“How do you know that?”
I grimaced. “One of my feet went through his chest.” The warm blood trickling down inside my shoe was enough evidence. That is, if I’d ignored the feeling of his chest spitting open.
I pursed my lips and focused on the road in front of me even while my mind ranted at me. Sounding rather like my mother.
Murdering monster, you are evil and going to hell. It doesn’t matter that he was touching you; it wouldn’t matter if he even raped you. This is punishment for all your sins, you know that. When will you learn to just lie down and take what is your life? Stop fighting.
“I will not.” I bit the words out as I clenched the steering wheel, the shaking in me subsiding.
“Won’t what?”
I sucked in a quick breath and held it to stave off the tears that threatened. “Nothing. Let’s get this over with.”
I put the truck in park and cut the engine. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I really didn’t. But I wasn’t going to let anyone take advantage of me anymore. I’d done it my whole life, let people walk all over me. Because it was the right thing to do. No more. I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Starting with Santos.
I squared my shoulders and hurried to where a low gondola waited. Up the platform we went and climbed into the small box. Dahlia grabbed the controls and hit the button on the speaker box. The soft static of an intercom floated through the airwaves.
“Password,” said a disembodied voice.
“Shit balls, I didn’t think they’d bother.” Dahlia scrunched up her face. “Now what?”
“Just hit the button again.”
She did and the voice came back.
“Password.”
“Looks like we’re hiking,” she said.
“No, I want Santos to wonder how we got up here, how we used his gondola.” I thought back to my last negotiations with the bankers for money to add new equipment to the bakery. About how I’d had to use what leverage I’d had. I’d bluffed, told the bankers I’d withdraw all my accounts and go to their competitor, who’d already offered me what I wanted. Of course, it wasn’t true, but the bank manager hadn’t known that.
I hit the intercom button and leaned forward. “Then you can tell Santos his personal guests left because you couldn’t be bothered to bring them up.”
I let go of the button and put my hands on the railing. Willing the gondola car to start moving.
The voice didn’t come back, and Dahlia shook her head. “It was worth a try, but I think we’d better . . . hey, we’re moving!”
I smiled as the gondola shivered and rose in the air. Mind you, maybe they had a way to cut the lines when we were high in the air, hovering over some bottomless pit. I put a hand to my head. “I’ve got to learn to stop thinking sometimes.”
“What’s the plan from here on in? Good cop, bad cop?”
I shook my head. “No, we both hate Remo. He tried to force himself on me, and beat you up for protecting me.”
She shook her head and made a circling motion around her face. “Won’t work. I’m not beat up at all.”
I grimaced. She had a point. I put my hands to my head, thinking. There had to be a way to convince him . . . slowly a smile spread as the idea grew. Dahlia stared at me. “I don’t like that look, Alena. It’s devious. And you aren’t devious.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Not devious, honest. I gave you some blood, and you healed super fast.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you really want to play that card? I mean, if he knows your blood can do that—”
“He’ll be even more willing to keep me alive if he thinks I have something to offer him more than my ability as a weapon.” I nodded, already happy with how it would pan out.
“And if he uses that damn snake oil shit on you, what then?”
The thought of being burned that badly again had occurred to me, I’d just been ignoring those particular thoughts. In the bakery business, I learned my lessons quick. Apparently not so much out here in the Super Duper world. “If he tries, we’ll have to deal with it then.”
“That’s what I thought; you don’t really have a plan.” She shook her head, sighing under her breath. “I’m going to lead, you stay behind me. We don’t know if that oil will burn me, and if it does, you can heal me up. I can’t heal you.” She gestured for me to stay behind her as she spoke.
I spluttered a protest, feeling like the pan of spun sugar she was afraid would melt in the rain. “This whole thing was my idea; I’ll lead.”
She grabbed my arms and her eyes hardened. “You aren’t as tough as you think you are, Alena. Strong, yes. But you don’t have the killer instinct to survive. Even with the Viking back there, you felt bad. I could see it. And no matter what happened with Achilles, you were lucky to face him with all of us helping.”
Her words could not have shocked me more. “You really don’t think I can do this either, do you?”
Her eyes were soft and filled with pity. “No, I don’t. I love you to bits, but I don’t think you have it in you to make the hard decisions, and in this world, that will eventually get you killed. And maybe all those people around you killed too.” She let me go and smoothed her wild curls back, though they just sprang up again. “Follow me, Alena. Let me do the heavy lifting.”
Hot, angry tears burned the edges of my eyes. No one thought I could do this on my own. It was no different than my family when I’d wanted to open the bakery. They’d tried to stop me, tried to tell me I wasn’t capable. Except for Yaya, that is. She had always believed in me.
The gondola lurched and hopped along the cables. Dahlia grabbed the railing to balance herself. I stood in the center of the tiny box, swaying slightly but riding it out.
“Don’t be angry.” Dahlia looked over her shoulder at me. “Please.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m capable of,” I snapped. “Just don’t.”
She shrugged and stepped back from the railing. “Fine. You want to lead? Then lead. Try not to get us both killed.”
Her words were covered with a layer of heat that I’d never gotten from her before.
We locked eyes, and I didn’t back down. I was not weak. I wasn’t, and I’d prove it.
I took a step forward as the tiny boxcar slowed and bumped against something. I moved so I was right in front of the sliding door. It opened, and I walked through with my head held high.
In front of me was a huge wooden mansion, three stories tall, and it sprawled over the top of the mountain and into the trees so I couldn’t see where it ended. Windows glittered like dark eyes staring out at us, winking in the torchlight like leering old perverts, beckoning us closer. I shivered, not liking the imagery or where it took my thoughts one bit.