by Anna Rezes
Fresh panic floods his face as he spots me. “What are you doing?”
“It’s been ten minutes and I could feel something was wrong!”
“Yeah, the guy is an asshole. It doesn’t mean you come find me. Let’s go!” He grabs my arm and propels me toward the door but immediately switches direction and pins me up against the wall with his body. He leans in with a serious look and whispers, “Don’t panic, but they’re here.”
“What? Where?” I turn my head to survey the lobby, trying to shove him away, but he doesn’t budge.
“By the entrance.” His voice is steady as he allows me to peek around his shoulder. The lobby is crowded with strangers, and I can’t tell who he’s talking about. There are no men dressed in black as I had imagined.
“I don’t see them.”
“The two men to the right of the doors,” he responds with his mouth at my ear.
I look where he says and see the two middle-aged men he’s referring to, but they don’t seem threatening dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts. The most unusual thing about them is they look too much like male models, squeezing all their ridiculously toned muscles into tight shirts.
“They look like they belong in a cologne ad.”
He presses tighter into me, obstructing my view. “Listen, when I pull away, follow me. Don’t walk too quickly and don’t use your abilities. We’ll go downstairs and out the back entrance. Got it?”
I give a slight nod, adrenaline pulsing through my veins.
“Let’s go.” He backs away from me, taking my hand. We walk through the lobby slow enough to look casual, but once we turn the corner entering the stairwell, we move much faster. We skip down several steps at a time and almost knock someone down. I mumble an apology but doubt they hear it over their own cursing. We reach the bottom, and I dash ahead, unsure of when I stopped holding Patrick’s hand. The exit is in view, so I reach out to push the single steel door open. Before I get all the way through the opening, Patrick catches me around the middle with both arms, picks me up, and spins me around bringing me back inside. He warns, “There are more of them out there!”
I make eye contact with a blue-eyed model just before the door closes between us. “He saw me!” I shout, even though Patrick is still holding me.
He drops me to my feet, flips the lock at the top of the steel door, and drags me back up the stairs. We continue up the next three flights, but I’ve watched enough scary movies to know we’re moving the wrong direction.
The stairs come to an end on the fourth floor, and we sprint down the long corridor. On the way, Patrick grabs a red baseball cap off an unsuspecting stranger. Too frightened by Patrick’s intensity, the guy doesn’t say a word. We turn the corner and Patrick pulls me into an unlocked room. He flips the deadbolt while I scan the dark hotel room. Patrick moves to the windows and lifts the shades.
“The roof connects to the next building,” he says.
“Whoa! Seriously, that’s your plan? Scaling rooftops?”
“I’ll go first. We can get into the apartment building next door. There’s a fire escape on the far side that’s right next to the parking lot. We need to get to my car. If we can’t get to my car, then we get to the bus stop two blocks south and take the bus downtown. We hail a cab or steal a car and get to safety.”
“Did you know this was going to happen?”
“I knew it could. I try to plan for every scenario. Thinking ahead is the reason I’ve survived as long as I have.”
“What if we can’t get away?”
He grabs my shoulders. “No matter what happens, you have to trust me. I will get you out of here.”
“But . . .”
“Come on.”
He opens the window, and we climb out, hurrying across the rooftop. The windows to the adjacent building are locked, so Patrick breaks one with his elbow. Careful to watch for broken glass, we crawl inside. We run through the vacant apartment and exit into a hallway. At the end of the hall, the window leads to the fire escape, just like Patrick said. I’m crawling through the window when I hear someone shout from down the hall.
“Got them! They’re headed down the fire escape!”
Patrick is right behind me, but he doesn’t follow me through the window. He shoves the red cap on my head and hands me the keys.
“Car or bus! Go!” Patrick shuts and locks the window between us. He turns to face the two daunting men rushing down the hall.
My heartbeat races, but time stands still. If I stay any longer, Patrick’s sacrifice will be for nothing. I can’t bear to leave him, but my feet take over, scurrying down the ladder and jumping off the fire escape. When I get to the parking lot, a man is standing next to Patrick’s car. I duck behind a dumpster to regroup and tuck my hair under the hat. I lock down my mind so they cannot track me and sprint the two blocks to the bus stop.
The bus stop is out in the open, so I hang back between a gas station and a dumpster until I see the bus coming. There’s no sign of Patrick, but I can’t think about him right now. I have to get out of here or confront them. Patrick doesn’t think I’m ready, and I don’t know if I ever will be.
The bus rounds the corner and I rush to climb on. I take a seat near the front while I scope for any blond bodybuilders. For the moment, I’m in the clear. The bus moves and I take a deep breath which lasts for exactly three-seconds.
A strange man takes the seat next to me. In a cheerfully dangerous tone that reminds me of Patrick, he says, “Beautiful summer day we’re having.”
Dread makes my movements slow as I turn to look at him. The tall, slender man sharing my seat is wearing a bright purple fitted suit, accented with white cotton gloves and a black cane. His shiny white hair hangs straight past his shoulders. He’s smiling, but his features are too sharp to be attractive. His sky-blue eyes explode with excitement.
The place deep inside where I bottle my fear opens wide and swallows me whole. I’m paralyzed, unable to respond to the deceptively cheerful man who wears a tiger’s grin.
“Such a beautiful day to meet such a beautiful girl.” He reaches out and pulls off my hat. He strokes a lock of my hair and I can do nothing. I’m frozen, caught staring into the eyes of a predator.
“It’s been so long my dear, but I’ve finally found you,” he purrs. I struggle to move myself an inch away. “Don’t fight darling. I’m going to take you home where you belong.”
I attempt to leap from my seat, but a blast of energy engulfs my body. My fight turns into a pathetic struggle and within seconds everything fades to black.
thirty
I wake up shivering with my wrists chained behind my back and my ankles shackled to the legs of the steel chair I’m occupying. I have no idea how long I’ve been unconscious, but it’s enough time for my body to ache with stiffness. The room is entirely white with bright lights covering the ceiling and a drain in the center of the tiled floor. My nightmares align with my reality as I recognize the room from the memory of Patrick’s mother—only now I’m the one in the chair. Someone has dressed me in a white sleeveless dress covered with delicate lace fabric that hangs in shear waves to the floor, spilling over my shackles. I can’t help but feel like a helpless lamb before the slaughter.
I struggle to find a comfortable position on the cold steel chair as time stretches into what feels like hours. The handcuffs dig into my wrists as I reposition myself, yet again. I’m trapped, completely at my captor’s mercy, but I’m determined to keep my mind locked up tight.
After all this time waiting and wondering, the door finally opens, and the sound of footsteps surround me. I refuse to acknowledge their presence, but when the man in the ridiculous purple suit saunters into the room, I can’t help but look up at him.
There is not an ounce of danger in his appearance, but menace radiates from his harrowing aura. It’s the unease in the room, the way his gracious grin makes my feet itch to move, and the threat behind those sky-blue eyes. The men surrounding keep the fear from their fa
ces, but not their minds. For his own men to fear him, indicates how dangerous he is. His stride is confident, his insatiable smile holds an allure, and his eyes possess a certain magnetism. He is a deceptive poison drowning out my ability to rationalize. My skin prickles making me feel insignificant and incompetent against this harmless looking man in purple.
He’s still wearing those white cotton gloves making him appear old-fashioned and suggesting he never gets his hands dirty. Why would he? He doesn’t have to touch anyone to torture them. He knocked me out cold with a single thought. My rationale escapes my mental hold, and it’s a struggle to regain control. I’m the last of the Valla blood, and I’m going to die here just like Patrick’s mother.
“Throwing in the towel already, are we?” His musical voice captures my attention, and I lock down the fortress I built to hide my thoughts.
The man in purple moves closer. “Intriguing!” He tosses his arms out with great enthusiasm. “That’s brilliant! Do you have any idea of the untapped potential inside of you, darling? What you’ve learned in such a short time is simply astonishing. Patrick has taught you well.”
Anger flares inside me at his mention of Patrick. I’m wondering how he knows Patrick taught me and if he’s torturing him for information. What if he’s killed Patrick? I couldn’t live with myself if I’m the reason for his death. I keep the emotions from my face, but the villainous leader’s face turns mischievous.
“How sweet, my darling.” He folds his hand over his heart. “Truly, there’s no reason to worry about Patrick. His fate is already sealed. Sad you didn’t get a proper goodbye.”
His words hit me like a physical blow crushing the breath from my lungs. Patrick is dead. The man’s devious chuckle fills the room and my devastation turns into rage.
“Oh, you poor girl, letting love—the most fickle of emotions—compromise you so completely. I’d be ashamed if I were you. Not to worry, we’ll work on those weaknesses.”
I want to shout obscenities, but I hold my tongue.
“Sorry about those restraints. Can’t say I didn’t warn you not to fight. Now, where are my manners? Introductions are in order. I’m Sky Vallor from the Leona bloodline. I’m delighted to meet you Emily, daughter of Selma Konig from the Valla bloodline.”
When he says my mother’s name, my mind jolts with the mental images he places in my head. Her death is on replay, messing up my psyche. The next glimpse he forces into my mind is of Patrick’s mother in this very room.
“She bled out, you know,” he says casually, while I glare at him. “No need for such hatred. I’m just giving you the facts. I wonder . . .” Sky taps his chin, “after everything he taught you, do you think Patrick was a brave little soldier or do you think he begged for his life?”
He waits for me to answer, but I’d rather die than play into his cruelty. I keep my eyes level as I remind myself to breathe. Just breathe.
His lips curl wider, showing delight at my reluctance. “No worries, I can show you,” he says, rounding my chair. “Bring Patrick in.”
I brace myself for the trauma.
“So much death has occurred in this very room. Patrick’s mother, Alessandra, was just one of many, although her death was a delightfully bloody mess,” Sky brags, as he strolls lazy circles around the room. “Patrick learned to be more sophisticated as time went on.” He removes a white cotton glove, but I’m distracted as Patrick enters the room. I gasp at the sight of him, as Sky continues, “I believe you are well acquainted with Patrick Glenn from the Isa bloodline. Forgot to amend my little fib earlier. As you can see, Patrick is alive and well.”
Relief floods through me as he appears unscathed. In fact, he looks stunning in his tailored suit. He moves forward without anyone guiding him, without handcuffs or restraints of any kind. I don’t get a chance to question him because Sky taps a bare fingertip to my temple sending a burst of images through my mind.
Teenage Patrick plunges a knife into his mother’s chest. He releases a tormented howl and pulls the knife out, only to thrust it back in again. It takes several large men to haul Patrick off of his mother. They pry the knife from his hand and drag him from the room, leaving his mother to die alone.
I return to the present and my mind struggles to keep up with what my eyes are telling me.
“You see, my dear Emily, my second in command would be useless to me dead,” Sky boasts. “Instead, he brought you home to me.”
I’m disoriented, blindsided as the world tips on its axis to dump me into space. I fade into emptiness, feeling nothing. I find strength in the numbness, which soon dissolves when a wicked grin plays on Patrick’s lips. The sting of betrayal sends ice searing through my veins. Patrick—my friend, my ally—is my enemy!
“Surprised to see me, love?” Patrick taunts, coming closer. “Let me guess, there was a man by my car at the hotel, so you did just as I instructed and ran to the bus stop where Sky was conveniently awaiting your arrival.” He smiles. “You didn’t suspect a thing. You were so compliant. It was almost too easy.”
I recoil, burning with the violation of trust. Patrick set me up! He conspired against me and I trusted him. Unguarded, I let him into my head, into my house, and into my heart. I look around the room and cannot deny the fear I feel radiating from the other men. They fear Patrick just as much as they fear Sky. I’ve never felt so alone and defeated, my trust so misplaced that my heart plots to give up. At the same time, my mind races to conceive a plan to save myself.
Sky chimes in, “I was skeptical that you would find a way to get her into a red hat as we’d discussed, but I should’ve known better, Patrick. You never disappoint.”
“She was like soft butter in my hands.”
Sky gives me a look of disgust. “Sounds messy.”
“It was a sweet victory,” Patrick coos, running the backs of his fingers down my jaw. “But the most exciting part is yet to come. Brace yourself, love. We have another surprise up our sleeve.”
I watch men drag an unconscious body through the doorway. His limp feet scrape across the tile floor before they throw the beaten man at my feet. I stare at the barely recognizable features of my dad.
Hope can be calamitous. I’d almost given up hope to find Dad alive and here he is, beaten and in ruins, but alive. Alive, but why? He’s not a gift. They’re using him to taunt me, dangling hope in front of me only to rip it away, breaking me further and further until I crack. I can no longer hold back the angry tears. I tug on my restraints, hoping the physical pain will become my ally and keep me from collapsing.
Patrick backs up as Sky steps forward, drawing all eyes back to him. “Now, Emily.” He pauses dramatically to slide his glove back on. “We have a nice room for you down the hall—a luxury suite filled with anything you desire. Or . . .” he tilts his head to the side and shrugs, lowering his voice, “. . . you can sleep on the concrete floor in the cell across from that thing.” He points to my dad.
I look at the floor, watching the shallow breaths shudder out of him, wishing I could take his pain away. My gaze shifts back through the room. Anger runs through my blood as I spot Patrick standing amongst the men. He’s wearing a superior smirk, and I promise myself I will not say a word. I will get out of here and I will destroy them ALL!
“I’m so glad you and Patrick could really get to know each other, because you two are going to give me grandchildren,” Sky announces.
Grandchildren? How can that be? Sky can’t be Patrick’s father, because I’ve seen Patrick’s father in his memories unless the bastard just manipulated me into seeing what he wanted me to see. So, this is Sky’s plan. It’s why he hasn’t killed me yet. He wants my DNA.
“I know you may not be happy about it right now, my dear.” He runs his fingers down my bare arm causing me to cringe. “You will get used to it over time. Just think of how powerful your children will be.”
He’s lost his damn mind if he thinks that’ll ever happen. I will die before I let Patrick lay a hand on me.
“How does it feel, Patrick, to finally get revenge on the one who killed your mother?” Sky says as he runs his fingers through my hair.
I jerk away, unable to hold my tongue any longer, I shout, “He killed her!”
Sky claps. “Oh goody, she talks. He killed her only because she helped you, dearie. It’s your fault she’s dead.”
My mouth falls open, furious at the lies he’s spewing. “You. Are. Poison!” I say through clenched teeth.
“No, love, he’s right,” Patrick says, and I sink deeper in the betrayal I’m already drowning in. “By helping you, my mother committed treason to our people. Like I told you before, no one who wants to live will help a Valla. Her death was necessary because you allowed her to help you.”
“You can’t be serious!” I spit, shaking, hot with fury.
“Oh, don’t be upset with him, darling. I do believe he has great feelings for you,” Sky mock-whispers as if sharing a friendly little secret. “But don’t be too comforted by that fact. He loved his mother and he murdered her. Because of you, of course. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s certainly not heartless. He cried over her death for days until I sat him down and explained he was useless to me when he wept like a coward. If he didn’t pull his shit together and become a man, he would end up the same way as his dear old mum.”
I feel like I’m falling further down the rabbit hole. I glare at Patrick across the room, but he has no expression on his face as he stares back. He’s a murderer and a liar, and yet I can’t help but blame Sky. He made Patrick into what he is.
