She flicked her white fingernails up and down at his body. "You look devastating in that, by the way. A spitting image of your father. Are you ready to kick ass?"
Maxwell sauntered over. "We done shooting the shit? The night's howling for blood."
Francis grinned at hearing his brother talk that way. It was all rather fun, actually. "You studied too."
Maxwell held his fist up and Francis instinctively tapped his knuckles on it before they both leaned in for a ritual-style brotherhood hug. More a banging of shoulders.
Robert snorted a little. "I studied. And I'll say my lines when it's time to say my lines."
Francis tried to hide his cringe at how unauthentic he sounded. It'd be truly amazing if Robert could manage the diamond prince out of himself.
Francis looked at all of them. "So, we're called Lords Krue. We go into their little welcome home party and claim the neighborhood. That starts a fight, we agree to duel and wager for the boy, kick their asses without touching them, and claim our prize."
Robert perked up. "Without touching?"
"No touching," Francis said. "I don't want to alert them to what we are."
"What we are?" Peggy cocked her hip, appearing and sounding annoyed.
"Not human." Francis didn't get why she had such an issue with that part but she clearly did, judging by her more exaggerated than usual eye roll.
"What about the girl?" Peggy stared at Francis, like she was testing him.
"I'll handle the girl. Nobody touches her."
A slow sideways smile curved her perfect red lips. "Aren't we touchy about her?"
Little miss perceptive. Or he was damn lousy at hiding his feelings when it came to Abigail. "I can't afford to fuck that part up. She's not going to be easy as it is, and I won't be claiming her on the first go-round."
"Sure thing little brother." But her sing-song voice held that knowing tone. He didn't care about her knowing, really. Just so the others didn't.
****
Dare stood in the shadows of the warehouse, waiting. She'd never admit it, but she was too fucking close to praying. Nothing specific, just anything to happen to intervene. Prolong. Tonight was a bad night for her. She wasn't herself. Something was going on. Something weird. She needed time to figure it out and beating up a thirteen year old wouldn't help with that for fucksake.
Really. How fucking smart was beating a kid? What did that actually do for them again? Toughen them up? For what? Didn't life do that shit on its own without your own family doing it to you? What was the great logic behind that again? Dare would love to get her hands around the neck of the great thinker who'd thought that stupidity up.
She paced. Get ready because you're doing this. You're going to beat that little bastard within an inch of his fucking life and he'll learn. He'll fucking learn…something. He'd have to figure out what he learned. That shit wasn't up to her, fuck this. She was nobody's mother, sister, girl, or friend. She was Dare. She was Dare and death was her fucking second skin. Pain was her game. Despair was her favorite drink. So drink up, drink deep, drink long.
The kid vomited. Her cue. He'd been filled with holy fire, and now she would beat the living shit out of him.
She yanked her black leather gloves tight, forcing her fingers deep. She didn't beat people without them. Other people's blood on her...no, she didn't do that. And yet… She ripped them off and threw them behind her, and stormed toward the kid, the future Great Warrior of Darkness and Doom. Big fucking whooping crock of shit. For her dead fucking friend, she'd beat the kid without gloves. Out of respect.
Didn't get any more sick and deranged than that.
With every step she took, the face of the boy loomed haunting and clear like an innocent child. Ruined. He was all but ruined. And she was going to seal his fate tonight. After this there would be no going back, no salvation, no American dream for him. She was going to slam that last nail home nice and hard.
"Who the fuck?" A male voice up near the warehouse entrance rang out. Dare turned and froze just a few feet from the boy as four people in white walked in.
Who the fuck indeed? One of them held up a hand to the two with guns and they nodded and lowered their weapons. Okay. She suddenly wished she'd kept her gloves on. Those pristine white clothes they wore were going to get really dirty if they didn't have an extremely good connection with the gang. She sure as hell didn't know them. And she knew everybody that needed knowing.
They strolled forward and Dare waited. She held up a hand to the twelve of her warriors present. At her signal, they slowly surrounded the newcomers. These pretty people must have something interesting for them to venture so far into her lair. She studied the lone female with the white blonde hair pulled back tight. Such a perfect face. Pity.