The Halfling (Aria Fae #1)

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The Halfling (Aria Fae #1) Page 22

by H. D. Gordon


  CHAPTER 52

  I retrieved a third plastic bottle cap from the debris littered among the curb and launched it at the window, hitting the target dead-on once again. I was just getting ready to throw another one when the window finally slid open, and Sam’s father poked his head out.

  He looked much as he had the other day; hair a mess atop his head, dark circles surrounding his eyes, more than a week’s worth of stubble covering his cheeks. Squinting down at me, you would’ve guessed he’d never seen me before.

  “What do you want?” he growled, spittle flying from his lips. His groggy voice suggested that I’d woken him.

  “Is your daughter home, sir?” I asked, trying to keep the judgment out of my voice.

  Mr. Shy rubbed at his eyes and scratched at his face, disappearing inside for a moment and yelling his daughter’s name in a way that made me want to cringe. He reappeared a moment later, and my heart sank with his words.

  “I guess she’s not here,” he said. “I thought she was with you… or that curly headed boy… Mark?”

  I shook my head, spreading my arms, trying to keep the mounting anxiety off my face. “She’s not with me, sir. And she’s not with Matt, either.”

  Finally, he appeared to be almost as alarmed as I thought he should be. “Well, where the hell is she, then?”

  I gritted my teeth. “That’s what I’m trying to find out, sir.”

  He cursed, looked helpless, and finally, asked if I wanted to come up. As I was agreeing to it, Matt turned the corner, clearly unable to keep away, and we both looked at each other when the buzzer to the front door of Sam’s apartment building sounded as Mr. Shy opened the door to let us up.

  I swallowed as I entered the foyer, and Matt looked even more nervous than I felt. “You ever been inside Sam’s apartment?” I asked.

  Matt shook his head, his dark curls swishing around his face. “I’ve got a bad feeling, Aria,” he said. “I don’t know why, but I can’t shake it.”

  I patted his back as we stepped inside an elevator (Sam’s apartment complex was infinitely nicer than mine, and had three elevators total) but found that I could not shake the rock that had settled in my stomach as we made our way up. Matt was right; something was wrong, but I was doing the best I could to stave off the panic that was urging to explode within me.

  When we reached Sam’s apartment, and her dad let us inside, the dread was almost enough to make me lose my manners. It didn’t help that the place smelled like booze and old pizza, and that her father clearly hadn’t even noticed his daughter’s absence in his stupor.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded as we stepped inside.

  I restrained a snappy comment as I took in the state of their home. What once had surely been considered luxury in the city was now overrun with bits of electronics and stacked newspapers. Empty microwave dinner boxes and beer cans seemed to fill all the places in between, and a certain odor hung in the air that was all the more offensive the further in we ventured.

  I didn’t have to look over at Matt to gage his reaction, because his silence gave him away as surely as my appraising looks were doing for me.

  “We’re looking for your daughter, sir,” I said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  Mr. Shy looked like he wasn’t sure whether he should be angry or worried. “Last I saw her she was dressed up to go to some party,” he said.

  My fists clenched slightly, as if they could keep a grip on my rising alarm. “So she never came home last night?”

  Shame filled Mr. Shy’s aura, though my viewing of it was skewed thanks to the alcohol still in his system. Still, I knew his answer before he gave it.

  “Well… I’m not… I’m not completely sure,” he admitted.

  It’s not in my nature to say so lightly, or even to do so lightly, but in that moment, it was safe to say I hated Mr. Phillip Shy. It was probably more the fact that I was terribly concerned for his daughter, and my mood was still low from what’d I done for Caleb’s brother the night before, but the ugly emotion filled me as I stared at the man who’d lost himself in a bottle as a result of his wife’s death.

  In fact, I wanted to scream in his face as he stood there, looking simultaneously ashamed and self-righteous. I wanted to tell him that we all lost people and things we loved in our lives, but that didn’t give us a right to neglect our responsibilities. I wanted to take out my staff and knock him off his feet, simply to watch him fall on his ass.

  I didn’t do any of this, of course, because it would only serve to make a bad situation worse. Besides, I knew what had happened to her, didn’t I? I just really didn’t want to admit it to myself.

  I turned on my heels without another word, leaving both him and Matt standing there staring after me.

  “Wait a second,” Mr. Shy called after me. “Where is Samantha? Do I need to call the police?”

  “Do what you have to,” I told him, and was out the door.

  CHAPTER 53

  I leapt from rooftop to rooftop, building to building, using speed and strength owed entirely to adrenaline. My heartbeat was keeping pace in my throat, pounding someplace between my ears. My thoughts kept flying back to a terrible conclusion, but I refused to accept it just yet.

  First, I had to check all the possibilities, and if that yielded no favorable outcome, then I would reassess the situation. And by reassess the situation, I meant give myself permission to flip the hell out.

  I needed to find Sam. That was all I knew. Find Sam. Find Sam. Find Sam.

  The lair was the direction I headed in upon leaving Mr. Shy and Matt, hoping beyond hope that I would find Sam there, safe and sound. Moving faster than was even safe, I sailed over Grant City as the nightlife sprung into action. Neon signs flashed below me while a cloudy sky obscured a full moon above me, but I could pay them no mind. Mine was fully occupied.

  When I reached the warehouse where we’d set up our operations, I slipped through my usual window and nearly bit it as I scrambled to my feet, calling Sam’s name. Stepping out onto the landing outside the small office and staring out over the open warehouse floor, even in the faint light, I could tell she was not there.

  I said her name into the gloom anyway, and was met with silence. Its crushing presence seemed to squeeze at my soul. Before it could destroy me, I was out the window again, and leaping from more rooftops. I barely saw any of my surroundings as I checked a few of the spots I’d visited with my friend, only to find them all empty of her.

  On a last bit of hope, I circled back around to The Grind, and ran into Matt as he was coming out of the coffee shop. By the look on his face, I didn’t have to ask if he’d had better luck than me. I already knew he hadn’t.

  “She’s not inside,” he said. And then, looking at nothing in particular: “She’s not anywhere.”

  I resisted the urge to slap him across the face and settled for a little pop to his shoulder. “She’s got to be somewhere,” I hissed.

  He rubbed at the spot where I’d hit him. “Oh, yeah?” he said, just as sharply. “Where, then? Where is she?”

  I felt like screaming again, and let out a small growl of frustration instead. “I don’t know, Matt. Has she ever done this before? Run away? What did her dad say?”

  Matt looked at me for a moment, and then sighed, holding the door to The Grind open and waving a hand for me to go through. When I just stood there, he said, “Come inside. I’ll buy you a hot chocolate. You look like crap.”

  I almost told him what he could do with his hot chocolate, but thought better of it. He wasn’t the one I was mad at, and I needed a moment to sit down and clear my thoughts. Refusing to let my arms cross over my chest like they desperately wanted to, I stalked past Matt and found a small open table while he ordered us some drinks.

  When he brought me back a large, steaming hot chocolate, I took a huge swig and burned my whole mouth and esophagus, but hardly felt the pain.

  Before I could jump down his throat with questions, Matt
said, “Sam’s dad told the police she’s missing. They’ve put out an Amber Alert for her and are keeping an eye out… and no, Sam’s never done anything like this before.”

  I felt as though a log had formed in my throat. “Matt,” I said. “You don’t think…?”

  Matt’s brown eyes met mine, his aura bright and agitated with worry. “I don’t know what to think, Aria,” he said. “What happened at that party?”

  I shook my head, spreading my hands. I could hardly sit still for all the anxiety I was feeling. “Nothing,” I said, and paused.

  “What?” Matt asked.

  I leaned forward, the words harder to speak than I’d thought they’d be. “Dyson was there,” I whispered.

  Matt’s face filled with alarm, but before he could think of how to respond to this, someone in the coffee shop gasped, drawing our attention. I looked over to see the gasp had come from a barista, and she was holding a remote toward one of the flat screen televisions on the wall, increasing its volume.

  All eyes were on the televisions now, and Matt’s and my own followed.

  As soon as I saw what was there, my heart stopped dead in my chest. Every television in the coffee shop was interrupted with this new program. The setting was a concrete room. In the center of the camera there was a large, empty water tank, and in the center of that tank, sat a girl, hands bound behind her back and a black bag covering her head. Despite the concealment, I knew who the girl was instantly. I would have known even if the dress she was still wearing didn’t give her away, and for several seconds, I was unable to draw air.

  I stared. I blinked in disbelief. But the television continued to show the unthinkable. A man wearing a plain white mask broke into the scene, and despite not being able to see his body or face, I knew who this character was as well.

  The coffee shop was silent enough to hold a vigil, but the pounding of my heart in my ears was as loud as a war drum.

  The masked man on the screen spoke, breaking into the quiet. “Good evening, Grant City,” he said, his voice indistinguishable with a warping device of some sort, making it even deeper than I knew it to truly be.

  “This message is for all of you,” he continued. “Many of you have heard about the masked girl running around our great city committing acts of certain heroics, and praise this vigilante for doing so.”

  He moved to the side of the camera, putting the hooded and bound girl in the large, clear tank back in the center of the picture. He waved a hand at her, as if she were an answer and this were a game show.

  “Watch this, Grant City,” said the white-masked man, and pressed a button on the side of the tank. To my ultimate horror, I watched as sand slowly began to fill the tank, the fine grains hitting the bottom and bouncing up near the bound girl’s feet.

  He held up a timer in front of the screen. It was set for sixty minutes. His masked face came back into view, but the tinge of excitement in his voice gave away a smile. “That’s how long she has until the sand fills the tank enough to asphyxiate her,” he said.

  Picking up the camera now, he held it up to his covered face. “So Grant City’s little hero has one hour and counting to come out and play back at the spot we first met, or this innocent young lady behind me is going to die while the entire city watches!” He moved the camera up close to the tank, and I could see the bound girl shivering through the glass. “Oh! And if you bring the police, or anyone else, I’ll settle for blowing her head off instead.”

  The bastard laughed heartily here, filling the coffee shop and my ears with the grating sound, jarring something lose inside me. As I sat there, staring at the television like the rest of them, I would have sworn my very blood was afire.

  There was a moment of silence then as the televisions blinked to black and then reverted back to their regular showings. In this moment, my stomach plummeted. My heartbeat paused. An arrow tipped in poison shot right through my chest.

  Sam.

  He’d taken Sam.

  And I was going to get her back.

  CHAPTER 54

  The reaction of those around us was as to be expected. They exclaimed over the horror, the novelty, the intensity of it. In their auras, I could see excitement was the overall emotion, however, as if what we’d just seen on the televisions was some sort of blockbuster movie, rather than the life of an innocent girl being threatened.

  And I hated them for it. It was things like this that made me curse the human half of me, and when I stood to exit the coffee shop, I did so both with the haste of the occasion and the benefit of not taking out my sudden fury on those inside.

  I hardly noticed that Matt had followed me out. In fact, I didn’t even realize he was beside me until he grabbed my arm, and nearly got his head bitten off for the effort.

  “Aria!” he said, trying to calm me.

  I didn’t want to be calmed. “What?” I snapped.

  “Will you just hold on a second?”

  We were standing out on the sidewalk now, the nighttime crowd swerving around us, headlights zipping by in traffic. “Hold on a second?” I asked. “Are you kidding me? Did you just see that?”

  Matt nodded and swallowed hard before answering. “Yeah, I did, and I think you should take just a minute before rushing off to get yourself killed.”

  “Well, thank you for the vote of confidence,” I said, and not kindly. I gripped him by his jacket, my voice practically lowered to a growl. “If you’re not going to help me, Matt, then just get the hell out of my way.”

  The fear that filled his face as I did this diffused me a touch, and I released him, trying like hell to gain a little control over myself.

  “I am going to help you,” he said. And then more quietly: “You’re not the only one who loves her, Aria.”

  These words were like a punch to the gut. I deflated, gripping Matt’s arms now in a totally different manner, as if I needed to be held up. “Oh God,” I said. “What have I done?”

  “Hey,” someone said behind me, tapping my shoulder and surprising me.

  I turned around to see Andrea Ramos, and my rage came back full force.

  “Hey,” Andrea said again. “Can I ta—”

  My arm shot out before I even knew what it was doing, and I shoved her so hard that she stumbled backward and fell on her butt, landing on a couple trash bags that had been piled by the side of a building. I’m ashamed of this reaction, but it felt good nonetheless, and I didn’t have time for any extra distractions.

  Sam didn’t have time.

  “Not now,” I said, dismissing Andrea as she climbed to her feet, her face red and her letterman’s jacket ruffled. I took Matt’s hand and we hailed a cab. I got inside without a look back, giving the driver my apartment address.

  “Aria…” Matt said, as we sped off toward my place.

  “What?” I snapped. I could tell he was judging me over my treatment of Andrea just then, but I was too worked up to care.

  Matt sighed and shook his head, his brown curls swishing around his face. We got to my apartment a few minutes later, and I paid the cabbie with the last of my money and was bounding up the stairs to my apartment too fast for Matt to keep up.

  When I reached the top of the stairs, I plowed right into the wide and hard chest of Thomas Reid, and had he not reached out and grabbed my arms, I would have rebounded down a few steps and likely fallen.

  “What the hell?” I said, shaking off his hold and moving around him. I didn’t have time to tell him that he shouldn’t be just standing in the stairway like that, where anyone could just go bounding into him.

  Thomas followed me over to my door, and when I opened it and went inside my apartment, leaving the door open for Matt, Thomas followed me inside, too.

  I was already popping the lock off my truck. “What do you want?” I asked him.

  When Thomas didn’t respond, I spared a look back at him and repeated my question. Matt entered the apartment as I was pulling my jacket and pants out of the trunk, shedding my hoodie, and put
ting on the suit, unconcerned for modesty under the stress of the situation.

  Thomas regarded Matt. “Would you wait out in the hall for a moment?”

  Matt looked between the two of us, unsure, but when I didn’t protest the request, he stepped out into the hallway and quietly shut the door behind him.

  I was switching into my pants, and Thomas averted his gaze. I rolled my eyes. “I guess you saw the broadcast,” I said.

  He gave a single, stiff nod. “All of Grant City saw the broadcast.”

  I slid my jacket over my shoulders and tucked a silver knife into my boot. “If you’re here to try to tell me not to go, you might as well save your breath. I’m going.”

  “I need you to tell me what’s going on here, Aria,” Thomas said.

  I zipped up my jacket, tucking my staff inside. “And I don’t have the time nor the inclination to explain it to you, Thomas.”

  I went to move past him, but he stood before the door, blocking my way with his wide frame. I spoke between clenched teeth. There was clock ticking between my ears, and I was strung tight enough to break.

  “Move,” I warned. “Or I’ll make you.”

  “I’m coming with you,” he said, making me take a step back with the suddenness of the offer and the resolve in which it was spoken.

  “You can’t. You heard what he said. I have to go alone.”

  Thomas stayed where he was. “Twice in the past week I’ve carried you up those stairs because you were too weak to make it up yourself. Once just yesterday,” he said, and the concern and earnestness in his voice took me aback. I didn’t at all understand why he should care so much. He didn’t even know me.

  I said as much. He only looked at me.

  When I reached for my staff, his frustration hit a new height. “You’re just a kid!” he said. “You’re not strong enough. Especially not right now.” He crossed his large arms over his chest. “You can’t go taking on some psychopath kidnapper on your own.”

  For all of a second, I could think of nothing to say. For whatever reason, these words felt like a slap to the face, a jab to the heart, and I was totally unable to react to them with any poise. I’d trained for many things with the Peace Brokers, but nothing had prepared me for this. It was hard to tell what was more surprising, the words themselves, or the person from whom they were coming.

 

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