This retort did not please the brothers.
“Listen up, you fuckwad, ‘cause I ain’t saying it again.” The fourth brother, the biggest of them all, spoke in a deep rumble. “This goes one of two ways. One, you give us the psychic, we deal with her, we don’t retaliate against you for butting into our business. Two, you don’t do exactly as we say, we break your fingers one by one, take your brother’s bitch back to The Banshee, and see how she enjoys a bit of our Irish hospitality.”
All the blood left my face. I swayed a bit, but Hunter steadied me.
“I’m thinking we take her regardless,” Mickey said, staring at me. “Insurance policy. Your brother gets his bitch back when we get the psychic. Fair trade.”
“We’ll make sure she’s well taken care of,” Neck-Tattoo promised, his insinuation unmistakable. “Come on over here, honey. I’ll show you what a real man feels like. By the time I’m done, you won’t even want to go back to Graves’ bed.”
Hunter’s grip grew painfully tight on my arm. My stomach was a ball of pure lead. I was thankful I’d eaten nothing since my salad at lunch, because it would’ve come right back up.
“Third way this goes,” Holden hissed, leaning forward a bit, eyes locked on Mickey’s. “Any of you touch a fucking hair on her head, you’ve got war with Gravewatch. You want that?”
The brothers glanced at one another. They were smart enough, it seemed, to recognize that this would be a bad thing for them. Unfortunately, they were not smart enough to back off.
“Big words when you’re so outnumbered,” Neck-Tattoo snarled, stepping closer. “Four against two, tonight.”
If I hadn’t been so scared, I might’ve noted my surprise that he knew how to count. As it was, since I was about two seconds away from peeing my purple Mystery Inc tights, I kept silent.
“Like our odds just fine,” Hunter noted darkly.
“Come on. Try us,” Holden taunted, just as darkly. He sounded like he wanted the O'Banions to do precisely that. He was itching for a fight, I could tell. But he wouldn’t throw the first punch — not with me in the mix, at least.
“You give her to us now or you’ll regret it later,” Scar-Face warned.
“Lot of regrets in my life,” Holden said. “Doubt that’ll be joining the list, though.”
“You Gravewatch boys think your shit don’t stink,” Neck-Tattoo snarled, clenching his ham-sized fists at his sides. “You don’t make the rules around here.”
“We run this town.” Mickey scowled. “Always have. Always will.”
The mammoth one merely glared in silence.
“You guys with the Sharks or the Jets?” Holden sounded amused. “Can’t help feeling you’re about to break out into a musical number.”
“No time to rumble tonight, boys,” Hunter chimed in lightly. “Better get home to your mother.”
That was it — the straw that broke the camel’s back. I had no doubt the O'Banions would’ve attacked at some point no matter what the twins said or did, but at the mention of their mother, they lost it. All four of them charged in unison. Hunter used the grip on my arm to fling me — literally, like a frisbee — backward, out of range. I sailed through the air, crashing to a breath-stealing halt against the brick alley wall. My purse went flying off my shoulder as I ricocheted, barely managing to catch myself before I fell to the pavement.
“Run, Gwen!” Hunter yelled. He wasn’t looking at me — he was busy ducking a punch from Scar-Face, simultaneously aiming a kick at Mickey’s crotch. While Mickey crumpled in pain, clutching his balls, Hunter pivoted to deliver a punishing blow to Scar-Face’s nose. I heard a muffled crack and saw a dark splatter of blood sail across the brick. Not to be outdone, Holden socked a southpaw to Neck-Tattoo’s eye socket. I watched his head snap back with the force of the blow.
Outnumbered or not, the twins were holding their own. In fact, they were kicking ass. They totally would’ve won… if not for the fourth brother. The big one. Correction: the mammoth one. He was not, I saw belatedly, engaged in the bloodbath. Oh, no. He was stalking my way, his cold eyes intent on my face. When I saw him coming, any hope I’d had about this fight going our way evaporated in less than a heartbeat.
“Damn it, Gwen!Go!”
Hunter’s voice jolted me into motion. Turning my back on the brawl, I sprinted back the way we came, my go-go boots pounding on the pavement. I could hear Jumbo O'Banion chasing after me, gaining ground with each passing second. Even if I’d had the time to call for help, I couldn’t — my purse was lost to me, my phone along with it, sitting uselessly on the pavement somewhere.
My terror mounted to a fever pitch as my wild eyes locked on the mouth of the alley. I could see the throngs of people there, smiling and laughing as they drank in the festivities. If I could only get there, someone would surely help me. I’d be safe. I’d find a phone. I’d call Graham or Detective Hightower. They’d know what to do.
My heart pounded like a battering ram against my ribs as I picked up my pace. I wasn’t the fastest runner in the world, especially in heels, but my weekly jogs had built up a decent amount of stamina. The man on my heels might be big, but he wasn’t particularly fast. I heard his labored breathing as the distance between me and safety shrank from twenty yards to ten to five.
Jumbo couldn’t catch me.
I flew out of the alleyway, into the thick crowd. My momentum was so great, I barreled straight into a cluster of camera-toting tourists with matching shirts that said ‘I WENT TO HELL AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT’ in bold letters. The impact was like a bowling ball striking stationary pins. Two of them fell backward on their asses, the others wheeled wildly in different directions.
“Hey!” One of the men exclaimed as he caught his balance. “Watch where you’re going, lady!”
I didn’t even pause to apologize or ensure they were okay. I darted away, losing myself in the crowd, hoping Jumbo couldn’t keep track of me in the melee. I didn’t dare look back as I moved down the pedestrian mall, weaving past two twelve-foot-tall men on stilts, several guys in the infamous Ghostface mask fromScream, and a whole bevy of preteens clad in gold and red Gryffindor uniforms.