Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 4 - FIRESTORM

"I thought they were up Berksley way..."

"It's the right place, you bloody halfwits," the man tied to the radiator shouted, and the men outside fell silent again. I scowled at him, but it was hardly worth the effort. He looked and sounded about a hundred times more annoyed at his packmates than I was.

Somewhere around the back of the house, I heard glass smashing and the crunching, splintering sounds of someone taking an axe to the back door. They would have reached me in about thirty seconds, but I'd bought enough time for Nia to start throwing her cocktails at the group which had been gathered so helpfully by the front door to talk to me. She hit the back door team half a minute later.

I got a front row seat to the screaming and panic that followed. I even risked going to the dining room window so I could watch them run and frantically beat at their burning clothing. Wounds caused by fire and heat took a long time to mend — like bruises, it was nearly as slow as human healing.

The Alpha — well, the tallest guy there, who was in his fifties and had a face like a pig's backside — had managed to duck into the porch and shelter there. He was doing nothing to help his packmates while they rolled on the ground and shrieked. After a minute, he spotted me peeking out of the window. He looked like he was debating making a break for the trees.

I cracked open the window, risky as it was, because I couldn't bloody resist. He stared at me like a rabbit in the headlights — ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"Hold on, buddy. Not so fast. We're done — no more fire, I swear," I called. "You got time to talk? I have some demands. You know, for the release of the hostages, who you love very much and want to see again?"

"Yeah?" the Alpha asked, now breathless and one hundred percent done with my shit.

"Helicopter. Fifty thousand in cash. A pair of Nikes. And maybe some of those little crab cakes you get at parties."

His mouth twisted into a sneer. "Counter offer — you release them right now and I'll give you a quick death, rogue," he laughed. "Because that's all you've got to look forward to."

Tempting as that sounded, I would have to pass. My death wasn't going to be this lame. It was going to be something for the history books. They'd tell my death story around campfires in a hundred years like they told Bryn and Rhodric Llewellyn's.

"Can I think about it?" I asked, trying to sound like I was actually considering it.

The Alpha threw up his hands in exasperation. "Sure. Whatever. You have one minute."

"Got any more fire bombs?" I linked Nia.

"One or two. Why?"

"Angle one against the side of the house for me."

She tossed another bottle, and half of it splashed into the porch and onto the Alpha. He tried to jump out of the way and smacked his head against a hanging basket of pansies. The sleeve of his jacket had caught fire, so I got a front seat to the display of cursing and rolling on the ground which followed. When he was quite done making an arse of himself, he scarpered back to the trees to hide with his friends, his pride in tatters.

Nia was waiting expectantly on the other end of the link. "How was that?"

"Perfect."

And that was it — that was all the time I could buy. I closed the window and limped back into the hallway, where the packling was trying to free himself from the radiator. I stepped over him and headed for the stairs.

"You'll get her back in a few days," I told him. "We ain't gonna hurt her, I swear."

It was possible to pinpoint the exact moment he realised — terror and despair dripping from his entire body and the link besides. "What do you mean, I'll get her back?"