Chapter 2- Mission Accomplished: Kale
The Ashen girl went unconscious. I took her from Aeron and put her in the back seat. Her feet were bare, and her heels were bleeding, quite badly now I could see them. Oh well, it shouldn’t take long for her blood to clot. Blain was right; her coming out party was tonight. She wore a simple white gown. It split at her a-line, coming down to her feet in strips of satin and another silky material that I had never seen before. She had beautifully blonde hair that flowed down past her shoulders in stunning waves. Beautiful or not, she was Mayor Crispin’s daughter and we needed her. She was an Asher, she deserved to bleed.
“Hey guys! We’re in luck! She’s already put on her jewellery.” Aeron grabbed the diamond necklace from around her pale neck and started to model it for us. That must be worth at least a thousand dollars. “And a lovely hairclip too!” he took it from her hair. It was only then I noticed the blood running down the back of her neck, too. Her skin was clearly as delicate as it looked, like silk over glass.
“I can’t believe we pulled it off! We kidnapped Hendricks’ daughter!” Aeron yelled ecstatically.
“Lets not celebrate yet, we’re not back at the cabin yet.” Blain spoke from the drivers seat.
“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport, Blain? We did it, and you know it.”
“On the contrary, I had no idea.” He said with sarcasm.
“Uh…” the girl groaned from the back seat. She was shaking.
“Cover her eyes, now!” I pulled a pillow case over her head and tied it at the neck with a bit of scrap rope, not that she looked strong enough to even raise her hands that far, but we weren’t taking any chances. Blood was starting to soak into the pillowcase, and her heels were still bleeding. Surely it must have stopped by now?
“Hey guys, she’s still bleeding.”
“Good.” Said Aeron. “Let her bleed. Ashen bitch.” I kept quiet after that. Sure she was an Asher, and maybe she did deserve it, but we didn’t need her dead. We needed her alive. A little torn up maybe, but alive enough to claim a ransom.
It wasn’t too long before we reached the cabin. It was surrounded by forest, and beyond that, wasteland. No one could find her here; accept for those who already knew where she was. We were in the middle of nowhere, far from Salem, far from anywhere. It was the perfect plan.
“Well done little brother.” Blain patted me on the back as I clambered out of the van. “You did the Deliverance proud tonight.”
“Thanks Blain. Lets get her inside.” I put my arms under her shoulders and hauled her out of the van. I then lifted her up to carry her like a baby. She was light. Lighter than anyone else I had ever carried. The pillowcase was almost completely red now. What on earth? Blain opened the door to the cabin and then the door to her cell. I lay her down gently on the mattress and removed the pillowcase from her head. Her eyes were open, but she looked barely responsive. Her face was a placid shade of pure white and her eyes were only open to the point of a slit. Her breath was slow and soft. She looked like she could only just about breathe.
“Blain, does she look sick to you?”
“Yeah, she’s a sick minded little Ashen bitch now lets go. I’m starving.”
“No I mean, look at her face. She’s still bleeding. We don’t want her to die. Why isn’t her blood clotting?”
“I don’t know. That’s a good point though. Bandage her up if you must, but I’m not keeping your dinner warm.”
“Fine.” I sighed and left the room, grabbing some bandages and a little alcohol from the kitchen. I re-entered the room to find her eyes wide open, but her face as pallid as before.
“W-w-what… w-where… how did…” her breathing quickened and she winced in pain. “I… I…” and again. She looked so helpless. So scared. For a moment I wanted to help her, I wanted to tell her it would be alright, but then I came back to reality. She was an Ashen girl, she deserved whatever pain she was going through. Her eyes were flickering and her muscles were twitching. She really did look sick. I kneeled down beside her and pulled her hair back from her neck I poured a little alcohol onto a bit of cotton wool and dabbed at the blood stains on her neck. Her torso reared up.
“Ah!” she shrieked with a short outburst of pain. The blood started to clear and I could see the wound. It looked sore, but not excessive. Various purple bruises surrounded it. Did we do that? It looked like it had been treated before. Blood continued to flow out of the wound, but the alcohol was causing it to slow a little. I took a square piece of soft bandage and placed it over the wound, holding it in place for a while until I was certain the bleeding was almost completely stopped. Then I used bandaging tape to make it stick to her neck and placed a few cubes of ice wrapped in a tea towel beneath her neck, before letting her head rest back onto the pillow.
She was still barely conscious, but at least one of her wounds wasn’t bleeding anymore. I then turned my attention to her feet. Her heels were bursting with blood that was already beginning to stain the mattress. But the mattress was already bloodstained from previous ‘guests’ so I suppose it didn’t matter much. I dabbed them with the alcohol and wrapped a bandaged around each foot, being as gentle with my hands as possible.
“There. All better.” I said. But she was still only barely awake, and probably couldn’t even hear me. “You’ll be okay Miss Hendricks. We just need your father to give us some money and release a few prisoners and you’ll be back home tucked up in your fancy four-post bed before you know it.” I said. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted her to feel safe. She looked so delicate, so fragile. She didn’t look like she deserved pain, or illness. But then, looks can be deceiving.
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