Taken by the Others

by Jess Haines

  In response, I kicked at him, satisfied with his wheezed “oof” as he was driven back. It wasn’t a hard blow. The angle was awkward since I was still in the seat, but he was surprised and in enough pain that he staggered back a step. I had just enough time to grab my purse and undo the seat belt before the buff guy reached for me.

  He grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the car. As my feet hit the ground, I steadied myself and used all the momentum I could muster to swing my purse up and around to whack the side of his head. He cried out and staggered to the side, letting me go so he could clutch at his bleeding cheek. The cute little buckle on my bag must have caught his skin. Poor baby.

  I whipped around, shocked, as a gunshot went off and pedestrians screamed and scattered. Another crazy guy had stepped out of the other car and shot a round into the air from what appeared to be a Desert Eagle. Color me impressed–and scared shitless. Guns meant that Very Bad Things were bound to happen.

  The small, creepy guy took advantage of my surprise to make a grab at me.

  Without much thought, I drove my elbow back into his sternum, once again knocking him away from me. Gasping like a landed fish, he staggered toward the black car in front of mine while I was still trying to figure out what was going on and what the hell to do about it.

  One of the benefits of having used the hunter’s belt given to me by The Circle was that the fighting skills of all previous users were retained by it and then shared with the next person to wear it. I knew I didn’t remember everything about fighting, nor had I retained all the skills I would have had with it on, but it still made me a far more formidable opponent than I used to be. Though I wasn’t as effective without it, I’d also started taking self-defense classes, and I’d kept enough knowledge from the belt to hold my ground against human attackers. For the most part. If they all came at me at once, I was screwed.

  The guy who’d shot into the air leveled the gun at me. “Stop fighting us! Put your hands up!”

  I told myself that if he’d meant to shoot me, he would’ve done it already. And that they weren’t out to hurt me too badly or the mage would’ve blown up my car instead of killing the engine. I still couldn’t ignore the gun, though. Especially when Mr. Muscles and another beefy guy from the second car came after me, hands out for another shot at grabbing my arms. They were going for subduing, not killing. I hoped.

  Rather than stick around to be grabbed, I ducked across the car, weaved past their outstretched arms, and ran down the street. My apartment was only a couple of blocks from where I’d stopped, but my keys were still in the ignition. Maybe I could scream for help at the manager’s door.

  One of the black cars roared to life and started after me while the men pounded the pavement behind me. I quickly veered onto the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians left and right. I was in shape, but I was more of a slow and steady marathon runner than a sprinter. At least one of the guys was catching up.

  Breathing hard, I glanced over my shoulder to see how close. He was way too close for comfort. It was the guy I’d decked with my purse, the right side of his face now twisted into a hateful mask of blood.

  I still had the purse with me. What worked once should work again. I stopped abruptly and pivoted, swinging my purse up to bash him on top of the head.

  This time he blocked, swinging an arm up to deflect the blow. Shit. I backpedaled as he barreled right into me, taking me down to the concrete in an incredibly painful tackle. My turn to have the air knocked out of me and little stars in my vision.

  Though I wasn’t in the right position for it, I tried shoving him off me. He was growling curses and highly uncomplimentary remarks as he grabbed at my hands, forcing them down to the pavement on either side of me. So I did the next best thing and rammed my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch.

  His eyes bugged out so much I could see the whites behind his sunglasses, which had somehow managed to stay on his face during the fight. Unfortunately, my tactic didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. He didn’t let up his grip on me, the other two guys ran up, and as some of the stars cleared from my peripheral vision, I could see the two black cars double-parked and idling beside where I was pinned to the pavement.

  Each of the suits grabbed an arm, hefting me to my feet as the guy with the bloodied face slowly levered himself up to stand. I kicked at kneecaps and bit at the hands on my shoulders and arms, but they had me pretty well pinned. It was hard to keep fighting after the first guy jabbed a harsh punch into my stomach, once again driving the air painfully out of my lungs. I prayed he hadn’t hit me hard enough to crack any ribs.

  “You’re under arrest for attempted murder,” the bloody-faced guy said loudly in a wheezy, slightly higher-pitched voice than before. I imagine that was due to my kneeing him right in the ‘nads. Lots of people were staring at us, watching open-mouthed from apartment windows, out of their cars as they passed by, or peeking from storefronts. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

  Gasping back some air, I spat at him. “You lying sack of shit! Somebody call the police, these aren’t cops!” I cried out louder, hoping someone in the crowd would believe me. “Help, they’re kidnapping me!”

  Nobody moved. Goddamn useless rubberneckers!

  The two guys holding my arms wrestled my hands together at the small of my back so that bloody-face could whip out some handcuffs from a back pocket and snap them around my wrists. I struggled and screamed again, trying to twist out of the cuffs even though I knew it wasn’t doing much more than bruising my wrists.

  “Shut up,” he growled into my ear as he leaned in at my back, soft enough that only the guys holding my arms and I could hear. “Nobody in this crowd believes you, and I’m pissed off enough right now to punch your face into the back of your skull. Nicolas is a good enough mage to make you feel like I did that and more a few times over without leaving a mark, and I will give him the green light if you keep this up. So shut … up.”

  I did as I was told, panting slightly as I tried to think of a way out of this. The men at my side used their grip on my upper arms to practically lift me off the pavement, dragging me to one of the cars. The other guy picked up my purse and trailed behind us. Once I saw that creepy little mage glaring at me from the back seat of the car they were dragging me toward, I started struggling again.

  I did not want him anywhere near me! Thanks to Arnold, I knew a bit about what magi were capable of and was not interested in being within touching distance of one again. God only knew what the jerk was trying to cast on me earlier. Whatever it was happened to be nasty enough to require a physical touch. I’d seen enough magic, and had enough discussions with Arnold, to know that only the strongest, nastiest, most illegal sorts of spells were cast by that method.

  The two men shoved me into the back seat, right up next to Nicolas, Creepy Mage Extraordinaire. The guy in charge slid in next to me on the other side and shut the door, trapping me between them. The driver twisted around in his seat, brows raised. “Jesus, Logan, looks like she did a number on you.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Mr. Muscles–better known as Logan–said, his voice a girlish squeak. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  The driver shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. Logan reached into the pocket of the passenger seat and pulled out a small med kit. I had a moment of feeling proud of myself for having done so much damage before I felt those cold, sweaty fingers on my temple again.

  “Can I hurt her?”

  I twisted away, scared out of my mind by the venom in Nicolas’s voice. The move left me pressed up against Logan, but hey, anything to get me away from a pissed-off Other. Worse, one who was pissed off specifically at me.

  “Not yet. Remember what the boss said. He wants to question her,” Logan said, shoving me back toward Nicolas with an elbow. He started dabbing at the cut on his temple with his other hand, cleaning some of the blood off his face with a medicated pad. “Put her out
, though. I’m tired of dealing with her shit.”

  Nicolas nodded, reaching out to take my face into his hands, fingers digging into my temples as I wrenched away from his touch. He was grinning at me, an odd light in his eyes. Was that fae energy or simple insanity? After a few seconds, searing pain blasted through my skull, so abrupt and painful I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

  Then there was darkness.

  Chapter 9

  I woke up on my stomach on a thickly carpeted floor, my hands still cuffed at the small of my back. I had no idea how much time had passed, or even what time of day it was since there wasn’t a window in the room. Judging by the slightly damp feel to the air and the musty scent, I thought I might be underground, possibly in a converted basement. The only illumination came from a few candelabra on large brass stands.

  Despite the clammy feel to the air, the place was lovely and spacious. The carpeting was a pale cream color, and the molding and oaken furniture had gilded scrollwork, the gold reflecting dim candlelight. A large walk-in closet with mirrored sliding doors was left open, revealing more ball gowns and ladies’ dress shoes than a bridal depot at the mall.

  Whoever dragged me in here hadn’t thought to dump me on the thick, comfortable-looking bed done in crimson and cream, and I groaned as I twisted onto my side and struggled to sit up. At least I was left to sleep off whatever Nicolas had done to me on carpet instead of hardwood. And hey, I was still alive. My ribs ached, but the pain wasn’t so sharp as to make me think they’d been broken. That much was a blessing.

  However, I had no idea where I was or what my captors wanted with me. I was alone in the room, and when I awkwardly tried opening the single door with my cuffed hands, it was locked.

  I spotted my purse on top of a dresser. With a little ingenuity, I unzipped it and spilled out the contents on the floor. My cell phone and mace were still there, mixed in with my makeup and breath mints. Once the screen of the cell was illuminated, I saw that it was well past nightfall, almost nine. Thankfully it was still Saturday. I hadn’t lost an entire day to unconsciousness, so I figured they must be planning to do something with me on a relatively immediate basis. Joy of joys.

  It took some shifting and twisting and struggling, but eventually I slid my arms under my butt and got my hands in front instead of behind me. I quickly texted Sara, Arnold, and Chaz a message:

  KIDNAPPED! SEND HELP! THINK IT IS MAX CARLYLE, CALL COPS OR ROYCE OR JACK/WHITE HATS. DON’T KNOWWHERE I AM. CAREFUL, HE HAS MAGE ON HIS SIDE. (NICOLAS?)

  I frantically jabbed at the send button as I heard a key in the lock and the handle of the door jiggling. The phone slid across the top of the dresser and fell off as I scrambled for the mace, backing up as far from the door as I could get. There weren’t any good hiding places, and with my hands bound, I felt more than a little vulnerable.

  Worse, Peter was the first person through the door. He grinned nastily when he spotted me, baring fangs and stalking closer. I found myself abruptly backed into the farthest corner, looking around frantically for something more useful than mace to attack him with. Since he was a vampire, I couldn’t be sure it would work on him. Maybe I could use one of the candelabras to hit him or set him on fire?

  Nicolas trailed into the room next, followed by a man I didn’t know. My big worry was the vampire right in front of me, so I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to them just yet. One bad guy at a time.

  Peter moved human-slow. He didn’t have that deadly speed and grace that Royce commanded. That didn’t stop him from being fast enough to cut off my attempt to escape as he grabbed my arms. He lifted me up and shoved me back, cracking the back of my head against the wall painfully enough for my vision to blur and the little canister to drop out of my bound hands.

  “That’s enough. Put her down,” said the man I didn’t know. Peter might’ve obeyed if I hadn’t kicked him as hard as I could before he had the chance.

  Peter staggered back, wincing. More evidence that he hadn’t been turned very long; he still felt some modicum of pain at a blow from a human. However, it wasn’t enough to get him to drop me. Rather, his fingers tightened punishingly around my biceps, making me gasp. After a moment taken to recover, he glared and pulled me away from the wall, shoving me back in the direction of the mage and the guy who I was guessing was Max Carlyle.

  The guy caught me before I could fall to my knees. His grip was tight, but not painful. He carefully set me back on my feet, making sure I could stand before he let me go. I glared at him as I straightened, not in the least bit grateful for his help.

  “What the fuck do you want me for? Let me go!”

  He smiled, amused with my reaction. I noted that his features were similar to Royce’s in that he had a strong jaw and swarthy skin. However, his hair was dark brown, cropped short but still showing hints of curls almost as riotous as my own. His eyes were an odd shade of dark gray, crinkling at the corners when he smiled, and he was a bit shorter and stockier in build. His taste in clothes was impeccable; he looked sleekly sophisticated in a dark business suit. He didn’t look like evil incarnate, but he obviously had something sinister in mind since he shook his head at my request, politely refusing to let me out of this place.

  “You’ll have to excuse the drastic methods I took to have your company. I couldn’t be sure Alec wouldn’t spirit you away before I had the opportunity to speak with you.”

  I growled at him. “Max Carlyle, right?” He nodded, and I ground out, “Did Peter neglect to relay my message for you to just pick up a fucking phone and call me like a normal person? Or is the lack of consideration on your part a delightful little personality trait?”

  He laughed and shook his head, reaching out a hand to lightly brush his fingers through my hair. I jerked back from the touch. “Yes, he gave me your message. A phone call wouldn’t suffice for this. I want to know what happened the night Anastasia died. You were there. Tell me.”

  I shifted my weight uncomfortably and looked away. “She betrayed you. When she came back to New York, she joined up with a guy named David. He was a sorcerer.”

  He said nothing, simply stood quiet and motionless, waiting for me to continue. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to, but since the silence was getting awkward, I felt obligated to say something. “He made a thing to control the local Weres and vamps. I think it was called a Dominari Focus.”

  “The Dominari Focus? Go on.”

  “David’s plan was to use it to set up shop and settle down for a nice long eternity with Anastasia, using Royce’s fortune to live out their little twisted fantasy and the local Weres as bully-boys to make sure they stayed on the top of the food chain. With some help, I destroyed the focus, and Royce and the Weres got rid of Anastasia and David.”

  “I see. They killed her?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering how deep of a hole I was digging for myself and for Royce by admitting as much.

  He voiced a soft “hmph” and stood there looking puzzled, one hand rubbing at his clean-shaven chin. Those unnerving gray eyes shifted back to focus on mine, and I quickly shifted my gaze away to avoid them. More out of habit than necessity when I was wearing the charm, but something told me it was a good idea not to take chances and avoid eye contact. “Was she under the influence of the focus at the time? Could you tell?”

  “No, she wasn’t. She and David were in on it together. They loved each other.”

  Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. He reached out with that same impossible speed that Royce commanded to grab my shirt collar. He dragged me close enough to see the little pinpoints of red in his eyes and exactly how long his fangs were as his lips pulled back in a snarl. Petrified, I froze, unable to keep myself from staring into his eyes as he hissed at me. “She was mine. She loved me, not that talentless little spark.”

  Hoo boy. This could get ugly fast if I didn’t do something. “I–I’m sure you’re right–”

  “Of course I am!” He shoved me back, sending me sprawling on the bed
as he started pacing back and forth. I twisted up to a sitting position as fast as I could, wondering what the heck I could do to placate the pissed-off vamp. “She loved me, and Alec took her away.”

  For a second, I had this hysterical thought that I was stuck in a bad movie. Come on, was he seriously spouting lines like that?

  Those hellish red eyes were once again suddenly, terrifyingly focused on me, frightening enough to kill even my perpetual sense of humor. “He values you. It doesn’t matter why, but since he does, I’m taking you for my own.”

  “What?! No!” I rolled off the bed and to my feet. Peter was there to stop me from running before I had my footing. He shoved me against the bed, a hand on either shoulder and one leg leaning heavily against both of mine to keep me from kicking him again. I used my clenched fists to pound at his broad chest instead, but it didn’t seem to be doing much to hurt or deter him.

  Max was seething, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he stared at me. After a few moments taken to collect himself, the angry glow in his eyes faded to pinpoint sparks and he turned to the vamp whose grip I was still vainly struggling to escape. “Peter, you can have her for now.”

  The look on Peter’s face was terrifying. “Yes, master.”

  Max growled a low warning. “Keep her alive and unharmed enough to speak. I need to make some calls, and I may have more questions later. Nicolas, guard the door. If she tries to escape, you know what to do.”

  I didn’t see Max or Nicolas go, only heard the door closing behind them. My attention was too wrapped up in trying to wriggle and twist out of Peter’s grip. “Let me go, damn it!”

  “No.” He laughed at me, thick fingers twining in my hair and yanking my head so hard, my back was forced to arch so he wouldn’t break my neck. Involuntary tears of pain sprung to my eyes, and I tried raking my nails across his face. He caught the chain between my wrists with his free hand before I could do any damage, forcing them down.