Black Diaries

58. Underdogs and Undercats

The shadowy figures crept closer.

"What?" One of the men laughed. "That's what you've got us from our lookout post for? One girl in a night—rrrmp!"

My heel hit him in the side of a head with a thud. I whirled, and had floored another one before anyone had had time to blink.

"Bloody hell, I told you she's dangerous!" Pete screamed. "Get her! Get her!"

This time, they didn't hesitate or laugh. Three of them jumped me, two making a grab for my arms while the third threw a punch. I managed to duck the punch and pull my left arm out of the way in time, but my right arm was tightly clutched in thick, hard fingers. Jerking it downwards, I pulled the guy holding it towards me, and brought my knee up.

"Nk!"

A hand grabbed my hair from behind and pulled me backwards. Crying out, I stumbled. Instead of struggling, I let myself fall backwards, onto the new attacker, making us both topple over. His arms came around me to cage me in and squeeze the breath out of me.

"Oh no you don't, you little shit! Take that!"

Ramming my elbow into his gut, I forced his arms apart and rolled off him. Pushing myself up on hands and feet, cowering ready to spring, I let my eyes flick around the meadow. Shadowy figures loomed all around me, some advancing, some rising from the ground like zombies. If only I had a gun for the headshots!

"Let's get her!"

"Bloody hell, yeah!"

A few of them pulled knives from their pockets, others grabbed rocks from the ground. Growling, they advanced towards me.

"Put those away!"

That voice I knew. Checking out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the boss stagger to his feet. Blood was still running from the corner of his mouth, but he didn't seem to care.

"Put them away, I said!" he barked. "Do you want to end up in prison for murder? We're here for the horse, not her!"

Protesting rumbles rose up from his henchmen. He cut them off with a glare. "Just get her out of my way!"

The knives vanished, and they advanced towards me.

"Oh, that's so nice!" I smirked, humorlessly, "You aren't going to slash my face into ribbons—you're just going to kick the crap out of me. Real gentlemen, you are, you English thugs. I wish gangsters in America were this considerate."

"You heard the guv," one of them growled. "Get out of the way, or we'll beat you up good and proper!"

My answer came in the form of a yoko geri to the jaw.

"Hi-yah!"

"Ugh!"

"Shit! Grab her!"

And that was it. All of them rushed me at the same time. I dealt out kicks and punches faster than I ever had in my life, faster than at the New York Karate tournament, faster than when sending Chuck to purgatory—and trust me, that had taken one hell of a kick! I felled thugs left and right, hit guts, arms, heads, but the more I hit, the more kept coming.

"Ah!"

The first punch that hit me slammed into my stomach, and I doubled over. The next one came right behind, a fist flying down towards my head. I was damn lucky it only graced me, or I might have been out then and there. Still, I stumbled backwards and rammed into something hard. What...?

The fence! You're at the fence, you pinhead! Move!

Grabbing the top wooden beam, I vaulted over the fence, rolling on the ground and coming up a few yards away. Behind me, I heard the next punch meant for me slam into hard wood, followed by a muttered curse.