Maurice sensed that he wouldn’t like the question. He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I need to talk to a friend of mine. She’s really worried about me.”
“It’s not safe.” The response was immediate. “And she can’t come here. We’re almost to the date. Don’t get careless now.”
Mila knew that was going to be his answer. She could’ve written it out before his mouth opened. She agreed with him in totality, but the three messages… The first one was bordering on reason in Bianca’s own way, with facts and a vague just wanna see what’s up sorta feeling, and by the last one Bianca basically had phone in hand with 911 already dialled unless she saw her in person. She’d made it very clear that anything else was subpar, and Mila got it. If she was being held hostage, unless Bianca saw her in person, there was no way to know she wasn’t at gunpoint even while they were talking. “Maurice, please. She might call the cops.”
That got his attention. His head snapped to her and he let out a low growl of aggravation. The last thing anyone needed was for someone to be out looking for her “Fine. You sure you can trust her?”
“Absolutely.”
Of course she trusted Bianca. She’d known her for years and she honestly meant the world to her. In many ways, she was like a sister. She didn’t mention the fact that Bianca cared enough about her that Bianca would sound the alarm to everything and everyone at the first sign of trouble. She wouldn’t sit around and wonder if Mila was dead in an alley somewhere. It was already a miracle that she hadn’t panicked when Mila hadn’t answered her calls after not showing up in the morning for the exam. Luckily, Mila had garnered herself a reputation for being shit at showing up to class all the time, so it wasn’t too unexpected.
They hit the bottom floor of the elevator as Maurice sighed and stepped out into the reception hall. “Tell her we’ll meet her in an hour.”
Mila blinked in surprise. She’d been ready to argue about it and point out why it was important and so forth. It wasn’t news that would or could get out. For the first time in weeks, she’d be leaving and the only people who knew about it would be her, Maurice, and Bianca. Fool-proof. “Wait, really?”
“Only so she can see you’re safe,” he grumbled. “For the record, I don’t think this is smart. I’m doing it because I think you might run off and try to do it anyway.”
Mila couldn’t fault that argument. She hated to think she was that annoying of a person to guard. Then again, who would know? An hour in, an hour out. As long as they didn’t tell anyone, they should be perfectly safe. She didn’t deny the threat, but everything would have to work out perfectly for Fang’s goons to track her in the short time they’d be out.
* * *
It took precisely thirteen minutes to leave.
Maurice grabbed a quick shower, changed clothes, and then they were ready to head out. Mila gave Sir Pugsly a nose boop for good luck before they split.
The more she thought about it, the worse of an idea it became to leave. Here she had safety, pampering, and people to help if shit hit the fan. There? Who knows? Maurice was there, of course, but he was a single person and if they ran into trouble, they’d have to fight them off together. She swallowed her fear and convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about for as long as she could. She made it all the way until they actually got into the car and Maurice turned the key. The sound of the engine turning on brought her nerves to front and centre.
Maurice produced a blindfold again, which seemed moderately insulting even though it made sense. Who was she going to be telling about the location? They already knew she was on their side and it wasn’t like she was going to go chat it up with Fang or something.
Her world went black. She stayed in her seat and gave it the ole’ college try to not fall over from the car’s movements. Her mind was racing. She’d given Bianca a call back and told her that she was fine to see if she could avoid having to go meet her. It hadn’t taken. Bianca needed to make sure and she pointed out the fact that if Mila was kidnapped or held at gunpoint, over the phone she would never know. Mila couldn’t muster a good argument for that, so she’d reluctantly agreed to meet with Maurice’s permission.
She hadn’t left the compound in weeks. She jokingly told Maurice she didn’t know what it was like on the outside anymore, which she thought was a damn good joke. Unfortunately, it also hit close to home for her. She’d spent all her time with him at the compound. She loved it, though at the same time it was getting high time for her to do something else. When she was younger, she’d loved baby carrots and peanut butter, so she decided she’d live off just that and save tons of money. Although she did save money, by the end of a month she couldn’t look at a carrot or peanut butter without gagging.
It was the same thing here. She hadn’t talked to people outside of Maurice, and Shakkara every now and then, but talking to Shakkara was about as engaging as having a conversation with Siri, and talking to Maurice was not even remotely the same as talking with a casual buddy. It would be good for her to get some time with a friend, with a normal woman, and not a crush.
That didn’t keep her from worrying. She spent most of the ride in anxious preparation for the inevitable removal of the blindfold and the subsequent reuniting with the regular world. She distracted herself by thinking of other things. When did they institute the blindfold policy? Were the construction workers blindfolded when they came to build the complex? What about delivery drivers? Every time UPS came along, the poor driver had to get thoroughly investigated? The amusing idea kept her from thinking about life until finally, it was time to see.
She knew it was coming when she heard the blinker and felt the car come to a stop on the loud gravel beside the road. She sensed movement and allowed Maurice to take the cloth off her face, something she couldn’t imagine letting anyone else do. It was an awfully dangerous predicament. One wrong move, and he’d poke her in the eye or catch her hair or any number of things that weren’t appealing.
She winced as blinding light hit her. They were on the outskirts of the city. She recognized the spot; it was a gas station about fifteen minutes from where she was supposed to be meeting Bianca. She’d driven past it a billion times on her way home from the Cheeky Sprite. Come to think of it, she’d never stopped there. It always seemed so seedy, and that was coming from someone who worked in a paranormal bar and who had seen a server get eaten by a customer not too long ago.
“Maurice.” She said his name before she could chicken out. “Am I making a bad decision?”
Maurice’s hard expression softened at the tone of her voice. “What makes you say that?”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should stay at the compound until it’s safe.” She hated to admit it to herself. She hoped he’d come up with some genius way to explain it so she wouldn’t be worried about it. Did she want to see Bianca? Of course! But did she want to get killed? Absolutely not!
Maurice did nothing to comfort her. He did exactly what she feared. He hovered his hand over the gear shift and looked seriously at her. “We can call it off. It’s risky. If it didn’t matter so much to you, I’d call it off now.”
That wasn’t how it was supposed to go down in her mind. He was supposed to gaze romantically at her and tell her that everything was going to be all right, that nothing could get to her without going through him first, and that she was free to do whatever she so wanted without fear. He’d done something far worse; he had been honest. She couldn’t help but pick up the fact he was doing it for her, which conjured up warm and fuzzy feelings in her heart and did jack squat for putting her at ease.
The choice was hers.
He told her that it was dangerous. He was also probably paranoid, but still, he knew more about the way it all worked than she did so she would be wise to heed his advice. It all boiled down to one question: was it worth it?
On one hand, she’d see a dear friend and avoid showing up on the five o’clock news as a missing person rep
ort. She’d get to socialize a little and bring a shade of normalcy into her life even if she didn’t get to talk to Bianca about what was really going on. It would probably make it easier for Maurice and Reuben long term if Bianca didn’t get too freaked out. On the other hand…bad stuff. Very bad stuff. Stuff that she didn’t want to imagine or put any credence to for her own sanity.
It was a gamble. There wasn’t any doubt about that. They stood at a standstill. Go forward, into town, or retreat back to the complex and never know what might have happened.
It was not without reluctance that she feigned a smile. “Onward, sir!”
Chapter 19
In the time it took her to arrive, Mila made progress on calming down.
She’d made a very clear effort to make sure that Bianca hadn’t told anyone and that word hadn’t gotten out. She’d been assured that nobody else knew as of the moment, but if she didn’t show, Bianca would have no choice but to call for help.
By the time they arrived at the location, Mila had successfully mellowed out. Everything would be fine. They were at a public place and there was not a chance that it was a trap. They were meeting on the edge of civilization at a local coffee shop called Wake the Dead, a chill spot for hippies, college students, and anyone else that cared to wander in. The customers were, without fail, mavericks and trail blazers. Even the building itself reinforced that image with its brightly coloured exterior and equally colourful inside, complete with mismatched furniture and funky music always playing in the background. About a half dozen cars sat out back in the gravel parking lot, most of them dusty and littered with bumper stickers supporting various mountain biking companies and travel destinations.
Maurice backed into a spot. Mila could only assume he did it for an expedient escape should the need arise. He scanned the area sceptically. Everything seemed perfectly ordinary. A young couple got out of a car and kissed before walking up the old stairs to the shop itself. The wind chimes produced a lovely melody in the gentle breeze.
Maurice shut off the car. “If something feels off,” he declared, “We’re leaving.”
“Understood.” She didn’t have to lie to herself for that one. She recognized Bianca’s car, parked terribly as usual. This was what she knew. All this crazy business about werewolves? She was clueless. But this? Oh, yeah. This was her realm.
They made their way inside. Mila went first with Maurice trailing. He stood out overwhelmingly in his clean-cut business suit and looked about as in place as a naked lady at the opera. Some of the customers gave him a funny look when he walked in. An orchestra of sights and smells greeted them, from the odd green lighting to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Maybe a dozen or so people frequented the area, all the right age and type of person. It was a little less busy than normal.
“I don’t like this,” Maurice growled as they got in more.
Bianca! Mila spotted her on the far side with her back to her. “She’s right there, though.”
Maurice grabbed her arm. “We need to leave. Now.”
Mila was in the process of saying, “but why,” when the trap was sprung.
The thing about having a trap for someone is that it has to look organic. If they had walked in and everyone had been a rippling six-foot-tall man with golden eyes, suspicion would be in order. Apparently, Fang’s goons didn’t play like that. They did their homework, and they made sure to blend in with their surroundings.
One second, they were relaxing in a group of hippies without a care in the world.
The next, they were fighting to survive.
The first thing that tipped Mila off to the fact this was, in fact, a trap was when a barista walked up and stabbed an unsuspecting Maurice in the throat with something. Maurice let out a roar and backhanded her, hard. She tumbled over a table and crashed on a couch, but before she’d hit the ground the entire population of the Wake the Dead coffee shop was on them, coming at them with needles and what appeared to be tazers.
Someone jumped on Mila and tackled her to the ground. He was rewarded by a swift, terror-fuelled knee to the groin and a punch to the face, but not before he stuck her in the arm with a dart. She thought she heard Bianca in the background yelling something about how she was sorry and they’d made her do it, but she wasn’t able to focus on it too much.
Mila shoved the guy off and scrambled to her feet. Several other customers advanced on her with the same darts. The vast majority kept their attention on Maurice, who wasn’t going down without a fight. The few glimpses she got of him were full of violence and pain and regret from the attackers.
She faced the three people in front of her: two guys and a girl. Werewolves, no doubt. They were probably wearing contacts to hide their eyes. They were playing it smart by advancing in such a way that she couldn’t get to the door and escape. She could jump through the window, maybe, but at the moment she didn’t trust herself to do that. Her vision grew increasingly blurry and her motions became lethargic.
“What did you do to me?” she slurred. The dart! It must have been some concoction to knock her out.
“Go to sleep,” the girl ordered with a wicked grin.
Mila had no intentions of going to sleep. Her body had other ideas. She stumbled around for a second, trying and failing to stay up. She saw Maurice in the background, duking it out with half a dozen needles stuck in his suit.
She could fight it. She could resist whatever they’d put in her. She tripped over nothing and almost fell. Where were they? She could hear the kidnappers. Their voices rang in her head like bells even though she couldn’t make out more than a series of blurry shapes.
Oh.
Oh shit.
She fell across a table. It held under her tiny frame but she rolled and crashed to the ancient floors a second later. “M-M-Maur…” she tried to form the words, to tell him to get out of there. Her tongue refused to cooperate, and her whole body tingled while she went numb.
Her world went black.
* * *
The world came into focus bit by bit. It wasn’t like she woke up and everything made sense. Mila didn’t know how long she’d been out, only that it was plenty of time to develop a headache of immense proportions. Every time her blood pumped, the discomfort made her wish she would go back to being unconscious.
Mila had made it her entire life without having anyone kidnap her, and here she was, having it happen a second time in the period of a few weeks. The ridiculous nature of it was not lost to her, even though she had bigger things to worry about at the moment.
She kept still. Even when she was fully awake, she didn’t jump around or scream or do any of that jazz. Her dad had always told her that if she got into a scenario where she was kidnapped, to not let her captors know she was up. She had barely listened to him and filed it away into the Useless Stuff file folder in her memory, but she whipped it out now.
She kept her eyes shut and breathing normal, complete with her head slumped over her chest. She felt cold, motionless air, and her bare feet kneaded into soft soil. Maybe she was in a basement? A really crappy old basement with no floor? No, that didn’t make sense.
Words! They were too far away to decipher completely and she thought they were through a wall, but the bits and pieces she caught didn’t exactly put her at ease. Something about it being a man’s favourite part and Mila didn’t get the impression that this part was something she’d enjoy. She forced herself to remain still, despite the increased thumping of her heart and all the horrible things her mind started conjuring up.
She peeked an eye open. It would have to happen sooner or later, so she might as well get it over with now.
She found herself tied up in an old wooden chair, sitting in the middle of a decrepit factory that obviously hadn’t been used in years. The building was overgrown with all kinds of vegetation, the machinery was covered with vines and moss with plants growing from a few holes in the ceiling and through cracked glass windows where sun could shine through. If she didn’t know better
, if she’d been shown a picture of it, it would be an easy matter to convince her it was a still of Chernobyl and not the contiguous USA. Her legs were bound to the chair legs and her arms were secured behind her back using what she could only guess were zip ties.
There could have been an active volcano and she’d be more worried about the dude sitting in the darkness.
He stayed motionless to the point where she thought he might be dead. He looked like a perfect corpse, dressed and ready to go to his own funeral. Cast in the shadows, dead, cold eyes studied her with mild interest and a deep malevolence, a skinny and small frame only adding to the general feeling that this man was not right. His sharp golden eyes suggested that he was a werewolf, but the oldest one she’d ever seen. Werewolves didn’t age properly. They could spend centuries in their 20’s and 30’s. To see one this old, well, she wasn’t an expert, but he could have been marauding around fighting knights for all she knew.
He sat prim and proper, bony hand resting on an elaborate cane. Over his tweed pants, she spotted a strange contraption of steel braces. Something was wrong with his leg, which she guessed was why he had the cane to lean on for support. Mila was the kind to like older people. A lot of them minded their own business and didn’t dick around in other people’s stuff, and many had life lessons to learn that they were more than willing to share.
This was not one of those old men.
She didn’t get the sensation of a grandfatherly character. He put off sheer malice. She wanted to crawl into herself and hide, but it was too late. They’d made eye contact and he knew she was awake.
“Did you sleep okay?” His voice sent shudders down her spine. He was…unnatural, quiet and sweet with a hard edge.
Mila kept her eyes down. “What…” she gulped. The question stayed on the tip of her tongue, but she was too scared to utter it. “What are you going to do to me?”
The Deadwolves' Prisoner Page 15