Chapter 12
I jerked awake to a tingling sensation throughout my whole body. “What the hell?” I muttered and rubbed my arm drowsily. It felt like millions of tiny ants were crawling all over my body, searching ceaselessly for food I hoped to God they never found. My hand encountered no resistance on my arm and I blinked, trying to bring everything into focus. I was still facing the door and I didn’t have to turn to know Riley wasn’t in the room with me. I was too bothered by my body to make much out of it. I sat up straight, closed my eyes and breathed deeply. What was happening with my body? Was it simply numb from having slept on my side too long? No, that wasn’t it.
I concentrated, trying to figure out where the discomfort was coming from. I noticed that my left hand kept rubbing my right one. Immediately, my mind found the solution: my writing hand! I had never felt such intensity before, what the hell!
My movements were jerky as I stood and grabbed my bag from the floor and dragged it back to bed. With some difficulty, I pulled my pad and pen from the bag, dropped it on the bed and sat cross-legged, leaning back on my pillows. A second later, ink was pouring over the paper.
It was the middle of the day but it was dark from the sudden storm. A few moments ago, the pregnant skies, heavy with storm, had broken apart and unleashed their wet fury. Cassie, Logan and their portal Rick had taken shelter in the same Inn where Cassie and Logan had met all those years before. They stood behind the closed windows, watching the downpour. Luckily, they had been able to find shelter quickly for the storm had arrived without warning.
Call it instinct or woman’s intuition, but Cassie felt uneasy. Was it because of the unexpectedness of the deluge or something else? As if sensing her unease, her husband curled a hand around her waist and pulled her close. She leaned her head against his chest and felt slightly comforted by his slow, steady heartbeat.
“Cassie, look!”
She felt the rumble of his words from inside of him and she looked up, discovered his intent expression, then looked to where he was pointing. She pressed her hands to the cool window and narrowed her eyes, trying to make out what or who had caught Logan’s attention. There was movement out there, a person she discovered, who seemed to be staggering under the heavy rain. “Logan, I think the person’s hurt.”
As she spoke the last word, the man –she could see his features better now- collapsed to his knees, then fell face first and lay there without moving. A second later, all three of them were running out to the man’s aid. Rick and Logan gently lifted him by the arms and curled his arms around their necks. Gripping him by the waist, they led the man in with Cassie running forward to open the door. He looked weak and disoriented and was muttering something about a boy. He didn’t look lucid and there was blood gushing from a wound on his forehead.
Rick and Logan set him down on the couch in the entrance and tried to settle him as comfortably as they could, considering he was at least a foot taller than the length of the couch. Rick stayed with him as Logan ran for a first aid kit and Cassie searched the bedrooms for blankets or sheets, towels, anything to help. They didn’t want to lay the man on one of the Inn’s beds until they were sure he wasn’t going to collapse from his wounds. Besides, the lighting was better near the windows.
Cassie and Logan came back to the front of the Inn at the same time. She was carrying a few hand towels, a worn out blanket and pale green sheets. He was carrying an old tin box that had seen better days but the items inside seemed sterile; it would have to do for the moment. The scene that greeted them rooted them to the spot.
Rick was standing facing them, a red stain spreading across his pale blue shirt. His dark eyes were widened in shock and his mouth was open, trying to articulate but the words wouldn’t come out. His pale hands were splayed out on his stomach, on either side on the knife’s handle, embedded within him.
Cassie screamed and dropped the linens she was holding while her husband imperceptibly moved closer until he was standing in front of her, both protecting her and shielding her view of Rick. The portal went down hard on his knees, and he struggled to speak, “It was . . .hiiiim.”
The last word was drawn out as he collapsed on his side, the air whooshing out of him.
“Bravo, bravo!” a voice called out, “how very theatrical. Beautifully done my boy!”
It was the man they had helped who was speaking and clapping grotesquely. Cassie peered around her husband’s tense shoulders. The man was dressed in black from head to toe and water was streaming down his hair and clothes making a huge puddle on the floor. Blood was still gushing out of his head wound but he raised an arm wiped it away absently with a sleeve.
“Why you son of a- ” Logan growled, taking a step toward the other man, who was shorter and slimmer than Cassie’s husband.
“No, no, stay there.” The man bent and retrieved a knife from an ankle holster. He lifted it to show Cassie and Logan and the blade gleamed menacingly in the stormy light.
Unimpressed with the blade, Logan took a step closer but the man jabbed furiously at him, “I said stay there!” His voice echoed in the empty Inn.
I was trying to stop my hand from continuing; I didn’t like this story very much, but it wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t obeying me but powers higher up. I furiously wiped the tears falling down my cheeks, staining my notebook, and I returned my mind to the words I was reluctantly writing.
The stranger pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and threw them at Logan who instinctively caught them with his right hand. The man gestured with his chin. “Now, tie your wife’s hands with them around that metal pole.”
He was referring to the metal bar surrounding the reception’s counter. “Like hell I will,” Logan’s voice had taken a husky edge. Cassie knew her husband was frightened, not for himself but for her. She squeezed his arm in a reassuring gesture.
When Logan meant to toss back the handcuffs, the man said quietly, “Do it or you’ll never see Shanna again.”
Cassie gasped and surged forward. “You stay away from our daughter you asshole! If you lay just one hand on her-”
“Yes?” The man taunted her, mocked her. After all, what could she do?
“I’ll rip you to shreds with my bare hands,” she said, her voice dangerously low.
“I’d really like to see you try, Princess.” There was such scorn in his voice as he called her by her rightful title.
He gestured to the handcuffs and raised a dark eyebrow. “You think I’m bluffing? I’ve had an agent keep watch over your daughter at Castle Kimera for a few days now.” He pointed to his temple, “I simply have one call to make and she will be brought to me. Dead or alive. It’s your choice really.”
Cassie’s hand flew to her mouth to cover the sob trying to escape her. She stepped back, into the shelter of her husband’s warm body and arms. “You can’t- ” he began to say, but Cassie cut him off.
She turned to face him and cradled his face in her small hands, “We must, for our baby. We can’t lose her, Logan, not her too.”
Cassie stepped back from Logan’s embrace and lifted her arms to him, palms up, in a silent gesture of submitting. Logan’s jaw clenched as he looked down at her fisted hands where her nails were drawing blood from her palms.
“Do it Logan. For Shanna. We must think of her.”
Nodding hesitantly, he gently circled her left wrist with the first manacle, then grasping her elbow, he led her to the reception counter where he looped the chain around the bar and manacled her second wrist.
“Good,” the man said, “now your turn.”
He threw a second pair of handcuffs which Logan deftly caught, snapped on his left wrist, looped around the bar and then awkwardly tied onto his second wrist. The man came closer, wrapped his hands around Cassie’s wrists and squeezed the handcuffs. He smiled when she winced. He turned and surveyed Logan for a moment before saying softly, “Remember, your daughter’s life is in my hands. If you try anything . . .”
His sentence trailed off but he mimicked running his blade across his throat and Logan’s eyes tightened in fury. The man snapped both handcuffs more tightly on Logan’s wrist before kicking away the chairs near them. He stood back and watched them, looking quite satisfied with himself.
“What is it you want from us?” Cassie demanded, her fury tightly leashed. She kept her daughter’s face in her mind to help focus her and not start screaming at the evil man before her.
He chuckled. “Really? You haven’t understood yet? You and your little family are the only ones who have managed to escape me. The remaining RM’s are too weak to really pose any resistance but you three . . . Were quite powerful in the day.” He shrugged. “But you’re back now and I will remedy the situation as soon as your daughter is brought to me.”
The man turned on his heel and headed down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “It’ll be night soon, I suggest you get some sleep.”
Cassie fell to her knees but kept her eyes locked on Logan’s. He dropped down himself, either because his legs were also weak or he didn’t want to strain his wife’s neck. “The murderer,” she whispered, shocked to the very core of herself. “He’s the murderer! We didn’t escape him, he waited for us all these years!”
“We have to find a way out of this, Cassie, we need to stay focused.”
“But how, what? You heard him, if we try anything, he’ll get Shanna.”
Logan reached over with his linked hands and touched the reception counter. He flattened his palm against it and ran it back and forth.
“Are you looking for wood?” Cassie whispered.
“Yes, but there doesn’t seem to be. If there was, I could have fashioned a stake or something.”
“Your wood carving abilities could have come handy right now, yes.”
“How about you?”
“Nothing comes to mind. I don’t have my easels and paint to create something and I have to be with the elements for my magic to be any use, you know that.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “But I was hoping for a miracle.”
He leaned his back against the counter and beckoned his wife with one finger. She looked up at her bindings and bit her lip in thought. Then she twisted herself and sat against her husband’s chest, once again cocooned in his warmth. Because she was shorter, she had to really stretch out her hands to grip the bar overhead and it wasn’t comfortable, but at least she could lean against Logan.
“We’ll find a way, Sweetheart, you’ll see. We won’t let him hurt us or Shanna.”
Cassie simply nodded against her husband’s chest as she wondered how in the world they would get out of this mess alive.
The tingling died as quickly as it had awakened. I was left with my pen poised, my heaving chest racked with painful sobs. I read the last words and my fury ignited; I hurled the pen and paper across the room where they hit the wall and fell to the carpeted floor.
I wrapped my arms around my waist and let my fear and pain escape the only way they knew how; I cried. I cried until my throat was raw and my eyes were burning and my cheeks felt itchy from the resulting salt. I didn’t feel better afterwards because after all, what had changed? Nothing. He still had them. My parents.
There was no doubt in my mind that what I’d just written had been my parent’s reality as it had happened with Scott. What I didn’t understand was that Scott I was able to save on time but my parents’ ordeal had already begun.
I sat up straighter, tucked my knees under my chin and wrapped my arms around them. Biting my bottom lip, I thought about Scott. I hadn’t in fact started his ‘story’ before, but midway. When I’d found him, he had already trekked across the barren landscape and was curled in the hollow of the tree, sleeping. That was how the story had ended; with him sleeping, and I was able to wake him up before the Wogs got to us. If I applied that theory to my parents, I could find them-
Wait, what? Find them? Me? I couldn’t do that, I had to ask for some help. Maybe-
I remembered what Riley had said that last morning together, how I was a grown woman and needed to start acting like one. I’d always depended on my parents for everything, he said, and wasn’t as independent as I thought.
My eyes narrowed. This could be my way of proving . . . No, no way. This was too dangerous, I needed help. My eyes scanned the room and glanced at the notebook on the floor. I remembered what I’d written, “You think I’m bluffing? I’ve had an agent keep watch over your daughter at Castle Kimera for a few days now.” The man had said an agent had been watching over me. Was he telling the truth or lying to keep my parents from defending themselves?
I straightened and tucked my feet under my legs, in lotus position. My hands fidgeted with the straps on my back pack.
What would have been the point of lying? He couldn’t hold them like that forever; after all, he had gone to bed after tying them. Wouldn’t that suppose he was waiting for something? Or someone to arrive; his agent, with me in tow?
In my mind, I reviewed everyone I knew from the castle; Grace, Gaspar, Lydia, Riley and Scott. Could one of them be the agent? Or someone I didn’t know and hadn’t noticed if he or she was paying attention to me?
I remembered the look of pride and love in Grace’s warm brown eyes the first time I’d seen her in the courtyard. The warmth had been so genuine, could I really potentially consider her an agent of evil?
And what about Gaspar? He had tried to protect my parents from Margery’s knife. Had it been a ruse? Had they planned the whole scenario? But . . . Gaspar had no idea we’d be arriving that day, no idea that Riley had found us and was taking us to Rydon.
Lydia? I didn’t know much about her, besides being an efficient seamstress. Had she been forced to keep watch over me?
Riley. That was a sore subject but I had to think it through. I tried to pull back from my feelings, tried to think objectively. I didn’t think Riley could be the agent of evil. After all, he’d slept in my room several times and he could have hurt me anytime he wanted. Besides, I trusted him; he only had to ask and I would follow him anywhere. I had to trust my instincts about him; they told me to trust him. Then again, I had proved that I wasn’t a very good judge of character. Take Eric, for example.
That left Scott. I had no idea what to think about him and his situation. He couldn’t have planned that I would write about him and run to his rescue. Hell, even I couldn’t have planned my reaction at the time. It was as I told Gaspar; if I had actually thought about it instead of just running for it, I wouldn’t have went. Call it self-preservation, call it being a coward, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I reacted and brought him to the castle. Maybe that was his plan all along, to get in somehow, and he was faking his amnesia.
I remembered when the Wogs had run for us, he had swung me around to protect me from the charging leader and had gotten hurt in the process. Was that the act of an evil agent? Or was it part of his master plan?
I shook my head. Of all the people I’d thought of, Scott was the only wild card, the only one no one knew anything about. Where had he come from? If all the villages in Rydon had been emptied, where had he been living? Did he live alone? With his family? Was anyone missing him?
Once again, my gaze fell upon the pad and pen still laying on the floor and abruptly I knew what I had to do; I had no choice. I needed to go find my parents, needed to somehow let them know that no agent had gotten me, that I was perfectly safe. If ‘the man’ left them alone every night, maybe I could sneak in and help them. Maybe I could write up a solution.
Before anything else, I was going to take a shower and put on some fresh clothes; I didn’t know when I’d get to wash again. As I shampooed my hair and lathered my body with soap, I pictured my next steps in my mind.
I needed to pack a bag with some clothes, food, my writing material. They would all fit in my bag if I placed everything in an orderly fashion. Next, I needed to find a way out. I could tell the guard that I was going out to write, like I’d been given permission to before. That way, I could bring a blanket or quilt, something warm and say I planned to sit on it to write when in truth I might need it to keep warm at night.
I towelled off and headed back into the bedroom. I hauled the heavy suitcase on the bed, opened the zipper and dug through it. I dressed in jeans, a dark green t-shirt, and I pulled out another pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, two t-shirts and a warm-looking sweatshirt. I had no idea how long I’d be out there, in the barren landscape. I knew that back home, deserts were cold at night and when I looked out my window, that’s what the landscape looked like; a desert. I would have to hope that the sweatshirt and blanket would be enough to keep me warm.
I stilled. What about my magic? I was able to previously create a shelter for Scott and I. Had that been only a product of him and I working together? Would I be able to recreate something similar? I shook my head. Better to rely on material goods and go on from there. Next, I dug in my purse to see if there was anything useful and the only thing I found was the tiny flashlight attached to my key ring. I shrugged and dropped it in the book bag.
I retrieved my pad and paper from the floor, placed them in my bag, and then rolled my clothes and stuffed them at the bottom. I went to the chest at the end of my bed, opened it, and inhaled the familiar scent of cedar. I smiled as it suddenly brought me back to my home in the forest, to my life on Terra. And to my parents. I shoved aside the memories, pulled the two quilts I found, unfolded them and checked them for size. The second one was pale blue and yellow and I chose it because it was bigger and heavier than the first, a black and white one. I rolled it in a ball and tried to stuff it into my bag but it was too bag. I’d have to carry it in my arms and tell the guard what I’d planned to say; that I was going to sit on it and right.
A thought suddenly occurred to me and my gaze shot up, out the windows. A new day had dawned, which was good news to me; I could be on my way, but the better news was it had finally stopped raining. I sighed deeply. Everything would have been ruined if the storm had still been brewing; there was no way they would have let me out.
In a hurry, I brushed my teeth and tied my hair into my usual ponytail. On second thought, it was still early and it might be cold so I pulled the sweatshirt out of the bag and tied it around my waist; not fashionable but quite functional. With determination, I shouldered my book bag and walked to the door where, with my hand on the handle, I hesitated.
I turned, scanned the room. I didn’t think I had forgotten anything, but that wasn’t the reason for my hesitation. I remembered the angry words Riley had said to me about taking five minutes of my time to warn him of the imminent danger. Should I go to him? Should I tell him about the danger my parents were in?
I bit my lip, unable to decide. Where would I find him? I wondered. I had no idea where his room was, if he lived in the castle or in the houses I’d noticed in the courtyard. Besides, and this thought brought bile to my throat, what if he was the agent ‘the man’ had mentioned? I’d be walking right into the enemy’s waiting arms. No. I couldn’t warn him.
But what about the other people in the castle? Would Gaspar, Grace or Lydia notice my absence? Should I leave them a note? No, not that either, in case someone walked into my room before I had actually left the castle. I was on my own and that was it.
Decidedly, I turned the handle and left my bedroom with another backward glance.
xxxx
