Authors: RJ Blain
It didn’t.
Chapter Ten
“What’s wrong with her?”
The words, spoken right over my head, made me realize that I wasn’t burning alive or falling to my death. I remained curled, shivering from more than the cold desert air, trying to figure out what had happened. The car had crashed; the sound of metal grinding on stone was fresh in my ears and the scent of blood lingered in my nose.
My hand and arm throbbed, although the scorching sensation of fire licking at my skin faded away.
I lost track of the conversation over my head. Shame blended with my fear, until I wanted to disappear.
Someone touched my shoulder and I curled tighter, squeezing my eyes shut. Dread cramped my stomach. All I wanted was crawl somewhere to be sick, but I swallowed several times until the impulse faded.
I wasn’t dying. I wasn’t going to die. My hand hurt, but it wouldn’t kill me.
I had survived. I wasn’t alone, either—the feeing of the hand on my shoulder offered security and safety.
My shame smothered me. Why couldn’t I be like everyone else? Why couldn’t I remain calm? The wreck hadn’t hurt anyone, not even me. I wasn’t fragile.
I felt stupid for my reaction. I was safe. That was enough.
I told myself as much over and over again in the hopes of believing it, until the worst of my shaking subsided. I drew several deep breaths. While I was aware of the hand still on my shoulder, I couldn’t acknowledge the person standing guard over me.
The embarrassment of reacting to what wasn’t real smothered me again.
There was no smoke. There was no fire. It was all in my head, and despite how many years it had been, I couldn’t separate myself from the past. The moment when the car had plummeted from the road, sliding, crashing, and tumbling until it came to a rest at the bottom of a ravine replayed in my head over and over again.
“What should we do? She’s bleeding.”
Shock blasted me out of my self-pity. I recognized the voice; it belonged to Steroids. He sounded eager and excited. I shuddered, wishing I could disappear.
My mind was playing tricks on me. Steroids was dead; no one walked away from a bullet to a chest. Humans were
fragile.
He’d been stuck in the trunk, hadn’t he? I tried to make sense of it, but couldn’t. While the driver had mentioned something about a bullet between the eyes to kill his co-kidnapper, I hadn’t thought he’d been
serious.
“Robert, deal with the other car.” The driver’s voice welcomed no arguments. Gravel crunched near my head and the comforting touch on my shoulder departed.
At the reminder of the other car, the cause of the accident, I broke out in a cold sweat. Dread once again smothered me, and I couldn’t force the stomach-churning sensation to go away. I wanted—needed—a mask, to hide from my own feelings.
Like my forbidden powers of wizardry, I couldn’t find a mask of someone braver and stronger to hide behind.
There was only me—Nicole. Quiet and easily frightened Nicole.
“Get up,” the driver ordered, grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet. I dangled in his grip, unable to force my traitorous legs to hold me upright. “Stop acting like a child. You’re not hurt.”
Another wave of shame washed over me, until I couldn’t lift my head because of its weight. He was right—I wasn’t hurt. My hand throbbed, but it was a temporary pain I could ignore.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sor—”
The driver slapped my face. “Enough.” He jerked my arm, shaking me back and forth as though I weighed no more than a rag doll. My cheek and jaw throbbed in beat with my racing heartbeat. I tried one final time to stand without help, but failed. I tried to swallow my sobs, but they came out anyway.
Hating myself more with each moment and with each tear I shed, I let myself go limp. I deserved what would happen to me. If I had listened to Dominic, if I had believed I was a target, I could’ve avoided being kidnapped—and being in a car wreck.
The driver let go of me and I slumped to the ground. Somehow, I managed to stay sitting, head bowed with my chin resting on my chest.
Everything was my fault. There was something liberating about acknowledging my guilt. It cleared my head a little. I shivered and tears streaked down my cheeks, but there was a disconnect between me and my emotions. The fear and pain faded, but a smoldering anger roused—anger at myself, and at the men who had kidnapped me. Like a living thing trapped in a cage, it sought release. My fingers curled into fists.
I found the strength to stand, though I didn’t lift my bowed head. I heard voices, but a roar in my ears drowned out the words. Someone grabbed my arm with a strong hand, their nails digging deep into my skin. My rage burned brighter. I wanted to lash out, but I forced myself to stay still while I thought about what to do.
No one was going to save me unless I saved myself. I had survived the wreck, and while my hand hurt, the busted up car couldn’t come and get me. I was safe from it.
My kidnappers were the larger threat.
My acknowledgment of the truth allowed me to focus on the more immediate problem: escaping.
“Everyone okay? An animal ran across the road. Spun out dodging the blasted thing.” I didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but there was something intriguing about the way his words rumbled as he spoke. It was velvet smooth and pleasant to my ears. “I can call a tow if you need it.”
“We’re fine,” the driver snapped, his grip tightening on my arm. There was a warning in his touch. “I’m insured.”
“Let me give you my contact number and information. My car wasn’t damaged, so I can take you to the nearest town if you’d like.” There was something odd about the newcomer’s tone; an edge to his soft voice, drawing my full attention to him. I turned my head a little, ear cocked towards him. His words were innocent enough, concerned as any kind person would be, calm and confident.
“We’ll be fine, but thank you.” Once again, the driver squeezed my arm in warning. “Robert, give him our information, would you?”
“Sure thing,” Steroids replied. Robert didn’t suit him as a name. I don’t know why, but I had always thought Roberts were nice people. Then again, I doubted many Roberts got back up after being shot in the chest and stuffed in a trunk. I was surprised the newcomer didn’t notice anything wrong with the guy—like his bloody chest.
I wondered if my kidnappers had left their gun in the car. That worry kept me silent and cooperative.
I didn’t want the man with the pleasant voice to die because of me—even if it meant I couldn’t escape or beg for help.
I was a
wizard
. As soon as my powers returned, I’d free myself. I flexed my hands and drew a deep breath through my nose. I finally found a mask I could wear to survive my kidnapping with men who refused to die like regular humans, and it wasn’t the mask of a damsel in distress. I’d be the quiet, calm, and calculating heroine who wasn’t afraid of picking up a gun and shooting the bad guys, the girl who knew silence could be a weapon—a girl who wasn’t terrified of the idea of getting back into a car.
I’d be the type of girl who could rescue herself, even if it meant killing someone to preserve my own life. I needed to live.
My sister needed me to find a cure for the plague infecting werewolves.
My dread lingered but I was able to spread my fingers out over jeans, calm and collected. I didn’t shake anymore and while the sickening anxiety still gnawed at my stomach, I could live with it. My fear wouldn’t go away because I wore my new mask, but I could accept it until I had the peace and quiet where I could fall apart. But what could I do?
How could I outsmart my enemies?
I must have missed part of the conversation, because the men were arguing over the details.
“I know this is inconvenient, but I’m not from around here, and my car is a rental,” the velvet-voiced man insisted. “While my car isn’t damaged, I caused your wreck, and it isn’t right abandoning you all out in the middle of the desert, not with the sun coming up soon.” His tone changed, turning wry. “Even I know the desert isn’t the kind of place you want to be broken down, and it doesn’t look like your car is going anywhere anytime soon. At least let me call a tow and pay for it. That’s the least I can do.”
I opened my eyes. Sure enough, dawn lightened the eastern sky to a rich blue, though the stars were still visible along the horizon.
“A tow might be good, Boss.” To my surprise, Robert didn’t sound as aggressive as I remembered. Maybe being shot in the chest had triggered a miracle, altering him from groping womanizer to something closer to human.
“All right, all right. Call your tow, but I’ll call to have someone pick us up. Don’t feel like you need to wait around, though. It’s not your fault I over-reacted when you spun out,” the driver grumbled.
He was still holding onto me and my hand tingled from the pressure of his grip. For a fleeting moment, I considered trying to find some source of electricity so I could zap him, but I still couldn’t sense my cell phone—if it worked at all after my kidnappers breaking the screen. I didn’t need the screen to use it, so long as the electronics still functioned. I shifted a little, smothering my sigh of relief. It was still in my pocket.
Once the velvet-voiced man and his car were at a safe distance, I could find a way to trigger the panic alarm on the phone. I wouldn’t need much time to do it… and once my powers returned, I could experiment.
Hopefully I could manipulate the mangled phone into dialing the police without having to touch it. It was something I had never tried before with a phone, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and I didn’t want to risk anyone else—especially not some stranger who didn’t deserve being shot
.
So I waited.
“It’s no problem. There are wolves in these parts, or so I heard,” the stranger said, his tone amused, although I thought I caught a hint of wariness.
I wanted to see what he looked like, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself in my effort to do so. Staying still kept the stranger safe. It didn’t stop me from trying to get a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. To my disappointment, it was still too dark to see much; he was tall, and his hair appeared to be dark.
“Wolves don’t worry me,” the driver said. “And anyway, they’re just coyotes. Don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.”
“I see. I’m not from around here, I’m afraid. I’ll wait until your tow arrives, at least.”
The driver’s hand flexed against my arm. “Thank you.” I marveled that my kidnapper managed to keep his voice so pleasant sounding. I could feel his anger and irritation in the way he touched me and I didn’t like it.
But until I was alone with my kidnappers, I couldn’t act—or save myself. I wasn’t going to let me be the reason others got hurt.
“Pardon me for intruding, but are you all right, miss? Sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”
I stiffened, torn between taking the chance of escape and risking the wrath of my kidnappers, or lying.
“My wife is fine, she’s just tired. Long night.”
“If she’s your wife, then you’re an abusive son of a whore,” the stranger growled. “She’s bleeding, and you’re just holding her there like she’s a doll. Real men take care of their women. You don’t treat a lady that way.”
My eyes widened. The hand holding me pulled away and my kidnapper spluttered something incoherent.
I whipped my head around in time to watch the driver reach for his gun. Ignoring the protest of my stiff, aching muscles, I surged to my feet, grabbed his wrist with both of my hands, and held on as tightly as I could. When he slapped me with the back of his free hand, I threw myself against him, ducking my head until my face pressed against his arm.
He tried to shake me off. My injured hand throbbed, pain stabbing up my arm with blinding ferocity, but I didn’t let go. He grabbed at my hair and yanked, jerking my head back. Desperation gave me the strength to keep clawing at his wrist to keep his hand away from the gun.
I couldn’t let anyone get hurt because of me, not again. Never again.
“Let me go, stupid bitch!”
It wasn’t a fair fight; he was stronger than me, and had no scruples about pulling my hair and using cheap tricks to try to dislodge me. I wasn’t about to play fair either, snapping my teeth at any part of him I could reach. All the while, I clung to him, I searched him for the gun. I spotted it shoved in his pants, the grip sticking out near the middle of his back. Struggling with all of my might, hissing at the pain of pulled hair, I threw myself closer to him, letting go of him with my left hand to grab the weapon.
He didn’t expect it, because before he realized what I had done, my fingers curled around the rubber grip. My pointer finger found the trigger. I jammed the barrel against his side.
To my surprise, my kidnapper froze. With slow, ginger care, he let go of my hair, lifting his arms in a gesture of surrender. I backpedaled, checking my back and keeping close watch until I could see all of my kidnappers—and my would-be rescuer.
My breath caught in my throat as I recognized him.
He was one of the men who had been loitering outside of the ladies’ bathroom at the movie theater, and in the early morning light, with his brown hair tousled, he was too good looking to be real. He watched, his expression calm and serious. I kept the gun pointed in the driver’s general direction, lifting my throbbing right hand to support the gun to keep it steady. I wasn’t left handed, but I didn’t dare switch how I was holding the weapon. Every eye was focused on me.