Secret Beast - Amelia Wilde Page 0,5

City?

Once I’ve merged onto the highway I tug the mittens halfway off so I can have a better grip on the wheel while keeping my fingers from going numb. I drive five over the speed limit all the way into the city, my phone’s GPS steering me to the address my dad left.

With every block that passes, my heart sinks lower. Acid burns at the back of my tongue. This area isn’t good. The streetlights are few and far between, and I drive past more than one with only remnants of shattered glass.

“The destination is on your left,” my phone announces.

I pull the car over and peer at the building. A boarded-up shop on the first floor, graffiti on the boards. One of them has a torn-off corner as if something chewed into the wood. The rest of the block isn’t any better. I’m parked next to the curb, and beyond that is a crumbling sidewalk. It’s not livable here. Industrial, really, with a wharf jutting out into the river.

No sign of my dad.

I’m not going to be able to find him sitting in the car, so I pull my mittens up, put my phone in my pocket, and step out onto the street.

Voices from a nearby alley echo across the deserted block. Most of the river is covered in ice, but some of it is free to slap against the pilings. It’s colder by the water. I would give anything for a warm car to drive away in.

I would give even more for my dad to be here, too.

The voices from the alley rise. Laughter. Hardened laughter. The Morellis wouldn’t hold an actual meeting in a place like this. They would lure a man into a trap. There’s no time to call Cash and ask him if he can drive to the city. No time to do anything but check the alley myself. Stay out of sight. If my dad is there, I’ll get him out somehow.

He might be hurt. Bleeding. I have to help him.

An icy spike of wind wriggles down the collar of my coat as I hurry toward the opening of the alley. Light flickers there, spilling out onto the sidewalk. I get as close as I dare. One, two, three. I stick my head around the corner of the building.

Six guys. No, eight. Maybe ten. Homeless, possibly, by the looks of them. Some of them have heavy coats. Almost all of them have hats. One guy has makeshift gloves made from plastic bags. Their faces glow in the light of a fire they’ve made in a barrel. They huddle in close, shifting positions to take turns warming their hands.

None of them is my dad.

Shit.

“Come here, girl. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

I pull my head out of sight, fear skittering up my arms and drawing my shoulders up, up, up. I’m three steps down the street when they catch up.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” I regret not running. I thought walking would make them less likely to chase me. Stupid. It was stupid, and now there’s one man on either side of me and my car is across the street.

“I have to get home.”

“We saw you looking at us,” one says. He’s the man with plastic bags on his hands, and he strips them off and lets them fall to the ground. “We want to see you, too.”

The other man takes a sudden step toward me and I react on instinct, going the other way. Toward the building. My shoulder hits the brick and I turn so the wall is against my back. Trapped. I’m trapped against rough brick, and now three of them are blocking the path to my car.

“I’m leaving.” I’m proud of how level my voice sounds. “Get out of my way.”

“You came to our party.” The third man presses in and reaches for me. I slap at his arm but he laughs. “It’s probably because you’re bored at home, aren’t you? Wanted some fun tonight. Let’s show her a good time.”

I try to edge sideways, but one of them puts a foot out and angles his body to stop me. More hands reach in. Too many to swipe away. One paws at the waist of my coat. Someone’s dirty fingers are on my chin. I’m going to be sick. I’m going to pass out. Those two things aren’t options for me right now, because if I do either thing, they’ll take advantage of that weakness.

If they get