Great job, Faythe, I thought. You’ve got him right where you want him, now.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my words muffled from having my jaw pressed into the bars. “Did I strike a nerve?”
His fist clenched, pulling several of my hairs out by the root. “You just remember who roughed you up first when Miguel has you nailed to the floor.”
“Remember this.” My right hand shot out, and I raked my nails down the length of his face, echoing the shape of Abby’s bruise. Though short, my nails were sharp and hard, even in human form, and I gouged four long ruts into his cheek. He howled and let go of my head.
Pleased, I stepped back out of his reach as he clapped a hand to his ruined cheek. It came away bloody.
“You stupid bitch!” he yel ed, turning to snatch his shirt from the ground. He pressed the wad of white cotton to his face to absorb the blood. And there was plenty of it, for such shal ow wounds.
Maybe they’ll scar, I thought, barely resisting the urge to clap my hands and jump up and down with glee. Instead, I made a show of slowly licking his blood from my fingertips, one at a time. “Mmm. Tastes like fear to me.”
Eyes wide, Eric spun and ran for the steps, tripping and fumbling his way to the top. Voices and light flooded the basement as he shoved the door open, but they stopped abruptly as he stepped across the threshold. An instant later, the new silence was replaced by derisive ribbing. I couldn’t help but gloat.
“The kid too much for you?” Miguel asked between fits of barbed laughter.
“Your bitch-kitty did this,” Eric said, fury rolling from his voice like smoke from a fire.
“Faythe’s awake?” a new voice asked, and my smile died on my face. I scrambled to the far corner of my cage, desperately pressing my stil -throbbing cheek into the bars. But no matter how I turned, I couldn’t see into the room at the top of the stairs.
“I told you not to touch her,” Miguel said, his accent thick with anger. “You got what you deserved. Close the door.” Someone pushed the basement door shut, cutting off the light and the voices. But I’d heard enough.
I sank to my knees, numb with shock and betrayal. I’d recognized the new voice. I hadn’t heard it in ten years, but I’d know my brother’s voice anywhere. It was Ryan.
Twenty
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Abby said, her voice trembling on the last word.
I wanted to look at her, but I couldn’t drag my focus from the landing at the top of the steps. I drew in a breath slowly, concentrating on each inhale and exhale until I was sure I could speak coherently. “Shouldn’t have done what?” Still kneeling on bare concrete, I turned to face her, not surprised to find her standing at the front of her cage, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Scratched him. You shouldn’t have scratched him.”
“Why not?” I asked, though at the moment I didn’t real y care about the answer. I only cared about getting the hel out of that cage so I could rip Ryan’s throat out. Or maybe just his tongue, so he would live to face my father and the rest of the council.
“You embarrassed him, and pissed him off.”
Using the bars to pull myself up, I crossed my cel to the wal nearest her cage.
“That was kind of the point, although knocking him out and taking his key was what I actual y had in mind.” I smiled and shrugged, pretending I wasn’t completely devastated by my failure. “Besides, apparently Miguel won’t let him touch me.”
Even as I spoke, my cheek throbbed, reminding me that Eric had, in fact, touched me. But I’d touched him back.
Abby sat down facing me, her knees brushing the bars. “Miguel’s bad enough by himself,” she said. “And anyway, Eric wil just take it out on me next time.”
Next time. Great. We’d simply have to make sure there wasn’t a next time.
I sat to mirror her position, and nothing separated us but two rows of bars and five feet of bare concrete. It may as wel have been the Grand Canyon.
“Are you okay?” I asked, eyeing her cheek. A new stripe was forming less than an inch from the old one, as if her first bruise had developed a shadow. I touched my cheek gingerly, knowing I would bear an identical mark. But at least nothing was broken. I’d live, which was more than I could say for Eric, if I ever got another shot at him.
“No.” She frowned, watching me feel my face. “Are you?”
“So far, so good, actual y.” I grinned. “That was kind of fun.”
Abby gave me a hesitant smile, the corners of her mouth curving up toward freckled cheeks. “I bet it was.”
“He real y did taste like fear. Yummy.” I licked my lips in jest.
She laughed, but then her face sobered quickly. “I’m sorry they caught you, but I’m so glad you’re here.” She rubbed her arms as if to warm them, but it was far from cold in the basement. There was no air-conditioning, and I was already sticky with sweat.
“Thanks,” I said, for lack of a better response.
“I don’t suppose you have a plan?”
“Yeah, don’t let them touch me.”
Abby snorted. “Bril iant. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Ahhh. Wisdom comes with age, my child.” I gave a smal head bow, my hands templed beneath my chin. But the moment of levity faded as I thought of Sara and wondered whether either of us would live long enough to accrue any true wisdom.
“How many of them are there?” I asked, glancing away to keep her from reading my expression.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my words muffled from having my jaw pressed into the bars. “Did I strike a nerve?”
His fist clenched, pulling several of my hairs out by the root. “You just remember who roughed you up first when Miguel has you nailed to the floor.”
“Remember this.” My right hand shot out, and I raked my nails down the length of his face, echoing the shape of Abby’s bruise. Though short, my nails were sharp and hard, even in human form, and I gouged four long ruts into his cheek. He howled and let go of my head.
Pleased, I stepped back out of his reach as he clapped a hand to his ruined cheek. It came away bloody.
“You stupid bitch!” he yel ed, turning to snatch his shirt from the ground. He pressed the wad of white cotton to his face to absorb the blood. And there was plenty of it, for such shal ow wounds.
Maybe they’ll scar, I thought, barely resisting the urge to clap my hands and jump up and down with glee. Instead, I made a show of slowly licking his blood from my fingertips, one at a time. “Mmm. Tastes like fear to me.”
Eyes wide, Eric spun and ran for the steps, tripping and fumbling his way to the top. Voices and light flooded the basement as he shoved the door open, but they stopped abruptly as he stepped across the threshold. An instant later, the new silence was replaced by derisive ribbing. I couldn’t help but gloat.
“The kid too much for you?” Miguel asked between fits of barbed laughter.
“Your bitch-kitty did this,” Eric said, fury rolling from his voice like smoke from a fire.
“Faythe’s awake?” a new voice asked, and my smile died on my face. I scrambled to the far corner of my cage, desperately pressing my stil -throbbing cheek into the bars. But no matter how I turned, I couldn’t see into the room at the top of the stairs.
“I told you not to touch her,” Miguel said, his accent thick with anger. “You got what you deserved. Close the door.” Someone pushed the basement door shut, cutting off the light and the voices. But I’d heard enough.
I sank to my knees, numb with shock and betrayal. I’d recognized the new voice. I hadn’t heard it in ten years, but I’d know my brother’s voice anywhere. It was Ryan.
Twenty
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Abby said, her voice trembling on the last word.
I wanted to look at her, but I couldn’t drag my focus from the landing at the top of the steps. I drew in a breath slowly, concentrating on each inhale and exhale until I was sure I could speak coherently. “Shouldn’t have done what?” Still kneeling on bare concrete, I turned to face her, not surprised to find her standing at the front of her cage, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Scratched him. You shouldn’t have scratched him.”
“Why not?” I asked, though at the moment I didn’t real y care about the answer. I only cared about getting the hel out of that cage so I could rip Ryan’s throat out. Or maybe just his tongue, so he would live to face my father and the rest of the council.
“You embarrassed him, and pissed him off.”
Using the bars to pull myself up, I crossed my cel to the wal nearest her cage.
“That was kind of the point, although knocking him out and taking his key was what I actual y had in mind.” I smiled and shrugged, pretending I wasn’t completely devastated by my failure. “Besides, apparently Miguel won’t let him touch me.”
Even as I spoke, my cheek throbbed, reminding me that Eric had, in fact, touched me. But I’d touched him back.
Abby sat down facing me, her knees brushing the bars. “Miguel’s bad enough by himself,” she said. “And anyway, Eric wil just take it out on me next time.”
Next time. Great. We’d simply have to make sure there wasn’t a next time.
I sat to mirror her position, and nothing separated us but two rows of bars and five feet of bare concrete. It may as wel have been the Grand Canyon.
“Are you okay?” I asked, eyeing her cheek. A new stripe was forming less than an inch from the old one, as if her first bruise had developed a shadow. I touched my cheek gingerly, knowing I would bear an identical mark. But at least nothing was broken. I’d live, which was more than I could say for Eric, if I ever got another shot at him.
“No.” She frowned, watching me feel my face. “Are you?”
“So far, so good, actual y.” I grinned. “That was kind of fun.”
Abby gave me a hesitant smile, the corners of her mouth curving up toward freckled cheeks. “I bet it was.”
“He real y did taste like fear. Yummy.” I licked my lips in jest.
She laughed, but then her face sobered quickly. “I’m sorry they caught you, but I’m so glad you’re here.” She rubbed her arms as if to warm them, but it was far from cold in the basement. There was no air-conditioning, and I was already sticky with sweat.
“Thanks,” I said, for lack of a better response.
“I don’t suppose you have a plan?”
“Yeah, don’t let them touch me.”
Abby snorted. “Bril iant. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Ahhh. Wisdom comes with age, my child.” I gave a smal head bow, my hands templed beneath my chin. But the moment of levity faded as I thought of Sara and wondered whether either of us would live long enough to accrue any true wisdom.
“How many of them are there?” I asked, glancing away to keep her from reading my expression.
