Page 81 of Molly Boys

Suddenly the table was lifted off Archie, sending shards of broken glass raining down on him. Baxter stood with it raised high above his head as if it weighed nothing. The muscles of his enormous arms were grossly distended, the swollen prominent veins dark blue beneath his skin. His brutish face, almost unrecognisable, was filled with inhuman rage as he launched the heavy table across the room. It hit the opposite wall with such force that it gave an almighty cracking sound and splintered, breaking apart.

Damn it, Baxter wasn’t just unnaturally large, he had ten times the strength of a regular man. Archie rolled over, the broken glass crunching under his weight as he tried to get out of the way. Baxter picked up a surgical trolley holding more sharp instruments. They clattered to the ground harmlessly as Baxter flung the trolley at Archie. The corner of the it struck Archie’s head, the metal edge opening a nasty cut at his temple. Blinking the blood out of his eyes, he drew in a breath, slightly dazed.

Baxter turned on Shaw, who had managed to get the remaining needles out of Everett’s arm and was trying to unfasten the leather cuffs at his ankles.

With his back to the monster as he frantically tugged at the restraints, Shaw didn’t see the danger until it was too late. Archie gave a warning shout, but it did no good. Baxter grabbed Shaw and launched him the same way he had the heavy table. Shaw hit the stone wall with a sickening thud before he crashed down, tumbling over the remains of the table.

“Get away from him,” Archie yelled desperately as Baxter reached for Everett.

Archie crawled over the devastation and hauled himself shakily to his feet. Standing his ground, he raised his fists. Despite the futility of the gesture, knowing he had no other weapon at his disposal, he gave a growl of his own.

“If you want him, you’re going to have to go through me, you bastard.” Archie’s eyes flashed in defiance.

Baxter stalked toward him. Archie braced himself, but even as Baxter raised his bulging, muscled arm, he stalled. Then staggered slightly, his thick heavy brow creased in confusion, then staggered again before turning to look behind him. Archie saw a long dart protruding from between his shoulder blades. Baxter let out a howl of rage and lunged forward, only to be brought up short again. Shifting, Archie saw a woman flanked by two men. She held some sort of strange blow pipe in her hands, which she raised to her lips, and another dart joined the one already sticking out of Baxter’s chest.

Not stopping to figure out what was happening, Archie stumbled over to the table were Everett lay, his head pounding with every step. He couldn’t think of anything but getting to Everett.

Ev’s eyes were rolling back in his head as he went in and out of consciousness. Quickly unbuckling the remaining restraints at his wrists and one ankle, Archie lifted one of Everett’s arms and looped it around his neck. Sliding an arm under his back and the other under his legs, Archie lifted him from the table, cradling him protectively against his body.

Seeing this, Baxter lifted his arms and gave a bellow of pure rage. He staggered drunkenly, swiping his arm across another table and sending more equipment crashing to the ground.

Archie turned his back to shield Everett from the debris being catapulted in all directions. He ducked down behind the table as he held Everett. Baxter snarled again but this time it seemed weaker. Archie risked a glance over the top of the table and saw the monster take a slower stumbling step toward the group of strangers that had arrived. Dropping to the floor with Everett in his arms, Archie awkwardly pulled off his overcoat and wrapped it around Everett’s freezing body.

Everett opened his eyes. They were slightly unfocused, but when his gaze locked on Archie’s face, he smiled. Lifting his bloodstained hand slowly, he cupped Archie’s face and dragged his thumb over Archie’s lower lip.

“You found me,” he whispered.

Archie stared into those blue eyes, his heart pounding. “I’ll always find you,” he whispered back as Everett’s eyes closed and his hand fell limply.

“Everett!” Archie tightened his grip in panic and gave Everett a frantic shake. His head lolled to the side and Archie’s heart nearly stopped. He lifted his own hand and grasped Everett’s face, shaking him again. “Everett!”

“Let me help your friend,” a smooth voice said.

Archie looked up to find a man kneeling in front of him. He couldn’t pinpoint the man’s age, but he was attractive, with dark eyes and silky dark hair. He was impeccably dressed, a gentleman for certain, and he exuded an air of calmness and absolute authority.

Archie had no idea what to think. He had no idea who these people were or where they’d come from, or even what they wanted, but right at that moment he couldn’t think past Everett being injured.

“Please?” The man offered, raising his hand and indicating Everett’s slack form. Archie relaxed his hold slightly but kept Everett safely in his arms.

The man laid his palm on Ev’s bare chest and closed his eyes for a brief moment as if he were listening. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but it looked like a little colour came back into Everett’s white face, his pale lips pinking slightly.

It was faint, but he heard Everett’s breath, slow and measured. The stranger moved his hand and gently lifted Ev’s eyelids to check his eyes before turning his forearms over and noting the puncture marks and rapidly darkening bruises Baxter had caused.

“As I thought,” the stranger hummed in satisfaction. “Your friend will be fine. His heart is beating strongly. He’s weakened from the blood loss, but he’ll recover after a rest.”

“Are you sure?” Archie swallowed as his head spun.

“You, my friend, look just as bad,” he said, looking at Archie with interest. “You were very brave taking on Dr Baxter.”

At the mention of Baxter, Archie lifted his gaze to find the huge monstrous form face down on the floor, out cold.

“I’ll have to give it to him.” The stranger stood and dusted off his coat, sounding a little surprised. “It took five darts to put him down.”

“What’s going on? Who are you people? What are you doing here?” Archie frowned.

The other man chuckled in amusement. “That’s a lot of questions for a man with a head injury.”

Archie glanced over at the others, taking particular notice of the woman who had taken down Baxter. She wore a heavy winter gown in deep burgundy with a matching velvet half coat. Unlike the usual ladies’ hairstyles, her hair hung loosely down her back, black and shiny like an inky waterfall. In her gloved hands, she held the elaborately designed blow pipe.