Free Biting Nixie by Mary Hughes

by another streetlamp blowing a bulb. The sharp pop made me jump. “What is it with these cheap-ass lights? Or did Meiers Corners forget to pay its electric bill, too?”
    Julian’s fingers tightened on my elbow. “Don’t blame the city.” The hunter face was back in spades. His eyes were bright violet, like Bo’s when he got really angry. And he was working his jaw like he tasted something nasty. “Apparently some people don’t know a warning when they hear it.”
    Four figures swirled out of the dark. Three long coats and a suit.
    Julian inclined his head toward them. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice dark and thorny.
    If I thought by his calm nod he was being all friendly, that dangerous tone would have clued me otherwise. That, and the fact that he was grinding my elbow into powder with his tight grip.
    â€œEmerson.” The lead suit greeted him cautiously.
    â€œDid you deliver my message to your bosses already?” Julian was the epitome of cool. He could have been at a Victorian tea party, asking “one lump or two”.
    The suit shrugged. “We phoned it in.”
    â€œIt doesn’t have the same impact if they didn’t see my…little gift.”
    â€œWe took a picture.” One of the leathercoats held up a cell phone.
    At least Julian wasn’t so digitally challenged that he didn’t recognize a camera phone. “Ah. And their response?”
    The suit shrugged again. “You die.”
    â€œSo you waited until I was alone.”
    â€œHey,” I objected.
    â€œYes.” The suit smiled. And his canines were really long.
    I leaned closer to Julian. “Four of them, two of us,” I said under my breath. “We’ll have a better chance with a plan. You take the toothy Lupin, I’ll take the left coat.” But as I started to move, something tugged my head forward, and the lights went out.
    I was suddenly blind. Couldn’t see a damn thing.
    Fighting down panic, I realized something covered my head. Something clingy and soft. At least I hadn’t had a stroke. Struggling with the thing, I realized it was some sort of cloth. A sack? A hood?
    Growling and snarling slashed the air around me. It sounded like a pack of ravenous dogs. I had to do something. But how could I fight without my sight?
    A couple quick little snicks were followed by a deeper ka-click .
    And I realized I could fight—with my ears! I swung both fists. Hit nothing .
    In front of me came a sound uncomfortably like meat tearing. I flailed at it, again swiping air.
    And then came that terrible, awful sound I hoped never to hear again. Wet plopping. Blood, spattering onto the pavement.
    Inside my restraint, I gasped for breath. I had to see! I reached for my face but a roar startled me into falling on my ass. The voice was Julian—if Julian had eaten a lion. What the hell was going on? Frantically, I tore at the cloth over my face. It wouldn’t come off.
    My fingers hit some lumps in the stuff. Gathers, like a tie in a channel of cloth.
    It was my hoodie! My own freaking hoodie. I traced down until I found the laces. They were knotted tight.
    Blindly I picked at the knot. Around me were sounds of a fierce fight. Four against one. I could only imagine the beating poor paper-pushing Julian was taking. If only I could help! The knot loosened but refused to come free. In impotent fury I jerked at the hood, as if I could rip it open. The cloth remained stubbornly whole.
    The sound of fighting died away. What was going on now? Was Julian down? Was he…no, he couldn’t be dead. Julian Emerson, Super Suitguy, was too damn arrogant to be dead.
    But it was so silent. What else was I to think? And what would happen to me if Julian was…down?

Chapter Six
    Hands came around my waist. I went ballistic, hitting and scratching with no finesse at all. Strong fingers grabbed my wrists, restraining me. Arms wrapped around me like steel