Page 91 of Sinful Palace

Ten minutes later, I’m nearing the industrial area. Dark blue and gray warehouses line the street to my right, and on my left, there’s a long line of multi-storied red brick buildings. They used to be apartments and storefronts, but now they’re mostly used for storage.

I blow out an irate breath as it starts to rain. The hair peeking out from my helmet is whipping furiously in the chilly wind, and my body is starting to ache from the cold. Once again, I’m starting to regret my decision to ride tonight.

I push aside the negative thoughts and try to concentrate on the good ones. It’s not raining that much, only a drizzle, so it’s still totally safe for me to zoom around these empty streets without a care in the world. Besides, this is my thing. My ritual. I’m out here every day, and that’s because it’s so fun and relaxing. It’s almost therapeutic.

I turn left down my favorite street; the one I like to attempt tricks on. The rain suddenly gets heavier. “Dammit,” I say softly, blinking rapidly as a droplet gets in one of my eyes.

In the distance, I see a small silhouette. It looks like a person. It’s weird, because there’s usually never anyone else here at night. Only me.

As I get closer, I see that it’s a slender woman. She’s standing near one of the alleyways on the left side of the street. There’s something dark behind her. Another person, perhaps?

A few seconds pass. I can see the woman properly now. Only it’s not a woman, it’s a girl.

I recognize her. It’s Chloe Thorne. She’s holding up a hand, like she’s trying to shield herself from the glare of my headlight. What the hell is she doing here?

I realize she looks dazed. Disoriented. I can’t stand her, but I know I should stop anyway. See if I can help her. It’s the right thing to do.

Just as the thought occurs to me, something strange happens. Shadowy arms reach out from the alleyway behind Chloe, and she rapidly stumbles onto the road. What the hell is happening? Did someone just push her?

All of a sudden, my Vespa skids off slightly to one side, and I let out a loud gasp. “Shit!”

I regain control quickly, but there’s something wrong. My scooter doesn’t slip on wet roads. Not if they’re wet from rain, anyway. There’s something else on this road. It’s hard to see at this time of night, but it looks darker than usual. Slick. Shiny.

Shit. It’s some sort of oil. It’s all over the place.

I let out a strangled cry. My scooter veers out of my control again, slamming right into Chloe as she stumbles toward me.

I scream again as I hit her, and she flies off to one side. I’m still trying to regain control of the scooter, and within seconds I’m veering off in the other direction. I hear a sickening crunch as Chloe’s head hits the road, and then I tip over too.

Blood rushes in my ears as I hit the ground, and for a few blissful seconds, there’s nothing but blackness and warmth. Then I wake up again and the nightmare returns.

My voice is trapped in my throat. My head pounds. My body won’t move.

A sudden burst of lightning behind me illuminates the road ahead, and I see Chloe lying several feet away, head lolling to one side. The air is still crackling as I finally push myself up on one shaky elbow with a pained groan. There’s another flash of lightning, and I notice an even more horrifying sight. Chloe’s left leg is twisted at a disturbing angle and blood is pooling behind her head, slick and vivid on the dark asphalt.

Oh, shit. I’ve killed her. It’s all I can think about as I drag myself over to her, heart pounding. Adrenaline courses through me, dulling the pain from my crash. Soon I barely feel anything beyond the heart-stopping fear that I’ve killed someone.

“Chloe,” I gasp, lungs fit to burst as I finally reach her. “Please don’t be dead. Please.”

She stirs and moans. Relief floods my system. “Oh, thank god!” I say, leaning over her. “I’m going to call 911, okay?”

She reaches up with one arm and grabs my shoulder. “You’re in trouble,” she mutters.

Guilt slices through me, hitting right at my core. “I… I didn’t have time to stop. There was something slippery on the road, and you stepped out in front of me!”

I know it sounds like I’m victim-blaming, but that’s literally what happened. I couldn’t stop in time to swerve away from her.

“I know,” Chloe replies. “I didn’t mean… didn’t mean it like that. Not your fault. But you can’t…” Her head lolls back again and her eyes seem to glaze over.

“Can’t what?”

“Don’t call 911,” she whispers raggedly.

“What? Why?”

She suddenly regains another ounce of strength and reaches out to grab me again. She pulls me down to her. “Run,” she hisses. “You need to run, or they’ll get you too.”

“What?”

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