Stolen Hearts: Book 1 (Grim's Labyrinth Series)

by Grim's Labyrinth Publishing

  “I don’t know what you did to piss this guy off,” Conlan whispered in her ear, “but it must have been epic.” Jessica couldn’t answer, but she merely shook her head, a new look of fearful resignation on her face. It wasn’t just her paranoia kicking in. Even Conlan could tell they were angry with her. She intuitively stepped closer to him, letting the solid feel of his arm against her shoulder give her some tiny measure of comfort.

  The lights overhead shifted their glow, each of them rotating on their individual axis until they all came together to shine one incredibly bright spotlight on Jessica. The rest of the room was now swathed in darkness as the light came together, blinding her from seeing anything else outside the light. She knew the people were all still there, but had no capacity to see anything other than the white glow that swallowed her.

  After spending so much time in terrorizing and complete silence, the sound of a loud voice was almost enough to drop Jessica to her knees. It wasn’t an unpleasant voice, but there was no warmth to it, not a speck of human emotion. Not even anger.

  “We brought you here for a purpose,” the man’s voice said.

  “Oh great. I just knew you were tied up in some kind of otherworldly noble cause. Why is it always the girls with a predetermined important paranormal destiny who fall in my lap?” Conlan joked quietly. Jessica glared at him. How could he keep cracking jokes like that? Did the guy have absolutely zero sense of self-preservation? Besides, he was taking all of this far too well to be real. She finally broke her angry gaze and returned her attention to what she hoped was the speaker, still unable to see anything beyond the white light that surrounded her.

  “Your purpose is to sacrifice yourself for our society, in order to help us continue our important mission of recivilizing this society,” the voice continued.

  “They’d better be talking to you, Conlan. They lost me at the word ‘sacrifice,’ that’s for sure,” Jessica hissed under her breath.

  “Maybe it’s like a metaphorical kind of sacrifice, like, giving up your Saturdays to pick up litter along the highway. I totally think we should hear them out.” Conlan’s sarcasm was the only thing holding Jessica together at that point, because on her own she knew she would have fallen to pieces with the strangeness of it all. She clung to his wit and even his stupidity in an effort to stay focused in this weirdness.

  The voice continued from outside the light, but it was joined by murmurings from other voices mixed in, all speaking at once, but also still all distinguishable. She didn’t know how she was doing it, but somehow she was taking part in all of their conversations at once, causing a not unpleasant buzz in her brain as she focused simultaneously on what she was hearing.

  “You are the Neftali, the one who fights and is victorious,” a new voice intoned dramatically.

  “You are the Masago, the ancient, the sands of time,” explained another voice.

  “You are the Batoul, the virgin who will redeem us,” the original voice announced.

  Jessica froze, that last statement causing a pink blush to creep up her neck to her cheeks as embarrassment flooded from her core. She was ready to approach the group in the front, her face a mask of barely veiled anger. She untangled herself from Conlan’s arms and stepped forward, the shaft of spotlights following her movements. She turned in a circle and looked at the mob behind the waist-high barricade, then turned back to the front and looked directly towards the group who sat in the chairs. She couldn’t see their faces, but she knew they would hear her.

  “Actually,” Jessica interrupted, waving her arms to cut off the words she’d heard, “I am the Jessica. It’s pronounced Je-ssi-ca. It might be a strange word to you, but it’s the only word to describe me. And I’m done here. Discussing my status as a virgin pretty much sealed it for me, even if the other hokey crap hadn’t already been a huge turnoff in this conversation.”

  She walked to the edge of the light but realized she couldn’t leave its glow as it kept pace with her. She took small, darting steps and shifted direction several times, calling on her runner’s movements to dodge the light. When she finally managed to escape its beam, a stabbing pain in her neck paralyzed her before throwing her to the floor.

  Behind her, Conlan yelled her name. She couldn’t see anything but spots in front of her eyes, but at least the light was gone. Her eyes might soon adjust to the room. Conlan was suddenly face down beside her, his attempt to reach her and help her thwarted with the same torturous pain she’d felt.

  “Wow,” he gasped, lifting his head only a few inches and turning to look at her, “that was something. You up for round two?”

  Jessica only let her eyes close by way of answering, too damaged to even respond.

  Chapter 10

  Under the pitch-black night sky of a sweltering evening, Rageeb held court over Faydra, announcing clearly for the small group of cronies the charges against her. The mockery of holding a trial wasn’t lost on her. If anyone deserved to be forced to the ground to kneel before the group, hands tied behind his back, it was him. Instead, she was the one who tried in vain to defend herself, looking pleadingly to the others with her one eye that hadn’t yet swollen shut.

  Fortunately, it was her very appearance that might save her. As she deliberately looked each of the other council members in the face, willing them to see her as Faydra who was one of them and not Faydra who had left years ago on classified but misunderstood work, she could see the turmoil on their faces. Taking off on a highly dubious, mysterious assignment that required leaving the council was one thing, but being brought back in this state—bound and broken, injured by what could amount to the most basic jealous rage—didn’t sit well with them. She could tell.

  She still had friends and supporters within the organization, and more than a few of the council members owed her their lives. Their guilty expressions as they looked away told her they remembered, but those same people who averted their gaze also told her that her fate was practically sealed. They would do nothing to intervene.

  “As I have plainly explained and demonstrated through clear evidence, Faydra is guilty of neglecting her duties to this council and our people. She not only abandoned her position for selfish gain, she was so incompetent in her new role that she allowed a dangerous killer to grow to maturity, and then had the willful nerve to unleash that killer on the rest of us. At this very moment, the escaped murderer is in the hands of our enemies, ready for them to bend her to their will and wipe us all out. All because of this woman.”

  Rageeb pointed accusingly at Faydra and kicked a toeful of dirt in her direction to show his scorn. The sand and pebbles rained down on the top of her thigh, stinging one of her cuts for a moment. The minor pain only served to anger Faydra, and anger was her only hope.

  God knows this council doesn’t care a thing about mercy, that’s for sure, she remembered, calling on years of stored memories. Her years of dedication to the council had been filled with sitting in trials just like this one, with the obvious difference being she was the one staring back at their brutality. Had there ever been a trial in her experience that showed mercy? Of course not. That would be weakness, and if there was anything the council couldn’t tolerate it was sniveling beggars who pleaded for their lives.

  If Rageeb lets me address this sham of a court, I’ll win. But he knows that, she thought ruefully as she tried to plot her strategy. These people will listen to me, but that’s only if I’m given the opportunity. Rageeb himself would never allow it, but maybe they’ll require it.

  “What does the defendant have to say for herself?” one of the members asked, addressing Rageeb instead of speaking to her. She wanted to open her mouth and remind them that she was completely capable of answering for herself, but she remembered that protocol reigned above all else. She had not been spoken to, therefore she was to remain silent.

  “What can she say?” he answered in classic corrupt council fashion. Why answer the question when it could be deflected with a pointless remark instead? �
��The facts speak for themselves. Faydra was elected to the council—through very suspicious means, I feel compelled to point out—and then when we needed her most, she went running to another agency when they held out a lucrative offer, one that would mean great personal gain for Faydra and very little support for our organization. She basically saw a better offer, so she took it, without thinking once about how her actions would impact our council.

  “Even worse, she took a position that she was ill-suited for—again, rumored to have been offered to her only after some possible bribes were paid—and then couldn’t even fulfill the simplest of requests from this council: erase the threat of the killer before she comes of age and destroys us all.

  “Her final crime was to let the creature go. As if that wasn’t dangerous and neglectful enough, the creature is right now in the central stronghold of the Balkat.” Rageeb paused for the gasp of disbelief he was sure that mention of their enemy’s name would induce. “I would love to say that it’s not possible that Faydra actually presented the creature to the Balkat, but at this point, I just don’t know anymore.”

  Rageeb paced in a circle as he spoke, but at this last accusation, he hung his head and pressed his hands together in front of his eyes, as though the very thought of his ex-wife being so menacing had brought great shame and heartache on him. The effect was both comical and clever.

  “You are making serious accusations, Rageeb,” another member spoke. “I don’t say that there’s no truth to them, but I would be far more convinced if there was some piece of evidence that Faydra acted maliciously, or at least with intent. She may be guilty of nothing more than poor judgment, for all we know, but you’re seeking the most severe punishment our council inflicts. I have to wonder if some of your motivation is tied to… shall we say… old wounds?”

  Faydar wanted to run and kiss the old man who’d spoken, but that would be more incriminating than if she were to brandish a dagger and stab the man through the heart in front of these witnesses. It would signify an alliance between them, something that had already cost her dearly when she was married to Rageeb. Their alliance and its consequences were a large part of her willingness to leave when the assignment was offered to her.

  Rageeb smiled darkly at the man who’d spoken up for Faydra, and she could tell by the look on her ex-husband’s face that he was already calculating not only his response, but also that man’s future downfall. No one contradicted Rageeb, especially in front of an assembly and with so much at stake.

  “I appreciate your statement, Jodor, because it gets that fallacy out of the way so we can concentrate on the truth in front of us. We’re all in danger because of this woman and her criminally intentional actions. I ask you to move on, and to weigh the information in front of you before it’s too late.”

  This is it, Faydra thought. This is the point where they will either declare my guilt now, or at least let me try to reason with them.

  Her unspoken wish was granted. Before Rageeb could get the other council members to agree to pass judgment and move along to carrying out whatever sentence they agreed upon, they insisted on hearing her side of the events.

  There might be hope for today after all.

  Chapter 11

  Jessica’s cell, if it could be called that, was a far cry from the ones she’d seen in movies. There were no cinder block walls, no stainless steel toilet decorating the room. There were obviously no bars on her doors or a lack of windows.

  Instead, it looked like a few of the mid-range hotels she’d stayed in during family vacations when her dad had still been alive. They’d traveled for his job as a photographer, both for covering important events and sports venues, and sometimes just for his work in freelance nature photography. It had been a happy time, even if it kept them moving.

  As she’d gotten older and had school and extracurricular stuff, he’d had to take more and more of the trips by himself, leaving her with her stepmother for weeks at a time. But summers and holidays had been spent traveling, often just the two of them since Faydra claimed to be allergic to anything fun. Well, maybe not in those exact words, but that was Jessica’s analysis of it.

  The room where she’d woken up had two double beds with soft duvet coverlets, a separate bathroom area, a TV and phone, and even a small fridge and microwave. Except for the obvious problem of a door that locked from the outside and a very noticeable lack of a clock—which was never a good sign since it meant she could be there a while and someone didn’t want her to know it—it would feel just like a vacation.

  Well, that, and the fact that her stepmother had spoken to someone about hiding her body, she didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there, a group of people wanted her to sacrifice herself, and she’d managed to drag a strange guy from her school into her problems.

  Otherwise, it was a Hilton.

  Jessica couldn’t gauge how long she’d been in the room, only long enough to really feel something like hunger once, meaning maybe for the space between two meals, when the lock began to turn from the outside. She sat upright on the bed and smoothed her rumpled clothes in place, readying herself mentally in case she needed to defend herself.

  The door opened only wide enough for her to see Conlan outlined by the door frame. She brightened for a moment, thrilled that he’d managed to escape and was coming to bust her out, but her shoulders slumped slightly when someone pushed him gently from behind and closed the door behind him. The lock turned in place and footsteps retreated down the exterior hallway.

  “Hi roomie!” he called out too happily, jumping and landing on the other bed in an outstretched position, letting his hands cradle his head on the pillow. He kicked off his shoes and crossed his ankles, obviously settling in. “Anything good on TV today?”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment and failing miserably. “I mean, I’m sorry, that came out wrong. How come they put you in my room? Aren’t they worried about us trying to break out of here together?”

  “I’d say not. I didn’t think it was a great plan either, but think about it. We don’t even know where we are and we have no way of escaping on foot. And remember the way those three guys looked all nervous just from projecting their faces outside the building? Whatever was out there is probably scary enough to send us running back here, pounding on the door and begging to be let back in. They must not think escaping is too big an attraction, kind of like putting Alcatraz on an island surrounded by shark-infested waters.”

  “Or maybe they thought the accommodations made up for the fact that we’re locked in a room without contact with the outside world, held against our will?” she suggested, looking around the room. It wasn’t exactly ugly and it was bigger than even her living room at home, let alone her bedroom, but it was all ruined by the fact that she couldn’t leave.

  “Either way, I say we raid the minibar and watch lots of pay-per-view, and charge all of it to their room. When they see what I can do to a room service menu they’ll be sorry they messed with the wrong guy!” Conlan jabbed the end of his index finger against his chest and tried to smile.

  Jessica stretched out on her bed in a pose that mimicked Conlan’s, settling against the soft pillows when he reached for the remote and turned it on, keeping the volume low until they could find something they wanted to watch. He idly flipped through the channels and reminded her to call out if she saw something she liked.

  “But, Jessica, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said, still holding the remote poised to strike at the sensor on the TV. “I didn’t want to pry or anything, but can you fill me in on why we’re here? I get it, saving you and driving off in my car was my idea, and it would be really shitty of me to assign any blame here, but this is all your fault.”

  “Hey! I thought you weren’t going to assign blame!” she yelled with a light laugh, throwing one of her extra pillows and hitting him square in the face. He moved the pillow and claimed it with a smug look, wrapping his arms around
it before continuing.

  “I don’t want to sound like a whiner, but I do kind of want to go home at some point. What are they talking about, you’re supposed to sacrifice yourself and all that stuff?”

  “Heck if I know. I didn’t know anything until I jumped out my window, and I’m still completely clueless about it. If it hadn’t been for the ugly argument with Faydra and then hearing that creepy phone call, I’d still be sitting in my room at home.”

  “Are you sure about what you heard? I mean, it couldn’t have been taken wrong, or maybe that was supposed to be code for something?”

  “You know, I don’t know how these things work in your world,” she began sarcastically, “but in my world, the words ‘where am I supposed to hide her body?’ really only have the one purpose. But you’re right, maybe we should go ask her what she was talking about? Sound good to you?”

  “Okay, I see your point. I was just trying to put a positive spin on things. So let’s assume she was talking about killing you. Why would she want to do that? And who in the world would she be talking to on the phone about it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking the same thing. We’ve never gotten along and she’s always been pretty hateful to me, especially after my dad died, but actually going so far as to kill me? That seems kind of far-fetched.”

  “You’d think your dad would be more careful about his choice of a wife. Especially once he got sick, he would have made other arrangements for you if there was even a chance that his wife was a psychopath, right?”

  Jessica was quiet for a moment, fighting the urge to say something loud, rude and quite possibly potentially violence-inducing. Instead, she switched directions.