Page 58 of A Vocation of Violence
Fire tore through my back as an object made impact. Pain ripped open my flesh and embedded in the muscle.
I stumbled, but managed to keep my feet as a scream tore from my throat, the momentum propelling my legs faster than I imagined they could go.
Dieter had thrown his knife.
And I didn’t know if he had another.
Chapter Eighteen
The dagger burned like hellfire in my shoulder.
Blood seeped hot into my corset and down my back, and each ragged breath felt like inhaling shards of glass. I had to get away, had to find help before Drumft and his brute caught up to finish me off.
The gas lamps wavered through the haze, mere smudges of light. Shadowy figures scurried by, averting their gazes. None dared get involved, not in this city after dark. I staggered on, praying for a miracle.
Then, by some grace, I spotted two bobbing helmets rounding the corner. The constables! I lunged for them with my last ounce of strength.
If the Ripper had done anything good for this city, it was that you couldn’t stand on any corner without seeing a PC on his beat every ten minutes.
“Help me!” I cried hoarsely.
The officers rushed to me, steadying my shoulders before I collapsed. The younger one whistled sharply through his teeth at the sight of the dagger.
“You’re in a bad way, miss. Get an ambulance!”
“They’re. After…me,” I gasped out. “They’re coming!”
The constables exchanged a grave look. With a terse nod, the elder stepped in front of me while the younger kept me supported. They formed a barricade, just as Drumft’s hulking silhouette appeared down the lane, the brute Dieter on his heels.
My gut twisted. I would not let them get to me again.
The officers boldly blocked their path, the elder’s hand on his truncheon at his belt. The younger still supported me, though he placed his body between mine and my pursuers, a shield wrought of flesh and bone.
“Oi!” the young, fit constable called out, struck by the gravity of my desperation.
“Halt!” The elder man’s voice boomed through the air, startling Drumft and Dieter into a sudden stop.
I was abandoned to lean against the stone edifice of a building as, with their batons raised and ready for action, the two officers moved against them.
Dieter, fueled by anger and adrenaline, lashed out, but the elder constable subdued him with some difficulty, catching an elbow to the trunk for his troubles.
Drumft shouted a sentence of what sounded like all consonants, and Dieter’s struggle was immediately quelled.
“Put your hands behind your back,” the first constable said as he snapped cuffs onto Drumft’s wrists. A look of displeasure flitted across the Prussian dignitary’s face, but he complied without further resistance. The second constable followed suit, securing Dieter’s hands behind him.
Drumft was still in the young officer’s hold, but the purpling of his skin belied his calm. “Unhand me! I am a diplomat of the Prussian Empire. I was appointed by Otto von Bismarck himself! I’ll see you both sacked for this.”
The constables traded uneasy looks, but did not release him.
“Sir, you must understand.” Drumft’s bellow turned to a hiss as he attempted to be reasonable. “This woman attacked me unprovoked.”
“An attacker, is she?” Doubt clouded the constable’s gaze clear blue gaze as he glanced at his partner. “Explain how she were stabbed in the back, then.”
Drumft’s color went from purple to apoplectic. “An Irish Gypsy, she is. Probably had her hands in my pockets. Search her! Search her you’ll find my missing gold pin!”
As I leaned against the cool brick, a wave of dizziness threatened to topple me. The world blurred at its edges, and I clutched at the wall for support. My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a battle.
“Miss, are you all right? Can you wait for the ambulance?”
