Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

voice blared over a handheld microphone, loud and commanding.
    Ilya, who had been striding up to the office, paused, holding his breath. Joley could turn the crowd ugly with one tone of her voice. She slowly turned back, shading her eyes with her hand, and a small smile broke out. With Joley, that was like watching the sun break free.
    'RJ. I see you're back again. You just can't seem to stay away.'
    'I follow where sin and debauchery take me so I might be an instrument of good. Had you been following the path of righteousness, no evil would have befallen you.'
    The crowd booed and stomped their feet. Joley held up her hand for silence. Ilya held his breath. She held them in her palm, didn't the Reverend see that? Hear it? She was magic on a stage. She probably didn't even realize how much of her gift she utilized onstage as she performed, but her voice was a powerful weapon and it definitely could incite an ugly riot. He knew the power of sound, he'd used it more than once to hypnotize, incite, or to seduce. Survival was everything, and any and all weapons were exploited.
    'No, sir, that was a good old-fashioned accident. They happen all time. These people have worked all week, and they're here to have a good time and enjoy themselves, that's all. So you sit down and let's get on with the fun.'
    The Reverend sat - and that more than anything showed the power Joley wielded with her voice.
    As the band swung into a number, Ilya made his way into the office where security held two men. They were much younger than he'd first thought, and both looked scared. He made them even more terrified by leaning up against the desk, folding his arms and staring at them in silence. One of the security guards handed him the two IDs, showing one was eighteen and the other twenty.
    Ilya nodded his head toward the door and the guards left, leaving him alone with the two kids. In silence he pulled on thin leather gloves as he deliberately glanced around the room as if looking for cameras, making certain that the two young men looked as well.
    The younger of the two, Raymond Silver, was the one who had planted the charge. He cleared his throat and shifted anxiously when Ilya's cold gaze settled on him. The boy kept sending frightened looks to his friend. The silence stretched and lengthened.
    'Look, man,' Raymond finally burst out with. T was just telling those dudes. That wasn't supposed to happen. It was only supposed to rock the platform and unbalance her, not break like that. A guy paid us a hundred a piece to put the device there. He even gave us the tickets for those seats and showed us on a drawing where to place it. He was filming it for the Internet. You know, where they play all the videos.'
    The other boy, Tony Morano, grinned. 'I'll bet it turns out cool.'
    Ilya reached out, his hand a blur of motion, slapping the kid hard enough to rock him back on his heels. The blow was fast, vicious and shocking, the sound loud in the small confines of the room. Tony staggered and fell against the desk.
    'I guess you didn't notice that Miss Drake was injured.' Ilya kept his voice low and calm, completely at odds with the blow.

    'You can't hit me,' Tony yelled, wiping the blood from his mouth. 'I could sue you. This is police brutality, man.'
    Ilya caught him by the throat, again the movement so fast the boy never saw it coming. Ilya yanked him off his feet and slammed him against the door, a foot off the ground, simply holding him there by his throat, while the kid's heels drummed against the wood.
    Again he used a calm, mild, unhurried voice. 'I guess you didn't hear me, Mr. Morano. I said Miss Drake was injured. A proper response would have been to say you're sorry and that you hope it isn't a bad injury.' Ilya ignored the gasping for breath, the ragged, desperate choking and gagging as the boy turned color. Ilya shifted slightly so he could look at Raymond. 'Don't you agree that would have been a better response, Mr. Silver?'
    Raymond nodded desperately over and over, backing around the desk to put it between them.
    Ilya allowed Tony to drop to the ground, releasing him abruptly and not at all gently. Tony fell to the floor, holding his throat, coughing and sputtering.
    'Let's try again, Mr. Morano.' The voice never changed. It remained casual and matter-of-fact, almost friendly. T am not the police. I don't arrest people and I have no intention of turning you over to the police. They can find you all by themselves if there's anything