Chapter Seven

No one needed to be told twice.

Gen and Ethan hurtled past the man. Kierse was close on their heels. She glanced over her shoulder just once to see the man struggling to get back to his feet, barking orders as he did so. She seared the image of him into her mind. He was dressed completely in black with a beanie obscuring his hair. He was over six feet tall with red cheeks, eyes as green as an emerald, and a crooked smile. An oak tree pin was affixed to the lapel of his peacoat. Was that a Druid? What the hell did a Brooklyn-territory gang have against the Roulettes?

She had no intention of waiting for answers. She rushed out into the open night, getting ahead of her friends and taking off across Grand. No one spoke as they escaped the mayhem of the brothel and came to the outskirts of the festival. Here at least they could get lost in the thrum of the crowd.

Despite the snow, thousands of people danced and drank and caroused. They bought food and booze and sex and fortunes from the tents lining Mulberry Street in Little Italy. It was a carnival of old, complete with masks and costumes and revelry. Nymphs flitted about the gathering, their multicolored hair only partially blending in. They were a welcome sight at a party with both their ethereal beauty and muse-like inspiration, but they were still monsters, and the last thing a human wanted was to be on the bad side of a nymph, the mischievous little devils. But tonight, at least, it seemed that the Treaty held and all was well. Other dangers lurked in the dark tonight, though.

Grasping Gen's hand, Kierse shouldered her way through the crowd. It was hard to believe that on normal festival nights they'd be out here at the brothel's swirling pink, purple, and orange tent where Gen made money staring into a crystal ball and reading palms and tarot. People close to her knew that she only had luck with the tarot cards—and only when they spoke to her—but no one else knew that. It was her own form of stealing. And Gen had gotten enough correct for her to be respected in their community. Not just for being Colette's daughter but for being The Prophet Mistress Genesis. A ridiculous title for half the truth.

The world had been plunged into darkness. Snowflakes fell on the revelers.

"What do we do?" Ethan gasped out.

Gen shivered against him. She looked so young and frail, standing there as snowflakes carpeted the streets as if a down pillow had exploded, releasing white feathers over everything. This was out of her depth. Her typical command had evaporated.

"Kierse?" Gen said.

"I don't think we were followed," Kierse said. She surveyed the vendors on the streets and saw no familiar faces. She was going to have a talk with the Roulettes about what the hell had happened when she got back. "Come on. Let's find a place to wait this out."

Kierse elbowed her way through the gyrating mix of people. It was dense enough to be difficult, but she found a path. She examined her surroundings, estimated the number of people between her and the nearest exit, and mapped out a route to the next empty stall. All while she clutched Gen's trembling hand and pulled her along with Ethan behind her. They darted around a couple kissing and a nymph twirling her blue-green hair around her finger.

They were nearly there when a brawny Black woman stepped in front of Kierse.

"Nowhere to go." Her accent was thick and unmistakably foreign. A rich Irish brogue. An oak tree was tattooed at her throat.

"Druid," Kierse hissed.

The woman flashed her teeth. "Boss says your time is up."

"Ethan," Kierse said low. "Protect Gen."

Kierse didn't wait to see if he would do it. She let time slow, anticipating what the woman would do next. If going around wouldn't work then she'd have to go through. Use all those techniques she'd practiced over and over again.

Kierse gritted her teeth, flicked a knife out of her sleeve, and sliced forward across the woman's chest. The woman jumped out of the reach of Kierse's knife and produced two of her own. This woman hadn't anticipated that Kierse knew how to fight. She was scrappy and fast but more of a sprinter than a marathon runner, so this needed to end quickly.

Kierse approached the woman, breathing shallowly and keeping her arms in. The woman struck first, thrusting one of her blades forward. Kierse turned sharply. She dodged the blow and pulled her own blade up toward the woman, slashing against her arm. The woman moved fluidly as she attempted again to take her down, but Kierse was ready for her. She hit her another time, dragging her knife against the woman's exposed thigh.

Kierse pressed her advantage. The woman whirled out of the way of Kierse's blade and then aimed her own knife toward Kierse's ribs.

"Your left!" Ethan cried.

Kierse jerked at the sound of his voice. She moved but not quite fast enough. The knife sliced outward across her left ribs, drawing blood.

She hissed as pain roared up her side. She couldn't lose. Not now.

It was shocking that no one paid them any mind. No matter that they were fighting in a public space and bleeding on the street. Maybe on the Upper East Side someone would have screamed and run away from the fight, but it was a common occurrence here—too many fights for people to be bothered. It was only when guns were drawn or fangs and claws came out that they knew to run.

Kierse's breathing intensified. She could feel her heart racing up out of her chest and into her throat. She tried to reach slow motion, but she was already drained. Too much adrenaline too fast. She needed a moment to think. A moment to breathe. But she didn't have it.

"It's over. Surrender and I promise to make it quick," the woman crooned.

Kierse refused to rise to her bait. She had people to protect. People who were counting on her. The woman wanted her to get mad and make a mistake. The only mistake was not finishing this sooner. She had to assume that other Druids had followed this woman here. And if the first attacker caught up with them, it would be at least two against one. She didn't like those odds.

Kierse sighed heavily as if she were giving up. She nodded her head once at the woman and let her knife drop slightly toward her side. Then she waited to see if she took the bait. Like clockwork, the woman rushed her, thinking that she was easy prey after all.

As soon as she was within reach, Kierse spun on a dime, grasping the woman's arm and popping the wrist. She dropped her knife with a strangled gasp. Kierse slammed her hand in the woman's kidney hard enough to drop her to a knee. And when she fell, Kierse smashed the hilt of her knife against the woman's temple. The woman swayed for a moment before collapsing like a sack of potatoes.

"Holy shit," Ethan cried.

"Kierse," Gen said with growing alarm.

"I don't know if there are more of them," Kierse said, turning to her friends. Everything had happened so fast, and yet the whole thing had taken too long. "We have to get moving." She grasped Gen's hand again and started to run.

"Why are they after us?" Ethan gasped.

Kierse had assumed this was a Roulette problem, but that woman had said the boss wanted her dead. Why the hell would the head of the Druids want her dead? Let alone want her dead enough to attack the brothel and the Roulettes in open warfare? Only one thing had changed—Graves.

"Fuck," she hissed. "Amberdash told me to watch my back when I left his building tonight."

"This is about the guy who offered you a job?" Ethan asked incredulously, dodging around three people laughing and dancing.

"Does he want you dead, or are these his enemies?" Gen asked between breaths as they continued to weave in and out of the crowd.

She had taken Amberdash at face value, but she hadn't thought that this would mean enemies would attack her safe house.

"Just... hurry."

Kierse didn't know what to do if there were more Druids after them, and based on that woman, she had to assume there were. She couldn't take on more people. She barely had the energy to run. And she didn't know what that meant for her friends. Did that make them collateral damage?

Something fierce and deadly opened up within her chest at that thought. No. They were her friends, her family, her home. She wouldn't make a mistake when it came to them. She'd kill before letting their attackers touch a hair on her friends' heads.

"I have an idea," Kierse rushed out, ignoring the sharp pain in her ankle as she darted between two more people. "Follow me. Just out of this mess."

With a renewed burst of energy, she careened through the mass of people north toward NoHo. Gen took heaving breaths behind her. While Kierse and Ethan had trained, Gen was soft and malleable. Her specialties lay in other areas. Kierse had never cared about that before today.

"I'm fine. Keep going," Gen said between pants.

So Kierse focused on the present and hurried past Prince and down the next left onto the mostly empty alleyway that connected to Lafayette. Kierse shoved Ethan and Gen in front of her. "Keep going!"

If she could get them out the other side, then she could face their attacker while they got away. She could see the opening like a beacon in the night beckoning to her as they raced toward the end of the street. Then, not twenty feet from the opening, the first man stepped into their pathway. And he had retrieved his gun.

The first gunshot ricocheted off the ground, barely missing Kierse. Gen cried out as Ethan flung them both sideways against the brick wall and out of the way.

"Get out of view," Kierse shouted at Ethan as he helped Gen into a closed doorway.

As Kierse found her own cover, she retrieved the gun from her boot and aimed at their attacker. With him silhouetted in the mouth of the street, she couldn't make out a single distinct thing about him.

"Put down your weapon," he growled.

"You first," she said.

"You've led us on a fun chase and took down Orla. Mighty impressive, if it wasn't a wee bit infuriating."

"Why are you here?" Kierse asked. "Why are you after us?"

"Not them. Just you," the man said with a grin that didn't sit right with her. "You're working with the enemy. That means you need to be eliminated. Business. You understand?"

Kierse's stomach twisted. So it was about Graves. Someone had found out that she had been at his house. She'd walked right out the front door.

A second man appeared at the mouth of the alley. "Got you cornered."

Kierse shifted her gun to the new man. "If I give myself up, you'll let my friends go?"

"No business with them. Only kill 'em if you continue to try to get away. Considering you're out of options, now would be the best time to do it."

"No, Kierse," Gen cried.

"Absolutely not!" Ethan said.

"Declan, you can't be serious," the second man said. "Lorcan will gut you from nose to navel if you let them go."

"Shut the feck up, Cormac," Declan snapped. He tilted his gun, telling Kierse to have her friends walk out.

Lorcan. She filed the name away for later, when Gen and Ethan were no longer in danger.

"Kierse," Ethan said, his voice barely above a whisper now.

The two Druids were arguing with each other. They thought that she'd chosen this building at random. She'd been putting on airs like she was beaten already. Like she'd actually give her friends up to them.

"Now," she said just as she sent a bullet toward the first man.

Ethan yanked the door open and barreled through with Gen's hand in his own. Kierse fell through after them. She took the extra second to relock the door and then was racing down the familiar apartment building. An ex-boyfriend had lived here for a few months before upgrading to a safer neighborhood. Kierse never forgot a layout.

The sound of shattering glass followed by boots on tile pounded after them as they raced toward the main entrance. A group of guys smoking weed backed into the mailboxes as they raced past them and out onto the much busier Houston Street.

Kierse stuck her hand out, flagging the first available taxi. She didn't have time to think about the exorbitant price before stuffing her friends into the backseat and falling in after them. She yanked the door closed just as Declan and Cormac landed empty-handed on the sidewalk and the taxi pulled away.

"Where to?" the man asked impatiently as if not realizing the danger the trio had just been in.

Ethan and Gen looked at Kierse in question. They couldn't go back to the brothel. It wasn't safe. That was obvious now. There was only one other option.

"Five Points," she said.