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“I can pick out two,” Poet said lowly.
I tried to determine where the sound was coming from. Wherever it was—whoever it was—we were getting closer.
I felt extremely exposed out in the middle of the street like this, but it wasn’t like we had a ton of places to hide. We still needed to get the hell away from the lodge site, pronto.
“What’s the quickest way through this town?”
“Take the next left,” Travis replied.
I picked up my pace, moving over to that side of the road so I was on the sidewalk. Catching movement from the corner of my eye from an upper window, I didn’t stop, but I made the others aware of it with a small hand gesture.
“Someone’s crying,” Takara whispered. “A woman, I think.”
“Yeah, I hear that too.”
I took the left turn and my eyes instantly fell to an all-black pick-up.
The vehicle was way too clean to belong here, as out of place as we were. It sat off on the side of the road, partially parked on the curb. When a man bolted from one of the houses a few feet ahead, I slowed to a near stop. Another came out after him, whistling. His pace lacked any hint of urgency.
He glanced our way and waved but didn’t stop his pursuit, as if he had no cares in the world—more than likely due to the fact that he had a big-ass gun in his hands.
When he took aim at the guy fleeing, Takara grabbed hold of my wrist, nudging my body in the opposite direction. The gunshot reverberated in my ears, carrying through the air. We took off as the bullet found its mark, sending the fleeing man cartwheeling forward.
Racing back the way we’d just come from, we took another left so we were running down the road we’d turned off of.
A second gun shot went off, the echo making me run faster. I looked over at Travis, seeing him struggling.
“Where do we go? How do we get out of here?”
“Straight, right…shit…left?”
“Why did that sound like a question?” Takara breathed.
“It’s left!”
He’d better be right about this, or I would shove my blade so far down his throat it’d pop out of his ass.
Hearing an engine, I took a quick glance over my shoulder, but there wasn’t any sign of the pick-up. Without holding still, I couldn’t place which direction the sound was coming from.
I got my answer less than two seconds later when an old beetle-shaped vehicle appeared at the end of the street.
“Who the fuck’s this?” Poet rasped, skidding to halt, holding an arm out so that I would stop alongside him without falling.
Swallowing, I attempted to catch my breath. “Not Stags or Lazarus.”
“Whoever they are, they’re obviously insane. Who in their right mind would so boldly be in Mal’s territory?” Takara asked.
The black truck popped out on the street behind us, the roar of its engine matching the pounding of my heart.
Dammit. They had us boxed in.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Travis panted, clutching at the straps of his backpack.
“Hey!” I slapped his arm. “You need to chill. Calm down and get your shit together. I can smell the piss you’re about to release in your pants.”
“Sorry,” he murmured, making a point to look down at the ground. He began whispering beneath his breath, something that sounded an awful lot like a prayer.
I was the wrong person to be doing that around, all things considered. But hell, if it stopped his panicking, I’d pray with him.
“I got eyes on this one,” Poet said, turning so that he was facing the black truck.
Placing my back against his, shoulder to Takara’s, she and I faced the blue car. The door swung open, and a man got out. Black goggles obscured a large part of his upper face while a bright orange bandana wrapped around the entire lower portion.
Quickly reaching inside, he grabbed something, another gun from the looks of it, and then slammed his door shut.
Another two followed from the pick-up. I was less concerned about these people and more worried about the woman crying hysterically. I could hear her vividly, but she still wasn’t anywhere we could see.
“This isn’t good,” Poet murmured.
“Don’t say that.”
“Would you rather I lie?”
He didn’t have to say anything at all. Anyone with two eyes and a brain could see how shitty a situation we’d just gotten in. On the day of our grand escape, at that, and lacking guns like these men had.
It wasn’t that the Stags-Lazarus didn’t have any. On the contrary, Samael had a whole damn arsenal of weapons and ammunition. The issue was getting to them. It was one of the most guarded buildings at the lodging site.
The man that’d gotten out of the blue car reached us. What looked like a shotgun was slung over his shoulder.
“Aren’t you all a beautiful sight to behold.” I couldn’t see his eyes, but I felt them slithering over us. I imagined he was grinning as well.
