooklyn-territory gang have against the Roulettes?
She had no intention of waiting for answers. She rushed out into the open night, getting ahead of her friends and taking off across Grand. No one spoke as they escaped the mayhem of the brothel and came to the outskirts of the festival. Here at least they could get lost in the thrum of the crowd.
Despite the snow, thousands of people danced and drank and caroused. They bought food and booze and sex and fortunes from the tents lining Mulberry Street in Little Italy. It was a carnival of old, complete with masks and costumes and revelry. Nymphs flitted about the gathering, their multicolored hair only partially blending in. They were a welcome sight at a party with both their ethereal beauty and muse-like inspiration, but they were still monsters, and the last thing a human wanted was to be on the bad side of a nymph, the mischievous little devils. But tonight, at least, it seemed that the Treaty held and all was well. Other dangers lurked in the dark tonight, though.
Grasping Gen’s hand, Kierse shouldered her way through the crowd. It was hard to believe that on normal festival nights they’d be out here at the brothel’s swirling pink, purple, and orange tent where Gen made money staring into a crystal ball and reading palms and tarot. People close to her knew that she only had luck with the tarot cards—and only when they spoke to her—but no one else knew that. It was her own form of stealing. And Gen had gotten enough correct for her to be respected in their community. Not just for being Colette’s daughter but for being The Prophet Mistress Genesis. A ridiculous title for half the truth.
The world had been plunged into darkness. Snowflakes fell on the revelers.
“What do we do?” Ethan gasped out.
Gen shivered against him. She looked so young and frail, standing there as snowflakes carpeted the streets as if a down pillow had exploded, releasing white feathers over everything. This was out of her depth. Her typical command had evaporated.
“Kierse?” Gen said.
“I don’t think we were followed,” Kierse said. She surveyed the vendors on the streets and saw no familiar faces. She was going to have a talk with the Roulettes about what the hell had happened when she got back. “Come on. Let’s find a place to wait this out.”
Kierse elbowed her way through the gyrating mix of people. It was dense enough to be difficult, but she found a path. She examined her surroundings, estimated the number of people between her and the nearest exit, and mapped out a route to the next empty stall. All while she clutched Gen’s trembling hand and pulled her along with Ethan behind her. They darted around a couple kissing and a nymph twirling her blue-green hair around her finger.