Page 5 of Stalking Wendy Darling

“Knock his glasses off,” a loud, rough voice encouraged.

“Thank you very much, will do,” I replied, throwing a fist—on my good side—at Mr. Maudlin’s face, my knuckles hitting metal with enough force that the thin frame arms bent. Ha!

I felt less smug when a surprisingly powerful punch hit my stomach, knocking all my air out in a hardoofthat sent me stumbling back into the circle of space.

“Break his ribs!”

Aw, shit, the guy meantmyribs?

“No, thank you,” I panted, sidestepping a clumsy hit from my wet-haired opponent. “I like my ribs unbroken.”

Mr. Maudlin bared his teeth. Or grinned. It was hard to tell; he was mostly hair at this point. I should have realised the grin was a warning before he grabbed my jacket and slammed me over a tacky table, a hard wooden edge digging into my back.

I winced, but couldn’t resist quipping, “Kinky.”

Ooh, that proved effective. Mr. Maudlin let go of me like I’d burned him, his nose wrinkled in a sneer. Terrified of homosexuality. I could work with that.

“You’re not afraid of a little dick, are you?” I laughed, grabbing a pretend package in my pants. “Aw, don’t back off, we were having such a good fight.”

Some in the crowd guffawed like I was hilarious, which thank you, yes I was. Others sneered. Losers.

When my bar fight buddy began to push through the crowd, I laughed under my breath. “Running away so soon? Afraid I’ll break your face?”

He paused. I grinned. Perfect.

He turned slowly, squinting at me—maybe because I knocked his glasses off his face, it was hard to tell. The look on his face spelled danger and made my heartbeat quicken. He lunged towards me, and I raised my fists, ready to throw one into his throat—but before we could collide in a volley of blows, a meaty hand grabbed each of us and lifted us clean off the floor.

“Woah,” I breathed. “Impressive.”

The squashed face of the man who held us didn’t crack into a smile, not even a twinkle passing through his eyes.

“We have one rule. One single rule. No breaking furniture.”

“Oops,” I whispered, casting a look at the chair we’d knocked two legs clean off.

Before I could fight my case—and really why was I arguing when this played into my plans?—the barkeep or guard or whatever he was4 wrenched me and Mr. Maudlin across the crowded room of the pub, the crowd parting as he aimed for the door.

“Tell me you’re not going to literally throw us out,” I asked.

He didn’t reply, just shouldered through the door, scattered the people gathering on the front step and—yep, threw both of us onto the cobbles.

I landed hard enough to bruise my hip, ditch water soaking into my trousers and coat.

“Curse your mother’s saggy tits!” I yelled as the hulking man disappeared back into his pub. “Fuck, thathurt.”

“Oh, shut up complaining,” Mr. Maudlin muttered, his voice deep with undeniable pain. Cool, that’d make it easier to take him out. He got awkwardly to his feet and I pushed to my own,gritting my teeth against an ache in my hip. I’d be fine. I could hobble aboard the Banshee, no problem.

“I’ll shutyouup in a minute,” I threatened, heading into a dark, quiet alleyway. I glanced around. Shady, abandoned, perfect. “With my enormous knob down your throat,” I threw over my shoulder, snickering at the scuff of boots on cobbles.

Here we go. Impact in three… two…

“Shit,” I grunted, miscalculating, my boobs wailing in pain as he slammed me into the rough face of a wall. “Now we’rereallygetting kinky,” I laughed, feeling under my coat and closing my fingers around a knife Mama gifted me for my twenty-first birthday. It had a starfish on the handle, glimmering with jewels, and was undoubtedly stolen.

“Fucking fag,” the guy spat, shoving me further into the wall.

“That,” I said, turning slowly, my knife at my side, “is a very unpleasant word. My brother, Michael’s gay. He’s a bruiser, fights for a living. He’d mash you to a pulp,” I informed him with a smile, whipping my knife up and driving it under his coat and through his shirt into his ribs. I ignored the ache in my side to lean my weight into the blade until it punched through cotton and skin into muscle.

“I was going to say it’s nothing personal, I just need your spot aboard the Banshee, but after that shitty remark, I’m afraid itispersonal.”

---