The bald one turned to Dimitri. "Funny. You stabbed Tarik with some kind of poison, and the four of us had to pull him off you before he could tear your head off. We shouldn't have, and we are here to correct our mistake."
"I had nothing to do with Tarik's death. I'm just a human. How could I have overpowered him?"
"You had a motive, and you are smart. You might have cooked up another poison, something more potent, and stabbed Tarik from behind."
"That's an interesting theory, but totally false. I didn't do it."
The bald guy tilted his head as if he was baffled by something. "For some reason, I can't get into your head, so I can't verify what you're saying. Why can't I get into your head?"
Mattie's hand crept toward her pocket and the phone Dave had given her. If she could just get it out, press the button, summon help?—
One of the other immortals had noticed her movement, lunged forward, and grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her cry out. "What have you got there, little girl? A weapon?"
"Let her go," Dimitri commanded, his voice turning low and dangerous.
"Or what?" The immortal holding Mattie's wrist laughed. "What are you going to do, human? Stab me with a syringe?"
He twisted her arm, forcing her to her knees. Pain shot through her shoulder, and she couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her lips.
"I said let her go."
"And I said?—"
Dimitri moved.
It happened so fast that Mattie barely registered the beginning before the middle was already unfolding. One moment, Dimitri was standing beside her, tense but still. The next, he had ripped the immortal's hand off her wrist and driven his fist into the man's face with enough force to send him staggering backward.
The other immortals reacted instantly, their casual menace crystallizing into coordinated violence. They came at Dimitrifrom three directions at once, moving with the speed and power that made their kind so terrifying.
Somehow, Dimitri met them head-on despite not being a fighter. But she knew that he wouldn't last long, and when they overpowered him, they were going to kill them both.
Mattie scrambled backward, her injured wrist cradled against her chest, and her other hand reaching into her pocket. She found the phone, but her fingers were shaking so badly that she could barely grip it, and when she pulled it out, it slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the ground.
"No!"
She dove for it, her knees hitting the pavement hard, her hands scrabbling across the rough surface. The phone had landed face down a few feet away, and as she reached for it, a boot came down hard on her outstretched fingers.
She screamed.
"Going somewhere?" The bald immortal stood over her, his face bloody from where Dimitri had landed a blow, his expression murderous.
He bent down and scooped up the phone before she could react. His eyes widened as he examined it.
"Where did you get this?"
Mattie couldn't answer. The pain in her crushed fingers was overwhelming, stealing her breath, making stars dance at the edges of her vision.
"I asked you a question." The bald one grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him. "Who did you steal this phone from?"
"It was given to me," she gasped.
"By whom?"
Before she could answer, a new sound cut through the chaos of the fight.
Boots pounding on pavement. Many of them.
The bald immortal's head snapped up, his grip on Mattie's hair loosening as he turned toward the sound.
