Night Beyond The Night by Joss Ware Page A

Elliott missed seeing or hearing him, unless he went out of the decrepit building a different way? So was he purposely sneaking out, trying not to get caught—or had it simply been a half-sleepy young man looking for a place to relieve himself?
    Hah. She didn’t think that for a minute, though she was certain he’d try and sell it that way. Geoff might lack some common sense, but he wasn’t a complete fool. In fact, the kid was pretty smart, even if he had a misplaced sense of immortality.
    The other youngsters had awakened by now, and crowded around Jade, watching the battle below. Just as the last
ganga
found himself engaged by the tall black-skinned friend of Elliott, Jade caught sight of the figures, lurching from around a shadowy corner onto the overgrown street below.
    Oh God. More
gangas.
There were at least fifteen of them . . . maybe more.
    Wishing she had something to throw, some weapon, Jade leaned forward, half out the window, and screamed, “Elliott! Behind you!” But her shout was lost in the sudden swarm of confrontation, and she found herself gripping the rotted edge of a wooden windowsill in fear. Suddenly, it didn’t look quite as likely that they’d walk away the victors. Five men versus fifteen—no, twenty!—
gangas
?
    But as she watched them scatter and turn to face the onslaught of a small
ganga
platoon, Jade relaxed her grip—just a bit—on the windowsill. No panic, no desperation . . . just capable, fierce intensity as the band of men fought back against the moaning creatures.
    They possessed speed and agility, strength, and an innate skill that seemed to lead them through the confrontation. She’d never seen anything like it—the way a single man could take on three or four of the
gangas
, half again his size, stunning and beating them off, holding his own as they staggered back for more. The weakness of the
gangas
was that they were too big and awkward for more than one to get close at a time, or to coordinate their attacks, so the men were able to keep them at a distance by beating them back, one by one. And occasionally stabbing or crushing the skull to kill them.
    Jade noticed that all five of them—no, four . . . she didn’t see Quent, the bandanna’d one—had grace and strength, but it was Elliott who drew her attention, who had her lungs filling and catching, her heart pounding. Even from above and in jinky light, despite the fact that he was crowded in by the large creatures, she could easily identify him . . . and couldn’t look away.
    Her fingers began to uncurl slowly, loosening with optimism as she watched Elliott spin around with power and grace. She even forgot to shout suggestions to him, she was so caught up in the view. He held some long pole, thicker than her wrist, that he used like a baseball bat, then like a sword, then like a battering ram, shoving, slamming, whipping it at his attackers.
    Just because watching him fight—all those muscles and that speed and wow, the way he whipped that pole around and sent
ganga
brains flying—made her all flushed and warm didn’t mean he was a good guy. Nope.
    And . . . oh, my, a desperate
ganga
had torn his shirt. As it fell away in tatters, Jade could see the fluid slide of his pecs and shoulder muscles outlined in the moonlight. And she could tell that, once and for all, he had no crystals.
    A blossom of relief washed over her. He wasn’t a Stranger.
    Now she really wanted to get back to Envy as quickly as possible. Not only to make her gig and confirm that Theo was all right, but also to tell him and Lou about Elliott and his friends.
    If there was anyone who would be able to help them in their fight against the Strangers, it might just be Elliott and his equally fascinating friends.
    Quent felt something touching his face. A hand, warm and alive. Gentle. Scented with dirt and something organic that he couldn’t identify. He turned his face, and the hand slid away.
    He opened his eyes to find someone bending over him.