Page 8 of Dance of Devils

The scream rips from my throat but instantly dies on my lips as a sweaty palm clamps over my mouth. A heavy body slams into me from behind, dragging me to the ground. My knees skid across concrete, pain slicing through me as my palms hit next, wrenching a cry from my mouth.

My skull crashes into the concrete, and I blink as my stomach heaves and my vision clouds.

“Yeah, bro!”

“Fuckyeah, dude!”

I’m dazed and floundering, kicking my legs and doing my best to lash out. But there’s four of them, all on me at once, holding me down, pinning my wrists and ankles and shoving a piece of fabric into my mouth.

My t-shirt is torn from my neck down to my navel.

Hands paw at my breasts. Others yank up my skirt.

Please, no.

Please don’t?—

“Uuuggghfff!”

It happens instantly. One moment, the clawing, molesting hands are trying to yank off my bra and underwear, the sound of belt buckles jangling like the clash of knives in my ears.

The next second, all four guys are flying off me like they’ve been hit by a bus.

I start to struggle to my feet. But one of the guys stumbles backward, screaming, slamming into me and taking us both down. I try to push him off me, still screaming into the gag in my mouth. His head lolls to the side, and I see his face.

Holy fuck.

He’s out cold, blood dripping freely from a bashed-in nose and wrecked mouth.

I scream into the gag again, kicking and scrabbling away from the unconscious guy. Another cry rips my attention past him, and suddenly, I’m not moving at all.

I’m too stunned for that.

There’s a…something…fighting all three of them. I want to say it’s a man, but he’s everywhere at once. He’s dressed all in black, with his back to me, which makes him appear more monster than human.

The second finance bro goes down. Then the third. The fourth turns and tries to bolt, but the man in black suddenly reaches down, grabs a hunk of broken tarmac, and hurls it at him.

The guy grunts as the rock hits the back of his head, sending him to the ground.

Everything is throbbing. The world is spinning under my hands and feet as I push myself away from the dark shape. The rag has fallen out of my mouth, but I still can’t make a sound, not one that would be heard over the roaring pulse in my ears anyway.

The figure in black turns to me as my vision begins to fade.

The world lurches in various directions as my arms give out, dropping me back to the ground.

The figure walks closer and then crouches down beside me. Through the haze, through the fear, through the darkness swallowing me whole, I look up…

Into dark, black, devil eyes.

Then it all fades away.

2

KIR

With a burst of fury,my arm shoots out and my fist connects with sweat-slicked flesh. My opponent grunts, and his eyes roll back a little behind the mask covering the top half of his face.

I have one covering mine, too.