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That is not what I want—I need to talk to her—and I glance over at Gray. I want him to take the guy while I go after the girl, but before I can say that, someone shouts, “Knife!”
I think it’s the guy’s companions. After all, one warned him that we both allegedly had knives. It takes a split second for me to realize the voice seems younger than the two men we fought.
I yank back just in time to avoid a knife in the gut. The tip still catches in my dress, and between that and the momentary confusion, I don’t have a chance to pull out my own blade. Also, my knife is not in a place where it’s easy to pull out, because my damn pockets are big enough to hold a whole freaking picnic lunch, wine included.
Falling back from the attack, I instinctively reach for my knife, and my hand gets lost in the voluminous fabric of my pocket. Before I can get the blade out, the guy is slashing at me again. I stumble out of the way, only to hit a wall. I dodge the next blow, and I have my switchblade then, but he’s danced out of reach, intent on a newer and—to him—much more serious threat: Gray.
Gray faces off against my knife-wielding attacker by raising his fists. The guy lets out a snorting laugh. He slashes at Gray, and in a blink, Gray has him by the arm, knife clattering to the ground. As Gray deftly pins the guy to the wall, I resist the urge to clap.
“I’m going after the girl,” I say, already jogging off.
Before I get three strides, a shadow moves behind the building where Gray had been hiding—a few feet from where he now stands with his back to the shadow. That same young voice shouts, “Watch out!”
“Duncan!” I shout as I run back.
I’m too far away to intercept, and Gray hears us too late. One of the men who attacked me earlier charges from the shadows, broken bottle in hand. He slashes at Gray. Gray blocks, but the man he’d been pinning wheels and pushes him toward the newcomer. Gray’s feet tangle in just enough of a stumble to let the bottle-wielding man slash again.
I stab the newcomer in the side. My blade barely penetrates his damn jacket and waistcoat and shirt and undershirt. It’s not just the women here who wear multiple layers of clothing.
Still, the jab is enough to have the man backing off. Gray catches his arm, and I take the bottle and pitch it into a wall, where it smashes to pieces. Gray stomps, like squashing a bug, the first man diving for his knife as Gray steps on it.
Gray releases the second man, and I advance on that one with my switchblade. He looks over at the smashed bottle, as if gauging whether any pieces are big enough for a weapon. Then he sees another figure stepping from the shadows. It’s the young man from earlier, the one who’d tried to mug us.
The kid smacks his truncheon into his hand, and the guy decides that’s enough. He runs. Before I can even turn back to Gray, his opponent is doing the same, taking off out of the courtyard.
Gray stands there a moment, fists still clenched, as if waiting for something to hit. Then he winces, and I glance down to see bright red blood soaking his white shirt.
FIVE
“Doctor!” I say as I sprint to Gray’s side. I’d been about to say “Dr. Gray,” when I noticed the young man still there and had the sense not to give away Gray’s name.
Gray braces one hand against a wall and makes a face, as if in annoyance. He looks down at the bloodied shirtfront, and that annoyance only grows.
“Doctor?” I say. “Sit down. Please.”
“I am quite fine.”
“Sit down before you fall down.”
That look of annoyance aims my way. “I am not going to—” He makes a face, pushing back an obvious stab of pain.
“Then sit down so I may examine you.”
“Are you the doctor here?”
“No, but—”
“Go after the young woman,” he says. “Take care—”
He winces again, and sweat breaks out on his brow. I catch his arm and forcibly lower him to the ground.
“She’s gone,” I say. “And you might be, too, if I leave.”
“One cannot die of a shallow cut. At least, not unless it becomes infected.”
“Which cuts seem to do at an alarming rate when one does not wash one’s hands before treating them.”
“The only time I do not wash my hands is when I am working with a corpse, the patient being beyond the concern of infection. Also, I am quite certainyourhands are not clean either.”
