Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 12 - A Battle in the Shadows

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART ONE: Tears Fall When You See The Truth

Chapter 12 - A Battle In The Shadows

Despite the cool water on a stand beside her, Ally could not quench the fiery ache that originated from the pit of her stomach and speared throughout the entirety of her body, spreading out through her veins like twisting branches of a tree. She had not been able to sleep since Daniil had locked the handcuffs into place and, as such, desperately missed the reprieve of darkness that distanced her from her troubles. In the daylight, nausea raked through her, skewering her with its harsh hold and leaving behind no survivors. Her organs twisted, heaving and wrenching beneath her skin. Evil creatures of the night made exceptions to venture out and torture her to the brink of death.

A loud noise echoed throughout the room, as if a door had been slammed open, and Ally's head lulled to the side, her breathing coming out erratically. She stared wide eyed as a raging beast stalked towards her, knowing there would be no way of escape. Her dry mouth prevented her from from screaming, her throat raw and burning from the last such episode she had encountered. A parched tongue flicked out in an attempt to moisten her lower lip but only met a chapped and barren desert.

The monster before her reared onto his back legs, a gruntal cry tearing from its throat in a roar that pounded past Ally's ears. She stayed still as it approached, its golden coat catching the light and contrasting against the black smoke that was creeping in through the doorway and slithering across the tiled floor. The creature's eyes seemed to be made of brilliant blue glass crystals, sheathing a dark black orb within their translucent depths, and they flashed in warning.

Ally scrambled back against the wall, her feet sliding across the smooth floor as she frantically tried to use her legs to push herself further away from it. However, she was pressed against the wall already and only succeeded in exhausting her already weak and aching limbs. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot as she watched the monster erupt in a fury of flames, their licking fingers sweeping across its fur and thriving on the golden essence the beast offered them.

Suddenly, the beast charged at her, the black mist snaking under its massive hind legs and wrapping around her in a dark shroud. The beast reached out with one gnarled arm, flames shooting down the massive muscle that characterized the appendage, and touched her.

Ally's world exploded into red. A scream tore from her larynx and she crumpled fully to the ground, no longer able to support herself against the wall as the flames encased her in their scorching grip. She choked on the air around her, her head lolling to the side when the flames encompassed the width of her throat and left her suffocating in her own skin. Her back arched against the pain, her nails scraping across the tile until the brittle keratin broke, having been worn down from lack of nourishment. Blood leaked down from her neck, flowing from deep puncture wounds that could only have been inflicted by the monster's claws.

The agony seemed to seep from every pore and race through every vein, sending her head spinning. The room tilted and black spots scattered across her vision. She gasped as the flames burrowed down beneath her skin, burning her from within and, with one last glance around the burning room, the black mist consumed her.

However, as Ally succumbed to darkness and the inner recesses of her mind, she soon realized that the darkness she had conceived was no better than the red haze of pain she endured in the light of day; For her mind held the secrets of her past and the ghosts of which that still haunted her.

Daniil listened in silence to the whimpers and endless pleas for help that tumbled from her lips as Ally mumbled incoherent words to herself once again. Light from the main room spilled into the bathroom around him, casting his shadow over the pale woman on the floor. Her breathing was erratic and her damp hair clung to the contours of her face, a pool of sweat glistening from the jugular notch of her neck. She regarded him with large, frightened eyes as he approached and her terrified body seemed to tremble even more when he reached out one hand to her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Daniil soothed, using a light voice as he tried to convince her of his genuine motives. He moved to lay one gentle hand on her shoulder but she jerked out of the way at the last second and his hand closed around the tender flesh of her neck. A long, silent cry erupted from her before she fainted, her eyes rolling back into her head as she succumbed to darkness. She slumped against the ground and, as she lay unmoving, Daniil couldn't help but to notice how frail her body had become after the week he had subjected her to of no food, two of those days having been without water as well.

He took in a rough breath, knowing that he was simply starving his personal slave into oblivion, rather than teaching her a lesson. The hallucinations and screams were enough to verify the state of her mind. She was in no position to agree to his demands or give him a legitimate answer. Even the gang's own doctor seemed to disagree with his actions.

The sigh that escaped Daniil's lips was not only of distemper at his failed attempts of breaking the spitfire known as his personal slave, but also of unease. For the first time in his life, Daniil found himself unsure as to whether or not he would leave the battle as the winner. This unusual creature not only resisted him at every turn but also brought a side of him to the surface that he had not been since his days as a child: naive and compassionate.

He growled under his breath, knowing he was only proving his own thoughts as he finally unlocked her from the metal handcuffs, but helpless to fight against the feeling. She was his responsibility and, despite the great aggravation she caused him, Daniil could not make himself to treat her as just another harlem girl that he could beat to within an inch of her life and then cast aside. Neither could he view her as a disposable object like the various affiliations he had had previous to her. She was his personal slave and he was determined that she be kept as such.

Daniil laid the unconscious Ally onto one side of his enormous king-sized bed, gently tucking her into the luxurious comforter. She whimpered in her sleep, gripping the material tight in her long fingers as a shudder ran through her body. Deciding not to wake her up just yet, the third-in-command of Black Death left to prepare a simple meal of pity for his disobedient captive.

His mind returned to a previous element of his thoughts then, an idea striking him all of a sudden. He paused in the hallway, a sly grin spreading across his thin lips.

The men that frequented the harlem viewed the women as playthings and would shamelessly force their prey to bend to their wishes, whether the women refused their advances or not. Daniil would not leave his personal slave as bait to the predators of the gang, but a taste of what her life could be should she not accept her role in his life might just be the push that he needed to gain her trust and confidence. Only after gaining those two elements would he also be able to learn of the secrets she hid within her.