Free From Hell by Tim Marquitz Page A

people inside
given what Wally had told us, it sounded more like we’d stumbled
across a commune. Ratty blankets littered the floor of the first
room, each squirming as the people beneath battled to get to their
feet. Ragged men clambered to their feet, their eyes glowing in the
gloom. Silver shimmers cut the air as a handful of them came at us
while the others scrambled to get their bearings.
    Scarlett leveled the first of them. A
quick one-two put him away, his blade clanging off the wooden floor
into silence as it disappeared in the tangle of blankets. She
started in on a second as I came face to face with
another.
    His breath made the trash outside
smell delectable. Rotten teeth gnashed together as he thrust a
foot-long, narrow blade toward my throat. But for all the
ferociousness of his stench, he’d clearly never used a knife
before. I blocked his clumsy attack aside with ease and sunk my
fist into his solar plexus. He gasped and seemed to deflate,
curling up in front of me like a dying spider. A knee to the face
quieted his gurgled attempts at drawing air. He hit the floor
alongside Scarlett’s second victim, her third slumping down on top
of him a moment later.
    I backhanded another of the men and
kicked him into the others gathering at his back. While there were
quite a few stepping up to engage us, there were even more who
clearly had no interest in doing so. Wild-haired men and women
skirted the room to slip out the door at our backs. They clutched
their meager belongings and filed out in wide-eyed terror. I caught
a glimpse of Al scurrying amidst the group. I nearly choked when I
saw him. A cold, knot formed in my guts as I watched him flee the
room.
    Scarlett blasted another of the more
courageous men, lifting his feet a good six inches off the ground
after her fist crashed into his jaw. He fell back and crumpled to a
stop in the crook of the wall several feet away. The display slowed
the rest of them and gave me a moment to take stock of the worrying
thoughts that were filling my skull. I didn’t like what I
saw.
    Several of the other men looked
familiar, as well, and it only took me a second to realize why.
Just like Al, they were part of the group that attacked us outside
of the bar. These were Committeemen, the ones working for Charles
Braun and his German goon, Hans. They hovered menacingly, but none
seemed in a hurry to advance. We might not have tossed them a
beating the last time we’d run across them, but they saw what we
did to their pals.
    “ Where’s Jack?” I asked,
taking advantage of the lull.
    “ Right here!” a man’s
voice called out, and then a loud crack swallowed all the noise in the
room. It was followed by the mule kick of something slamming into
my left shoulder. My eyes spotted the muzzle flash from the
adjoining room just as I was spun away by the impact, a searing
heat welling up. It radiated across my chest and down my arm while
I scrambled from the line of fire.
    “ Frank!”
    “ I’m okay,” I told
Scarlett, her voice piercing the screeing hum that screamed inside my
ears.
    It was only a partial lie. Though my
body would heal the wound easily enough, the bullet mundane and
non-magical, it hurt as if someone had buried a burning brand in
the meat of my shoulder and was wiggling it about. Realizing it was
likely Jack himself who’d shot me only made me want to kill him
even more.
    The other assailants dispersed at the
sound of gunfire, bolting passed us through the door. Their
stomping feet sounded like thunder rumbling over a herd of bulls.
Through it all, I heard the scrape of steel against leather as
Scarlett pulled her blades free. She stepped to the side of the
doorway where the shot had come from and was staring at me with
narrow eyes. The shrill song of whistles split the morning air
outside. On high alert thanks to the Ripper’s antics, the police
would be there soon. We were running out of time and needed to
finish this.
    “ Come on out, Jacky.