Trouble (2)

Melton looked down at the dealer kneeling by his feet, pulled his leg from her arms, and kicked her in the shoulder.

The dealer was sent sprawling across the floor, her shoulder striking a table leg with a dull thud. She did not get back up, curling up on the carpet with her shoulders trembling silently.

Melton turned to face Mila. His smile remained, but there was no light in the two slits of his narrowed eyes. "Little girl, are there still any tricks left?"

Mila smiled as well. She raised a hand and placed her fingers over her right eye. With a light touch against the surface of her eyeball, she peeled away an exceedingly thin membrane. Once it came off, her right eye was revealed.

A blood-red pupil, with two black Tomoe slowly turning upon the iris.

"My eyes tell me there are."

Melton's smile froze.

Faced with Mila's blood-red eyes, not one of the twenty-odd thugs surrounding them dared to move first.

Roy moved.

He turned sideways and slammed into the nearest thug's chest. The man was still stunned, his knife held horizontally before him.

Roy's left arm wrapped around the outside of the man's knife hand, his elbow locking against the inside of the man's wrist. With a twist, bones and tendons gave a faint crack. The knife slipped from the man's hand. Roy caught the hilt in midair with his right hand, and before the blade had even settled, he slashed sideways. A second man was lunging in from the side, his dagger raised overhead, his chest and abdomen completely exposed.

Roy's blade cut diagonally in beneath his Adam's apple and sliced out through the side of his neck. Blood sprayed across the green felt, staining the white-painted grids a dark red.

A second knife slipped from the hand of the corpse that had yet to fall. Roy flicked it up with his toe. It spun two and a half times through the air, flying toward Mila.

Mila raised a hand and caught the hilt. At the same time, she brushed her left hand across her left eye, peeling away a second membrane. Both eyes were exposed now, identically blood-red, each with two identical Tomoe.

She spun the knife in her hand, gripped it in reverse, and charged toward Melton.

The remaining thugs instinctively blocked her path to Melton. The first slashed at her with his blade. Mila ducked beneath it, stepped between his legs with her right foot, and drove her dagger upward through the arm holding his weapon.

The man screamed and released his knife. Mila had already pulled her blade from his arm, then slashed open the throat of another thug on her right.

She slipped through the gaps in the crowd, her knife flashing from side to side in her hand. Every strike landed on a throat, wrist, or the hollow behind a knee—either fatal or enough to cripple any chance of retaliation.

Melton ran backward, sweat soaking through the back of his three-piece suit. As he ran, he shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice rising into a shrill crack.

"Zager! Bring the men out, now!"

Roy cut down the last thug standing in his way. He swept his gaze across the hall. All twenty-odd thugs lay sprawled across the carpet.

Some twitched. Some did not move at all. The dark red patterned carpet grew stickier with every step. He looked toward Mila.

Mila crouched before the dealer curled up beside the table leg. The dealer still held the posture from when her head had struck it, loose hair covering her entire face. Her shoulders had stopped shaking, and she looked utterly hollowed out.

Mila reached out and lightly touched her shoulder with the back of her hand. Her voice was so low that only the two of them could hear it. "What's your name?"

The dealer's shoulders suddenly drew tight. After a long while, her face emerged through the gaps in her hair. Her eyes first fell upon the blood splattered across Mila's collar, then slowly rose to meet those blood-red eyes. A strangled sound escaped her throat, and she curled up even tighter.

Mila did not get the chance to speak again.

A heavy thud came from the casino entrance, making even the door hinges shudder.

Then the doors were smashed inward from outside. A figure stumbled in, rolled twice across the carpet, and lay face-down without moving. Then someone else walked in.

It was Damian, still holding Roy and Mila's daggers.

Roy took his knife and slid it into his belt. "Big brother, what are you doing here?"

Damian swept his gaze around the hall. "I came looking for Edwin and Morris. Ando told me they were at this place." He glanced down at the people lying by his feet. "What about you two?"

Roy tilted his chin toward Mila. "We came to cause Melton some trouble."

Following his gaze, Damian looked over. Mila was still crouched in front of the dealer, but she stood after seeing Damian enter. The dealer had curled into a ball and did not dare raise her head.

Before they could say another word, a door at the back of the hall opened.

Melton emerged through it, followed by a group of people. They were not the thugs in black vests.

These people wore all manner of clothing. Some were bare-chested, some wore leather vests, and some had rows of pistols hanging from their waists. They bore scars, cigarettes dangling from their lips, and carried no standard-issue daggers. Their weapons were broad-bladed machetes, grappling hooks, and rapiers.

They were pirates. Their leader stepped out from the crowd.

He was half a head shorter than Damian, yet his shoulders were a full circle broader. A blood-red handprint was tattooed on his bald head, its five fingers stretching from his forehead to the crown. Half his left ear was missing. It did not look as though it had been sliced off by a blade, but rather torn away by brute force with some blunt object. After healing, the wound had left behind a twisted mass of scar tissue.

A blood-red handprint was tattooed on his bald head, its five fingers covering the entire crown. A broad-bladed dagger hung at his waist.

He swept a glance over the hall, then grinned at Melton. "Your security is pathetic." He pointed at the thugs strewn across the floor. "A few brats can wreck the place?"

Melton's hand shook with rage. His white handkerchief had vanished somewhere, and sweat ran down from his temples.

He pointed at Mila's eyes. "How are they ordinary brats? Look at their eyes!"

Zager shifted his gaze from the floor to Mila's face. He narrowed his eyes, then looked at Roy, then Damian.

Three people. Three pairs of blood-red eyes.

The corners of his mouth dipped as if he were weighing the matter. He turned back to Melton. "What's the price for this job?"

"We'll give you this month's entire revenue!" Melton blurted out without a moment's thought.

Zager burst into laughter. It rolled from deep in his throat, low and rough, like an iron barrel rumbling over stone slabs. "Good, good, good." He raised a finger and pointed behind himself. "Melton, I'm taking one of those little canaries you keep too."

Melton's mouth opened, then closed. He gritted his teeth. "Fine."

Mila's gaze turned cold.

Zager drew the broad-bladed dagger from his waist and raised it over his head. Behind him, the pirates drew their weapons in unison. Pistol hammers clicked back, and machete blades reflected a cold gleam beneath the wall lamps.

Zager slashed his blade downward, its tip pointing at the three people in the center of the hall.

"Boys! Show Melton the might of the Bloodhand Pirates!"

The pirates shouted as they charged. Their footsteps made no muffled sounds against the carpet, yet they felt heavier than any thud. More than twenty people stomped across the same rug, the vibrations traveling from the floor into the table legs. The chips left on the tables trembled faintly.