“In your dreams,” I managed to hiss at him.

He laughed. “There is only one answer, darlin‘, and that is whatever I say it is. Now come here, or else.”

I decided I’d rather have the “or else.” The man who’d seemed so attractive when I’d first bumped into him, my potential hero, now was grotesquely ugly to me. His face was splattered with Gordon’s blood.

I tried to pull away from Stringy-hair, but he held tight to my wrists, leering at me.

“Nice try,” he said, grinning.

I shrugged at him, then kneed him hard in the groin. He let go of my wrists immediately. I glanced over my shoulder at White-teeth, then, ignoring the searing pain in my ankle, darted away from them.

While Stringy-hair moaned in agony, Burly made an annoyed noise and said, “It’s never easy, is it?” Then boots slapped against the pavement as they started to chase after me.

Everything looked different late at night, and there was barely any light to help me figure out where the hell I was. I knew the Bloor Viaduct, a tall bridge that went over the Don River, wasn’t too far away. If I could get to the other side of the bridge, I could find a phone, find somebody who could help me. How much longer I could keep running was the question. My lungs burned, and with my twisted ankle I was doing more of a fast limp than an all-out run. Also, my feet, without the protection of any shoes, were screaming for me to stop. But I knew if I stopped, that would be it. They’d kill me like they’d killed Gordon. Or worse. I shuddered when I thought of how that stringy-haired freak had leered at me. I had to keep running. There was no other choice. I was actually surprised the men hadn’t caught up to me. In fact, I didn’t even hear them behind me anymore. My pace slowed, but only for a moment. I braved a quick glance over my shoulder. I was now in the middle of a park. I could hear traffic, so that meant I wasn’t far from Bloor Street, but I couldn’t see anything but trees surrounding me.