Chapter 4

Yup I don't like it at all

   It takes me awhile to realize I'm awake again, and when I do notice, I also discover that my neck and shoulder are throbbing.
   This is worse than that stupid stabbing feeling from before.
   I scowl and sit up too quickly, and when the room stops spinning, I yank on my T-shirt's sleeve. There, on my shoulder, is a cut deeper than any I've ever seen before. It's worse in the middle and steadily becomes more of a surface wound as it extends toward my chest and my back, but right in between those points, it's just so deep.
   I resist the urge to poke a finger in to see just how badly I'm injured. I don't think doing that's a very good idea.
   I put my hand to my neck instead, rubbing it and feeling two slightly swollen areas. Oh yeah... Ed never did heal that. Why didn't I notice that earlier?
   I twist around from facing the TV to glance behind me. The carpet of the family room abruptly becomes tile not far away, and a short counter separates the kitchen from a dining room. Somehow, whoever made this place managed to squish three rooms into one while avoiding the feeling of it being squished.
   He's sitting there, at the small, circular table by a window covered with curtains. He hasn't noticed me yet; his face is stuffed in a newspaper.
   I swing my legs around so that I'm not straining my back anymore and try to see up the staircase nearby. Too bad I can't.
   I rock back so that I can jump up onto my feet, and I'm happy when my vision stays relatively normal. I wobble around the room, reminding myself of a penguin. Just a little. Maybe I can escape out the door before he sees me...
   Nope. Wishful thinking. He catches sight of me and sets the newspaper flat on the table. I freeze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights, and bite my lip.
   No, strange dude, I wasn't trying to escape from this place. I try to keep the guilt from my face.
   He stands, the chair below him screeching across the floor (I shudder at that.), and slowly moves toward me, like I'm an animal who's too easily frightened. I don't move to evade him, but I flinch when he brushes against my shoulder and guides me back to the sofa.
   I plop down onto it, and he sits in the general area Demetri sat in earlier. I frown at him.
   "Are you one of Zane's friends?" I ask, leaning back in resignation.
   He shakes his head, and I hate the disappointment that courses inside me. Even as he does that motion, he's carefully pulling on my sleeve to reveal the wound. He watches me warily, like I might turn and punch him. And I might.
   What kind of perv is he, trying to get my shirt off?
   He stops sliding it down, though, as he reveals the slit in my shoulder entirely. Still gazing at me, he gently holds a hand over it, and I wince. Something disapproving slips into his expression, he leans over in a sudden movement contrasting to all his actions before, and his lips are pressed to the middle of my wound.
   I feel heat flood into my face along with the confusion. "Ehh... W-what are you doing?" I get out.
   He pulls back, remaining silent, and when I glance at the cut... There isn't a cut. It's gone, just like that. I rub my shoulder in disbelief, cringing in pain when I touch the area. But it's not as bad as it was.
   "What did you do?" I question, looking at him.
   He smiles, not showing any intention of answering, and I'm happy when I feel annoyed. Even if he was trying to help, Demitri's ability makes me uneasy.
   "Do you ever talk?" I remember back to the party; he was just as silent then.
   He frowns at me, eyes as brown as his hair but somehow warmer, like chocolate or something. I notice with a jolt that his ears are too long and pointed at the ends.
   Isn't anyone around here normal?
   Without warning, he stands and jogs up the staircase, disappearing around the corner.
   Alright then. No one here is normal. He's not a very good babysitter; the door's right in front of me. I could escape without any hindrances, and they're never see me again. More importantly, I'd never see them again.
   But by the time I think through what I'd do if I did leave here, he's back, a laptop balanced on one hand as he types something with the other.
   He sinks back into the sofa beside me and drums his fingers below the keyboard, waiting for the welcome screen to fade. When his desktop loads, he opens a word document and pushes the screen back until it clicks, set horizontally to the keyboard. He taps a button, and everything on his screen sits up-except for the screen itself. The hologram always reminds me of a ghost; it's there but things behind it are visible through it, and whenever something goes near it, it goes right through.

   He begins typing, and the words float in front of us. I squint at them.

   I’m so sorry to have not introduced myself sooner. I’m Jace.

   I raise an eyebrow, turning away from the red squiggly under his name to look at him. His fingers hesitate over the keys.

   “Should I type everything out too or can I talk out loud?” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.

   He smiles, just a small pull of either side of his mouth, and enters more words. He types really fast, and I suspect he’s used to doing this.

   You can answer out loud. I’d prefer it. I like this laptop and rarely let anyone touch it.

   “I’m Colette,” I tell him, even though he already knows that, “Why don’t you just… you know. Talk?”

   He huffs out a breath and his fingers glide across the keyboard.

   Mute.

   I stare at the word, feeling so bad. He can’t speak, and I just thought he was a creep. I open my mouth, guilt starting to nibble at my insides, but he continues.

   Sorry to not tell you before, but I have a feeling you don’t understand sign language.

   He highlights the conversation up to now and deletes it, clearing the page.

   “Oh,” I say lamely.

   He grins.

   It’s fine, really. You should be more concerned with yourself. You’re in considerable danger.

   “Yeah, that’s what the other guy said. Why? Why me?”

   He didn’t tell you?

   As I watch, he muses over that, biting on his lower lip.

   There must be a reason he didn’t. Maybe I shouldn’t explain…

   I groan and flop around on the couch in frustration. He grabs my arm a moment later to hold me still, looking apprehensive. With his free hand, he types:

   What was that?

   “My frustration.”

   He looks like he might laugh.

   You want to know so badly? You won’t believe me anyway.

   “Tell the truth, and I will.”

   You won’t, but

   He rests his fingertips on the keys, looking at me carefully, like earlier. I wait for him to finish, meeting his gaze evenly, and he blinks, looking away, seeming to find whatever he’s looking for in my expression.

   I guess I’ll tell you. You deserve some explanation, don’t you?

   It’s rhetorical, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”

   They want to kill you. They were from Munganso.

   I nod, recognizing the name. The city to the north is well-known for its numerous bounty hunters.

   “But why would they want me?”

   They are in alliance with Tuntunin.

   “That stupid law city,” I murmur in acknowledgement.

   That stupid law city wants you did. They

   He stops, calculating what to write.

   Think you’re a monster. A danger to not just their cities but everything.  The whole world.

   Green underlines the two fragment sentences, and I frown at them.

   “Why would they think that? About anyone, nevertheless me? I’m just a girl in a big city, not some world menace.”

   Colette,

   He sighs.

   Last night… Do you remember anything?

   “Yeah, I remember a bunch of guys in military suits dragging my best friend away,” I retort.

   Anything else?

   “Uh…” I think about, and that foggy, light-headed feeling comes back. I tripped, I remember that. I remember… the nightmare. Ugh, that thing come up everywhere, I’m glad my last couple times not awake weren’t filled with those visions.

   I remember…a guy, a military guy. He had me and then… He didn’t. I did something to him. I think…

   “I killed him,” I whisper, feeling the truth in it and immediately growing cold. “Why… How…” I don’t remember using the switchblade I stuffed in my pocket yesterday morning. Without really thinking about it, I stuff my hand in and retrieve the weapon, staring at it with a dumbfounded feeling.

   Jace reaches over quickly and plucks it from my hand, holding it as far away from me as he can, and that’s pretty far. I guess being tall means you also get unnaturally long arms.

   “What’s that for?” I mutter, glaring at him.

   I… don’t know. How do you feel?

   “Horrible; I killed someone. I’m a murderer. And Zane is gone. Great. Fantastic day, really.”

   Do you feel like killing more people?

   I grimace at the hologram. What kind of a question is that? “No, I feel like going and puking,” I say.

   Jace sighs, some sort of worry filling his eyes, but he hands me my switchblade back.

   You’re different than I thought.

   I ignore that, feeling like it’s a jab at my personality. “That’s why they want me? Because I killed one of them?” I don’t understand why that would make a difference; people like them… Do they even care about a singular life?

   Sort of. You’ll figure it out eventually.

   I’m not anywhere close to satisfied with that answer, but another question that’s sitting at the back of my mind makes me let it go.

   “How… My shoulder…” I feel colour flood my cheeks just mentioning it. Despite my fail at articulating, he understands.

   We can do that. My tribe. Or we could. My family is the last of us.

   “The last of what?” I swear, if he’s some kind of emotionless freak, I’ll lose my sanity.

   My tribe.

   He smiles in response to my scowl.

   “That’s not…” I trail off so I can read.

   We’ve been called many things, but we’re better known as Elves. We specialize in healing.

   “Elves?” I eye his ears.

   Yes.

   “You heal people?”

   Yes.

   “You can feel emotion?”

   He makes a face. Yes.

   “Oh. That’s good.”

   I think so too. I hope you don’t mind if I suggest you stay here until we know for certain what’s going on. We need to figure out what to do with you.

   “I don’t need a babysitter.”

   Maybe not, but you do need people who know what they’re doing.

   “I know what I’m doing,” I protest.

   Do you?

   “Maybe…”

   ?

   “No.”

   He smiles a real smile this time, showing his teeth. He shakes his head, and I could swear he’s rolling his eyes, but I’m not entirely sure.

   I may not like Demitri, but he can keep you safe at least.

   “Why do you care?” I mutter, annoyed now.

   He closes his laptop, effectively ending the conversation, and shrugs.

   It takes me a moment to realize what staying here means, if I do. I doubt I won’t though because for whatever reason, feeling here stays like the right decision. I’m stuck with a guy who doesn’t feel, another who can’t talk, a girl who likes the TV more than me, and her twin who is overly hyper.

   Fun.

 

----

 

   I wander over to the kitchen and peer out the window behind the sink. I kind of want to know where I am, and neither of the guys I’ve been stuck with the past two days are telling me. But, just my luck, there’s nothing in sight to give me a clue about my location.

   I’m starting to feel crammed in this place, and I can imagine breathing  in the same air over and over and over and over and… I need fresh air. Both Demitri and Jace keep telling me that if I go outside, someone’s going to see me and tell the authorities though. And then it will be on the news, and they-the army people-will come back.

   I’ve never felt so trapped.

   I heave out a breath, not really realizing my inability to feel frustrated until I turn and see Demitri watching me. He’s got to be the creepiest person I’ve ever met.

   “Do you need food?” he asks, walking around the counter between us and pulling open the fridge.

   “I need to leave,” I tell him, edging away, toward the kitchen table.

   He ignores that. I think he got used to me saying it after the first day. He searches through a drawer and turns back to me, holding a package of ham.

   “Do you want a sandwich again?”

   That’s all he’s been feeding me, even for breakfast. I can’t help but wonder if that’s all he eats or if his sisters force him to make something better when they’re here. Then again, neither of them seem to be the type to be picky about food, so it’s probably all he eats.

   “Not hungry,” I reply, stepping around the edge of the table and sitting so I’m facing him. He blinks and puts the meat back, closing the door as Jace hops down the stairs.

   I still haven’t been up there. Demitri offered to let me use his room to sleep, but that’s weird, so I sleep on the couch.

   Jace waves a hand for a greeting, and I notice his laptop is wedged between his other arm and his side. He really does like that thing; he takes it everywhere, at least as far as I’ve seen.

   He falls onto the couch and switches on the TV with the remote since he can’t use voice commands. Some black and white classic is on, and he doesn’t seem interested in it but doesn’t change the channel. Instead, he starts surfing the web.

   Demitri looks over at him for a moment, face expressionless, before glancing at the clock.

   “They’re late,” he notes and starts to head toward me.

   Please don’t sit here, please don’t sit here, please don’t…

   He pulls out the chair across from me and lowers onto it, resting his head on his hand which is propped up on the table. I repress the urge to groan.

   He doesn’t leave me alone; he’s like a lost puppy… or a committed watchdog.

   “Who’s late?” I question, regretting talking at all when he looks at me.

   “My-“

   The front door creaks, and all three of us turn to look at it. The next instant, it flies open to slam against the wall, and a small figure is outlined by the fading sun outside. The only one who doesn’t jump is the guy across from me.

   “Yay, Jace!” cries the figure, and Terra races across the room. Jace hold his computer safely out of reach and intercepts her with his free hand.

   Tessa follows, closing the door after she’s inside and glancing over to the TV. She scowls at it and steals the remote from beside Jace while he’s distracted.

   “Your sisters,” I murmur, glancing at Demitri.

   “Yes, they visit as often as our parents allow.” He nods watching as Tessa tells the TV to change to some kind of drama and sinks to the carpet.

   “Hey! You’re still here, Colette!” Terra yells over, catching sight of me. She races over, leaving Jace looking relieved.

   “Yeah,” I mutter, unable to keep the distaste from my voice. A couple heartbeats later and I suddenly don’t feel annoyed anymore; I frown at Demitri.

   “That’s so cool! I bet you love it here!”

   My words are pretty much dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I absolutely adore it.”

   “That’s great!” She seems to remember something, and her eyes light up. “Hey, guess what!”

   I give her a half-smile. “What?”

   “You’re supposed to guess.” She leaps onto Demitri, who holds his arms out so she doesn’t topple off him. Without waiting for me to guess something, she begins bouncing with excitement and shouts, “Tessa and me saw cool people on our way here! Huh, Tessa?”

   Tessa doesn’t respond or even turn, her eye glued to the TV. Terra doesn’t seem to mind.

   “You should’ve seen them, Colette! They were people I’ve never ever seen before, and they had guns. Big ones!” Her eyes shine with amazement and curiosity. “I bet they were from movies! Real, live people from movies! I waved the whole time, but I don’t think they saw me because they didn’t wave back.”

   The sinking feeling in my stomach Is stole away before I fully realize it’s there, and I look at the front door, kind of expecting it to blow up.

   “They didn’t look happy,” Tessa remarks without turning away from the show on the screen.

   When I look over to her, I see Jace tense, a muscle in his neck suddenly very prominent. Terra hasn’t realized anything is wrong yet.

   “How many were there?” Demitri questions, looking down at her.

   “They were everywhere. I couldn’t count them,” she says, settling into him so that she’s comfortable.

   “I thought they would only come back if they knew I was here?” I mutter. I knew I shouldn’t have believed their stories. They lied, of course. Why would those people be after me?

   “They must have realized you haven’t left the city and hope to lock down all exits before you do so,” Demitri says, and then to Terra, “Why did Melinda bring you here if those people were out there?”

   “Mommy didn’t bring us.” She tilts her head up so she can see her brother’s face. “Daddy did.”

   “I see.” Demitri looks over to Jace who does some weird motions with his hands. “Yes, I agree,” Demitri says, “We should leave immediately. I need to ensure that Terra and Tessa are safe though. We’ll need to stop at Melinda’s.”

   “Leave?” He keeps the surge of panic from washing over me. “Leave to where?” I want to tell him that there’s no way I’ll go with him, but something inside is urging me to tag along. I wonder if I should trust the instinct.

   Demitri doesn’t look at me as he speaks, absently running his fingers down Terra’s hair. “If we leave before being seen…” He eyes Jace’s hand motions; I think they must be sign language. “To the south would be best. The city down there is the only one that isn’t a battlefield.”

   Jace hesitates, obviously thinking about it, and nods. He folds his laptop closed and hurries upstairs, taking them two at a time.

   “They weren’t movie people,” Terra murmurs sullenly, “were they, Dem?”

   “No.”

   Terra puts on a pout and looks over to me. “You’re in trouble, huh?”

   I open my mouth but find I don’t have an answer to give her. That voice inside me, the one I’m deciding to call my instinct, shouts a yes. Frantically. Another part of me-some arrogant, obscene part of me-growls no, that nothing would even dare try to touch me. Is this what multiple personality disorder is like?

   “Tessa, turn on the news,” Demitri orders, and with a long sigh she does so. It’s a feed about how our army is doing out there, something that’s on every week, and Demitri begins listing off channels for her to check. After a couple minutes, he stops her.

   “-a treaty with Munganso, a city to the north. For those of you living under a rock, Munganso is allied with Tuntunin, which means that our own city will be safer than it has been in years. Good news, right? Well some are unsure this morning, when our chief allowed soldiers from Munganso to roam the streets, no strings attached. Comments on our site range from disturbed to outraged. Tina writes, ‘The people don’t belong here. They’ve been our enemies for years, how can we trust them now?’ And Tannar says, ‘These people have attacked us too many times to count, and now they’re walking around like they own the city. How do we know they’re not spies?’ It seems no one is happy with this, and we all have one question in our minds. Why?”

   I blink, and Tessa turns halfway to us. “Why did our chief sign a treaty with them?” she wonders out loud.

   “It was a wise choice. It will give the city considerable peace, even with the soldiers allowed anywhere, and the alliance will discourage attacks from other cities,” Demitri says, “but the chief does not know about Colette. If she is discovered here, Munganso will paint out our city as an incredible threat, to be hiding such a dangerous weapon.”

   “Dangerous weapon,” I scoff, feeling unsettled by how casually he calls me a tool. “If they want to find me so badly,” I sigh, frowning to show I don’t believe that for a moment, “won’t they start searching houses. Like they did at the diner?”

   “Possibly,” Demitri admits.

   “That’s not very peaceful.”

   “Not at all. I doubt the chief will keep the treaty in place if that happens. If Munganso is smart, their chief will ensure his soldiers are more secretive than blowing in walls and killing innocents.”

   “If they blew up the diner,” Tessa says, “why would the chief sign a treaty at all?”

   “To be sure nothing else is blown up,” Demitri replies, lifting his hands as Terra slides off his lap.

   “Are we going to die, Dem?” she asks, turning to face him with her hands on her hips.

   “Possibly.”

   Terra puckers her lips like she tastes something sour and lifts her nose into the air. “I’ll protect Tessa!” she announces.

   “Glad to know I’m safe,” Tessa murmurs, but I can’t tell if she’s serious or not. She turns back to the TV and switches it back to the drama she was watching as Jace hurries down the stairs, three bags piled on his shoulders. He throws one at Demitri who catches it with his right hand. At least, I think it’s his right hand. It’s so hard to tell when I’m facing him.

   Jace walks across the room, trying-and failing-to look calm. He hands me an empty pack.

   “Uh, thanks,” I say, peering into it uncertainly. I’m expecting something to fly out at me.

   “I’ll ask Melinda if she can spare some belongings for you,” Demitri says, standing. He waits too patiently while Terra climbs onto his chair and flings herself at his back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

   “What if I get stuff from my own apartment?”

   “If they knew you were at the diner, they’ve probably been watching you awhile. They’ll have your apartment complex under surveillance. We’ll only go to Melinda’s and leave the city,” Demitri insists, holding Terra in place as he heads toward the front door.

   “Don’t we need preparations or something?” I feel like everything’s going too fast; I can’t just leave. I’ve never been out of the city before… I don’t know what’s out there; I can’t just…

   “Jace grabbed everything we need for the time being. You will have what you need after my sisters are cared for.”

   He releases one of Terra’s ankles and turns the doorknob. He pokes his head out before pull open the door more fully and gesturing for us to file out. I gape at him.

   He’s serious. He’s serious.

   Jace offers me his hand-which I ignore-and I push by him so I can peer out the doorway with too many emotions to count. Most of them fade away almost immediately. Terra waves at me with a smile that’s bigger than her head.

   “Are you excited or what?!” she cries, and Demitri shushes her.

   “I’ll go with ‘or what’,” I mutter and jump when I feel pressure on the small of my back. I twist but step forward and out of the house as I glare up at Jace. He raises an eyebrow at my expression but otherwise ignore my anxiety at leaving in such a rush.

   Tessa quietly orders the TV to turn off and trails after the two of us, leaving Demitri to sling the bag over his elbow while locking the door behind everyone. He reaches up and hands the key to Terra while he shifts the backpack so it’s not digging into his skin.

   Jace opens the back door on a small car I assume is Demitri’s, and I bite my lip. I shouldn’t.  Getting in ensures that I’m stuck with them-unless I decide that jumping out while miles in the air is a good idea.

   But a certainty I didn’t know I was capable of feeling (I once spent hours trying to decide between two different games to buy. Zane was pretty much dead from boredom afterwards.) floods into me. I would suspect Demitri’s behind it, but he’s distracted with getting Terra off him and all the times he has messed with my emotions, he’s tended to take them, not create new ones.

   I shrug off my suspicion and roll with it. I don’t have time to be picky for once, so I use my sureness to duck into the car and try to assure myself it’s the right choice. Jace swings shut the door after me and walks around to sit in the front passenger seat.

   The twins slide in next to me after Demitri finally gets Terra down, and the Daemn starts up the car. We take off into the sky, and I feel like puking.

   I’m going to die.

 

----

 

Zane would’ve been pretty cheesed about this whole thing. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he’d read a novel involving huge explosions, epic adventures, and damsels in distress. If he’d ever expected to be dropped into a story like the ones he’d always read about, he never thought he’d somehow end up as the damsel though.

   And that fact was ruining his mood-that, and the other fact that he was chained to a woman who wouldn’t stop crying. He’d stopped trying to comfort her awhile ago.

   A soldier came around to look down at him and pulled off his helmet, letting it drop to the floor and teeter upside-down. He kneeled down so he was at eye-level with the blond teen and laughed hollowly.

   “Kid, you got caught up in the wrong crowd,” he told him, shaking his head like he really cared.

   Zane scowled at him He thought about rolling his eyes-is that what damsels usually did to their captors?-but he caught sight of the tip of a gun strapped to the guy’s back and decided against it. His head still throbbed from the last gun he’d seen.

   The soldier seemed to be deciding something, a frown wrinkling his forehead, and he pulled down Zane’s gag with a sigh.

   “You don’t seem too scared. Either you have a pretty good poker face or you’re clueless,” the man said, and Zane pulled at his bonds.

   “My shoulder hurts,” he muttered, sitting still again.

   “That’s what you’re worried about?” The soldier raised his two eyebrows in disbelief. “Kid, you’re gonna die. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

   Zane meant to shrug his shoulder, but the woman tied to his back began to kick and scream. He huffed out an annoyed breath.

   “Yes, please,” he grumbled instead, “Anything to get away from this.”

   The soldier laughed again, a little more real this time, but he still had on a pitying face. “You don’t know what you’re saying… Er, I didn’t get your name.”

   “Isn’t it a little weird to want a damsel’s name?” Zane tilted his head, considering whether answering would get him into trouble or not. …Oh wait. I already am in trouble.

   “A what?” The man smirked, shifting his weight so that a knee rested on the floor.

   “A hostage. I said hostage,” Zane said hurriedly, wishing he could bash his head into a wall. He needed to be more careful with what he spoke aloud.

   “Uhuh; Sure you did…”

   “Zane.”

   “Zane. Interesting name you’ve got there.”

   “I bet you my freedom it’s more interesting than yours.” Zane let himself grin at the guy, feeling too comfortable with talking to him. Then again, what harm could having a conversation do?

   “Unfortunately, I can’t take you up on that. I’d lose anyway. I’m Terry,” the soldier told him, “I’d shake your hand, but…”

   “Eh, I’m not a ‘shaking-hands’ kind of guy anyway. Hmm… Terry? Isn’t that, like, a dog’s name?” Zane bit his lip to keep from laughing at the guy’s expression. Who knew being kidnapped was so much fun? He thought it was far better than slaying a dragon and getting tormented, put through horrific pain, trials, tests…

   He’d just let Colette play the knight for now.

   “Ha, ha, kid. I’m busting a gut here.”

   “You should get that checked.”

   Terry rolled his eyes and patted Zane’s head. “You really should’ve picked your friends better, Zane,” he murmured, leaning so that he was on his toes.

   “I’m insulted. My friends are all fantastic.” Zane wagged his head around after Terry released it, huffing. “I’m getting a cramp.”

   “No all your friends, kid.”

   “Terry, what are you doing?” The guy who came into Zane’s line of sight didn’t look very happy at all.

   Terry looked over Zane once more before scooping up his helmet and standing, saluting with his right hand. “Just checking on the hostage, sir.”

   “It didn’t look like checking on him. You want to lie to me?” The guy (Sir, Zane thought) turned away from Terry and looked down his nose at the boy tied to the sobbing lady. “Who knows what he’s capable of… If the boss didn’t insist we keep him alive…”

   “He’s just a kid,” Terry murmured slipping his helmet on while Sir was turned away.

   “Yeah, a kid who keeps monsters around for company.”

   “Monsters?! Who, me?” Zane let his face take on an expression similar to a prideful heiress’s. “If I kept monsters around, more people would listen to me when I talk.”

   “You took off his gag? What was next; going to unchain him and wave while he walks out the door?” Sir spun on his heel, hands clasped behind his back.

   “No, Sir,” Terry replied, stiff as a board.

   “See, like this. I was talking, and you’re just ignoring me, so I’m pretty much talking to myself, and there’s really no point in me continuing to talk, but I do anyway. Of, life, why must you be so painstakingly horrif-“ Zane choked on his words as Sir dove down to look him in the eyes and yanked him forward by the tie he still wore.

   “You say another word, and that gag will be on you so tight, it’ll never come off again,” Sir muttered, forehead against his.

   “So you were listening? I’m flattered. Really, I-“

   Sir took the back of his hand and punched it across Zane’s face, effectively silencing him. For five seconds.

   “Did you just backhand me, Sir? Don’t girls do that?” He wished he could rub his suddenly throbbing cheek. That hurt.

   Sir released his tie and pulled the gag back into place, looking ready to murder him. Too bad “boss” said he couldn’t.

   As he straightened, Zane leaned his head so that he could brush it back and forth on his suit sleeve, frowning.

   “Funny you chose to buddy up with this one, Terry,” Sir said without a glance back at the blonde.

   “Why’s that, sir?”

   “He’s the one that the boss thinks will attract it.” Sir sounded like he wanted to spit at that.

   “You mean ‘her’.”

   “I mean ‘it’. Don’t you speak out of your place.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “He won’t ever see the light of day again. Anything they can do to him without killing him… It’s more attracted to pain, after all.”

   Zane wanted to ask what was more attracted to pain and just how much of it he’d be in, but that annoying gag was there again. He also wanted to tell them that he quite liked the light of day… Well, maybe not in the morning, but afternoon light was pretty nice. Sunsets, and such.

   Terry remained pretty stoic-Zane sort of admired it-and Sir ordered him to leave. Terry gave Zane a once-over, as if sizing him up, trying to decide if he could leave him to face whatever. Little did he know that Zane could handle a lot more than someone would guess, for reasons the young guy kept to himself, but Terry didn’t know that. After a silent moment that lasted way too long for Zane’s taste, Terry gave a finally salute to Sir and walked off without any sign of reluctance, without a second glance at the teenager.

   Zane thought that he must be the guy on the wrong side, the double-crosser that was a good guy beneath all the bad guy he wore on top. Every good story had one of those.

   Sir turned, muttering something to himself, and kicked Zane. Hard. Like rib-snapping hard. Zane was pretty sure one-or maybe two-of his ribs were broken…busted. Zane thought the word “busted” was more exciting, personally.

   Sir marched off, seeming satisfied for now, and Zane let his face crumple in pain. The woman he was back-to-back to started crying again.

   If he was honest with himself, he was afraid. Very afraid. At least he knew he wasn’t going to die any time soon… Hooray…

   As he let himself indulge in imagining what monster was going to be attracted to what kind of his pain (And he had a pretty wild imagination.), he started feeling hopeless. No, not good, Zane. Don’t think like that.

   Maybe being the damsel wasn’t very much fun after all. He just hoped his knight in shining armour would arrive soon, because no matter how much like a living action movie this was, Zane didn’t like what the days ahead of him promised.

Author's Note

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