Alchemystic by Anton Strout Read Free Book Online Page A

report—that was, if I ever got to make one. He pulled his hand away, tugging my hair as he settled the other around my waist.
    “Where is it?” the voice hissed hot in my ear. “We’ve been looking so very long.”
    The man was talking crazy.
Looking so long?
Was it someone I knew? Had someone followed me all the way from the Y in Tribeca? My mind barely had a moment to process it, adrenaline and fear taking over. My whole body shook, a combination of that fear mixed with anger and rage. “My wallet is in my purse,” I managed to stammer out. “Just take it and go.
Please.
”
    “I’m not interested in your money,” he said, pulling me closer.
    Panic rose in my chest, my blood pumping hard. There was only one thing someone like this guy wanted when money wasn’t the answer. I fought against his hold on my hair, even if it meant I had to lose a painful chunk of it to get free, buthis grip was too strong to break. His other arm moved out of sight, and when it came back an ornate knife with a carved white hilt was in his hand. He pressed it to my throat.
    “I don’t want
that
, either,” he said, just as quiet as before. “Just tell me where it is.”
    I gave up struggling. “I—I don’t know what it is you’re talking about,” I said.
    “Wrong answer,” the man said. His body tensed, the knife pressing against my throat harder. How long before it would break the skin?
    A quick look around the park told me there was no hope of rescue in sight, but thankfully, I rarely counted on others when it came to taking care of myself. Whatever this crazed lunatic had in mind, I had to get out of there. His increasing menace caused something to snap deep inside me, and all I knew was that I was determined not to be the victim here.
    I brought the heel of my Doc Martens back up behind my body, finding its mark right between the man’s legs. A half cry, half whimper escaped his lips, his hand dropping the knife as he doubled over in pain, letting go of my hair. I ran forward, not even considering going for the knife. That was the kind of thing that got people killed in the movies. Instead, I tore across the small park toward the opening in the gate, and out onto Fifteenth Street.
    I sped off, thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t wearing typical girly-girl impractical fashionista shoes, always opting for a combat boot, occasionally going for something a bit more dressy-sexy but always comfy and low-heeled. Tonight, my Docs were fine for putting some distance between my attacker and me. Fifteenth Street was deserted this time of night, but the grid of Manhattan was too much for me to traverse if I thought I’d make it to safety without taking a shortcut to get up Irving Plaza to Gramercy Park. I glanced back over my shoulder, surprised to see the lone figure closing in much faster than I expected. Turning right, I ran up an alley in the middle of the block, dodging past recycling bins and an oversized Dumpster.
    I turned left down an even tighter section of the alley.I heard my attacker close behind, causing my skin to go cold. Rounding the next corner, my heart sank. The wire mesh of an upcoming fence blocked my way, and panic took full hold of me. There was no way I could scale the fence before my attacker caught up. Still, there was no way in hell I was just going to wait there like a helpless victim, either. Without breaking stride, I pumped my legs harder and leapt at the fence in a full-on run.
    I grabbed on lower than I would have liked to, but started climbing as fast as my body could go, the wire of the fence digging cold into my palms and fingers. The sounds of my attacker farther back in the alley grew louder, although thankfully it sounded like he was still around the corner. Higher and higher I went, until I looked up at the top of the fence, stopping as my heart beat into a full panic.
    “Razor wire,” I said, my toes slipping out of the holes in the fence, letting my legs dangle, the strain in my