Broken City

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

I don’t know how long I sleep but the pain in my head is significantly lessened, encouraged I open my eyes. For a dazed second I just stare at him as he is staring at me from behind the desk on the other side of the room.

For a moment, one wildly elated moment, I had thought it to be Tom, but the next second I know I am mistaken, on closer inspection the resemblance is not so strong; Tom’s dark blue eyes are replaced in this man by gray eyes and though he has the same curling black hair his cheeks are more gaunt than Tom’s. Then as he stands I see that although he is roughly the same height as Tom, he has less width at the shoulder.

As I scramble up from my position on the bed he walks unhurriedly towards the door closing off any hope of escape and I feel a sensation of suffocation close over me, he watches my agitation as I edge away from him with a silence that I find horribly chilling.

“Though all should stumble, though many may fall, with you at my side I will always stand tall,” his voice is so like Tom’s that at first I hardly hear what he has said, but the silence impresses upon me that he expects some sort of answer.

“I don’t…”

“It’s the inscription on the locket, a corruption of our family motto.”

My hand fly’s guiltily to my throat and I wait in dread for his next words.

“How is Tommy?”

He is still standing in front of the door, at ease apparently, but watchful; I decide then and there that I’ll not tell him a thing. I swallow convulsively and edge behind the desk.

“I asked you a question.”

“Tommy who?”

Before I’ve even finished my sentence he has crossed the room and dragged me over the desk, dimly I feel its paraphernalia digging into my back as I hear his voice quiet but filled with anger.

“If your tribe has hurt Tommy in any way, I’ll destroy you all,” his eyes blaze into mine for a moment and then he grunts in pain as my knee connects with his stomach, his hold on me relaxes a little but as I pull away from him he drags me back.

Our struggle is furious and in our writhing we clear the desk and its clutter and it falls noisily to the floor. I don’t know how long we wrestle, but it can’t be long, my terror and desperation gives me strength but I know that his brute force will overpower me quickly enough. It is a surprise then when I feel him slip to the floor. Jan stands over him a metal table leg in her hand.

“Are you alright Deet?” her voice, like her hands, is steady.

“I’m fine, nice hit,” I answer breathlessly.

“Who the hec—” he just manages to restrain himself. “Who are you?”

The man on the floor is still holding his head but he is struggling upright.

“Who are you?” counters Jan, lifting the table leg and holding it like a cricket bat.

“I hardly think you qualify for a lady’s first,” his voice is sarcastic but I see an interested gleam in his eyes as he looks at her that I don’t like.

“Then what about you first or I’ll try and bash your brains out?” Jan’s voice is calm and unafraid.

“I think you’re right—try is about all you’d manage; my name is Ryder Andak, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m Jan Richards; this is my sister Deeta, perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain what you were doing when I walked in?”

“I want to know what you’ve done with Tommy.”