by A. C. Heller
Fate
A Novel by A.C. Heller
This book is dedicated to all of my friends and family.
You had faith in me and inspired me to strive to accomplish something more. Thank you, and I'll always love you.
- A.C. Heller
Copyright © 2013 By A.C. Heller
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Prologue
A man leans against a brick column in the shadows of an adjacent alleyway, waiting patiently for a glimpse of the one he seeks. He has often found himself in undesirable locations such as this, but not without purpose. Gritting his teeth in irritation he inwardly curses at how tightly fate is tied. How mere seconds can change the outcome of ones course. The man’s lips purse as he considers that very reason for being there. His lips form a knowing smirk as he peers around the column a second before an electronic bell sounds. He watches with reluctant anticipation as a petite, golden haired female offers a gesture of farewell to her coworkers. The oblivious woman casually strolls to her vehicle and rummages through her oversized handbag. The man briskly dons his hood, sufficiently disguising his identity, and saunters out of the shadows towards the preoccupied lady. Once his body is in the proper proximity he causes their shoulders to collide. The man does not stop to tend to the female, he simply continues walking, as if nothing occurred. A gasp is heard from behind him a fraction of a second before the metallic twang of keys hitting asphalt meets his ears. His pace does not slow until he reaches the sanctity of an abandoned house across the street. Peering beneath his hood he watches as the now, inevitable, runs its course.
The woman slides her key into the locking mechanism of her vehicle, but before she succeeds in opening the door a man descends upon her. Her attacker violently drapes what appears to be a pillow case over her head, and fastens a rope around her throat. The female puts on a mildly impressive display, clawing and screaming at her abductor, but the onlooker only shakes his head. She fights back in vain, regardless of her actions she is going to be taken. This is how it must be. The attacker slams the woman’s small body into the steel frame of her vehicle twice. She cries out but does not cease her struggle for freedom. Her captor cocks back one arm and backhands the female, effectively silencing her by causing her to lose consciousness. For a moment the onlooker contemplates showing the attacker what the true meaning of unnecessary force is, but he relents. Her captor lifts her motionless body into the back of a waiting vehicle and the onlooker smiles to himself. When the vehicle exits the parking lot at high speeds the onlooker pivots and mutters into the wind.
“And so, the strands of fate are lain.”
Chapter One
Heart pounding, head throbbing, I roll over to find myself on a cold slab floor in a room so dark I begin to question whether or not I've actually opened my eyes yet. What the hell happened? The last thing I remember is heading to my car after work. Oh god. I've been kidnapped. Son of a bitch!... But... for what? I don't have any money and no family to save me. From what I was told my parents passed away when I was very young, and my grandparents were already gone by the time I was born. I ended up in foster care, but it wasn't all bad. The Warrens raised me, but once I turned eighteen they made it pretty clear that I needed to find my own way in life. Now I'm twenty five, with a shitty car, and an even shittier apartment. I'm so far from ransom material it’s not even funny.
And yet here I am... Lying on a frigid floor, confused as fuck. Fantastic.
Shaking my head to ward off the remaining haze that clouds my thoughts I start to feel around for something, anything, a weapon, a wall. Literally, anything. But such is my luck, I find nothing. Not even a crack in the floor. Moving onto my hands and knees I begin to crawl through the darkness. After a few moments my face comes in contact with a firm surface. A wall! I found a wall! Reality washes over me when I realize that's not really anything to be excited about. But at the moment, I'm thrilled. Using the surface as my guide, I bring myself to my feet and put my back to the wall.
They say when you're in a scary situation like this adrenaline kicks in and in some cases you won't feel pain. I guess they're right, because I didn't realize I was in pain until I was standing with my back to the wall. A pained grunt slips past my lips. My ribs are sore and my head is pounding worse now that I'm standing. Being in this kind of pain and not remembering how it was caused is, in and of itself, scary as hell. With my self-preservation still in high gear I place a hand on the wall and follow it until I hit a corner. Then another, and another, until I'm a hundred percent sure I've now walked in a full circle. Well, square if you want to get technical but whatever. Now is not the time for technicalities...
In the midst of my inner monologue, technicalities rant, I hear a loud noise like metal on metal. A latch! Like on an old door. Except it isn't a door, it's a trap door located in the ceiling of the room that I am in. Light shines down from the now partially open door, but I don't see anyone, or hear anything for that matter. Finally I hear movement and an old milk crate is dropped into my concrete prison. Paralyzed with fear, I stay planted against the wall.
A few minutes pass before a voice calls out to me. Not a normal voice, this voice is deep, thick even. Like the man must have smoked since he was twelve. The odd thing is, it lacks the usual crackle that most smokers’ voices develop. It's smooth, and the very sound of it makes me shudder.
“Clean yourself up. Want you looking pretty when those boys come for you.”
Boys? What boys? Wow, this guy was in for a rude awakening. No one is going to come for me. Hell, besides my job no one will even realize I'm missing. Naturally, it's moment's like this where you realize that being shy and keeping to yourself really do have their downfalls. Mustering up what little courage I have I feel it necessary to respond to the scary voiced man.
“Why are you doing this?”
He responds with a rumbling laugh that sounds like it's coming from deep in his throat. His laugh alone implies he finds my question genuinely amusing, but his tone further enforces it.
“Why? Girl, I don't need a reason. If I wanted to I could drop in there, split you from nose to navel and not lose any sleep over it.”
“Bu..but you won't...right?”
The man laughs at me once again. This time I'm sure he's laughing at the quiver in my voice that I tried in vain to control. It isn't like I want to sound like I'm scared out of my mind, but at this moment I'm seriously considering losing my shit all over the place.
“I won't. Not yet at least. You've got some friends I've been dying to meet. And once we have our little play date, I'll come down and introduce myself properly.”
And with that the trap door slams shut with a loud, metallic boom. Walking carefully towards the spot I last saw the crate, I lean down and grasp the edge. After digging around in the basket for a few minutes, my hand wraps around a familiar tubular object. There's a button on the side so I turn it on and to my great delight it is in fact a flashlight. It takes me a few tries, but finally I'm able to prop the flashlight between my chin and chest so I can use both hands to inspect the rest of my gifts. Thank god for boobs, am I right? There's alcohol wipes, a hair brush, a small hand mirror, one bottle of water, and a dress. A simple black dress, at least I think it's black. It's hard to tell in the crappy lighting, but the color isn'
t really important... And more importantly, what the shit's with the dress? Does this guy really expect me to go all pretty woman for him?
Twisting off the cap I tilt the bottle back and down half of contents. Immediately I regret drinking so much. There's no telling how long I'm going to be down here, so now I'll really need to conserve what I have left. Pointing the flashlight at myself I notice for the first time that my work uniform, your typical white shirt and jean combo, is covered in blood. Snatching up the hand mirror I do my best with it and the light to see my face. Dried blood coats my upper lip, obviously having come from my nose, and my bottom lip is split. Ouch. But to be honest it looks far more painful then it feels. Tearing open a few of the alcohol wipes I begin the task of cleaning the blood off myself. And let me tell you how pleasant it is to realize you've got more cuts than you actually thought by the incessant stinging of alcohol. Delightful! Despite my whining the burn from the alcohol only lasts a few moments, and after I'm as clean as I can get without an actual shower.
With nothing else to do besides dwell on my own thoughts I roll up the dress to use as a pillow and curl myself into a ball, once again on the cold hard floor, and that's when the questions surface again. Why would someone do this to me? Better yet, why would they beat me like they did? I've always been small. I'm 5'4, I might weigh a hundred and ten pounds, and that's at my heaviest. Could I really have put up enough of a fight to warrant a beating? I can't pretend to understand the man upstairs’ motives, but I do remember him saying he would introduce himself properly. And somehow I knew I didn't want to meet him. Not at all.
I must have fallen asleep because I’m awakened by a muffled voice from above. And I know that they must be speaking very loudly, or screaming, because usually I can't hear anything from up there, not even foot steps. Pointing my flashlight at the trap door I stand perfectly still and listen, as if somehow that's going to help. Inwardly shrugging, I listen anyway. But there's nothing, no more sounds. Dumping the contents of my crate on the floor, I flip it over and take a seat. The floor was starting to make my ass go numb. So this is the next best option. Well, the only other option really.
After sitting silently for what seems like an hour, the trap door is ripped open so fast that I didn't even hear the latch unhinge. A large, correction, make that a very large dark object passes through the door and falls heavily to the floor with a thud, and my captor calls down once more.
“The first wave was small. The fools only sent one. His corpse can keep you company until it's time for us to play.”
And with that the trap door slams shut. Wide-eyed, I stare at the darkened silhouette of my newfound company. Swallowing hard, I reign in my fear and do the only thing I can instinctively think to do. I rush towards the corpse with my flashlight to see if there's anything that can be done. With one hand grasping the light as if it were my lifeline I touch my hand to the man’s throat looking for a pulse, but I don't feel anything. Oh god! This poor man! Blinking back the tears that are already threatening to escape, I take a moment to take in the lifeless man in front of me. He must be easily six-four and probably about two hundred and fifty pounds. All muscle though. It's hard to see him through all the black he is wearing, but judging by how his long-sleeved henley is clinging to his upper body it's easy to tell there isn't an ounce of fat on this man.
The dead man is wearing some sort of a mask, so in a moment of morbid curiosity I pull it off of his face and what I see takes my breath away. He's handsome...no handsome doesn't quite suit what I'm staring at. He's beautiful. His skin is bronze colored, but it's easy to tell he isn't all black, there's something else in him that I can't pin point. His features are smoother, yet his brow is still prominent. There's a light dusting of black facial hair on his upper lip and chin, but not enough to make him look unkempt. What a tragedy it is to lose such beauty. Sorrow overtakes me at the thought that it is possible this unknown, beautiful stranger lost his life because of me. Leaning forward I drop my head onto his chest as the tears run down my face. If I could do nothing else, I could grant this man the respect of mourning for him.
With no concept of time, I'm not sure how long has passed before I feel a hand at the nape of my neck. My body tenses and there's a scream building in my throat, but before I get the opportunity I'm suddenly flat on my back. There is a hand over my mouth and my body is being pressed into the floor by the body of a large man. The same large man that was dead before me, minutes ago. Oh my god. Images of zombies run through my head but before my thoughts can become too wayward the man speaks.
“Quiet”
Okay, so be quiet. I can do that. After nodding my head in agreement the man hesitantly moves his hand away from my mouth. My guess is he covered my mouth because he was convinced I was going to do the opposite of 'quiet'. Which, in all honesty, I am considering. He stares at me for a long moment, as if he can see me significantly better than I can see him in this horrible lighting. Having lost my flashlight when Mr. Not-So-Dead-Guy tackled me, I feel that I'm at a disadvantage. Well, I'm kind of at a disadvantage regardless, this guy's freakin' massive.
“Mask”
Is all he whispers to me. And it's not quite a question as much as a command. But it's not the command that stops my thoughts in their tracks, it’s his voice. It's deep, but smooth as silk and I find myself noting that this dude could make a very good living as a sex phone operator. Abort! Abort! Shaking my head to snap myself back into the now, I stare up at the man.
“What?”
“My mask”
Oh! He wants his mask! I make an attempt to sit up but his impressive weight still has me pinned to the floor. So instead I nod my head in the direction of my right leg, where his mask lays. He reaches without moving and takes hold of it. While he is momentarily preoccupied I notice that he's got a tattoo that seems to stem from both his chest and back, up the left side of his neck. His complexion alone makes the work of art stand out, but before I can really appreciate it he tugs his mask back on and his now shrouded face returns to mine.
“Do not speak. Just listen. You will get out of this alive, and this will be done by you listening and obeying every word I say to you. Do you understand?”
Despite the situation I've somehow managed to get myself in, I'm not a moron. So naturally, I nod my head.
“Good girl. Now, all you need to know is that in a short time my associate will drop down through the hatch with a ladder so we can both get out of here. When we are on the move if I say stop, you stop . When I say run, you fucking run. Do you get me?”
And again, the only rational response I can give is a nod of agreement. He takes a deep breath and lowers his head a fraction before lifting it and speaking once more.
“Are you injured?”
In a barely audible whisper I answer him.
“Yes, but I can do as you asked.”
At that he rolls from me and lays back in his original position, once more appearing to be dead. The trap door opens and my captor’s face appears in the light. His face is marred with scars and he appears to be a large man, not as large as the man in the room with me, but still. And the thing that really scares me is that he is smiling. A chain ladder falls from the open trap door but it only reaches about two feet over my head. It would be very difficult for me to reach it and climb up. I can only assume it was made for that very reason.
“Ready to play, doll?”
Standing paralyzed in place, I watch as my captor begins climbing down the ladder. Once he is around six feet from the floor he drops off and lands firmly on his feet in front of me. He moves an arm to reach out for me but I step back away from his hand, unknowingly cornering myself. Another smile crosses his face as he steps into me, so close that his front is pressed into mine. He lifts his big hand and runs it through the hair at my temple before bringing it to rest next to my eye.
“Hair as gold as the dawn, eyes like morning dew. Grace in its purest form.”
I'm taken aback by his words but that doesn't
stop my body from trembling with fear. He lifts my chin and as he does, I barely catch a glimpse of something dropping from the open trap door. It was so fast I couldn't make it out. A whimper escapes my lips as his grow closer and closer to mine. Fucking shit, he's going to kiss me! That's when I hear it, the unmistakeable sound of a blade sinking into flesh. My eyes drop to the floor as my captors hand falls lax from where it held my chin. Blood pools at his feet and I watch as his knees buckle and his body falls to the floor.
When I raise my eyes from the blood covered floor, they lock with those of a different man. His complexion is as fair as mine, but he has sandy brown hair and honey brown eyes. He's smaller than the other man but no less intimidating.
Chapter Two
My body starts to sway as I try to come to terms with what just happened in front of me. So much blood... Swallowing hard, my eyes meet those of the second unknown man. He smiles faintly at me and takes a hesitant step forward. Acting on instinct, I move to step back to only not move at all. I'm still pressed against the wall. Cornered. Shit. The man raises his hands in front of his chest in a pacifying gesture and begins to speak.
“Shh. Shh. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I only killed him 'cause he was going to hurt you.”