“What?” I stopped with my back to them.
“Azazel is growing tired. This isn’t going to end well for you, Milayna. You might as well switch now before it’s too late. Or too late for the ones you love.”
I looked over my shoulder at Shayla. “I’m not changing sides. I’m not a traitor. Tell Azazel that his warnings don’t scare me, especially coming from the two of you.”
“What about us?” A group of people pushed through and gathered around Lily and Shayla. All dressed in black hoodies—demi-demons. They looked like the same bunch from the football game. I started counting. Twelve of them and eight of us. Not the greatest odds.
“What about you?” Chay asked.
“Milayna, change. Make things easier on yourself and just end this now,” one said.
“No. Thanks for askin’, though.”
Then it happened. I wasn’t sure who threw the first punch, or maybe it was a kick, it didn’t matter. Fists were flying, legs were kicking, and blood was dripping. There wasn’t time to think, only react.
A girl who stood about a head taller than me, and looked like she should be on the cover of a bodybuilding magazine, rushed me. I panicked.
“Oh shit,” I muttered, just before she barreled into me. My back hit the garage door—hard. The breath whooshed out of me, and it took a second for me to recover. That was all she needed. She kneed me in the gut, and I had the stupid thought that at least it wasn’t my face.
Pain radiated out from my center to all parts of my body. Burning, breath-stealing, mind-numbing, pissing-me-off pain.
I had to get her off me. She was pinning me against the garage, giving me very little room to maneuver. My foot came down hard on her instep and her grip on me loosened. I took advantage of the distraction and elbowed her in the jaw. She stumbled backward from the force, and I moved away from the garage. Now I was in my element. I could get the leverage I needed to defend myself.
My martial arts training was extensive. My first instinct was to go all out and kick some ass, but I held back. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to defend myself and the rest of the group.
I saw Jen trying to ward off two of the demi-demons. I ran to help her, kicking one guy in the side, before moving to his front and kneeing him in the crotch.
“Don’t. Hit. Girls,” I bit out as he fell to the ground.
As quick as the fight began, it ended. The demi-demons took off down the street and the group filed into my house.
I stood in the driveway, watching the other group run down the road. Drew grabbed me under the arm and dragged me into the house with the rest of our group.
“What happened?” I panted. “Why’d they leave?”
“What, you want to keep fighting?” Jake asked with a laugh.
“No, but they took off so fast… we’re done?”
“Someone called the police. That’s how these fights generally end. Someone sees a bunch of teenagers throwing punches and they call the cops.” Jake shrugged.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be back,” Chay said. I looked across the room where he sat.
“You’re hurt,” I said more to myself than him.
“Nah.” He wiped the blood from a cut over his eye with the back of his hand. “It’ll be fine.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit. Muriel, will you get some ice?” She didn’t answer. I looked around the room. “Where’d she go?”
“I dunno. I was kinda busy. I didn’t take attendance.” Jeff threw a Coke across the room to Jake.
“Huh.” I shook my head and tried to remember if she was there when the fight started.
Jen interrupted my thoughts. “I’ll get the ice, Milayna. And stop Jeff from using the Coke as missiles.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” Running upstairs to the bathroom, I grabbed the little first aid kit my mom kept there. I replayed the night in my head.
Was Muriel there? Yes, she called Jake. But I don’t remember seeing her after the fight started. Maybe she left and called the police. But why isn’t she here now? Why do I feel this way? It’s Muriel. We’re like sisters. I know her. It’s fine. She’s fine.
I jogged down the stairs and lay the kit on the table. Jake took a peroxide pad and wiped it over a gash on his leg. I took some gauze pads, a cleansing wipe that wouldn’t sting his eyes, and some butterfly bandages to Chay.
“Let me clean your cut.” I expected him to tell me he could do it himself. I was surprised when he moved closer to me in the chair, lifting his head so I could clean the blood from his face.
I stood between his legs and wiped the cloth over the cut, dried the area with the gauze, and got a bandage ready. Chay rested his hands on my hips, and my hand stopped in midair. It sent chills up and down my body, and although my gut hurt where I’d been kicked, it warmed and fluttered.