“Let’s dance,” the guy said to April, crushing her against him.
She shrieked again. The sound almost split my eardrums this time. Which was good, actually, since it meant my powers were still working—at least for the moment.
I strode up to the guys and said in my best faux I’m-not-scared-at-all voice, “Let her go.”
The two guys looked at me and laughed. The one who had his fingers in April’s hair let go of her and smiled at me. He was a young guy, maybe nineteen, but one of his teeth was missing, and the others were yellow—probably from years of smoking, gauging by the smell of him. But there was another, underlying scent in the air that kept my arm hairs standing on end. Something I couldn’t quite place. My muscles twitched as the guy approached me.
“Looks like our little bird brought a friend. How many dances do you think we can get out of them?”
“At least three,” said the one holding April.
“Gross!” April kicked him in the shin, but he just laughed.
These guys were ticking me off—more so even than Pete and his nasty friends—and I was happy that my powers were pooling in my muscles, searing under my skin. I was in no mood for playing the part of the damsel in distress.
“I like this one’s hair even better,” the yellow-teethed one said, and he reached his large, dirty hand toward one of my dark curls.
I felt a tiny pop of power as I swung my arm up and smacked his hand away before he could touch me. The guy looked stunned for a second. He shook his hand like I’d actually hurt him. Then he smiled even bigger. “This one’s got some real fight in her. I like that.”
He reached for me again, but before I knew what I was doing, my fists were up in the boxing stance Daniel had taught me. I knocked the guy’s hand away again and bounced back on my heels. When he came at me for a third time, my muscles flared with heat. I swung my leg and my high-heeled foot landed a perfect roundhouse kick in the guy’s stomach. I felt the sheer power in the movement, but I was still surprised when he went flying back. He collided with his friend. The leather-jacketed dude let go of April, and the two guys landed in a heap in front of the docking station.
I grabbed April’s arm. We were about to turn and run when I felt an iron-hard hand grip my ankle. The hand tugged on my leg. My pointy heel slipped out from under me. I let go of April and toppled backward, slamming back-first onto the concrete floor.
The noise and the motion of the lights suddenly came to a standstill, like time had stopped. All I could feel were a crushing pain around my ankle and April’s grasp as she tried to pull me up. My powers were gone. I’d felt them dissipate the second I hit the ground. I shook my head, and my vision and hearing improved a bit.
The pain eased on my ankle, but then it moved up to my knee. Maybe it was because my powers were suddenly gone, but the crushing force of his grip felt practically superhuman. The guy kept me pinned by the leg as he leaned over me—his yellow teeth and rotten breath only inches from my face. He raised his fist. “Why you little bi—”
“STOP!” someone shouted. But it wasn’t a scream. It sounded like a command.
The yellow-teethed guy let go of my leg almost instantly and backed away.
“Well, if it isn’t the Good Samaritan,” his friend said. “What do you want?”
“These girls are with me,” the commanding voice said, “so get the hell out of my sight, now!”
Yellowed-teethed guy scrambled a good ten feet away, and his friend mumbled something like, “Whatever. Have fun with ’em,” and disappeared into the crowd of gawkers that had formed around our little altercation.