Riders (Riders, #1)(16)
Behind him stood a shorter guy, slight build, hunkered inside a suit that was a few sizes too big. He had stringy brown hair, the cratered skin of someone who’d fought hard-core acne, and glassy black eyes that cast anxiously around the apartment. He reminded me of a possum. The girl was average height and size, around my age, with red hair in a ponytail and tons of piercings—eyebrows, nose, lip. She carried herself with the same fearlessness as Daryn—who I noticed no longer looked fearless.
“Gideon, run,” she said, pushing me back.
The tall guy homed in on her immediately, like she was the only person in the room. He said something to the other two, and they locked in too.
Daryn kept telling me to run, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Retreat wasn’t my style, and she was in trouble of some kind. I didn’t stop to consider that she was a total stranger, that maybe she deserved what had just shown up at the door, that maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved.
I moved right into action.
CHAPTER 10
I’m going to tell you right up front, Cordero. The tall guy’s name is Samrael. I don’t want to keep calling him “Tall Guy” because … I don’t know. It’s dumb. For that matter, the girl with the red hair was Ronwae, and the possumy guy with the acne and the shifty eyes, that was Malaphar.
Don’t worry. You’ll know them all soon enough. Plus four more because there are seven in the Kindred. Seven total. But I’m skipping ahead again.
Back to the party.
Samrael looked like he was in charge, so I went after him, ready to brawl over a girl I didn’t know. The theory that popped into my head as I crossed the room was that he was Daryn’s violently jealous ex. It seemed plausible considering his intense focus on her. But Ronwae and Malaphar’s involvement didn’t fit well with that theory.
As I pushed through the last few partyers, I saw Daryn make a break for the patio. Ronwae plunged through the crowd, following her. I made a quick decision to stay on course. The best thing I could do was prevent the two guys at the door from joining in pursuit.
Joy had reached the front door moments before me and demanded to know who they were.
“You’re leaving,” I said to Samrael as I came to Joy’s side. “Right now.”
People stopped dancing and talking as the threat of danger percolated through the apartment. They circled around, a few of them pulling out phones, ready to catch any action.
“We’ll leave when we have what we came for,” Samrael said.
His voice was strangely calm, almost solemn, but I heard it perfectly through the pumping rap music. There was something dangerous about the total lack of emotion in his eyes. He was looking right at me, but he could’ve been looking at a chair or a lamp. And his posture triggered a warning inside me. I’d spent a lot of time around guys who made their livelihood off harnessed aggression. I knew potential hostility when I saw it.
I repeated my directive using more compelling language. His attention moved more fully onto me, a palpable weight descending on my shoulders.
“Who are you?” Samrael asked quietly, giving me a detached assessment.
Pressure settled over my eyes like a headache coming on, but it quickly turned painful. A feeling like invisible fingers prying around my eye sockets and digging deeper. It shocked me. I tried to move, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even speak. Black spots flickered at the edges of my vision and a hot sting spread over my scalp. Fear tightened my lungs. I knew I wasn’t passing out. I could still feel the tension in my muscles, and the drumming of my heart, but I couldn’t stop what was happening.
The spots melded into darkness and my field of view narrowed. Then the darkness started to swirl around me and stretch into a tunnel. My feet were planted in Joy’s living room but I felt myself pulling back. Felt the party recede, everything moving further away as I sank into a whirling black funnel.
“Weak,” Samrael said, “whoever you are.”
The pressure in my head sharpened to spikes walking over my skull.
He smiled. “Gideon Blake … so much anger…”
I heard myself groan. I wanted to fight, but my legs and arms wouldn’t answer. I had one possible move.
Pushing through the black tunnel with my entire focus, I felt myself pulling closer to the party. My gaze went to the two huge football players by the door—the same two guys who’d called me “GI Joe” an hour earlier. Their attention was already on me.
I threw open the rage throttle.
Bring it, I told them. Fight.
They reacted instantly, exploding forward like they’d come off the line. The larger guy bolted past me, dropped his shoulder, and buried it into Samrael’s back. The other one went after Malaphar, who plunged into the crowd.
The mental hold Samrael had cast over me broke. The pain released, the lack of it so overwhelming that for a second I felt like I was floating. My eyes cleared, the distancing swirl of darkness faded back, and my limbs unlocked.
The football player and Samrael grappled nearby, trapped in a struggle. Samrael was contending with the much stronger opponent. I looked for Anna and spotted her, but no Daryn.
Samrael freed himself from the football player’s grasp. With savage force, he took the guy’s head with both hands and drove his knee up. There was a sickening, meaty sound as the blow connected and then gasps erupted from across the apartment. The football player’s eyes rolled back and he went down, three hundred pounds dropping to the floor like a boulder.