by L. L. Muir
He walked up to Jamison and smirked. “Who you calling Dumber?”
The square black butt of the gun swung around and struck his head before he had a chance to brace for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Skye was just about asleep but she clung tightly to the edge of consciousness, listening to the water, listening for anything at all. Her paranoia supplied her with just enough adrenaline running through her veins to keep her from nodding off.
She was sure it had been an hour since she'd climbed into bed. She didn’t believe the voice. There had to be cameras in the room. Whoever was watching her had to be bored by that point, but she couldn't count on that.
The pillow arrangement was something she'd done often at the Blairs'. She always slept that way so whenever The Creep or his wife would peek in, they'd see the lumps and assume she was somewhere underneath them. But a year ago, she'd insisted on a lock on her door, so she hadn't needed to worry about those bed checks.
The fact that Mrs. Blair hadn't argued meant the woman knew just what a creep her husband was. She'd had a lock put on the door that night and hadn’t complained when Skye insisted on having both keys.
Blair the Creep had been pissed.
Skye moved silently, a few inches at a time, hoping the little bit of light from the water would cast the rest of the room in too much shadow for anyone watching to notice her. By the time she slid out from under the covers and onto the floor, the four pillows created a pretty decent form of a body. Her audience wouldn't expect to see her head because of the pillow she'd put over it.
She moved to the door and from the chair she pulled the robe and slippers she'd placed there earlier along with the Taser.
The bedroom door opened smoothly. She tried to be robotic about it all, giving as little thought to her movements as possible. If someone was listening in her head, they shouldn't hear much. She had a hundred things to figure out, but they would have to wait.
There were soft lights aimed at the wall, just behind the orchids, but the rest of the room was dark.
She slipped the robe around her shoulders, already shivering, and leaned against the wall next to the door to pull the fitted slippers over her feet. She would have liked to get dressed in her own clothes and her sneakers, but that might have meant getting caught before she ever left her rooms…
If they were watching.
But of course they were watching.
Someone depressed the door handle not ten inches from her elbow and she froze. Very carefully, she pulled the Taser from her pocket and turned it on. The little red power light was a beacon in the dark room, but she couldn't help it.
The door handle rose slowly back into place. Voices murmured just outside.
There was a little square vase on the entry table. She remembered it being packed with tiny pink roses, but in the darkness, they looked black. She picked it up, and with the heavy vase in one hand and the Taser in the other, she figured she could slow down at least two people.
There was a peep hole, and since it was dark behind her, she figured it was safe to look.
The hall was dimly lit, but even in the faint light, Gabriella's clothes glittered.
“What did you learn?” she asked.
Pilot stood close to her, his robe glowing a bluish white. “She slipped the paper into Jamison's pocket and told him to try to get it to the girl. I don't know how he did it, with both of us there, and with a gag to boot.”
“And what did it say?”
“That some, including me, can read minds.”
The woman sighed. “I was hoping to keep that from her for a while.”
“How did you know Ruth had written it?”
“It wasn’t hard to recognize my own stationery.”
Pilot cocked his head to the side. “And now?”
Gabriella gave a single nod. “Assemble them.”
Pilot caressed the woman’s cheek, then pointed his thumb at the door. “And what about her?”
Gabriella sighed. “Since we know what the note said, I can let her sleep. She would have figured it out eventually. She’s a smart girl.”
Pilot frowned. “Yes. She is. And don’t let’s forget that.”
The woman patted his arm. “I’m not blind where she’s concerned.”
“No? All right. I’ll let her live then. For now. But if she fails you, I’ll lock you in your room and put her on the altar.”
They stared at each other for a minute, then Pilot led Gabriella away.
Skye tried not to panic, worried that any frantic thoughts might alert someone who could listen in. Since Pilot hadn’t seemed to be able to read her mind, she wondered if the door prevented it, or if he actually had to concentrate to do it. She was willing to bet on the latter.
Which meant her thoughts were safe as long as everyone believed she was asleep.
But now, instead of just Jamison to worry about, she had to find Ruth and warn her they were on to her. Maybe Ruth could help her get to Jamison and they could all escape together.
There was no time to worry about leaving her clothes and purse behind. This wasn’t a game. These Somerleds weren’t a harmless farming cult. These folks put people on altars, and it sure wouldn’t be for some show, no matter how spectacular Gabriella dressed.
Skye made sure the key card was in the pocket of her robe, then slipped out the door. No alarms went off. No guard materialized out of the shadowy corners of the corridor, so she moved on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
An alarm sounded like the horn of an old car. Or maybe that was just Jamison’s brain. His neck ached and he lifted his head from the cold floor to stretch the muscles. At least he’d gotten to sleep. He was almost grateful until the pain in the side of his head registered.
Dumber, apparently, could read minds too.
Hmph.
The car horn sounded again, definitely not from inside his head. The stone wall behind him vibrated with it.
He climbed onto his cot and watched his door but no one came. No one passed by the window. The horn sounded a third time, and when nothing happened for a good five minutes, he stretched out again and went back to sleep.
A hand shook him awake. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed.
“Up, please. We’ve all been summoned. That means you too.”
Jamison sat up. A couple of stacked guys stepped back and waited for him. Dull robes—Clubs then. Big mortal Clubs who could wrestle him to the ground in no time. But he’d bet money they weren’t quick on their feet.
It took a minute for the guy’s words to sink in.
“We’ve all been summoned? Does that mean everyone? As in—”
“Everyone in the mountain.” The second guy spun him around and bound his hands together. A few minutes later, they were in a golf cart headed uphill.
Headed toward Skye.
~ ~ ~
Skye pressed down on the handle and her door opened silently. No alarms sounded. No guards had been posted to keep her inside. Maybe Gabriella had simply been waiting for a slow elevator after all.
The slippers made no noise, which made them better than Skye’s sneakers at the moment. The corridor ended at the elevators. No buttons on the wall. No light to indicate which way Gabriella and Pilot had gone.
A man’s voice came from the stairwell. She hurried to the steps and listened. It sounded like Pilot, but she couldn’t be sure. However, since she had no other hints, she started down the steps, grateful once again for the slippers.
She’d gone down nearly two stories and the voices disappeared. But while she paused to decide between continuing down or moving off the stairs, a new set of excited voices came from above and were closing fast. She had no choice but to step off and hope they passed her.
She peeked out the opening to the closest floor. No one in the lobby. Three hallways, but no people. She hurried into the darkest of the three corridors and watched from the shadows. Her heart raced. Her breath was short. She was sure someone
would hear her.
Three people, dressed in robes much just like the one she wore, stepped across the opening and continued down.
She was so relieved she could have cried. And it was that flood of relief that made her rethink the whole search and rescue plan. Who was she to think she could rescue anyone? She hadn’t even had enough guts to stand up to Blair the Creep and demand her money back, or call Fernando’s bluff by calling the cops.
It would be simple to get back to her rooms. Just a couple of floors up, down the hall, and through the door. She could crawl back into bed without anyone realizing she’d been out of it. She’d think only pleasant, obedient thoughts around Pilot for a few days, listen patiently to Gabriella’s silly stories, and she would bide her time until the woman let her go.
And she’d get the hell out of Nevada. Maybe she’d head to Canada. Would they let her in without a passport?
She pushed away from the wall and walked calmly to the stairs. If she was dressed like others, maybe no one would look twice at her.
She entered the stairwell and turned to the right, walking as quickly as her shallow breathing allowed. The first lobby came and went with no one to hide from.
Not far now.
More voices came from above. Women’s voices. If she made it to her floor fast enough, she could step out before they ever saw her. Over the beating of her heart, she heard their feet skipping quickly down the steps. She started running, which was not a problem with all the adrenaline pumping through her.
Why hadn’t she reached it yet? Can’t be long now. Any second. Two more steps.
White-clad women dropped onto the landing and they frowned at her.
“Where are you going?” asked the oldest.
Skye kicked herself for not being prepared with an excuse. “I forgot something.”
A second woman looked her over. “Tissues?”
“Yeah.” The third one grimaced. “I should have thought of that.” She turned to Skye. “Would you like us to wait for you?”
Skye smiled but was careful not to show her shaking teeth. “No. You go on. I won’t be long.”
The older one shrugged and headed down the steps again. Skye started up the next flight, not wanting to give away the floor she was on. After the stairs turned, she stopped to listen. It was a while before they started talking again. Their voices were hushed, and they were definitely moving away.
She turned back and headed for the opening. There was no one in the lobby. No more voices on the stairs. It was an easy walk back to her rooms…where she’d be safe.
While she fumbled for the key card, she thought about the conversation that had gone on right where she stood. Gabriella had told Pilot to assemble them. But assemble whom? Did that mean an assembly like at school? Would everyone be there? Maybe even Jamison? Or Ruth?
And why would those women assume she’d want a tissue?
Damnit!
She had no choice. She had to go back. She couldn’t blow off the chance for the two of them to get away. Not when they were dealing with a cult of murderers! What had she been thinking?
Of course she had the balls to do it. She’d just had a little lapse of judgment, that was all. Terror will do that to a person. But she was over it. She was going to slip in with the others, and while they were having their little rah-rah meeting, she could scour the crowd for Ruth and pull her aside. Then together, they would locate Jamison.
It was as good a plan as she could come up with. Maybe not complicated, but it didn’t lack for excitement. After all, if she were caught, she was probably going to be tossed on some altar, and if that wasn’t motivation enough to be brilliant, nothing else was.
She pulled a few tissues out of a marble box on the lobby table and reentered the stairwell. Her little slippers took her down as fast as her feet could carry her. And with each floor she passed, she reminded herself that she’d had the balls to leave her foster home and live on the streets. She’d had the brains to put away a lot of money, had guts of steel to put up with two years of crap from the Garzas.
She could do anything.
Her courage showed up just in time. She exited the stairwell into an impressive flow of traffic she could have never imagined. Then she realized she’d been a fool to think there weren’t a lot of people underground considering the size of the coliseum. She just hadn’t imagined that the people who filled those seats actually slept there, to be summoned so late at night.
“Oy, here!” The nicer woman from the stairs waved her to the left. “This way, yeah? Clubs to the left, remember?”
Skye nodded and joined her and her friends. The older one gave her a dirty look.
The nice one tapped her friend’s arm. “She’s new, yeah? So give her some slack. Just look at her tan.”
All three of them looked at her arms and face and suddenly their faces softened.
“Right then. Our turn. Stay close.” The nice one gestured for Skye to get behind her, and Skye fell in line.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jamison was led into a massive stadium that looked like the center of a geode. The earth and rock had been eaten out of the middle and a gigantic gnarly shell remained. Jamison was led toward a stone stage off to the left. It was hard to watch where he was walking and search for Skye so he was glad his guards were there to keep him from falling on his face. Eventually, he was brought to the stage and pressed back against the rear wall. Then he was told to sit.
The surface was polished and cool. He couldn't lean back because of his hands still tied behind his back, but he was comfortable enough. To his left stood a large wooden throne, but it didn’t block his view. If Skye was there, he’d be able to find her.
People in street clothes, who had to be the Hearts from the catacombs, filed into rows of stone seats that made up the bulk of the stadium. They sat and fastened metal bands across themselves like they expected a bumpy ride.
Was the stadium going to move?
He counted the bodies filling one small section, then multiplied.
Yeah. He’d been right about it being thousands. He figured there were close to four thousand butts in those seats. Four thousand people who Gabriella had tried to get to join her army and failed.
There was movement on the mezzanine and hundreds of Somerleds filed into the nicer cushioned seats there, proof that Gabriella didn’t sound all that crazy to everyone. But the robes weren’t startling white. Clubs then. All the mortals were accounted for, maybe.
Surely Skye wasn’t among them.
~ ~ ~
Skye stayed close to the trio and tried to look like she knew what she was doing. They filed through the doors and turned to the left, then started filling individual gold seats at the far end of a row. Others followed behind her. She tried not to look anyone in the eye.
Her pretend friends sat and reached to their right sides, pulled up a long silver band, then hooked it on their left like a seatbelt. The nice one gave her a wild look and a nudge that told her the seatbelt thing was not optional.
She didn’t want to draw attention, so she did it. She locked herself in even though her instincts were telling her it would be better to just turn and run out than to tie herself down. But seatbelts had releases, so it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t be able to get out of the chair again. She only hoped the seatbelts didn’t mean the place was going to turn into a space ship and take off with all of them aboard.
The coliseum looked completely different with a crowd, and it felt like the place was expanding as it filled. It was much larger than she’d noticed the first time. But the strangest thing was how quiet a place could be with thousands of people inside. No one chatted. No one twisted around, looking for friends. It was like Church on a grand scale.
Sure, women needed tissues at church sometimes, but seatbelts? Not so much.
Which reminded her…
She reached into her pocket and pulled out two of the tissues she’d grabbed and handed it to the woman next to her. “Here,” sh
e whispered. “I brought you a couple too.”
The woman turned sharply to face her, her eyes bulging. “No talking,” she mouthed frantically.
Skye nodded, and mouthed a thank you, but the other woman had already turned to face forward. She shifted slightly away from Skye too, then glued her eyes on the stage across the arena and slightly to the left.
Gabriella was not in the big chair and Skye wondered who would sit in it for the assembly. She searched the wall where a stone arch and doorway was concealed, the passage to the woman’s office, but nothing moved. A row of people sat down and suddenly she could see the rest of the stage. Not far from Gabriella’s door a couple of men in white stood next to a guy sitting on the ground.
A blond guy with a shag. And a slight beard. Wearing black jeans and a gray tee shirt.
Jamison!
It was a huge relief to see him, like a noisy, heavy puzzle piece falling into place.
The distance between her and her puzzle piece was way too much ground to cover with everyone watching. But if they happened to turn down the lights in the audience, after the meeting got started, she might be able to walk down the aisles without much notice.
So she decided to wait. And watch. And hopefully, she could find Ruth in the crowd too.
She was pretty disappointed in herself for chickening out earlier. Of course she wouldn’t have gone running back to her room if she knew how easy it was going to be to find Jamison. Just being in the same room with him—even though it was a little smaller than a football stadium—made her feel like anything was possible.
She took a good look at the center of the arena, however, and noticed something off to the side that scared the crap out of her.
An altar. An honest to goodness, human-sized altar with dirty brown trails down the sides where blood had never been washed away. Or maybe it had, and those were just stains that wouldn’t come off…
She sat in frozen, terrified silence, afraid to look around, afraid anyone and everyone would be able to read the terror on her face. She couldn’t be there. She couldn’t sit by and do nothing while some poor soul was sacrificed! She couldn’t have any part of this!
