Leaning her forehead against her steering wheel she laughed mirthlessly. Safe was a relative term. If they knew who her friends and family were, no one was safe. Ophelia shifted the truck into drive and followed the empty small-town roads back to her house. There was nothing she could do tonight to change anything, even if change was an option. She was stuck, and she knew it.
When it came down to it, some of the war was her fault, after all.
Aden rushed back inside minutes after Ophelia walked out. He found Carissa sitting on the couch where he’d left her, staring blankly across the room. She looked up when he reached her, tears sparkling in her eyes.
“Did you tell Rafe?” she asked him, quietly.
Aden shook his head. “No. Baby, he's gone, too. I told your father, but he didn't seem concerned. He said Rafe was probably on a supply run, but that doesn't make sense.”
Carissa frowned. “You’re right, it doesn't. We already have a month's worth of supplies in the shed.” Her eyes narrowed. “You think my father has something to do with this.”
Aden heaved a sigh and sat down beside her. “I don't want to accuse him, or jump to conclusions, but I think it might be wise to keep an eye on him. Involved or not, something isn't right.”
Carissa closed her eyes, then leveled her gaze at him. “Tell Daniel. Something’s off with Phia, too, but I don't know what. Daniel is the only one I know we can trust right now.”
“I think you're right,” Aden said with a nod. “I'll make the call, and see if he can plant himself in your friend’s path sooner rather than later.”
Carissa took his hand in hers. “I'm so glad I found you.”
Aden smiled into her worried eyes, lifting her hand to his lips. “And I, you.”
Gwen raised her head off the pillow, inhaling the musky scent of old sweat and fresh dirt. Her mind racing, she tried to figure out where she was. Unfortunately, the room she was being held in was dark, save a small lamp in the far corner. The lack of windows made the dim room seem even smaller. For someone used to the freedom of the bayou woods, the room was horrifying. Gwen pressed a quivering hand to her belly and fought to sit upright without throwing up. The only thing that kept her from screaming was that her wolf could feel her child’s life force, and she knew the babe was safe.
There were footsteps outside her door, but no one stopped to enter. Gwen rose gingerly to her feet. She needed to find a way out. She jiggled the door handle, but it was locked. It looked like she was going to have to wait for someone to come in. With a heavy sigh, she sat back down on the end of the bed. Hopefully somebody would bring her food soon. Unless they decided to move her again…
“Damn it,” she swore.
There had to be something she could do! Gwen’s eyes scanned the room looking for anything that could be of use. There may not have been a window, but some of the stones around the outer part of the wall looked loose. Crossing the room, she crouched down and poked at one of the bricks. Some of the mortar flaked off in her hand. Excited, she scrambled back over to the bed and looked for something she could use to dig more of it out. She found a loose spring underneath the mattress and pulled at it until it came free.
Returning to the floor by the wall, she started digging at the mortar with her makeshift pick. It may not have been an ideal tool, but it was the best she had at her disposal, and there was nothing she wouldn't do to get out of that hell hole.
Gwen rolled her eyes, frustrated as she chipped away slowly at the wall. There were better tools, but none that she had—and at least she had something. Suddenly she heard more footsteps outside her door, and they stopped. Dropping the tool into the pocket of her jeans, she rose to her feet and scurried over to sit back down on her bed. The door opened slowly but she couldn't yet make out who was standing in the doorway. A tray of food was slid across the floor and the door shut with a snap. Gwen frowned. So much for using that as a way out! Cursing her empty stomach, she got up and grabbed the tray, taking it back to her bed.
The tray had five sections, much like the cafeteria trays in elementary schools, and honestly, the food didn't look much better. However, since she was so hungry, she didn't argue. Not that arguing would have done any good; there wasn’t anyone there to hear her. Gwen wrinkled her nose at the carton of milk, but she was thirsty, so she made do. It would have been better if it had been chocolate.
At least the pizza tasted halfway decent. Unfortunately, the cornbread didn't really complement the meal and kind of tasted like cardboard.
Gwen snorted. “Yeah, worry about how the damn food tastes, because that’s the most important thing right now. Idiot.” She scowled down at her plate, pushing the mock nutrition around with her fork. “This is the least of my worries. I’m still fucking trapped and will probably die. Yeah, this is the perfect time to worry about what they’re feeding me.”
Tossing the fork onto the tray with another curse, she leaned back and listened to what sounded like rain pitter pattering on the outside of the building, but without a window there was no way to tell exactly what it was for sure.
Frustrated, Gwen tossed the tray across the room. Her stomach churned. Her eyes grew heavy, and she fought to keep them open. Dammit, they must have drugged her! She leaned her back against the wall, and tried to fight the spinning in her head. But to no avail. Her eyelids drifted down, and she finally heard the door open and someone walk in.
Footsteps drifted closer to the edge of her bed, stopping before they got close enough for her to see the person they belonged to. Still, she tried to open her eyes. Her vision was so fuzzy she didn't see much, but what she did see confused her more than the vampires that had stolen her from her home. Gwen shuddered as she gazed up into eyes she recognized. Queasy, she unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
“Daddy?" she whispered incredulously.
Garrett smiled, teeth flashing in the dim light. “I wondered how long it would take you to build up a resistance.”
Her tongue thick, but her eyes clearing, Gwen glared up and her father. “Build up a resistance to what?”
“The sleep potion Myrick had me give you when we took you. It works like a charm for the first dose, but your wolf is stronger than any of us gave you credit for. The second dose was stronger, and clearly, is not affecting you the way it should. It's quite interesting, actually.”
Her limbs hung as heavy as lead, unable to move. Gwen shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”
Garrett chuckled. “Have you heard the story of Rumpelstiltskin?”
“A children's fairy tale? This isn't spinning straw into gold. I don't know what you're doing, but it isn't right.”
Garrett ignored her words with a wave of his hand. “This retelling has nothing to do with gold, and everything to do with the safety of the pack. And since you're my eldest, you get to make the sacrifice to keep your pack safe.” He leaned down and patted Gwen on the knee. “This is an honor, Gwenny. For your life, and the youth of the child in your womb, you will be revered as the savior of your people.”
Gwen's eyes went wide, tears clouding her vision. “You can't do this,” she whispered. “The Enforcer will find you, and he'll kill you for this!”
Garrett chuckle, the sound as pleasant as broken glass in a bare foot. “You know the legend as well as I. There's no Enforcer anymore. There will be no retribution.”
He reached down to check her pulse at her wrist. Then he nodded, not saying another word, and left her alone again – but not for long. When he returned, he brought with him a young man Gwen didn't know. The stranger had kind blue eyes, shadowed by something dark. Regret, perhaps? He wore a stethoscope around his neck, labeling him a doctor.
Gritting her teeth, Gwen didn't speak. She focused her energy on trying to move her arms and legs, but her body refused to cooperate. She was awake, completely coherent, and she could feel every press and prod of the doctor's gentle hands, but she couldn't move an inch. And her father simply sat behind the doctor with a deplorable, sel
f-satisfied smile on his arrogant face.
Gwen never wanted to hit someone as bad as she wanted to slam her fist into his nose right at that moment.
Gwen waited until Garrett escorted the doctor out before she spoke again. “Rafe won't let you get away with this,” she said softly, her skin crawling when Garrett laughed again. Fear bloomed, a live, hot, boiling pain in her gut. “What have you done with my husband?”
Garrett’s smile was sinister and ice cold.” I haven't done anything to him, and as long as you cooperate, he will live. The minute you disobey, however…” He mimicked slitting his throat. “You’ll be a widow.”
Gwen closed her eyes, a single tear leaking out to trail a wet line down her cheek. Forgive me, Rafe. She knew what he would tell her—her life and that of her child were more important, so she followed her gut and lied to her father with clear, unblinking eyes.
“Spare him, and I won't fight you.” She fought the urge to bite her lip as Garrett tapped his chin, considering her words. If he didn’t believe her…
Then, after minutes of silence, Garrett’s smile softened, and he chucked her chin. “I knew you'd see things my way. I'll have you moved to a more comfortable room. You'll still have guards, but it's an upgrade from this dungeon.”
Gwen forced herself to smile. “Thank you, Father.”
Chapter Six
Daniel wasn't the least bit surprised that Aden wanted a private meeting. He’d had an ear to the ground for a while, himself. Something was very wrong with the Crimson Bayou werewolf pack, and he had a bad feeling the Enforcer would have to come out of hiding sooner than planned.
Daniel stepped out onto Aden’s front porch as his grandson drove up in his fiancée’s Durango. Aden cut the engine and walked quickly up the front steps, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
“We should probably take this inside. This town isn't as safe as it used to be.”
Daniel studied his grandson as he took his advice, holding the door open for the younger man. Aden’s shoulders stooped, a look of worry and frustration on his face. His brows were drawn together, a frown on his lips, his blue eyes scanning their surroundings. He looked hunted. If Daniel suspected correctly, they all were. Still, he led the way to the kitchen where Aden kept a supply of packaged blood for just such occasions. Heating up two, he set the mugs on the table, and gestured for Aden to sit as he pulled out his own chair.
“Well?” he said as they settled in – he still wasn’t accustomed to drinking from a cup instead of the source, but he was forced to admit, there wasn’t much difference in taste.
Aden rolled his cup between his hands, but he didn’t drink. “Carissa’s sister is missing, along with her husband, and we think Garrett is hiding something, too.”
Daniel took another sip. “And you didn’t immediately bring this up to the friend that’s supposed to be helping you, why?”
Aden took a drink of his own. “Who said we didn’t?”
“If you had, a private meeting would not have been necessary, and although I’m aware that she lives right down the street, you looked extremely uncomfortable at the thought of anyone seeing us speaking outside.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“To someone who knows you as well as I do, yes. Now, why haven’t you told Ophelia?”
Aden sighed. “Carissa thinks something’s off with her, too.”
Daniel nodded, frowning. “It just so happens that you’re right. I still have connections within the Council, and I have it on good authority that she knows a few of them personally.”
“That explains why she was so pissed off to see that I was a vampire.”
Daniel nodded again. “Yes. I don’t think she’s evil, or even on their side, per say—maybe she was before, but not now. My source says they’re holding something over her head, but he refuses to give me the details. I haven’t pressed, yet, but that may change once I meet her.”
Aden downed the rest of his blood. “I think that may be best.” He slanted the older vampire a sideways look, eyes narrowed. His lips curved in a wide grin. “You finally get to meet your dream girl.”
Daniel choked on his drink, sending drops of blood spewing out to dot the tabletop. “I never should have told you that,” he wheezed as Aden thumped him on the back with a laugh.
“But what fun would there have been in that?” He stood up and took his mug to the sink, tossing Daniel a damp washcloth so he could wipe up his mess. “She works at Eleanor’s store, you know. You could always go up there when she gets off work one night.”
Daniel gulped the rest of his blood, and threw the cup at his grandson, who nipped it out of the air with deft fingers, belying the man’s clumsy nature. “I may do that. Maybe in a night or two, once I figure out just what I want to say when the time comes.”
Aden raised an eyebrow, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “You’re going to think before you act? Since when?”
Laughing, Daniel threw the washcloth back, hitting Aden between the eyes. “You’re lucky I’m fond of your fiancée.”
Aden simply grinned and used the washcloth to clean the mugs.
Janice was still awake in the living room when Ophelia walked through the door a little after midnight. She didn’t raise her head from the book in her lap, but the air crackled with her annoyance. One hand flipped the page, while the other pointed silently to the cushion beside her on the couch.
Ophelia sighed. It didn’t look like her night was about to get any better. She did as her aunt bid, and settled in to wait until the older woman was ready to talk—which could be anywhere from a few seconds to a couple of hours, depending on how much she liked her book. Settling back into the cushions, she could feel her aunt vibrating, and guilt prickled the back of her neck. No, this wouldn’t be pleasant at all.
Janice closed the book with a snap, setting the worn volume of The Count of Monte Cristo none-too-gently on the arm of the couch beside her. The irony of her aunt’s reading material was not lost on Ophelia. Spying and lying seemed to be a common theme. She shook her head before Janice could speak.
“I know what you’re going to say, and before you do, just don’t. There’s nothing you can do to change this.”
Fire sparking in the depths of Janice’s hazel eyes, she whipped her hand out and snagged Ophelia’s chin in a hard pinch. “You may not be my biological child, but I’m all you’ve got right in front of you, and you’ll damn well hear me out.”
Chastised, Ophelia lowered her eyes when her aunt let go. “Yes, ma’am,” she whispered.
“Good.” Her aunt leaned back, crossing one leg over the others, and clasping her hands in her lap. “Do you want to tell me why the Hell you’re working for Jeremiah, now?”
“Do I even want to know how you know?”
Janice raised an eyebrow and pointed through the archway leading to the kitchen. Ophelia could see a large bowl, brimming with water, sitting on the table. Ah. “I’ve known you were hiding something for a while, now, Phia,” she said softly. “You knew this would happen. You can’t hide anything from me for very long.”
Ophelia rose to her feet, pacing back and forth on the other side of the coffee table. “I know, but–” she gestured to the scrying bowl– “that’s not going to tell you everything, and I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both.” Sighing, Ophelia stopped to look at her aunt. “You want answers. I get that. I just can’t give them to you. I won’t risk your life, too.”
Janice stood, crossing to her niece and placing her hand on Ophelia’s shoulder. “I know more than you might think.”
“Like what?”
“Like their leverage. I know what they’re holding over your head, and I think you’re making a mistake.”
“So I should just leave her with them? My own mother?”
“Not exactly, but I think you should consider that Jeremiah is probably lying to you about Octavia. She walked away when you were two, child. She may not be th
e person you want her to be.”
Janice turned to walk away, but Ophelia grabbed her wrist. “You know something else.”
Raising an eyebrow, her aunt pulled her arm back. “I know many things, but you’re not ready to hear them.” She turned away again.
“Wait! Give me something. Please.”
“Child, I love you, but right now, I think your vampire is your best hope to fix this mess.”
“Shit,” Ophelia muttered as her aunt left the room. “I was afraid of that.”
Gwen stared around the sunlit room she’d been given. Guards stood on the other side of a large, white, ornately sculpted, solid wood door. The design depicted wolves howling at a large moon. Gwen would have found it pretty under any other circumstances, but right now, not so much. The room itself was quite large, with light pink wallpaper, and a stunning four-poster bed that dominated one wall of the room. The bed was plumped with at least twenty pillows, and a beautiful rose-colored comforter. There was a desk positioned on the far wall under a massive picture window. However, as she was on the fourth floor of this gargantuan house, that was no way out, and her father knew it.
On the upside, though, at least this room came with a bathroom, and the large garden tub would be a welcome way to relax before she died.
Sniffling, Gwen sank into the chair before the desk, and pillowed her head on her arms, letting the tears fall. Garrett had Rafe, and she had no doubt her husband was as good as dead. She pressed a shaking hand to the slight swell of her belly. Rafe would never get to hold his child, never see that first smile, hear that first laugh, and it broke her heart. Her eyes snapped open, and she gazed through the window, angrily dashing the tears from her eyes. Her sister could talk to animals, so maybe…
Savage Bayou (Things that go Bump in the Bayou Book 2) Page 5
