Slow Burn

by Sascha Illyvich

  They had to. Anyone who heard about her unique abilities had an agenda for her. It always came down to this. She’d been kidnapped before, but she wasn’t about to tell her brother that.

  Nor would her band need to know.

  She couldn’t quite erase her band mates’ minds but she could alter their thoughts slightly. She’d done it after the last time someone kidnapped her when they were on tour in Norway. A rabid black metal faction took responsibility for the incident after she lambasted their form of metal.

  People were so stupid.

  Sucking in a breath, Sonja exhaled slowly and relaxed her shoulders. A slow buildup of power could bend the metal around her ankles and free her. It’d take a few minutes; she hadn’t learned to be as quick as her brother yet. But she could free herself and find a way back to civilization.

  If she ran into trouble, she could throw a spell at her assailants and catch them off guard, make them forget what they were doing and who she was. It’d be temporary, but it would buy her enough time to get away.

  Sonja concentrated. Within seconds, power built around her, stirring nerves and senses. The air took on a different weight and became tangible. Pressure changed, reality began to alter. The steady creak of metal let her know that her power was concentrating on the right spot in the alloy, the weak point that all metal had.

  She began to worry it with magic. In a few seconds, it’d snap and free her.

  Just…

  A…

  Little…

  More.

  The door flung open, shattering her concentration.

  Sonja screamed, but a hand quickly covered her mouth.

  “We’ll have none of that,” the tall Russian said in a thick accent. “You’re special, gifted, and our employer warned us of your vocal talents, Miss Sonja. So you’ll talk when we tell you to. Otherwise, you’ll say nothing. Or you’ll die.”

  She met his gaze and nodded. Beady eyes narrowed. Thick eyebrows furrowed together in worry as his lips pursed together in a thin line.

  The black shirt clinging to his chest gave away his scrawny figure, but a quick read of his aura told her he would follow through on any threats he made.

  “Now…” He eased his hold on her. “You’ll only repeat what we tell you. We’ve decided there is more to this case than just stealing you for what powers you may possess. There are others who would pay us for you—more than our current employer—so we have contacted them and left a message.”

  Her shoulders slumped. No one needed to rescue her. She would save herself. Besides, she had to keep this quiet.

  Another man stepped into view, saluting.

  The Russian returned his salute was and handed him a phone. “Dial this number. Then tell them we have what they want.”

  The second soldier nodded and obeyed. Within seconds, he spoke in a Russian dialect Sonja didn’t recognize.

  She read the soldier’s aura, too—picked up on all the sadness surrounding his family. She hated that men like him were forced to make these choices. But they were, and she had to deal with it.

  Her captor mouthed something in Russian to the soldier then turned to her. “We will escort you to a video room where you will give a statement, proof that you are alive and so far undamaged. If you do not cooperate, we cannot guarantee your well-being when returned. Nod if you understand.”

  The angry spirit in Sonja wanted badly to rebel, to stand up and fight, but she had to comply. It was in everyone’s best interest.

  Slowly, she nodded.

  “Very good.” He reached into dark green camo pants and pulled out a key. “We will undo your chains, but hear me now. There are guns trained on you. You may be as powerful as they say, but not even a so-called witch could take a direct shot to the head. Do you understand?”

  He didn’t believe her powers, not quite. Interesting. Again, she nodded. What could she do? He stood before her. She couldn’t heal from a direct wound to the head. Nothing on this planet held that much power.

  “Are you cold?”

  She nodded.

  He sighed. “Fine. This will warm you, I suppose.” He reached for Derrick’s coat and helped her into it.

  The man pulled out a piece of cloth and tied it around her head, blindfolding her.

  When the time was right for her escape, she’d have to guess her way out and work her magic fast.

  The metal unlocked around her ankles. Slowly, she stretched. Blood returned to her feet, prickling her skin. With a firm hand, the man helped her off the bed and held her against him when she swayed.

  Another reading of his aura showed something akin to compassion.

  “You and I are not that different,” he said, putrid breath blowing against her ear.

  “How so?” Her hand went to her mouth when she realized she’d spoken.

  “According to what they say, your voice is how you change the moods of those who hear you. I do the same thing.”

  She frowned.

  “Some of us just use necessary violence as our means of changing minds.” He shrugged and grabbed her by the arm. Yanking her out of the room and past the doorway, she bumped into the frame before stumbling out. They took a left and headed down what seemed like a long hallway.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “I was not kidding about killing you. If you speak without being spoken to, this gun will go off.”

  She wanted to look bored, wanted to show him just what she thought of his bullshit, but the spiteful Sonja had to take a back seat to the smarter one that played nice with others until she escaped.

  Besides, he may get off the first shot, but she’d still take them with her.

  Footsteps echoed on the concrete floor, revealing the age and condition of the structure. Sonja filed this information away for when she would make her escape.

  Another door opened, sending a draft past her. Stale life and sweat carried on the breeze from the door. Someone shoved her inside.

  “Sit.”

  Again, she did as she was told despite the anger beginning to boil in her.

  She had to keep a clear head.

  That became more difficult as the threat of violence intensified around her.

  She reached out and felt for the seat: wooden chair, poorly constructed, hard bottom.

  The blindfold disappeared and she faced a concrete wall with a hole in it.

  “There is a camera facing you. In a moment, you will be told what to say. We will get the highest paying bidder on the line, and perhaps…do some different business that may see you somewhere else.”

  Again, she nodded.

  “We have cards for you. I will hand you one. You will read it and nothing else. And if we detect anything weird…” He paused. “Well, let’s hope we don’t.”

  Sonja swallowed hard. She didn’t want to know who they were calling. There was no need to involve any large organizations over her kidnapping.

  Hands gripped her face and forced her to stare forward. A red light started blinking.

  “Now, you will do us the honor of reading the cards.”

  A TV screen came to life, and after a moment of static, an image became visible.

  Please don’t let them turn this into a big deal. She prayed silently.

  The image cleared.

  Her jaw dropped and she gasped.

  * * *

  Max flipped open his laptop and answered the incoming call.

  Derrick’s mouth went bone dry with worry and his body grew tense. Each nerve ending stood primed. His puma rallied behind him with one goal. Find this woman and mate with her.

  He shifted uneasily in the leather seat in Max’s office. The cigar he’d lit up earlier had been chewed to hell and was pretty much un-smokeable. Max offered him another one, but he declined.

  Not even the shot of bourbon calmed his nerves. He needed Sonja back safe. The men who had her were going to use her to start a war and create bigger problems.

  Rob nearly went ape shit when
Derrick called him to inform him of his sister’s kidnapping.

  After Derrick calmed Rob down, he gathered what Intel he could and passed it to Max since he still had high-level government connections.

  Unfortunately, he left Special Ops after his last assignment. Too much red tape, too many bodies, and too few sleep-filled nights were not something he wanted to deal with any more.

  Derrick groaned.

  The connection they shared last night and the remaining spark they’d started to ignite before the extraction team came for her, created a deep-seated need to protect Sonja.

  A man with dark skin came into view on the screen. His curly hair was mussed, probably from lack of sleep. His icy stare did nothing to scare Derrick. This man had something both Derrick and Max wanted, so negotiations would begin.

  “Hello,” the man said. He crossed his arms over his chest. The tattered black shirt and camo pants he wore appeared outdated and in need of a good tailor. “You have something we want to exchange for the life of this girl.”

  Derrick started to speak but Max raised an arm. “We might. We need proof the girl is alive. We won’t pay for damaged goods.”

  “Understood,” responded the man through a thick Russian accent. The camera panned to Sonja.

  Derrick’s heart leapt in his throat. She appeared to be fine. Ruffled messy hair hung down the sides of her round face. Her eyes held worry yet remained fierce. She still wore his coat.

  The idea seemed endearing.

  “I am fine. They have done nothing to me other than give me some water—”

  “No poisons.” Max interrupted.

  Sonja continued. “And a few pieces of bread. I am unharmed. Give them what they want and I’m free. Please, do as they say.”

  Derrick stood with clenched fists and swallowed hard. If he understood correctly from the little time they’d spent together, her power might become unstable and something bad could happen resulting in Goddess only knew what. He tapped Max and mouthed to him. “They can’t make her upset. She can’t fully control her power.”

  Max held up a hand.

  Derrick huffed and sat back down. He hated this part. He wasn’t trained in hostage negotiations. He led ground assault teams into rescues only after all terms were agreed upon and the plans were set in motion. Max always handled negotiations.

  Tension poured off him in waves. He gripped the chair, gritted his teeth, and tried to remain quiet.

  Max tapped a few keys on the laptop but continued to talk to the screen. “Where is the drop point?”

  The Russian appeared onscreen again. “We need five million for her. We will be in touch. Remember, have money ready in twenty-four hours. Or we start ripping off fingers and limbs. She only needs her voice to be of use, right?” The screen went blank.

  “Dammit!” Derrick stood and pounded the desk. “What are we going to do?”

  “Well.” Max took a deep breath. “We are supposed to come up with several million dollars for her release. She is the biggest thing in the music scene and they probably know that.” He inhaled his cigar, blew out a thick cloud of smoke.

  The puma inside Derrick swished its tail back and forth. “I have access to funds but it’ll take more than twenty-four hours for me to liquidate that sort of cash.”

  “Relax.” Max held up a hand. He ran his thumb and forefinger along the body of the cigar. “We’re not going to come up with that much money. In fact, we’re going to pull the same tactic on them that they did on us.”

  Derrick arched his brow. What connections did Max still have? He never bothered to talk about work. Three-letter organizations rarely let anyone talk about information they deemed classified, but Derrick knew Max’s reserves well enough to know things might be handled off the books. Good, because this needed to be kept quiet. The media didn’t need to know about it. More public actions would only bring out more obvious threats.

  Max looked collected sitting in his chair.

  “A snatch and grab? Are you fucking mad?”

  “No.” Max laughed, stroking his goatee. “I’ve picked up his location. They’re in an old abandoned neighborhood not far from here. We’re going to go get your girl. There’s a tracker in your trench coat.”

  Dread and relief filled Derrick. “She’s not my girl.”

  Max didn’t bother to hide his dopey grin. “Dude, I saw how you looked at her.”

  Derrick grunted.

  “You can’t fool a spy.” He leaned back, set his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

  Derrick wanted to knock the smug look off Max’s face.

  “Look.” Max picked up his cigar from the ashtray. “You’re familiar with her. You heard how Erick talked about her when you mentioned her. When Erick speaks—”

  “Yeah, I know.” One of the oldest pumas around, Erick just seemed to know things. It was definitely creepy. He had told Derrick to let the girl into his world, so for now that’s all he was doing. “So what’s our move?”

  “We get a few friends, sneak in under the cover of darkness, do the ole snatch and grab, and get out unseen.”

  Derrick snorted. The animal in him wanted blood and would get it eventually, at any cost. But he had to be rational; that’s what separated man from beast. Except with shifters. That war always remained present, worsening when both man and animal wanted the same thing. In the end, Derrick realized a plan like this would take time to execute. “You make it sound so simple.”

  Max nodded, drummed his fingers on the desk, and looked Derrick dead in the eyes. “That’s because it is.”

  * * *

  “You did good. Maybe you won’t have to die after all.” Those were the last words she heard before she was blindfolded and led back into the same room as earlier.

  Sonja’s heart wanted to break. When the image cleared, she saw two figures. Max, the puma shifter from earlier, had been sitting in a chair. Beside him sat Derrick, looking sexy as hell even with the amount of anger he was probably trying to hide.

  Why were they the ones that answered whatever call these terrorists had put out? What is going on?

  At least this time the shackles around her ankles weren’t as tight. She could work herself free of them instantly and escape.

  During the recording, she lost some control of her power. Her body shook just as soon as the camera was turned off, and she burst into tears.

  The butt of a gun made her cry even more, but pissed her off at the same time. She would only need to sing a single note—a scream of pure agony—to make the men holding her captive envision their worst fears.

  Then they’d all commit suicide.

  She’d been afraid to use her voice for that. Death carried a lot of negative energy, and when people died, they often released all of their unfiltered foul baggage into the universe. If a death was a suicide or a victim who died not of their own volition, tormented anger stuck to her.

  As time passed, it became harder for her to scrub it off with magic and even more difficult to release, so she absorbed more and more negative energy.

  The thought tore at her heart and solidified her vow never to use her voice for anything but the greater good.

  All that blood couldn’t be washed off the soul.

  But she could try to absolve it through kind acts. When she performed with Ark-KaotiK, she eased the pain of so many teens and adults with her soothing voice and death-like screams that it justified the cost.

  She’d written lyrics so pain-filled that the goddess herself would weep if she were to hear them.

  Controlling that power took a heavy toll on her body.

  Seeing Derrick last night broke something in her. Not only had he been a steady source of tranquility when she felt her world spinning out of control, but he shattered a barrier she’d put up so long ago she couldn’t remember what caused her to erect it.

  He comforted her even through the wash of his own bullshit. When she touched him, the connection between them was more than sexual; it ran deeper.
It would have chilled her if it hadn’t heated her soul. The second he realized the need to pull back and guard his emotions so she could breathe, he endeared himself to her.

  His strength astounded her.

  The frustrated look on Derrick’s face only backed up her thoughts. Staring into those fierce eyes let her know he had a haunted past; she didn’t need magic to see that. It tormented him—whatever it was—and made him the man he faced in the mirror each day. Once he had a path, a goal, he took action. Without anything more than the demands given to them by the terrorists, he had only one goal today.

  It angered her that her fight would become his.

  Reaching behind her to cup her head, she felt sticky blood in her hair. That fucker with the gun had clocked her a good one, and that pissed her off even more.

  She shouldn’t be sitting here chained to a bed when she could free herself and leave!

  Her eyes darted around the room, scanning for extra sets of eyes.

  No cameras. No spaces for hidden guns.

  Nothing.

  “Shit.”

  She gathered enough energy to heal the wound, then turned her magic on the weakest piece of the chain. Focusing on the thin point in the link, she sent energy directly to it, imagining the molecules snapping apart.

  Air settled around her like a heavy cloak. Built-up power funneled in front of her before she redirected it to the chain’s weakness.

  CRACK! Metal split and fell to the sides of her legs.

  She whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the goddess, then realized that if she left the shackles on, her captors could reattach a stronger metal to her and restrain her again.

  A few seconds later, the metal cracked before it split down the center and fell apart.

  She pumped her fist and slid off the bed.

  “Now to get out of here.”

  A glance out the window told her night had fallen. There was no moonlight, but Sonja knew the beautiful goddess hung in the sky and provided light for those who believed in her.

  She had to tell Derrick she’d escaped so he wouldn’t come looking for her. He couldn’t be caught up in this mess. It was her fight, not his. The saddest part of it all was that this was normal for her. It only reinforced the idea that she couldn’t have a relationship with him.