The Shadows of Stormclyffe Hall by Lauren Smith Page B

slumped down to the ground. His eyelids fluttered, and he huffed out a breath. Thank God the man was alive. The women who had been watching the fight eagerly started to back away at the sight of the unconscious man.
    “Get out of here!” Jane shouted at them and stepped toward them menacingly. She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling the police!” She dialed the number but didn’t hit send. The last thing Bastian needed was police swarming him if they could help it. It would only further blacken his name, and he’d probably end up in the local papers. If she could get the women to leave, it might break up the fight.
    The woman, Candi, didn’t move, even as her friends scattered like mice. A cold malevolence gleamed in her eyes as she put her hands on her hips and glared at Jane.
    “He’s mine. He’ll always be mine.” The tone of her voice changed from silky to raspy, as though two different voices struggled for control of her throat.
    “What?” Her skin crawled as she stared at the other woman. It reminded her of how she’d felt a short while earlier when the woman at the end of the street had been looking at her. It made her feel as though hundreds of spiders scuttled along her flesh and crawled into the pit of her stomach.
    Candi blinked, and the look of seething hatred was gone, replaced by inebriated confusion. She turned and ran back into the pub. The second she was gone, Jane focused on the fight again. Three men were still throwing punches with a vengeance, but Bastian was holding up okay so far. He wouldn’t be able to stay on top of the fight much longer. Jane dove into the fray.

Chapter Five
    Pain exploded in Bastian’s skull as one of the men backhanded him. It would only take a few more strikes like these, and he’d go down. He had been worried a confrontation like this would happen, but he’d gone on this fool’s errand simply to spend more time with Jane.
    One of the men lunged for him as two more circled, waiting like wolves. Bastian slid sideways to avoid the man that dove for them, his feet skidding along the concrete. The move cost him greatly as he stumbled and fell. Instinct had him rolling back up onto the balls of his feet in a squat position, but he was vulnerable. A booted foot dug into his ribs in a savage kick, and his lungs expelled every breath of air in him. Fractures of pain shot through his chest. It took every ounce of willpower to gather his strength and tackle the man who had kicked him by grabbing the man’s legs and dragging him to the ground.
    Jane’s frightened cry sent his senses scattering as fear for what was happening to her took over. Suddenly she was flying over his crouched body, tripping over him really, as she tried to escape the grasp of another of the men. She recovered from her fall and scrambled backward. The man pursuing her wasn’t so lucky. When he collided with Bastian, Bastian pivoted to the side and grabbed the man’s grubby plaid shirt, using the man’s momentum to propel him forward and down. He flew face first into the pavement, and then he didn’t move. In the dim lights from the pub, Bastian could just make out the dark smear of blood near his head. The fallen man moaned but didn’t get up.
    “Jane?” Bastian called out as he struggled to get up, scraping his palms over the cold concrete.
    The man Bastian had tackled earlier still had fight left in him and managed one last punch to Bastian’s eye before Bastian laid him flat with knockout blow to his temple. A feminine groan ahead of him was his only hint as to where she’d landed. He found her next to her suitcase, bending over it as she studied its ruined state. He could barely make out the scene, but he saw that her groan was one of frustration and anger. The canvas suitcase was lying in a pool of water where faint streetlights glinted off the shallow pool. No doubt her clothes and any other items inside were soaked. It was his fault they’d been attacked. He couldn’t set