“Bugger off,” I heard the officer say to the visitor. There was a pause. I looked over my shoulder, barely able to see the jail’s entrance from where I was chained up, but I saw enough. A cloaked figure stood in the doorway and behind it I could see the limbs of fallen men on the ground. “Oy!” the officer shouted, reaching for his pistol.
The figure lunged forward, the cloak flying off their head to reveal silvery threads of hair and pure, moon white skin.
Meridan.
Behind her appeared Mullins. Then David. Then James. They filed in, pistols and blades drawn.
Meridan pounced on the first officer, grabbing him with all four of her long, thin limbs. I saw her mouth go straight to his neckand by the sound of his scream being quickly stifled, it was clear where her teeth went first.
As the other officers poured out of the cell, my men fought them with skill and precision. My boy David had come a long way since he’d become a part of my crew in the fall.
Whitton stood from his seat and backed further into the cell with one of the remaining officers, putting his backside against the table. The officer put his hand on his blade only for Mullins to step into the room and throw a dagger straight across the chamber into his skull.
“Woo!” he hooted. “Never done that before.”
Meanwhile, David rushed in behind me with a ring of keys and started making quick work of the irons.
The officer slumped to the floor and as he did, Dahlia sprang to her feet, knocking the other officer against the wall. Whitton, in a panic, reached for the pistol in the officer’s belt and aimed it straight at Meridan’s ghostly figure as she stepped into view, her mouth and neck soaked with fresh blood like a flesh-eating revenant coming to collect.
I knocked his hand sideways. He shot his pistol into the wall before I pried it from his weakened grip and tossed it at Mullins for safekeeping.
Beside me, Dahlia was now standing without her restraints, her lips stained with blood. Whitton’s wide eyes locked onto her as she shed her human softness for the lethal beauty of her true form. The siren ripped to the surface, stealing the color from her cheeks. Her bone structure seemed sharper, more prominent. Her eyes turned black as onyx and the fingers she had wrapped around that very same little blade that so nearly sliced her throat open were tipped with sharp nails.
“She’s… she’s…” Whitton stuttered, pointing with a shaking finger at the menace beside me.
I glanced at her and she at me. We let reality take full hold of Whitton before she stepped toward him, gripping his face with herhand to push his head back and cut a deep canal in his fat neck. Blood spurted out of him and even as he clawed at his throat, I felt nothing for the bastard. I watched his pristine attire turn red as he collapsed at my feet and all I could think was that I had one less burden to bear on my conscience.
As soon as Whitton stopped breathing, silence claimed the space he once occupied. The room was nothing but our collective, labored breaths and the slow drip of blood falling off whatever surfaces it had coated.
Dahlia and I locked eyes again and gradually, the inky black faded until her gaze had returned to that familiar gray color. Blood painted her otherwise pale features and I could see her sharp fangs peeking out from behind her lips.
Gorgeous.
David finally stepped forward, his orange hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and freed her from her binds with the keys he’d swiped. The irons clanked against the stone floor.
“Right,” Mullins said, clearing his throat as he pulled his dagger free from the officer’s skull. He glanced at Meridan, his eyes skimming her equally bloody form. Against her all-white complexion, it looked even more menacing. “That was precisely as violent as we’d intended.”
“He fired a shot,” David pointed out. “We should make a run for it, yeah?”
“Aye. We’re done with Gilly Pine, I think.”
All four of us men almost laughed at that as we filtered out of the jail into the night. There was chatter happening about the town, likely over the ruckus we’d started. I turned and grabbed hold of Dahlia’s hand, careless that her grip was slick with Whitton’s still-hot blood. I squeezed, keeping her close as we navigated through dark alleys all the way to the docks where my men had a boat ready to go and Gus was patiently holding the oars.
He let out a low grumble at the sight of Dahlia and Meridan covered in blood and moved aside for the others to take his place.I would have helped, but even the run to the boat had jostled my sore ribs enough for me to know something was cracked. The men rowed as one, moving quickly off the dock toward the Burning Rose anchored around the bend.
Just as we were departing, the bells started to chime in town. Torches began to light up the streets and distant screams could be heard where someone had likely discovered the massacre in the jailhouse.
“Not very discreet,” Gus commented.
Mullins shrugged, pulling on his oar. “The plan didn’t go as planned.”
“What was the plan?” I asked.
“Meri was supposed to flash her pretty face and I was supposed to knock ‘em out,” David said.
“With what?”
“Don’t know. We hadn’t gotten that far.”
