I took stock of my situation. My shoulder blades were pressed against a cold concrete floor. The skirt of my dress was twisted around my hips. But I wasn't bound in any way. And as I flexed my arms and legs, nothing seemed to be broken or otherwise damaged. Even my wooden bracelet was right where it should be, dangling from my wrist. "I'm good," I whispered, and rolled onto my knees so I could find him.
It about broke my heart when I did.
Courage and his brother sat slumped against one of the long walls, the two boys separated by about a yard of distance. Alarmingly, their wrists were shackled to the wall beside their heads. The short chains allowed them to either sit on the floor or stand against the wall. But further than that, they couldn't move. And the large metal cuffs that hobbled their ankles would make sure they didn't go anywhere fast even if they did manage to free their wrists.
But there was more bad news.
Because there were a bunch more chains dangling from the wall. So, it looked like the Olanders planned to expand their collection. And that didn't exactly bode well for the rest of Courage's family. In fact, the whole situation was a lot worse than anything I'd been expecting. Maybe Defiance was right and maybe none of us were going to die. But right now, it looked like there was a good chance we'd never see the light of day again.
Defiance was shaking his head and blinking, like he was dealing with the same sort of cobwebs that were clogging my brain. His eyes focused on me.
"Short chains," I observed.
He tilted his head and peered at the place where the chains were fixed to the wall. "I guess they didn't want us strangling anyone."
"Would you do that?" I asked.
"Without hesitation," the two boys answered together.
Going by their response, we were in some serious trouble.
"How do you feel?" Courage asked me.
I checked out my shoulder and found that the dart had been removed, leaving a small hole in my jacket. "Alive," I answered. "And thankful."
His back slid up the wall until he was standing. "Come here," he whispered, looking heart-breakingly handsome in the shadowed room.
I clambered to my feet and stumbled over to him, falling into his chest on my wobbly feet.
What happened to your ear?" I whispered, reaching my fingers toward the thick swollen flesh then stopping because I was afraid I'd hurt him.
He lifted his shoulders. "One of the guards has a hard one for me."
"You mean a hard on," I said, smiling despite the desperation of the situation.
"Aye," he sighed. "That too. A hard on. And a very long gun."
His chains chinked as he reached for my hips and steadied me. He tried to wrap his arms around me but the chains wouldn't let him. He couldn't hold me and I could tell it bothered him.
I moved my hands to his waist and gave him a gentle squeeze. "I wonder why they didn't chain me, the way they chained you guys."
"They tried to," he explained. "But your wrists and ankles were too small for the shackles. In the end, they decided a young lass wasn't much of a threat."
I flicked my head toward the empty space behind me. "What do you suppose those hooks are for?"
A flicker of dread shadowed his gaze. "I'd rather not think about it."
"Are you…afraid? Of what might happen to us?"
"I'm afraid for you," he murmured and pressed his lips to my forehead before shooting a scorching glare at his brother, still slumped on the floor. "You shouldn't have brought her," he growled, his fingers stroking gently against the soft fabric of my dress. "What were you thinking?"
Defiance sighed and lifted a shackled hand toward us. "I was thinking she might be able to help."
"Because she has red hair?" Courage muttered. "Well, that was a bad call, brother. Because her powers aren't very strong."
"Why do you say that?" Defiance drawled.
"Because she tried to heal my face but it didn't work."
Defiance turned his head and squinted up at his brother. "Her powers brought us here."
Courage's fingers stopped their gentle search. "What do you mean? How?"
Defiance nodded his head in my direction. "She can scry."
Leaning away from me, Courage looked down and searched my eyes. "You were able to locate me?"
"N-Not exactly," I answered and looked to Defiance for help.
"She found the people who captured you," he announced and paused a few seconds to let his words sink in.
But Courage just frowned back at his brother with a puzzled look in his eyes.
Defiance sighed again. "You're not going to want to hear this, Courage, but Lorissa's a bad witch."
"A bad witch?" Courage exclaimed, looking first shell-shocked then angry that his brother would even suggest such a thing. "That's impossible!"
"That's what I thought," Defiance muttered, sounding defensive. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself."
Courage shook his head, his lean frame tightening with tension. "She's too nice to be a bad witch," he shouted.
"I agree," Defiance answered. "But facts are facts, little brother."
Finally, Courage moved his gaze back to my face. His expression softened as soon as his eyes met mine. "How is this possible?" he asked gently.
Gazing up into the crystalline light of his eyes, I wondered how I could tell him. Because he wasn't a stranger anymore. And he wasn't just a hired hand. He was a lot more than that.
I wasn't sure when things had changed. Maybe it had happened gradually, as we worked together out in the fields, when I saw the effort he put into every task and how efficient he was. Maybe it was when he saved me from the tornado…or when he kissed me afterward. Maybe it was the way he'd handled Jed—how he'd had the confidence to ignore the big loud bully. Or maybe it was just the things he'd said earlier that day, and the way he'd made me feel when he said them. Like I was special. Like we had a connection.
I didn't know what it was, but somewhere along the way Courage had become an important part of my life. And when he found out what I'd done, he probably wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore.
"I'm a bad person," I whispered. "As well as a bad witch."
A soft smile touched his lips. "I'm a gargoyle, Lissa. I'd know if you were a bad person. And you aren't. I know you. You're one of the sweetest souls I've ever met. So, tell me why you think you're not."
"I can't," I moaned and hid my face in the hollow of his shoulder.
His chains jingled as his hands moved to my waist. "Why not?"
"Because if I tell you, you'll hate me," I said, my voice muffled against the leather that stretched across his chest.
"I could never hate you," he breathed into my hair.
"You'll be disappointed in me," I argued miserably. "You'll never want to see me again."
"Lissa," he said. "Look at me."
I burrowed more deeply into his shoulder.
"Lissa, honey. These damn chains won't let me reach your face. Do me a favor and look at me."
Biting my lip, I forced my gaze to meet his.
The soft light in his eyes was kind. "Don't you understand, Lissa? I'm yours," he whispered. "I'll always be yours."
I nodded up at him. Then I shook my head.
"C'mon," he coaxed with a gentle smile. "How bad could it be?"
"It's bad," I sniffed.
"Wait a minute," he said in slow words, an expression of deep thought taking over his features. "How…old were you when you did this thing that makes you think you're a bad person?"
"Nine," I muttered. "Then again when I was twelve."
"And did you know about your powers when these bad things happened?"
"No!" I exclaimed. "I would never have wished those things on purpose. I was just…being a dumb kid. I didn't know anything bad would happen."
"Then it's not your fault," he soothed.
I stared up at him, my heart ready to explode with emotion. He was being so sweet and supportive and I really didn't deserve
his faith in me. "But you still don't know what I did."
"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "At least, it doesn't matter to me. But you should tell me about it because it matters to you. And you'll feel better if you talk about it."
"Let's…sit down," I suggested, my voice more than a little tremulous. And finding a place on the cold concrete floor between the two boys, I told them how I'd become a bad witch.
Chapter Ten
I was in the fourth grade the first time it happened. One of the girls in my class was having a birthday party. And I wasn't invited even though it seemed like ever other girl in my grade was going to be there. I don't know why I was excluded but it hurt.
And as I straddled one of the wooden bleacher benches during gym class, I got to sulking and wished Caroline and all her friends would choke on the birthday cake at the party on the weekend. Well, that didn't happen. But every girl at the party did get sick. Either it was food poisoning or they all shared some kinda stomach flu. And our class was basically a girl-free zone for the next week.
Okay. So, that could have been a coincidence. At least, that's what I told myself. Until a few years later in middle school.
A bunch of us were waiting in front of the school for our rides. Mom pulled up to the curb in our old pickup…right behind a big new SUV driven by Theo's dad. I tucked my Tech. Ed. project under my arm and reached for the door handle. And as Theo and his friends were piling into the fancy black vehicle with its gold hubcaps, Theo called out something really mean about our truck. I'm not sure all what he said but I know he included the word "junker".
I saw his dad dust the top of his head but the damage was done. I was ashamed we didn't have something nicer. Old Blue had seen its birth in the eighties. And the only thing that had kept it running since then was the automobile CPR that my father performed on a regular basis. It was a perfectly serviceable farm truck, perfectly good for hauling hay. But it was also a bit of a junker.
Scowling at the worn cloth seats in the rattletrap truck, I smoothed my palm over the polished surface of the wooden box I'd made in Tech Ed. Then I wished that snobby old SUV would run itself right into a ditch. And break itself up good.
And that didn't happen either. At least, not right away. But about a week later, Theo's dad got into an accident in that very same vehicle. And spent a week in the hospital.
"And ever since that day, I've never wished anything bad on anyone," I finished in a low voice. I sat with my legs stretched on the floor, my hands in my lap and my eyes fixed on the toes of my boots. "And I've never missed a day of church."
I couldn't look at Courage's face. I was too afraid of what I might see there. Instead, I shot a quick glance at Defiance because I figured he was the sort of guy who wouldn't cut me much slack. And I wanted to get the really bad news out of the way first.
But Defiance just looked undecided, like he was weighing the evidence and wasn't ready to pass judgment.
"And you've carried the guilt all this time," Courage asked. "All by yourself?"
When I turned my head to look at him, there was a sympathetic smile on his lips. He didn't look horrified or disgusted or disappointed. I pulled in a long breath I'd been holding for I don't know how long. "I couldn't exactly tell anyone. I didn't want to tell anyone. First, they wouldn't have believed me. And second, if they had believed me, they'd have found out what a terrible person I was."
"I'm sorry," he said, leaning close and brushing his lips across my cheek. "I'm sorry you had to do that alone. I wish someone could have been there for you. I wish I could have been there for you." His mouth touched mine. "You didn't do anything that any other little kid hasn't done."
"Maybe," I allowed. "But my wishes came true."
He nodded. "That was too bad. It would never have happened if you hadn't been touching wood."
"But I was!"
"It could have been worse," he pointed out quietly. "Far worse. So, you must be thankful for that."
I searched his face, wishing I could forgive myself as easily as he had.
"Can you do something for me?" he asked.
I nodded, feeling like—at that point in my life—I would have gladly jumped off a cliff for him.
"Can you forgive yourself and be thankful that nobody was seriously hurt?"
"I'll try," I answered.
"Good lass," he said, and kissed me again.
I pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. It was amazing how much better I felt after sharing my secret with Courage and his brother. Their reaction to my confession made me feel like maybe I wasn't a monster after all. But right now we needed to focus on getting out of the basement prison. I lifted my wrists. "I'm not tied up like you guys. What can I do to help?"
"Why don't you look around?" Defiance suggested. "See if you can find something we might be able to use as a weapon."
So, I stood and headed for the opening in the wall at the end of the room.
"I don't think you'll find anything in there," Courage offered.
He was right. The bathroom was stripped down to the bare essentials. No mirror that could be broken into pieces. Not even a cover on the water tank above the toilet. Not even a water tank, for that matter. It must have been installed behind the wall. All in all, the room looked like something you'd expect to find in a jail cell. The fixtures were made of metal rather than porcelain and they were bolted to the concrete slab. Maybe one of the boys was strong enough to rip the pedestal sink from the floor but that wasn't something I'd be doing anytime soon, even if I was strong enough to stack hay.
Back in the main room, I kept my eyes open for any signs of cameras or microphones that might be keeping tabs on us. But there didn't appear to be anything mounted on the walls or ceiling of the long bare prison. Maybe our captors hadn't had a chance to install them yet. Or maybe the Olanders didn't want their security force to know too much about the young men they were holding captive in their basement.
Creeping up the stairs, I checked the door but it was locked…which wasn't too surprising.
"They caught up to me at the ranch supply store," Courage was telling his brother as I settled down between the boys again. "Three men and a woman. I knew they were a bad lot but there wasn't much I could do to avoid them. I didn't expect them to shoot me with that…sleeping potion."
Defiance grunted.
"The guards wear some sort of communication system on their heads. They can talk to each other."
"Headsets with microphones," I interpreted.
"So far, they've kept their distance," Courage continued. "Except for the one who hit me with his gun."
Defiance eyed his brother's ear and snarled. He looked as if he'd happily take someone apart if he got half a chance.
"The guns are loaded with those sleeping darts," Courage added. "So, they aren't planning on killing anybody. But if you make a move they don't like, they can send you off to dreamland for thirty minutes."
Defiance lifted his shackled wrists. "Who carries the keys?"
"The woman carries a set," Courage answered. "They're hanging on her belt. I don't know if any of her men have keys."
"Tell me about the woman," Defiance commanded.
"Long white hair. Black eyes. Incredibly ugly," Courage answered.
"The woman is Olivia Olander," Defiance growled. "What about the men? Did one of them look like he could be Olivia's brother—crazy tall with long white hair and black eyes?"
"Nay," Courage answered. "I haven't seen that one yet."
Defiance appeared to think about that for a while before he said, "What can I tell you about Olivia that you don't know?"
"I don't know much," Courage admitted. "I don't even know why she kidnapped me in the first place."
"She wants our venom," Defiance muttered, and told Courage about the Olander heiress—how Olivia was half harpy and wanted a reserve of venom for herself as well as a large supply for the new beauty product she was developing.
"Half harpy, huh?" C
ourage mused. "I should have guessed. That would certainly explain why she's so strong."
"Strong?" Defiance questioned his brother.
"Stronger than me," he sighed.
"Stronger than both of us?" Defiance asked sharply.
"Maybe not," he answered slowly.
And for the next several seconds, the brothers shared a thoughtful look. But I don't know what was going on inside their heads. Because their chains were short and the distance between the boys was too large for them to reach out together and trap someone between them.
I shivered and snuggled into Courage's side. "Aren't you guys cold?" I asked, realizing that neither of them were wearing a hoodie or jacket.
"Our wings keep us warm," Defiance answered absently.
"Tell me about my family," Courage finally said. "Did Force and Chaos find their way back to the pack?"
"Aye," Defiance answered, and told us the stories of how the two gargoyles had been reunited with the family. "Victor, Reason, Chaos and Force are living in a small city called Boulder. Valor, Dare, Havoc and I are living…somewhere else. I won't tell you where. That way, if Olivia asks you, you won't be able to answer her."
Courage nodded his understanding.
Then Defiance brought Courage up to date on the rest of his cousins and brother. "Valor was the first to land in America, locked in his stone form and packed in a tall wooden box like the rest of us. But a young lass named MacKenzie opened his crate. And their story might have ended right there except that she got herself into trouble."
"What do you mean?" Courage asked.
"Valor didn't plan to reveal himself to her. But when a heavy box fell on her, he made the change so he could help her."
"Really?" Courage said. "How did that turn out?"
"She's wearing his rune," Defiance answered.
Courage accepted this news solemnly.
"What does that mean?" I asked, feeling like I had missed something significant.
"It means…that MacKenzie's his lass," Defiance answered. "After she built up a resistance to his venom, Valor used his barbs to mark his rune on her arm."
"So…is that like the gargoyle equivalent of giving a girl your school ring?" I asked.
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