The Awakening

with him, not by a long shot, and he must have sensed that.

Ignoring her knife in his flesh, he tried to charge her.

Good. Even though he was a miserable bully and rapist, he had strength and he wasn't a coward.

She wanted a fight. She wanted this fight.

It felt right. It felt purposeful.

For this, she could almost smile.

'That's right,' Gaby taunted. 'Tangle with someone who isn't cowed by you.'

'Stupid bitch,' he thundered. 'You'll be damn sorry you—'

He was in midthreat when Gaby's heel connected with his chin. When his head snapped back, her elbow jammed into his throat. As he gurgled and gagged, she retrieved her knife, sliding it out of his dense flesh to press it tight, tight enough to cut, where he'd feel it most.

The girl screamed, scrambling backward on hands and heels like a tipsy crab.

Mort rushed out of the alley. 'Gaby!'

With so much fanfare, she wouldn't have been surprised if a spotlight had suddenly shone down on her wretched head.

Face close to the man's, her fist keeping the knife blade snug against his groin. Gaby whispered, 'You deserve to lose this, don't you?' She pressed in enough to nick him, making certain he understood.

'You're insane,' he garbled, still suffering from the trauma to his throat.

'You betcha. Insane enough that I'll haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.'

He looked into her eyes and shriveled back in fear.

His impaired esophagus made him gasp for each shallow breath. Distress for his precious jewels kept his eyes wide and wild. Drool trickled from the side of his trembling mouth.

Gaby enjoyed his reaction.

She enjoyed herself in this role.

'I'll know what you do,' she told him. 'What you think and what you want. If you ever again use force on anyone or anything, I swear to God, I'll castrate you.'

The man prayed, which amused Gaby. God wouldn't help him. Not tonight.

But then Mort grabbed her arm. 'Gaby, please. You cut him bad and he's bleeding. He could die.'

A fog lifted, and Gaby became aware of everything.

The sobs of the man, the worst sobs of the girl, Mort's palpitating fear.

'He deserves death.' But she jerked her knife away from him.

It was really bloody now. And so was she.

'Maybe he does,' Mort said, 'but you don't deserve his death on your hands.'

Gaby caught her breath. Mort had stopped her for her sake?

The man crumpled to the ground, drenched in a combination of sweat, blood, and more disgusting body fluids.

Foul bastard.

Repulsed, Gaby turned to look at the girl.

Homely little thing, with ruined makeup smeared everywhere and a red, snotty nose. 'How old are you?'

Her lips quivered. 'Twenty.'

'Liar.' She looked to be in her midteens, maybe seventeen on a stretch. 'Go home.'

'I… I can't.'

Of course not. If she could, she wouldn't be here now, tonight, in this hopeless place. The futility of it all settled in once again, evaporating the elation of triumph. 'Then at least get away from here.'

The girl nodded, lumbered to her feet and wiped her mouth. More tears leaked out. She pushed hair away from her bruised and dirty face. 'Thank you so much.'

Fingers curling around her knife hilt, Gaby snarled, 'I was too late. He'd already used you.'

'No.' She shook her head. 'You wasn't too late. He wasn't done with me. He would have… he woulda done more. Worse stuff. He told me so. So, thank you.'

Hoping she had made a difference, Gaby nodded.

Waiting until after the girl had run off, Gaby dropped to one knee by the man.

Mort panicked again. 'What are you doing?'

'Well I'm not going to stick him again, if that's what you're thinking. What would be the point?' She set her knife to the side. 'I'm seeing if he has a cell phone.'

'But… why?'

'So we can get him some help.' She found a phone in his loose, drooping pants pocket, but had to wipe the blood away before she could see the numbers. 'Like you said, Mort. I don't need his death on my hands. Not if I can help it.'

Holding the phone away from her face, Gaby called 911 and calmly gave the address and situation.

'The cops'll get you, bitch,' the man muttered in faint aggression. He barely kept himself sitting upright and kept swaying as if ready to topple. One arm hung useless at his side, his hand in his lap over his crotch, and with the opposite hand he tried to stem the sluggish flow of blood from his shoulder.

'Shut up, stupid. You're almost dead, and the cops would be more interested in arresting you than me.' She withdrew his wallet and read his name, his address. She leaned down and held the open wallet in front of his face. 'Besides, I know you now, who you are and where you live. If you rat me out, or even try to rat me out, you'll regret it. I can promise you that.'

New fear smothered his hostility and rendered him mute.

Attention darting this way and that, Mort wrung his hands over Gaby until she'd again wiped the phone—this time to remove her prints—and shoved it back in the man's pocket.

'All right, Mort.' Against the man's hair, she wiped the blood from her knife and returned it to its sheath. 'Let's go.'

Mort hurried after her. 'You're okay now?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. Better than fine.' Damn it, she felt good. Strong. Altruistic. She'd stopped a crime and, maybe, hadn't killed anyone. Until an ambulance reached that clown, she wouldn't place any bets, though. Not that she'd waste pity or regret on any man who'd rape a woman in any way.

Her stride longer and more sure, she headed for the apartment building. 'Mort?'

He hustled along beside her, breathing fast from exertion. 'Yeah?'

'I get the overall picture, but specifically, what was he doing to her?'

Mort stumbled over his own feet and then had to rush to catch back up with her. 'You're kidding.'

'No. I mean, I get that it was sexual. But I'm not sure I understand. Spell it out for me, okay?'

'Oh God.' He shook his head hard. 'Gaby, please, don't ask me stuff like that.'

She slanted him a glance. He looked… ill. More so than usual. 'Why not?'

'Because I can't answer you, that's why!'

His raised voice was enough to alert the National Guard. 'There's no reason to get hysterical about it.'

'Hysterical? Of course I'm hysterical! You've got the blood of three people on you. I can hear the sirens of at least two different police cars. We left a man half dead back there.' He put both hands in his hair. 'I've got good reason to be hysterical.'

'Shhh. Calm down, Mort. I'll clean up and it'll all be okay.'

'Clean up? Have you looked at yourself?' He took his hands out of his hair so he could wring them together. 'You're a mess.'

'Peroxide gets blood out, and even if it doesn't, we had animal blood in the stairs today. Anyone will believe it's from that.'

'Not if they do all that fancy forensics stuff—'

Dolt. Not that she could blame him for being unfamiliar with police priorities. 'The guy in the alley will say he was jumped, and that he doesn't know who did it.'

'You're sure?'

'What else can he say? That he was raping a minor and someone defended her?' Gaby snorted. 'But even if he didn't, it won't matter. Contrary to popular fiction, the cops don't pull out the expensive tests tor every crime going. Not unless they have a murder victim, and reasonable suspicion on someone, and a lot of other stuff. And