“Who are they?” Daphne asks, panic flashing over her face.
“Assholes,” I mutter back. “Harmless, mostly, but incredibly annoying.” I shift to the side, placing myself between them and Daphne. To Cane and Meathands, I say, “What the fuck do you want? I did my part tonight. I lost like I was supposed to. I put up as little defense as I could.”
“There were two minutes left,” Cane says. “You got knocked out too early.”
“I got knocked out in the final round, just like I agreed.”
“We said to stay until the end,” says Meathands.
“I didn’t agree to wait until the last possible second.”
Meathands and Cane exchange a look. Cane takes a step forward, swinging his walking stick up to prop it on his shoulder. “Still, it’s a bit unfair you escaped the full extent of your punishment, so we’re here to amend that. We’ll finish the round between us gents.”
“Plus,” Meathands says, “we got a few emerald rounds from Grave Danger in exchange for roughing you up a bit.”
“Grave Danger,” Daphne echoes from behind me. She witnessed my fight with that scaly fae bastard, so of course she recognizes the name.
The thugs’ eyes flash to her, so I take another step toward them to reclaim their attention. “What’s Grave Danger’s grudge?”
“He’s a bit miffed the two o’ ya never got a fair fight,” Cane says.
My mouth falls open. “A fair fight? He’s the one who goaded me into getting disqualified. He would have won if he hadn’t gotten himself disqualified too. And now he’s paying the two of you to rough me up? How unhinged can he be?”
“He’s a bored little snakey with too much of daddy’s money,” says Meathands with a roll of his eyes.
“If you’re so keen to accept his daddy’s money,” I say, “then you must be more strapped for cash than I thought. I suppose that’s what happens when you work for a goblin who gets off on outing his client’s secrets rather than collecting their loan sums. How’s your side business going, by the way? Sell any scarves lately?”
With a sneer, he steps closer and unwraps his scarf from around his neck with surprisingly tender motions. The mushrooms illuminate the pattern—little yellow ducks on a pale blue background. If he wasn’t such a prick, I’d be impressed with his handiwork. He folds it with care and sets it on a dry patch of ground, away from the drops of rain that continue to sprinkle between the gaps from the overhead walkways. Then he slams a fist into his palm. “Let’s finish yer round.”
“Shit,” I say under my breath. While it’s true what I said to Daphne about these assholes being mostly harmless, I’m not in the best condition to fight them, what with the rain and chilly air weakening my strength. At least my anger serves to keep me on my feet.
“Two minutes on the clock,” Cane says, sauntering closer, twirling the cane still propped on his shoulder, “then we’ll let you go. Since this ain’t boss’ orders, we’ve got no rules to follow.”
“No rules?” I say. “Then I can fight back.”
Daphne clings to the back of my shirt. “You’re not really going to fight them, are you?” she says in a furious whisper.
“It’s all right,” I say. “It will be over quickly. They’re unskilled fighters. Sloppy.”
It’s true. They’ve done their darndest to rough me up before, which might as well have been a tickle to the ribs. Pleasant, even. Of course, that was under the boss’ rules, meant more to scare than to injure. Now…
Well, it’s not like I have much of a choice. The alley ends in solid brick where the two buildings are connected. Cane and Meathands will intercept me if I run forward. Besides, I’ve never run from a fight. Two minutes will be easy, so I’m not worried about myself.
There’s only one person on my mind.
“Shift,” I say, stepping back as the two cronies slowly close in. “Shift into unseelie form and either climb or dart away. They won’t go after you. I’ll come find you as soon as this is over.”
“I’m not leaving,” she bites out.
“You can fight back,” Cane says as he halts, legs spread wide. One hand is tucked in his pocket while the other gives his cane another twirl on his shoulder. Then his grip tightens, knuckles going white. “But it won’t be much of a fight with two on one.”
Meathands chuckles, flexing his fingers as he takes up a fighting stance.
I pivot my feet, a slight bend to my knees, and raise my arms. My muscles scream in protest, fatigued after the lengthy bout in the ring paired with the additional strain caused by the rain. “Shift, Daph,” I say, voice low. “I’ll come find?—”
“Just one?” she says, striding up beside me with her hands on her hips. “Two onone? Am I invisible?”
“What are you doing?” I mutter, not daring to take my eyes off my opponents.
