The chain dangled in the air as he admired his newly found prize. “I suppose this was a gift from your beloved Keeper, Rayne?” he sneered. He continued to reflect on the stone as it waved in the air. “I guess it’s no surprise; it is rather small and pathetic. My briolette is twice the size. This stone is barely large enough to cure a stuffy nose.”
His head jerked away from mine when the door to my cell suddenly opened. A boy about my age stood in the doorway. I saw an elevator door closing behind him from across a large room. His hair was so dark it was almost black. He had deep, glowing blue eyes, maybe even brighter than Rayne’s. Was he a Keeper?
“What’s she doing here?” the boy said.
The man sprung to his feet, still clutching my necklace in his fist. “There’s been a change of plans.” He took the chain and pulled it over his head. “An opportunity presented itself, so I took it.”
“This wasn’t part of the deal,” said the boy. “Don’t you think you’re taking things a little too far?”
“It’s not like I’m going to hurt her,” the man said. I felt the ache in my side and hoped I would never find out his definition of hurt.
The boy looked almost as scared of the man as I was. His tone was hesitant. “But kidnapping some innocent girl?”
“We needed leverage and now we have it. Case closed.”
“But…”
The man folded his arms to his chest. “If you have a better idea, by all means, please share…”
The boy shook his head, eyes on the floor.
The man placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I need to know I can count on you this time. Are you with me or not?”
“I’m with you,” the boy said weakly.
The man’s eyes squinted with intimidation. “I can’t hear you.”
Lines of frustration creased the boy’s face, his tone loud and insolent. “I said I’m with you.” He shoved the man’s hand off his shoulder, pushed passed him, and punched the wall as he stomped out of the room.
The man turned to me with an agitated expression. “I’ll have the boy bring you some food.” Then he turned his back and the door closed behind him.
I pried my body off the floor, holding my side to ease the pain. I slid onto the hard bed and tried to relax, hoping to relieve the ache in my head, and wondering where I could possibly be. What was the chance anyone knew where I was or how to find me?
From the small glances I caught through the door, I thought I might be in some kind of top-secret facility. The room outside mine was modern and filled with high-tech equipment and electronics. Was this an interrogation room in a spy prison? The security system seemed pretty advanced.
I wished I could design an escape plan, but the odds were mounted against me. I had no idea what I was dealing with here. That man rendered me unconscious in just seconds. He could have a whole arsenal of weapons waiting for me beyond these gray walls.
I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing though, could I?
There was a chance Rayne was coming to help me, but maybe not. He knew more about this black-eyed man than I did, but I didn’t know the extent of Rayne’s training or what resources he had at his disposal. I just didn’t know.
I mulled over the little information I had in my mind. I didn’t understand how I fit into the man’s plan. What did he mean he wanted his life back? He said if his demands were met then I wouldn’t get hurt. He told the boy they were going to use me as leverage.
As I thought back through what was said earlier, it became clear that the boy was the key. He was the weak link in their plan. He disapproved of the man’s tactics to bring me here. Maybe he even cared if I got hurt, like he actually had a conscience.
There was no way I was getting out of here using my own knowledge and strength. My only chance was to use the boy’s emotions to my advantage. When he showed up with the food, I would have to try to say something to get him to help me. Would it be best to outright ask him for help, to plead with him to let me go? Or would that be too easy for him to turn down now that he’d agreed to the man’s plan?
Did I need to be more subtle and manipulative? The man had some kind of authority over the boy. He talked down to him.
The whoosh of the glass door interrupted my thoughts. There would be no chance to finish planning. I was out of time. I jolted upright on the mattress at his approach. The boy’s blue eyes flickered in my direction for a brief moment then he cast them away. He set a bottle of water and a paper plate with a sandwich on the floor without speaking a word.
He turned his back to leave. I had to act quickly.
Thinking of smart or witty comments in the heat of the moment wasn’t one of my strengths. I was the type who thought of a great comeback twenty minutes after I needed one and the person it was meant for was already long gone.
“Thank you,” I said to his back, but he didn’t so much as flinch at my words. He brushed his fingers in a swirling motion over the pattern in the glass and the door slid open at his command.
In a panic I blurted out, “Why do you let him talk to you like that?”
The boy’s frame froze in the doorway.
He turned his head back over his shoulder. “Because I’m a screw up,” he muttered.
“I doubt that,” I said.
The boy turned to face me in the doorway, arms folded. “You don’t know me.”
He was right. I knew nothing about him, but he was a lot less intimidating than the black-eyed man was. I barely felt nervous with the boy in the room.
“Well, you don’t seem nearly as screwed up as that other guy,” I said.
He scowled. “He’s not screwed up. He’s just…well he’s been through a lot, okay?”
I shot my hands up defensively. “Okay, sorry. I just think you have to be pretty deranged to resort to kidnapping an innocent girl.” I was hoping to remind the boy that he agreed with me on the subject.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry but it’s out of my hands.” He turned away again.
“Wait, please,” I said. “You know this isn’t right. You’re the only one that can help me.”
The muscles stiffened under his tailored shirt as he paused in the doorway. For a moment I thought my words had made an impact; but he walked away, letting the door slide closed behind him.
It looked like I was on my own.
I jumped up from the bed and ran to the door. What was that thing he did with his fingers to open it? Even if I did get it open, the chance of making it out of this place on my own was small, but I had to try. I ran my fingers over the surface attempting to mimic the movements the boy had made. Nothing happened.
Maybe an hour had passed. I’d tried every different move I could think of, but the door wouldn’t budge. My fingers felt sore and my body was beginning to weaken. Who knew how long it had been since I last ate. I took the food from off the floor and rested on the bed.
After eating, I felt a small increase of energy, so I went back to work on the door. I thought there could be some kind of puzzle hidden in the pattern. I stared at every last swirl in examination but there was no making sense of it.
I thought it could require touching certain points at the same time or in a certain order. For hours I moved my hands and fingers over the raised, glass-like surface until my head throbbed.
I let my back fall to the bed with defeat. What was there left I could do except hope the boy changed his mind.
I said a silent prayer in my heart. Please God, if you’re listening, please help me. It was the only thing left in my power to do.
I stared at the ceiling. Something had to happen sometime, right? If they were using me as leverage then they must be contacting someone to make their demands. There had to be things going on outside these walls; some negotiations or threats being made. At some point someone who was on my side would know I was being held hostage. There was still a chance someone would come for me—Rayne would come for me. I closed my eyes and pictured his face. I imagined him smiling a
nd encouraging me to be strong.
Even with my eyes closed I could sense the sudden shift in light. I opened my eyes with a start. The room was black. I couldn’t see my hand when I held it right up to my face. Without any warning the light was turned off in my cell. Was it night? My sense of time was all messed up. I was exhausted though; so tired I didn’t remember falling asleep.
I tossed on the mat while nightmares thwarted my rest. The black-eyed man chased and stalked me like prey. No matter where I ran or where I hid, he was always right behind me. It was one long, never-ending pursuit until I finally found myself back in the gray and silver room, my prison cell. The man was there with me. He crept forward in the dark, hands ready to grab me.
I wanted to run or scream but I froze in place on the bed. He moved closer, his wild eyes haunting me until his hands clamped around my neck. I fought to breath, struggling to escape, but I couldn’t fight him from choking me.
I shot upright on the bed in a panic, grabbing my neck and gasping for air. It was just a dream, I told myself, just a dream. I took deep breaths until they were calm and even.
The light clicked on in the room, followed by the puff of the door as it slid open. I shuttered when the man’s black eyes appeared through the opening, just as dreadful as in the dream. I held my breath as he took a few steps into the cell. When he stopped to set a plate of food near the door, I silently let the air slide back out with relief. He didn’t come near me this time.
His voice was indifferent. “Breakfast,” he said, and I was alone again.
I eyed the food with disdain, but only due to the nature of its delivery. It actually looked delicious. The spread appeared too fancy for a paper plate. My mom ordered eggs benedict whenever we went out for breakfast, so I recognized the dish right away. There was a small muffin sprinkled with cinnamon and fresh slices of melon.
Was I a kidnap victim or a guest at a five star hotel? Had the boy talked the man into being more pleasant to me?
My first instinct was to ignore the food in protest, but what would that accomplish? If anything, it would anger the black-eyed man. I didn’t want to give him reason to return to my cell, and after tossing around all night I was starving.
After eating, there was nothing left to do but stare at the wall, or at the ceiling, or at the impossible door. Time dragged by. There was no reappearance from the man or the boy. I sat in silence. At first it was nerve-racking, my mind unable to rest. Then it grew into boredom for several hours, until finally settling on hopelessness.
I ran my fingers over the mark on my wrist, the symbol of my malfunctioning body. The glossy black surface was not a good sign.
If Rayne was correct about my condition, it was only a matter of time before I suffered another episode of physical or emotional instability. It didn’t help that my necklace filled with Healing Water had been stolen from me. A vision of my eyes turning dark and webbed with black veins like the black-eyed man made me cringe.
Some of my energy had already faded. I lay on the bed, curled in a ball, waiting; waiting for something unknown. For my rescue? My torture? My body and mind fading to nothing?
I hated every minute of it. I hated my helplessness.
I began to drift out of consciousness, always waking back in the same unfriendly room. Images in my mind began to blur with reality like a dream. I saw my mother, Heather, and Rayne. Usually they were in safe, familiar places like my house, the hospital, or at school. I took comfort in their loving faces; like beacons lighting my way through a dark tunnel.
But soon the calm leached from their expressions. All three of them gathered outside my bulletproof prison cell. They banged their fists on the hard surface, yelling my name. I tried to run to the door but my feet were stuck like cement to the floor. I stood in the center of the cell with an ax in my hand. I fought to swing, to break through the walls to my escape, but the blade never made contact.
I awoke on the prison mat and rolled onto my side. A figure sat across the room on the floor with eyes like coal. I shuttered in fear, scrambling back towards the wall. The figure leaned forward out of the shadows and the black eyes turned to sparkling emeralds.
My voice wavered. “Rayne? Is that you?” I reached my arm out to him but he didn’t move.
His body flickered, starting to fade. He whispered, “I’ll come for you,” as he disappeared to dust.
Time no longer had meaning, my mind lost in confusion.
The black-eyed man appeared through the door with a plate. He spoke to me but it came out muffled, like he was underwater. I squinted trying to make sense of him. My body wouldn’t move.
I wanted to explain to him about my Watermark, that it was broken and went dark, but my throat faltered. “Wa…water…” was all I could push through my lips.
My left hand shook as I fought to slide it towards him.
He snatched my arm and held it up, examining the mark. Then he peered into my eyes, lifting my eyelids with his rough fingers. I didn’t like him touching me, but I was too weak to protest.
His muffled voice was angry. “You can’t be serious,” he said. The sound was like an echo in my head. He thrust my hand to the mat. It dropped like a brick. Then the man’s dark form staggered away through the door.
More time passed. I faded in and out, unable to decipher dream from reality. My mind faded to a dark place where truth had no meaning, yet I was strangely aware of it. I sensed the light going dim inside me. I was imprisoned; powerless to fight it.
Just as I thought the last glimmer had extinguished from hope, a tiny ray of light finally broke through.
A face swayed and teetered a few feet from mine. I tried to focus the blur. The form fell beside me, calling my name. Warm, smooth skin trembled down my cheek and across my shoulder. My glazed expression failed to react, my body numb and unmoving.
The eyes were two pinpoints of light through a mist of blackness. My heart longed to follow them, to reach out for them and escape my prison, but I was trapped inside myself.
A voice shook, echoing through the thick fog. “Come back to me. It’s not too late. It can’t be. Come back to me.”
The sensation of touch caressed my hand and I managed to pull my gaze towards it. Silver liquid swirled in my palm then vanished into my skin.
The figure moved around me and nudged me upward as he lifted me towards him. How was it I understood this gentle movement, yet I could not respond?
He cradled me in his lap and rocked my limp torso, studying my face. “Look at me,” he said. “Look into my eyes, Sadie. It’s me…it’s Rayne.”
A strange panic fled through my veins. I wanted to go to him. I stared up at his eyes unable to move.
Lines of pain creased his face. “This is all my fault. I promised I’d keep you safe.”
I wanted to ease his suffering. I fought to break free, struggling to tear away from the invisible bindings. There was no release.
His frantic eyes glistened with tears, begging. “Sadie, please. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.”
He cupped my neck in his palm and hugged me to his chest, arms clutching me in desperation. His heart thumped like a drum against my cheek and a hand slid to the back of my head pulling me tighter.
A quiet sound began to murmur in my ear as I pushed through the dark. His voice quivered as he hummed with broken notes. He sang to me quietly, rocking me in his arms. The words were familiar. They resonated through me, triggering a memory that played through my mind.
I pictured the same face…Rayne’s face, but it was animated and smiling. He drove in a car, singing the same song, only more cheerful and upbeat; not like the gentle lullaby now whispering in my ear. I was there in my memory, singing with him, so happy, so full of life.
I could feel the cheer from my memory lift me upwards. I let the notes soar through my body and push me away from the dense cloud. Relief unleashed the ache in my heart as I broke through the darkness. Rays of light pulsed all around me. Energy vibrated over my limbs.
My lips tingled as my voice cracked through the restraints. “Rayne?” I said weakly.
He jerked his head at the sound. His eyes went wide with hope as he searched my face. “Yes, it’s me. I’m here.” A strange, painful smile crossed his face, his cheeks streaked with tears.
I gazed up at him, a beautiful vision of comfort. Was it real? Was he really here this time?
My throat was weak. I had to push out the words. “Are you…a dream?”
I couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. “No, this isn’t a dream.” He pulled me back to his chest, squeezing his arms around me. “You’re all right, you’re safe now.”
I let his presence dispel the fear, using the little energy I had to wrap myself around him.
“You came for me,” I breathed.
He pushed back gently, his expression troubled. “Of course I did. I will always come for you.”
My gaze dropped. I didn’t know if I believed him. I wanted to; I wanted to trust him like my heart told me I could.
“I understand if you don’t believe me,” he said, his head hanging low. “I’ve let you down so many times. I wish I could be more for you. I wish I could be the superman that you deserve.” He stopped as if at a sudden loss for words and stared at me with sad eyes.
I couldn’t take the hurt in his gaze. It tugged at my heart. It spoke to me. There wasn’t anything to forgive.
My eyes smiled quietly as I said, “I believe you.”
He returned my gaze and I could feel the bond between us grow stronger. He was truly a part of me.
His forehead creased. “We’re out of time,” he said. “I need to get you out of here—now.”
I nodded and clamped my arms around his neck as he scooped me up from the bed. He moved through the open doorway as if carrying a tiny bird whose bones would break at the slightest touch, but I could feel myself growing stronger already. My energy seemed to come back in bounds as we reached the elevator door.
“I think I can walk,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He released me from his arms, letting my legs slide to the ground. I stumbled once but recovered my steps just before Rayne’s hand reached over to catch me. As we waited for the elevator I peered back at the closed door of my prison cell, remembering the hours I spent rubbing my fingers raw and struggling to figure out the secret to getting it open.
Deep Blue Secret Page 27