The Numbered Corpses (Elysium #4)

Chapter Thirteen

Viper swayed on his feet, scanning the scene. His bloodshot eyes blinked unevenly as he licked his thin, chapped lips, reminding Trinket of the frogs Booker had been dissecting in his laboratory. However, when he took a step towards them with a dangerous glint in his eye, he seemed more like a bear, ready to tear apart and devour anyone who got in his way. And not the sort of devouring Mrs. Portch was so fond of.

"If you blasted gibfaces were fighting again, I'm gonna rip your ugly heads off," Viper spat as he drew closer to the men on the ground.

They scrambled to their feet, dutifully avoiding their leader's gaze.

"Every bloody time I turn my back, you lot are mafficking and beating each other senseless," Viper went on. "I have half a mind to drown y'all in your own vomit."

His men still wouldn't look him in the eye. His lip lifted in a snarl, revealing a single black tooth amidst his yellowing ones. As he turned, he caught sight of Daphne. His brow furrowed as he looked her up and down for far longer than necessary. A wobbly smile stretched his lips. Daphne held her boot up like a weapon, her expression steely enough to sharpen a knife.

"Bunch of miscreants, acting up in front of a lady. Ma'am, I offer you my sincerest apologies for any trouble my boys might've caused. Let me make it up to you with a drink. My treat."

He grabbed Daphne around the waist and attempted to kiss her, but she raised her boot and whacked him hard on the back of the head, knocking his bowler hat to the ground. Trinket gasped and clutched Booker's jacket, terrified of what Viper might do.

Surprisingly, he laughed. "A bricky girl, eh? I like 'em with spirit."

Again, he tried to kiss her, and though she resisted, his strength was more than she could handle. Booker finally stepped forward and grabbed the thug's shoulder. "Unhand her this instant."

Viper spun around, still holding Daphne by the waist. "This ain't your business, addlepate."

Recognition dawned on his face, and he narrowed his eyes. Daphne took this opportunity to elbow him in the gut and escape to where Booker and Trinket were standing. Trinket took hold of her hand and squeezed it tight. Viper cursed loudly and turned his venomous glare on Daphne before focusing again on Booker.

"You," he growled, pointing a bloated finger at him. "This is all your fault."

"You're the one who took it upon yourself to grope a woman you've never even met," Booker responded.

"You're the reason I sacked Scales. If it wasn't for you and your big mouth, none of this would've happened."

Booker went stiff, and Trinket prayed he wouldn't lose his temper. "So you'd rather have him trying to steal your gang from you?" he asked.

"My men've been at each other's throats for days now. I've nearly shot a few of 'em just to get some peace and quiet."

"Sounds like you never really had a handle on them to begin with. Maybe Scales wasn't the only one who felt he was the true leader of the gang."

Viper clenched his teeth and gave a horrifying growl. "You pigheaded—"

He went to swing his fist at Booker's face, but before he could even gain momentum, Daphne thrust her outstretched fingers at his throat. Viper let out a strangled cry and fell back a step. Daphne pulled Trinket and Booker away from the scene and back towards home. They didn't stop until they were at the front door, and once Booker managed to get the key in the lock, all three of them stumbled inside.

"Good Lord, why do our nights out always end like this?" Booker panted, sliding down to the floor after resetting the lock.

Trinket and Daphne were seated on the stairs, trying to catch their breath. "Why would the Mice be fighting amongst themselves?" Trinket asked, gripping the railing and leaning her head against the cool wood.