Page 104 of The Darkness is Calling

“Don’t move. Help is on the way.”

“I don’t want it, Sasha,” I say hoarsely, trying again to stand, this time with their help. “Get me to Albert Hall. Now.”

I blink several times, and my vision clears almost completely.

“You need a doctor,” Yaroslav snaps, visibly worried. “You’re wounded.”

More Birds of Darkness appear around us, blocking anyone looking our way, confiscating phones or whatever devices they have in hand.

But I feel my patience evaporating completely, because, apparently, they no longer understand the language I am speaking.

“I have to get to her.” My voice is like thunder, but my brothers look even more worried.

“There’s no point going to Albert Hall. The recital is almost over,” Yaroslav says in a grave tone. “Dimitri doesn’t know what to tell her...”

“Nothing.” This time, my voice is loaded with rage and frustration. “He tells her nothing about what happened.”

“Come to the car and let the boys handle what’s here,” Sasha intervenes, serious.

As I study them, I realize they don’t look much better, though neither of them has any visible injuries.

The eldest brother gets behind the wheel, leaving me in the back seat, while Sasha sits beside me with a first-aid kit in his arms.

“Where are you hurt?”

Even though it feels like everywhere, I try to give him the most concrete answer I can. “Shoulder. Did the bullet go through?”

He looks behind me, and I grimace a little when he moves me.

“Yes. That’s good. But that river of blood running down the back of your neck, what’s that from? Did you boys play with paint while you were in the car?”

I bring my hand to the back of my neck and touch the area I can feel is swollen. It hurts like hell, and when I look at my fingers, they are stained with blood.

From previous experience, I know it will pass quickly after two aspirins and some vodka.

“They hit me when they were taking me to the car. Are you two OK?”

“We’re better than you,” Sasha answers while trying to get me out of my clothes and bandage me temporarily until the doctor sees me. “The rest of the Birds arrived right after they took you and started clean everything up.”

“Did you catch anyone alive?”

“Two. Wounded, but alive.”

“For now,” Yaroslav mutters in a dark tone.

“How many men did we lose?”

“Eight.”

I curse through my teeth.

“They were twice our number and had military-grade weapons,” Yar explains.

“Origin?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Every movement is agony, but my mind goes back to Katya. “I want to see her.”