by T. R. Hamby
He hesitated. “I’m trying.”
Nora
She woke up in bed, and let out a sigh of relief.
It had all been a dream, a horrible nightmare. And now it was all over….Mel was beside her….
But she opened her eyes, and immediately scrambled up, backing away and hitting the head of the bed behind her.
This wasn’t her room at all. She wasn’t in the Westminster house.
The dream had been real.
Her head spun, and she clutched it, shaking. She felt exhausted, almost hung over. A rush of foggy memories went through her mind….shopping with Gilla….talking to Roone….a needle in her arm….Roone…
“Fuck,” she breathed, her heart pounding in her chest.
Roone had kidnapped her. But why?
It must have been because of their task. Yes. He had somehow found out about what the six of them were doing, hunting down evil Angels, and had decided to grab her, hold her for ransom. Put an end to it, so he could carry out whatever he liked to do in the night.
He was an evil Angel after all, and Nora was his lure.
God, she hoped they didn’t take the bait.
Please, Mel, she thought, her heart sinking. Don’t take the bait.
She knew he would. He had already lost one love; he wasn’t going to lose another.
Nora looked down at herself. She was still wearing the same clothes, thank god. She remembered sleeping with Roone in that cafe, and shivered. Had the seduction been to get her to trust him, or just some fun before he kidnapped her?
Fucking hell.
She sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. It was a large room, with wood flooring and beige walls. A desk sat at the far wall, with a little lamp and a cup of pencils sitting on it. The wall to the left had a large bookshelf, and was filled top to bottom with books. Opposite, an electronic keyboard, a pile of sheet music stacked neatly on a tray table beside it. A dollhouse by the bed.
She slowly slipped off the bed. The world tipped, and she caught herself on the bedpost.
Motherfucking shit.
There were two windows in the wall, and she rushed to them. But they weren’t real windows; they were electronic, projecting a picture of rolling green hills dotted with daisies.
Out of everything in the room this feature was the most bizarre, and she burst into tears, her heart racing.
No, get a grip, she told herself, taking deep breaths. Get it together. You can find a way out.
It took her a moment before she regained herself. She brushed at her eyes, used a tissue from the box on the end table.
She looked around again, and found a little door by the bed. She went to it. A bathroom, with another electronic window. But the floor was unfinished, just a slab of concrete.
She was in a basement. Hence the fake windows. They were simply simulating a view of the outdoors. But why?
Shit. Nora couldn’t get out if she was in a basement. Sure, she could smash through the concrete, try to claw her way through the earth, but the dirt would suffocate her. And, although she wouldn’t die, she certainly wouldn’t get out.
She would have to kill her captor. She would have to kill Roone.
Suddenly she heard footsteps, and she looked around. Another door, facing opposite the bed, must have had a staircase behind it.
Nora’s heart pounded as the footsteps drew near. She took deep breaths, readying herself. This was it.
The door opened, and Roone came in.
He looked relieved. “You’re awake.”
Nora hissed, and tensed, ready to strike, when he warned, “No, please don’t do that. Remember….I can hurt you.”
She frowned, and then remembered. She had tried to get away, to fight, when a horrible pain had coursed through her, like an unending electric shock, only so much worse.
She shivered, and he looked anguished. “I don’t want to,” he said desperately. “I hated hurting you earlier. I didn’t expect you to be strong….I didn’t expect you to be….I don’t know. Whatever you are now. With your Presence. You weren’t like this when I first saw you.”
Nora stared at him, completely bewildered. “What?” she breathed.
Roone looked relieved again. “I lived in Rome for a little while,” he said gently. “And I went to the opera quite a bit. And I saw you in Buon Amore. I had never heard a voice like yours….and you’re so beautiful. Smart--I read every article about you that I could. There wasn't much….but--”
“Wait--you’re not holding me for ransom?” Nora cried, staggered.
He frowned. “No--why would I do that?”
“Because Mel and--and us are finding evil Angels to kill,” she shot back, enraged. “Angels like you, Roone.”
She was beginning to hyperventilate. This wasn’t a ransom, this was a fucking horror movie. Roone was enamored with her. He wanted her.
He had slept with her because he loved her. That was why he had been upset when she didn’t want things to go further.
God, were all their chance meetings actually on purpose? Buno Amore had premiered when she first arrived in Rome, before she had even met Mel. Had he truly been stalking her this whole time?
She backed against the wall, wheezing, and sank to the floor. Roone went to her, concerned, and she spat, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He backed off, though he sat down a few feet from her.
Nora closed her eyes, hugged her knees to her chest. Tears slipped freely down her cheeks, and she gagged a little, horrified at what was happening to her.
“It’s going to be okay,” Roone whispered soothingly. “We’re soulmates. You’ll see.”
Nora gagged again, clutching her stomach.
When her stomach calmed, she shot him a murderous look. “Mel will find you and burn you to death,” she hissed. “I would kill you myself if it wasn’t for your Talent.”
He looked pained again, but nodded, ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. But this was the only way….for us to be together. For you to be safe.”
“I don’t want to be with you!” she shrieked. “I’m already in love with someone! I already have a soulmate!”
He scowled. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he whispered dangerously. “He’s arrogant, lustful. He was banished from Home, and good riddance. He’s using you.”
“You’re full of shit,” she spat, and he looked pained.
Her heart was beginning to slow, and her panic lessened.
She glanced at the door behind him. “What’s stopping me from running up those stairs?”
Roone glanced behind him and shrugged. “Nothing, technically. But I’ll catch you. We’re miles away from our neighbors, and I’m fast. My legs are longer than yours. And you wouldn’t know which way to go, anyway.”
Nora stared at him. His logic was solid--or at least, it sounded like it was.
“And I wouldn’t Call for anyone, either,” he added.
She was suddenly struck, her heart pounding. Shit. She hadn’t even thought of that--
She opened her mouth to Call for Michael, only for Roone to rush her, and press his hand hard against her mouth. He pushed her against the wall, and her head cracked against the window sill.
Her heart raced so quickly she got dizzy, and she gripped his wrist, yanking on his arm and throwing him to the floor.
But before she could do anything else a shooting pain exploded inside her. She screamed, crumpling to the floor. The pain faded, but still she writhed, her body overwhelmed.
Roone hovered over her, anguished. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he moaned.
Nora finally stilled, breathing heavily, tears running down her face.
He sighed, then bent and scooped her up. She tried to fight--or at least squirm--but her body was struggling to keep up. He laid her on the bed and settled a blanket over her. He sat by her head, looking down at her, and fear made her insides freeze.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and he looked it. “You’ll feel better soon.”
; She just stared at him, too scared to even mouth off.
“I can direct my Talent onto others,” he said quietly, and there was bitterness in his voice. “I don’t have to touch them to cause pain. If you Call Melkira, or Michael, or both, they will feel what you just felt, for as long as I want them to. You understand now?”
Nora stared at him for a long moment, as what he said settled in her mind. Her heart dropped like a stone, and she began to cry again.
She would never be free. Mel had no idea where she was, and she couldn’t run, either. She couldn’t Travel, and she couldn’t Call. She was trapped.
“Please don’t cry,” he moaned as she sobbed.
“Please let me go,” she pleaded. “I want to go home….I want Mel….I want Michael….”
“You’ll want me, I promise,” he said softly. “Just give it time. I love you. You’ll see.”
He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a glass of water. He handed her a pill, and she scowled at him.
“Ativan,” he said gently.
He shrugged. “Don’t take it if you don’t want to.”
Nora glowered at him. There was still that sort of innocent tone in his voice, as if he wasn’t quite sure of things.
Maybe she could use that to her advantage.
She allowed her expression to soften, and she swallowed the pill. He looked a little relieved.
She sat up shakily--she could finally move again--and hugged her knees to her chest. He watched her sheepishly.
“I’ll move you to the upstairs bedroom when you’re….more settled,” Roone said. “I don’t want you going without sunlight, Eleanora.”
He said her name tenderly, and she resisted the urge to gag again. “Nora,” she whispered, glancing at him.
He looked sheepish again. “Right. I’m sorry.”
He sat at the end of the bed, studying her. “There’s a lot we still don’t know about each other.”
Nora didn’t reply.
He was frowning. “Why do you have a Presence?”
She hesitated. Should she say? Yes, she should. She had to talk to him; she had to play him. It was the only way of getting out of this hellhole.
She allowed a sigh, though, as if he was tiring her. “God made me Immortal. So Mel and I could be together forever.”
She looked at Roone, who looked disturbed.
Then he looked relieved. “Then we can be together. I’ll never lose you.”
Nora tried not to scowl again. She had to look tired, withdrawn, but no longer angry.
She settled for a deadened stare, and he looked pained again.
“Soon enough,” he murmured, almost to himself, and he stood up. “I’ll leave you alone. We can….talk some more later.”
Nora gave a tiny nod, and he looked encouraged.
He left, shutting the door behind him, and when his footsteps had faded she darted for the bathroom. She leaned over the toilet and stuck a finger down her throat, making herself sick enough to get rid of that pill.
She took deep breaths, her throat burning.
She had to do this. She had to earn his trust.
And when she did--when he let his guard down--she would rip his fucking head off.
Michael
At first they didn’t know what to do--except to wait. Gilla hadn’t seen anything other than Roone stealing Nora away, and while the appearance of Them was remarkable, it wasn’t much of a help at this point.
Mel refused to give up, and spent most of the night pacing, trying desperately to think of a plan, while wearing himself out in the process. Michael stayed up with him--more out of concern for his sanity than out of a need to help. Michael yearned to do the same thing--to just completely lose his head--but he knew he needed to stay calm. The only way to find and rescue Nora was to keep calm.
Early in the morning--or late into the night, whichever--Mel had a breakthrough.
Judy.
Michael went to wake up Gilla.
“Hmm?” she asked, stirring as he gently shook her.
“We need to call Judy,” he whispered, brushing at her hair. “She has Roone’s address.”
Her eyes popped open, and she sat up. She grabbed her phone from the end table and tapped on the screen a couple times.
Michael’s phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket, Judy’s contact information lighting up the screen.
“Late, though,” Gilla said, signing at the same time.
“Yeah, but we don’t….”
Michael trailed off, staring at her. She stared back, her eyes widening, and his heart raced.
“Did you just--?”
Gilla let out a breath and touched her throat. She swallowed, then whispered, “I think I did.”
They were quiet again, staring at each other in disbelief.
Then Gilla began to smile. Michael stared, letting out a bewildered laugh.
He felt a rush, and he went to her, cupping her face in his hands. “Do it again.”
She let out a quiet laugh, and he grinned, ecstatic. He hadn’t heard that laugh in months.
“What should I say?” she whispered.
They laughed again, almost wildly, and held each other, both shaking with joy and excitement.
It was back. Gilla’s voice was back. She could speak again. She could sing. She could tell her parents she loved them.
But he frowned, suddenly disturbed.
Gilla felt him stiffen, and pulled away to study him. “What?”
She was still whispering. Perhaps she needed to practice before her voice could go back to a normal volume.
He shook his head, his excitement waning. “Why would Father give you your voice back?” he asked. “You gave it up for your Immortality. He wouldn’t just return it.”
But Gilla was shaking her head. “It wasn’t God,” she murmured. “It was Them.”
They shared a look.
So Them had done it. They had requested a sign from her of her good intentions, and she had delivered, in the best of ways. Gilla could speak now, and it was a priceless gift. How could they not trust her now?
“I still don’t trust Them,” Mel said bitterly, as the five got on the Tube.
They had called Judy right away, despite the early hours, and gotten Roone Harrison’s address.
Mel was still ashen, and Michael knew that as soon as he sat down he would crash from lack of sleep.
He glanced at Gilla, who was blessing Gabriel and Barry with the sound of her voice. “I’m happy for her, but this doesn’t mean Them is any better than Father. He’s done good things to get what he wants, too.”
“I don’t know,” Michael sighed.
He was starting to wonder if this Them was the real deal. All she had done so far was good, and she hadn’t demanded a single thing in return.
Mel’s head twitched, but he didn’t say any more.
Michael frowned at the floor. He had been so nervous the past twenty-four hours that now he felt dull and slow. His body ached for sleep. But Nora’s face kept flashing in his mind, and each time it did the fear and panic would return.
He couldn’t understand what was going on. If Roone had taken her to get to him and Mel, why hadn’t he left some sort of message for the ransom?
They couldn’t move fast enough, and once they arrived at their stop they scrambled for the street.
It had snowed. Gabriel found the right street, and they hurried to number 106.
Michael knew Nora wasn’t there, even before they noted the absence of a Presence in the building. Roone would have taken her elsewhere.
Still, Mel charged into the house, nearly ripping the door off its hinges. He began to race around, flying down to the cellar, and then going upstairs.
Michael looked around. It was a nice house. It was small, but neat, with plush sofas and a large TV set in the living room. The kitchen looked remodeled. A display board hung on the wall, with articles and playbills pinned to it.
One playbill made him go cold
. It was for Le Nozze di Figaro, with a picture of Gilla and Nora, caught mid-performance, splashed across the page.
Then another: The Magic Flute, opened to Nora’s headshot.
Aurelia: again, her headshot.
The whole board was a collection of playbills and magazine articles that involved Nora.
And there was more: printouts of pictures from Nora’s Facebook page, carefully laminated and pinned to the board. Nora with her dad, Nora graduating college. There was even a picture of Nora and her sister together.
His heart dropped like a stone.
“Mel!” he called, and Mel thundered down the stairs.
Everyone drew near and stared at the board.
“Oh god,” Gilla whispered. “It’s all her….”
“I don’t understand,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “I thought this was a ransom thing.”
“It’s worse than that,” Michael breathed.
Mel sank to his knees, white as a sheet, and Gilla knelt beside him and murmured to him.
Michael looked around again, searching. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly, but still he looked.
He found it. A small diary on the desk in the study.
He flipped it open.
October 2: Shopping again with friend. Gray knit dress. Stopped at Judy’s house again. Remodel.
October 3: None
October 4: Walk with Melkira. Six blocks.
Michael shut the book, shaking. There was a pile of them neatly stacked on the desk, and he felt sick.
He snatched the one at the bottom of the stack; it was dated about three years ago--before Nora had even met Mel. He flipped to a random page.
March 15: Rehearsal. Coffee with Bezi Romero.
March 16: Morning jog. Looked at dollhouse display at toy shop.
Michael slammed the book shut, swearing. He felt dizzy, and he held his head in his hands.
This was a fucking psycho, and Nora was in his clutches.
He caught sight of a laptop and flipped it open. It booted up. The internet browser had been left open, and Michael clicked on it.
Yes. An order confirmation from British Airways--two tickets to Dublin.
“We’re coming, Nora,” Michael breathed.
