Page 11 - Demi-Monde Winter

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She had to forget everything but the need to run. Forget t
duplicitous, scheming, treacherous, underhand, slimy son
bitch Burlesque Bandstand.
Bastard.
She ran until her heart pounded in her chest, until her
throbbed with pain, until her lungs felt as though they
on fire. She ran hard, keeping, as best she could, to the rut
the road left by the rubber-covered wheels of a steamer, des
ately trying not to leave tracks in the freshly fallen snow. Tr
they could follow.
The sound of a hunting horn echoed behind her . . . ma
only a few streets behind her. The SS had shaken off the Su
O-Gettes. Now the Daemon Hunt was on in earnest.
Run, Norma, run!
Yes, now she was sure she could hear them. She could
the smash of the gang’s hobnailed boots snapping thro
the tight streets and along the narrow alleys that made
the Rookeries. She could hear the bellowed shouts of t
hideous, hideous man – boy, rather – Archie Clement and
screams of his pack of Blood Hounders as he flogged the
pursuit.
The leather soles of her boots skidded on cobbles patin
by a slick coating of snow, sending her tumbling into the f
gutter, sending her sliding on her knees and on her outspr
hands. The pain as the stones ripped through her skin
excruciating, but driven by adrenalin and the knowledge of
fate that awaited her if she was captured, without even pau
to inspect the damage to her body she rose to her feet
began to hobble on, sobbing with pain, desperation and ter
Get a grip, Norma.