As Jev promised, a door appeared at the end of the hallway. I pushed through it and found myself outside. Wasting no time, I broke into a jog. I didn’t think it was a good idea to stand in the open, choosing instead to hide behind the Dumpsters until Jev came for me. I was halfway down the all ey when the door swung open behind me.
“Over there!” a voice shouted. “She’s getting away!”
I looked back only long enough to confirm they were Nephilim. Then I took off. I didn’t know where I was going, but Jev would have to find me elsewhere. I raced across the street, heading back to where we’d abandoned the Tahoe. When Jev didn’t find me in the all ey, hopefully his car was the next place he’d think to look.
The Nephilim were too fast. Even at a full sprint, I could hear them closing in. Everything came ten times easier to them, I realized with increasing panic. When they were only moments away from seizing me, I whirled around.
The two Nephilim slowed, instantly wary of my intentions. I shifted my eyes between them, breathing heavily. I could keep running and draw out the inevitable. I could put up a fight. I could scream bloody murder and hope Jev heard. But every option felt like grasping at straws.
“Is it her?” the shorter one asked with a formal accent that sounded British. He eyed me shrewdly.
“It’s her,” the taller, an American, confirmed. “She’s using a trance. Focus on one detail at a time, the way the Black Hand taught us. Her hair, for instance.” The shorter Nephil squinted at me so intently I wondered if he could see all the way through to the bricks on the building behind me. “Well, well,” he said after a moment. “Red, is it? I preferred you blond.”
With inhuman speed, they were at my sides, each gripping an elbow so hard I winced. “What were you doing in the warehouse?” the taller Nephil asked. “How did you find it?”
“I—,” I began. But I was too terrified to think up a plausible lie. They weren’t going to believe me if I said sheer dumb luck was responsible for my stumbling through their window in the middle of the night.
“Cat got your tongue?” the shorter said, tickling under my chin.
I jerked away.
“We have to take her back to the warehouse,” the taller one said. “The Black Hand or Blakely will want to question her.”
“They won’t be back till tomorrow. Might as well get some answers now.”
“What if she doesn’t talk?”
The shorter Nephil licked his lips, something frightening lighting up his eyes. “We’ll make sure she does.”
The taller Nephil frowned. “She’ll tell them everything.”
“We’ll wipe her memory when we’re done. She won’t know the difference.”
“We’re not strong enough yet. Even if we could erase half of it, it wouldn’t be enough.”
“We could try devilcraft,” the shorter suggested with a disturbing gleam in his eyes.
“Devilcraft is a myth. The Black Hand made that clear.”
“Oh yeah? If the angels in heaven have powers, it makes sense the demons in hell should too. You say myth, I say potential gold mine. Imagine what we could do if we got our hands on it.”
“Even if devilcraft exists, we wouldn’t know where to start.” The shorter Nephil wagged his head in irritation. “Always one for fun, you are. Fine. We make sure our stories match. Our word against hers.” He counted down his suggested version of the night’s events on his fingers. “We chased her from the warehouse, found her hiding in the club, and while dragging her back, she got scared and spilled everything. It won’t matter what she says happened.
She already broke into the warehouse. If anything, the Black Hand will expect her to lie again.” The taller Nephil didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t argue, either.
“You’re coming with me,” the shorter one grunted, forcing me roughly into the tight space between the buildings at our rear. He paused only to tell his friend, “Stay here and make sure nobody bothers us. If we can extract information from her, it just might earn us extra privileges. Maybe even move us up a rank.”
My whole body went into a slow freeze at the idea of being interrogated by the Nephil, but I’d quickly come to accept that I didn’t stand a fighting chance against both of them. Maybe I could press my advantage. My only hope—and even I knew it was a thin one—was to level the playing field by going one on one. Letting the shorter Nephil drag me deeper into the narrow breezeway, I hoped the gamble would pay off.
“You’re making a big mistake,” I told him, putting all the threat I possessed behind my words.
He rolled up his sleeves, exposing knuckles decorated with various sharp rings, and my courage suddenly felt slippery. “Been in America six months now, waking up at the crack of dawn, training all day under a tyrant, and locked up in the barracks at night. After six months of that prison, let me tell you, it’s going to feel good to take it out on someone.” He licked his lips. “I’m going to enjoy this, luv.”
“You stole my line,” I said, and shoved my knee up between his legs.
I’d seen enough guys at school take a similar hit during sports games or PE class to know the injury wouldn’t completely immobilize him, but I wasn’t expecting him to be ready to lunge at me after nothing more than a pained moan.
He came at me in a blur. There was a discarded two-by-four near my feet, and I snatched it up.
Several rusty nails protruded from it, making it a useful weapon.
The Nephil eyed the block of wood and shrugged. “Go ahead. Try and hit me. Won’t hurt.” I gripped the two-by-four like a bat. “It might not permanently injure you, but trust me, it will hurt.” He faked to his right, but I was expecting it. When he jumped to his left, I swung down hard. There was an awful puncturing sound, and the Nephil yelped.
“That’s gonna cost you.” He kicked high before I had time to register the movement, his boot sending the wood out of my grasp. He wrestled me to the ground, pinning my arms over my head.