by R. J. Blain
Arthur chuckled. “Wouldn’t know, haven’t tried.”
“Please don’t.”
Laughing, the man shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Can’t say I blame you, lady. I don’t really want to be tryin’ it myself, either. Heard about that woman the other day, poor lassie.”
I grimaced, both at his accidental use of Kenneth’s pet name for me when he was in a good mood and the reminder of Claudia’s death. “Right.”
What was I supposed to do with him? He had power, but without any idea if he could control it, it was a toss of a coin on whether or not he was suitable for the elite to deal with—or a risk to send back to the fringe.
“How often do you lose your temper, Arthur?”
Glancing in the direction of the gathered children, Arthur shrugged. “Now and again.”
Fire-breathers made odd noises, especially the strong ones I’d met, but before him, none of them sounded quite so much like a wind-whipped inferno. I shivered, following his gaze.
Happy children laughed and played, but the ones waiting for their interviews stood still and quiet, as though they waited for their turn to be executed. What would happen to the ones I rejected?
Would they return to their lives, or would the government deem them too dangerous to live? I sucked in a breath, my eyes widening. Would the elite go so far as to remove threats to themselves by killing kids?
Arthur’s attention focused on me. “You understand.”
“What do I understand?” I demanded, and my cheeks burned at the conflicting worry and embarrassment of having my grim thoughts reflected in my expression.
I wasn’t supposed to be so careless.
Arthur leaned towards me and whispered, “I won’t let them have the kids. Not you, not them, not anyone. But, you seem like a nice enough girl. You want to help them.”
I opened my mouth, so incredulous at his bold declaration I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Flames erupted from Arthur and surrounded me. They caged me in, and instead of the light I expected, I was engulfed in darkness.
People caught in billowing balls of fire burned, which is what should have happened to me but didn’t. My still-alive status froze me in place while I tried to figure out what was going on and why I wasn’t dead. At least I could figure out the cause easily enough; Arthur was exactly the type of man the elite worried about, and for a brief moment, I rejoiced in the fact he did what I couldn’t.
Reality reasserted its influence over me, and the waves of heat swirling around me reminded me I was supposed to be dying a fiery death. Was I like Claudia, who had been so enthralled by the glory of her flames she hadn’t noticed them consuming her until it was too late? Smoke stung my eyes, and I got to my feet, coughing and spluttering at the acrid fumes in the air.
Arthur’s flames reeked of sulfur and tasted terrible. I slapped my hand to my mouth and held my breath. If Arthur wanted to help the children, I wasn’t going to stop him. I wanted to help them, too.
But how had the dae known I wanted to help the kids? If he had read it in my expression, the police likely had recognized my thoughts, too. Before I could worry about it, I needed to get away in case he decided to turn me into a steaming pile of ash.
Then I remembered Colby. I sucked in a breath and choked on the smoke. I had set my bag, with Colby nestled inside, somewhere behind my chair. Had Arthur incinerated it? I fumbled through the darkness. Maybe I hadn’t been killed outright, but it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t breathe. I wheezed, and the air seared my lungs.
I found the strap for the bag, which seemed intact. I gave it a tug, and its weight reassured me my macaroni and cheese roommate was still inside.
“Mommy!”
I saved my breath, secured my grip on the bag with both hands, and prepared to make a run for it. Finding my way by memory would prove problematic; I had no idea which direction I was facing. I didn’t want to get caught near a burning building. Maybe the fire hadn’t killed me, but falling debris would get the job done well enough. Behind my table was a large lawn, and my best bet was to reach the open space and hope I found the edge of the firestorm before Arthur changed his mind about leaving me alive.
I shouldn’t have found the irony so funny, but a giggle tickled my throat as I dragged Colby’s bag in the direction of what I hoped was relative safety. Arthur was the exact sort of dae the elite wanted.
If Arthur could turn a shipment of steel to slag and control his flames enough to pick and choose who he killed, the elite would do anything to have him. They’d also do anything to get rid of him, if he didn’t do what they wanted when they wanted.
I would worry about Arthur later, when I wasn’t caught in the middle of his defiance. I staggered under Colby’s weight, gasping as I tripped over something I couldn’t see. I pitched forward, and someone caught me. An arm slapped over my chest, and fingers grabbed my arm in a bruising grip.
“Where do you think you’re goin’, little lassie? I’m not done with you, not yet.”
Why did I always run into the dae who thought I was theirs to control? I let go of Colby’s bag and leaned forward. When Arthur’s grip on me tightened, just like I wanted, I slammed my head backwards.
I went limp from the force of my blow, and the gusting crackle of the dae’s flames faded to utter silence.
Twelve
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only one I had.
If anyone ever found out I had managed to knock myself out trying to escape a kidnapping, I would never live it down, assuming I managed to survive the mess I was in. Not only had I failed to free myself, I had likely made Arthur’s job easier.
I had a faint memory of cracking the back of my skull into the dae’s face. The rest remained a confusing blur, which hadn’t ended well for me as far as I could tell. My head throbbed. My ears hurt worse than my head, and each time my heart beat, stabbing pain lanced down my spine all the way to my toes.
Death scared most people, myself included, but I dealt with the unknown in a simple enough way. Once dead, I wouldn’t have to worry about a whole lot, including pain.
I hurt, therefore I lived.
Maybe I wasn’t dead, but I sure as hell didn’t feel very lively. Opening my eyes was a challenge, and while I managed to crack one open, my vision was too blurry for me to make out more than a few gray blobs. I sprawled on concrete, and that meant I was in trouble and a lot of it.
The college, so far as I knew, didn’t have concrete floors anywhere. Concrete was reserved for sidewalks in the fringe and within warehouses—or anywhere the elite didn’t tend to go. The places the elite frequented could afford proper paving stones, and concrete wasn’t good enough for them.
On second thought, it didn’t matter where I’d been taken. I wanted to leave, and that was that. What did Arthur want with me? Burning me to a crisp would have been much easier than taking me. Why did he bother with me if helping the children escape had been his goal?
It didn’t make any sense to me. Maybe once my head wasn’t throbbing so much, I would be able to think it through and figure out what I was missing and why a dae would want to kidnap me. Making my escape before Arthur could get what he wanted was my highest priority.
Once I was free, I’d figure out what I’d tell the police and worry about convincing them I had played no part in the dae’s schemes. I wasn’t surprised someone had finally decided to use his newfound abilities to strike out at the elite. Most parents thought elevation to the elite caste was an honor, but some didn’t.
I surely wasn’t the only one who realized what the government was really after. Did any parent want to see their child become a weapon? Arthur had looked young to me, but it was possible one of the kids was a sibling or relative. I had no way of knowing.
I forced my attention to my more immediate problem. I tested my fingers and toes, wincing at the stab of pins and needles in my hands and feet. I rotated my ankles, which grudgingly obeyed my demands.
/> My wrists weren’t so cooperative, and it didn’t take long to figure out my hands were tied behind my back. I couldn’t tell what I was bound with, but it was too strong for me to escape. I twisted my hands, hissing at the pressure on my healing burns.
After squinting, the gray shapes in the distance solidified into steel shipping containers.
The fringe had many warehouses, and most of them were near the docks. While it was possible I’d been taken elsewhere, I was most likely on the far side of the city, far from where the elite preferred to live.
As long as I could get out of the warehouse, I could find my way to one of Kenneth’s haunts. It’d be trivial to break into one of his stashes, arm myself, and make it somewhere safe. He’d drag me over the coals later for stealing his stuff—if he noticed anything was missing.
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only one I had.
My time with Kenneth had taught me a few tricks, and while Arthur had done a good job of tying me up, he hadn’t secured my elbows together, giving me all the wiggling room I needed. I wasn’t the most flexible woman, but I was determined, and a little pain wasn’t going to stop me.
Once I had my hands in front of me, I’d be able to figure something out. I cursed my long legs as I twisted my arms beneath me, tucking my feet so I could work my shoes through the gap between my arms.
To pull off the maneuver, I’d need to get on my knees and sit back so I could wiggle my hands to the front. If I did it wrong, I’d end up a human pretzel, stuck in a contorted, painful pose until someone came to check on me.
The risk of further humiliation spurred me on; grinding my teeth together, I jerked my body so I’d be kneeling. I gasped at the way the concrete bit at my knees through my jeans, leaned forward a little too far, and cracked my chin when I fell.
Bursts of light blinded me. I shuddered at the taste of blood in my mouth. While painful, my tumble hadn’t ruined my plans. My hands were caught in front of my shoes, and I worked my legs under me.
All I had to do was slide my wrists over my knees, then I’d be able to see how I was tied up and work from there. I grabbed hold of my jeans so I wouldn’t undo my efforts and flopped onto my side. The movement hurt almost as much as smacking my face into the ground. I groaned, and for several long minutes, I focused on taking deep breaths to control my urge to scream.
I don’t know when or how it happened, but there was something wrong with my side. My ribs throbbed, and the burning itch of an allergic reaction distracted me from my jaw. Tears of pain and frustration burned my eyes.
When I was free, I could find somewhere to hole up and fall apart. Once safe, I’d find my way home, lock myself in my apartment, and hide. In all likelihood, the police would be looking for me, either as a victim or a criminal. With luck, the former, although I’d plan for the latter.
Bad luck haunted me and planning for the worst-case scenario had saved me more than once. Even if the cops arrested me, a prison cell was a better fate than whatever Arthur had planned for me.
Wary of smashing my face into the floor again, I lurched upright. My breath hissed through my clenched teeth. It took me several tries, but I balanced on my knees, stretching my toes to help keep me upright. If I did it just right, I could shift all of my weight to my toes, bring my hands all of the way forward, and be able to free myself.
With my rotten luck, I’d try the stunt, dislocate my shoulders, and end up worse off than lying on the floor with my hands bound behind my back. Either way, it’d hurt, and I balked at the thought of adding another injury to my ever-growing list of them.
A little pain was a small price to pay for escaping. If I wasn’t going to let Rob claim me as his property, there was no way in hell I was going to let some random dae with a grudge against the elite have his way with me, either.
The thought of Rob and his smug face infuriated me. I clenched my hands into fists, shifted all of my weight back on my toes, and jerked my arms forward. It took several hard tugs, but I got my hands over my knees. I fell back on my ass, huffing my triumph.
I lifted my hands. I still wore my gloves, and something had been tied around my wrists, which had then been wrapped in silvery duct tape. As if that didn’t make it difficult enough to free myself, gauze covered the tape and was sealed with glue.
“Really?” I wailed. “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”
Silence answered my outrage, and I cursed myself, Arthur, and the dae who had turned my life upside down.
The abandoned state of the warehouse didn’t offer much hope of someone stumbling across me. Rust stained the steel plates making up the walls. Although there were shipping containers scattered around, a few kicks confirmed they were empty.
The windows within easy reach were too small for me to squeeze through, and unless I freed my hands, I couldn’t reach the higher ones.
I regarded the glue-coated gauze wrapped around my wrists with disgust. While the containers had sharp edges, I’d probably contract tetanus trying to scrape the covering away. Like everyone else, I’d been vaccinated as a child, but with my abysmal luck, I’d end up sick anyway. I sighed and hunted for one of the sharper bits jutting out of the side.
Maybe the gauze was lightweight and thin enough the duct tape showed through, but the glue was tough. It took me several tries to break through it. The glue adhered to the duct tape in places, but once I could grab hold of the gauze with my teeth, I went to work peeling it off.
Maybe Rob had a point about me growling like the werewolves, but there wasn’t anyone around to hear me. I snarled my frustration while yanking the gauze off inch by inch. By the time I finished, my teeth ached almost as much as my head, my vision wavered in and out of focus, and I wanted nothing more than to go home to my bed.
I’d even accept a menagerie of dae—including Rob—making nuisances of themselves in my apartment if it meant I could sleep undisturbed. I’d even tolerate Rob in the same room with me.
Defeating the duct tape would have been easy if my captor hadn’t used rope beneath it. Kenneth had taught me the trick to breaking the stuff in case I got in trouble, but it only worked if the tape was wrapped a certain way—and other bindings weren’t used with it.
Sighing, I searched for the seam in the tape. Whether it was coincidence or it had been done to thwart me, I found it in the hardest to reach spot. I cursed myself hoarse before contorting in my effort to find purchase on the silvery material with my teeth.
I expected rope beneath the duct tape, but the cord proved to be braided yarn, with the knot tied between my wrists. Who used bright yellow and pink yarn to tie someone up with? At least it would be easier to defeat than rope or handcuffs. It’d take time to fray the strands, but I could do it.
There weren’t many hiding places in the warehouse, but I crammed myself between the wall and one of the container stacks, searching for one of the sharper slats. It didn’t take long to free myself, and I pulled my hands apart. I ended up with yarn bracelets around my wrists, but I’d worry about removing them later, after I escaped.
With my hands free, climbing onto the containers to access one of the higher, larger windows was possible. Until I got up to one of them, I wouldn’t be able to tell if I could reach the street without killing myself falling.
Some risks were worth taking.
To break out of the warehouse, I had to take off my shoe and beat my way through thick, age-clouded glass. It withstood my first dozen blows, which I blamed on my aching head, blurry vision, and the persistent shaking in my hands. At least I wasn’t too dizzy, as falling from the top of the stack wouldn’t end well for me.
I had no idea how I would reach the street without cracking my head open on the way down, but until the window gave up its will to live, I was stuck. I smashed my sneaker into the glass with all my strength, and a web of cracks appeared. Soft-soled shoes didn’t do a very good job of breaking through anything, but at least it kept shards of glass off my abused hands.
By th
e time I punched my sneaker through the window, I had cursed myself hoarse. I had no idea how long I had been unconscious, but night was falling over the city, and one by one, lights winked on. Wherever I was, it wasn’t well lit; the absence of streetlamps meant I was somewhere within the fringe, likely near the docks where Arthur worked.
Why couldn’t he have dumped me in a warehouse storing useful things like rope? I leaned out the window. The street below was so dark I couldn’t make out the asphalt below. I cleared away the glass from the base of the window so I could lean out farther, stretching my arms until I could pat the wall.
The rough texture of brick caught on my gloves, and breathing a sigh of relief, I retreated into the building, took off my other sneaker, and tied the laces together. I draped them around my neck, grabbed the windowsill, and hauled myself up and out.
The trickiest part of climbing out a window was turning around partway through without slipping. Despite my efforts, I had missed some glass, and it cut through my jeans and stabbed my legs. My socks stuck to the bricks, and I regretted not having taken them off before attempting the descent. With at least two stories to fall, if I made one mistake, I’d probably splatter when I landed.
Sniffing around places I wasn’t supposed to be, including outside difficult to reach windows, was my job, but I didn’t enjoy it. Windowsills and ledges offered better hand and foot holds, but most buildings counted on the blank spaces between the ground and windows to keep would-be thieves away.
I clenched my teeth and jammed my toes between the bricks. Like so many other buildings in the fringe, the warehouse was old, and its mortar crumbled under my weight. Holding my breath, I tested my footing, and when the brick didn’t wobble, I leaned my chest against the windowsill, hissing at the sting of shallow cuts on my stomach and breasts.
