"No!" I screamed, and slipped my arms free from the material. Pyke threw my scrunched jacket to the ground and charged once more. I ripped open the door to the hatchback, hitting him in the face. He fell backwards, blood smearing his nose. I dove into the driver's seat and shut the door. Will was at the side of the car, yanking on the door, but I pressed the internal lock.
His eyes locked with mine.
"Don't do this," he said. "We're not the bad guys."
I wasn't going to listen and put the car into reverse, stepping hard on the gas. The hatchback had a lot more kick to it than the Ute and I jerked back faster than anticipated. I gazed into the rear-view mirror to catch a glimpse of Mia standing behind me. Her eyes blazed gold, her skin blue. I knew what was coming.
A burst of high-pitched sound shot from her mouth and shattered the windows. I hit the brakes and covered my ears. Small pieces of glass fell from my hair and cut my hands and arms.
A hand reached into the car and pulled the unlock button. The driver's side door was pulled open and I felt a hand grasp my arm. It was hard to concentrate. Mia's ability had screwed with my senses.
"Get out," Mia said, pulling me from the car and throwing me to the ground.
"Mia. Don't hurt her," Will said, appearing at her side and holding her back, preventing her from doing anything else. The blue faded from her skin as she powered down.
"She'll live," Mia replied with a sneer. "But what the hell were you doing? How did she even get away from you?"
"She's been taught to fight," Will said.
"She got the jump on you. Unbelievable."
"Give it a rest, Mia."
I rolled onto my side, as if I could still crawl away. Pyke stood by the service station, the woman and service clerk lying unconscious at his feet. He'd knocked out the witnesses and my only hope for help.
"We need to go," he called, making a move for the car.
I crawled on my stomach, glass and rocks scraping my exposed skin. I didn't know where I was going, just away. Hands grasped my shoulders and I rolled onto my back to push them away. Will crouched over me, trying to control my arms. I clawed at his skin, his arms, his chest, anything I could reach.
"No!" I screamed. "No!"
"Kyra," he said, finally getting a grip on my wrists. "Stop. Just stop."
I didn't want to stop. I wanted to keep trying, but there was nothing I could do now. They had me. Will had me.
"Forgive me," he said. "It's for the best."
Once I had calmed down, Will helped me to my feet and walked me back to the car. Pyke was already in the driver's seat with the engine running, a bag of frozen peas on his nose. Will moved to open my door, but I pushed past and did it myself. Mia was no longer in the back seat, taking up residence in the front with Pyke. Will slipped in next to me and I did my best to avoid looking at him.
Pyke pulled out from the service station and onto the main road, like my escape attempt had never even happened. I could feel Will's heavy gaze on the side of my head.
"I hope you can forgive this, too," he said.
"What are you talking—" A sharp pain hit me in the shoulder, then Will pulled a needle from behind me.
"What didjoo dooo?" my words slurred.
"Sorry," Will said, "It's for your own safety."
My vision blurred. "Son of a bit—"
Chapter Eleven
My head spun and, when I opened my eyes, so did the room. I tried to focus my mind and remember the last thing to happen. I was at the gas station, walking back to the car and then … Will stabbed a needle in my back.
"Will stabbed me with a needle!" I shouted, bolting upright. The sudden movement made my head spin even more, and I felt whatever food I'd eaten last rise in my throat.
I spotted a bathroom off to the side and ripped off my blankets from the bed I had been sleeping in. I didn't have time to ponder the question of where exactly that was as I was about to throw up. With great effort I lunged for the bathroom, making it in time to spew my guts out into the toilet.
After several minutes of vomiting and cursing Will's name I finally felt better. I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth out with water from the basin. As I wiped the remaining drops from my lips I spotted my reflection in the mirror. All the mud and blood was gone from my face, and I was cleaner than I'd ever been before.
It wasn't just my face that was clean—it was all of me. Every inch had been scrubbed while I was out, and I'd been dressed in a pink nightgown trimmed with lace. I felt self-conscious and wrapped my skinny arms around my stomach, as if I could cover my whole body with them. I noticed all my cuts here healed. How long had I been out for? Who had taken my clothes? Who had washed me and seen me naked? I really hoped it wasn't Will, and I hoped even more it wasn't Pyke.
I wiped my face with a soft white hand towel and noticed that my ratty brown hair had been washed, brushed and tied back in a series of braids. I'd never looked so beautiful in my life. My golden eyes stood out against my pale skin, my cheekbones more pronounced. I had never been a girlie-girl, and I preferred jeans to dresses any day. I was the kind of girl who didn't shower after a training session because it didn't bother me to smell a little sweaty.
I ran from the bathroom in search of pants. The bedroom was twice the size of any room I'd had over the years. The walls were plastered with wooden inlays and royal blue curtains swept in front of the window, hiding the outside world. The bed was queen-sized, with more pillows than I could count and sheets that smelled of roses.
As my eyes circled the room I caught a glimpse of a wardrobe in the far corner and rushed over, flinging the doors open. It was walk-in style, with clothes lining the walls on either side, going back at least a few metres.
I'd never seen so many shirts, blouses and dresses in my life. They were every shade of the rainbow, and in every horribly girlie style imaginable. I searched through frock after frock, and each seemed to get shorter and shorter. Finally, I spotted some jeans hanging up in the back and I pulled them on under the nightgown. Further exploration took me to a section of the clothes that appeared to be workout gear. I grabbed a grey tank top and swapped it for the nightgown.
I felt so much more myself when I emerged from the wardrobe and let out a long breath, calming my nerves.
"I'm sorry about knocking you out."
I froze in place and slowly craned my neck to see Will leaning against the wardrobe door. He was cleaned up, too, sporting a tight white tee and dark jeans; his hair was even more stunning when it was clean, and his spiked locks framed his face with angelic beauty. Had he been watching me change?
"You!" I charged and swung my fist at his face.
He grabbed my hand, spun me around and caught me in a hug. His hands held my wrists in place, but not nearly as tight as when Pyke had. Will's grip was tender, like a brush on canvas.
"I know you're mad—"
"Mad doesn't even cover it!" I yelled, struggling against him. I felt his hard chest pressed against mine and shivers rippled through my body.
"I didn't have a choice. You couldn't see how we got to the compound. Ivan requested it."
"You stabbed me!" I shouted. "Stabbed me in the back. Literally!"
"Kyra …" My name was a melody on his lips, but it only enraged me more.
"I … I …" I what? Trusted you? That wasn't true. He kidnapped me; really, I should have seen it coming.
I shook my body back and forth until I just gave up. My head was still aching and I felt weak. I couldn't fight Will like this, I was just wasting energy.
Will let go of me and I put some distance between us, standing further back in the wardrobe, as if I might be able to hide in there.
"Compound? I'm in a compound," I said. "And who the hell is Ivan?" I threw my hands in air and groaned.
I walked past Will, not wanting to look at him. Instead, I focused on a small collection of photo frames on the bedside table. I picked one up, a small golden frame with a photo of baby, sitting on a play mat.
She was dressed in pink pyjamas and sucking on a yellow blanket. The kid must have been two-years-old.
I placed the frame back down and turned to Will, who had come up behind me. He was sneaky like that.
"How long have I been out?" I asked.
"Only a day," he replied.
"A day? But my cuts and my ears …" How had they healed so fast? I touched my ears unconsciously, thinking about the damage Mia had caused them.
"We had a healer look at you," Will said, reading my mind, or perhaps just my hand gestures.
I dropped my hand and glared at him. I wanted him to stay the hell out of my head and my life. He sensed my anger, but it didn't seem to make him back off.
Where was Dad? Was he alright? Was he alive?
I had to stop thinking about that. Dad could take care of himself. He would have woken up and used the first aid kit in the house. He'd be looking for me.
"Come with me and you'll get your answers." Will extended his hand.
I looked at it, hesitantly. I'd decided to go along for the ride and find out the mystery of what was going on, but after Will knocked me out, all I could think was: you should have tried to escape at the gas station.
I was here now, wherever here was, and I wasn't getting away any time soon. I was going to find out the truth. I had to know what this whole mess was all about.
I forced a smile and took Will's hand. It was warm and smooth and strong, like he could crush me up with little effort.
"Fine, show me," I said. My gaze travelled past his hand to his arms, his shoulders, his lips … I yanked my hand away, holding it close to my chest. I had to stop thinking about Will's body parts.
We exited the bedroom through oak-panelled doors. Will led me into a hallway lined with a blue Persian runner carpet and various portraits of people I didn't know, all hung in golden frames. My eyes scanned the pictures as we passed. Many doors lined the walls and I wondered how many people lived in this house.
Every single one of the people in the paintings had golden eyes. I was beginning to realise what I thought was a unique trait of mine was apparently commonplace.
At the end of the hallway was a grand staircase, made of polished wood. It extended down into the main foyer of the house, led by a carpet the same royal blue as the curtains in my room.
My eyes flicked to the front door, mere meters from me, opposite the staircase. I thought about punching Will in the face and making a dash for it, but then what? I had no clue where I was, thanks to Will's little knockout stunt. Instead, I took the arm he offered and followed him as he led me down the stairs, the way suitors presented pretty women in ball gowns. I felt a flutter in my stomach, and I couldn't tell if it was because I was feeling sick again or if it was at the thought of Will being my suitor. I really hoped I threw up on his shoes.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and moved further into the foyer. Off to the right was a pair of closed double doors. I stood before them, staring at how high they towered over me. My body tensed and Will squeezed my hand to comfort me. I hadn't realised he was still holding on to me; I wanted to let go, but I was afraid my legs would stop working, and I'd collapse on the floor. Somehow, I knew the answers I was seeking were behind those closed doors.
"Are you ready?" Will asked, as though reading my thoughts.
"Sure," I replied, my fingers twitching.
Will released me and moved to grab the door handle. I managed to focus on remembering how to stand, and so far it was working.
"This will be interesting," he said and pushed the doors open.
At first, the room looked like any of the others I'd passed upstairs. It was a sitting room, I was sure of that. There were several blue satin couches surrounding a coffee table, a pot of tea steaming on its surface, and a fire crackling in the hearth on the back wall. A woman with golden eyes looked up at me from the couch, her hair a dark brown bun with streaks of grey intertwined. She smiled at me like I was the best thing she could have laid her eyes on. It made me uncomfortable, for someone I didn't know to look at me like that, and I averted my eyes.
By the fireplace stood a man who was taller than me and Will. His face was stern and his nose slightly turned up, like he smelled something really bad.
"These are the Greenwoods," Will said.
"Oh, Kyra!" the woman sang as she rose from the couch and glided over to me. She wore a stunning blue dress with a large bow tied around the back. She embraced me in a hug, but I stood like a pole, awkwardly.
"Oh, darling, it's so good to have you here," the woman said, and squeezed me tighter.
I glanced at Will who stood straight and tall, like a soldier at attention. He didn't say a word.
Uncomfortable with this woman, I pushed her back, wriggling out of her grasp. She looked hurt by my action and hugged her shoulders like I'd given her the biggest rejection but, seriously, who hugs a stranger?
"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have asked. How rude of me," the woman rambled, returning to her seat.
"She doesn't know who you are, Isabelle," the man sighed, pinching his brow.
"Sure I do," I replied. "You're the people who had me kidnapped."
Isabelle stifled a gasp with her hand, and the man in the corner remained silent, with that turned up look again. Still, I wasn't done. These were the people who had my dad beaten, had me knocked out and taken away.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" I shouted. "You chased after me and my dad our entire lives. Made it so we have to be on the run, all the time. Why couldn't you just leave us alone?" My hands trembled as I tried to fight back tears I didn't want to come. "You hired teenagers to attack me and beat my dad. Not to mention all the weird stuff they seem to be able to do. I mean, why? Why come after me for sixteen years? What could Dad have done to you people that you'd waste your lives chasing us?"
"What he did …" Isabelle said in a tiny voice. "What he did was steal you away sixteen years ago. Kyra, we're your real parents."
That shut me up. I stood there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
"I …" I stammered, looking to Will for answers.
"It's true," he confirmed with a swift nod, and returned to his soldier stance.
I stared at Isabelle and saw my golden eyes and chocolate hair, the same cheekbone structure; but what did that mean? I'd just met a handful of people who shared my eye colour, and seen portraits of dozens of others. And the man didn't look like me at all, except again for the distinctive eye colour. This was just another trick.
"I don't believe you," I spoke slowly.
"It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. It's true," the man snapped.
"Ivan," Isabelle scolded. "Don't talk to your daughter like that."
"Ivan?" I stared at the snooty man. "You're Ivan? You're the one who ordered them to kidnap me? Ordered Will to knock me out!"
"Necessary precautions," Ivan said, as if that justified everything.
"Oh, Ivan," Isabelle sighed. She turned to me and smiled. "Kyra, it doesn't matter what happened before. What matters is that you've come back to us and we can be a family again."
"You are not my parents," I said. "I have a dad who's probably looking for me right now!"
Ivan shot a glance of pure hatred at Will. "He's still alive."
Will looked up to meet Ivan's eyes. "He wasn't going anywhere. I made sure to knock him out—"
"I told you to kill him," Ivan snarled.
My head darted in Will's direction. He had been ordered to kill my dad, but he didn't.
Because I asked him not to?
"I was thinking in the interest of your relationship with Miss Greenwood. Paying me to kill the person she thought was her father would not make her trust you," Will replied.
Ivan's face was red as a beet. "It's none of your business what relationship I have with my daughter. I ordered you—"
"Darling." Isabelle placed her hands on Ivan's arm. "I know you wanted him dead, but Will was right to do what he did. Until Kyra has adjusted, she will c
ling to her delusions." She pulled his face to look at her. "He can't hurt us now."
I hated the way they were talking about wanting to kill Dad, and even more for talking about me like I wasn't standing right in front of them. Oh, I'll just get over everything and adjust will I?
"Is Will, like, my brother or something?" I blurted out. Anything to make them stop talking about Dad. Plus, I'd totally failed to pretend to play along with these people. I let my temper get the better of me. I had to act like I sort of believed what they were saying. I wouldn't learn anything if I kept accusing them of kidnapping me.
"What?" Ivan said, confused at my sudden interest in my new family.
"I mean we all have the same eye colour. What about Pyke and Mia? Please don't tell me I'm related to them."
There was a brief silence where Ivan, Isabelle and Will raised their eyebrows at me like I was a crazy person.
"Sweetheart," Isabelle said. "Will isn't related to you, just your father and me."
"Then what's with the golden eye thing?" I shrugged. A flush of relief washed over me. Will wasn't my hot older brother.
Isabelle shook her head. "I forgot you don't know anything about who you are, anything about our race. We're going to have to get you a tutor of some kind," she started rambling again.
"Our race?" Now I was really confused.
"Yes, our race," Isabelle said. "We're Djinn."
Chapter Twelve
"I'm a Djinn," I repeated for the sixteenth time, and still didn't believe it.
"Yes, darling," Isabelle said, pouring three cups of tea, though no one had asked for any.
"I'm a genie who grants wishes and lives in a lamp?" I cocked my head at her, in the hope she'd realise just how insane she sounded.
Isabelle waved a hand at me and snorted. "Genies are silly myths humans created to explain us. Djinn are far different and powerful than you can imagine."
My mind flashed back to Arabian Nights. I was only reading it yesterday, but it felt like a lifetime ago.
"Hmm …" Isabelle tapped her chin thoughtfully. "How can I explain this to you? This is fun, isn't it?" Isabelle was becoming creepily cheerful. Will took a step closer and bowed to her.
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