by Bella Jacobs
My kidnapper binds my hands behind me with what feels like metallic zip ties—to prevent shifting—and plops me into the seat beside her.
And then we drive for what feels like forever.
At first, Diana is full of questions—and commentary and insults so profanity-laced and creative they would have made me laugh in any other situation.
But nothing’s funny right now, and our captors have clearly been given orders not to speak.
They don’t say a word in response to Diana’s tirade—not so much as a sigh or mutter of irritation—and eventually she falls quiet.
The silence after is thick with fear and tension, broken only by traffic noise from outside and eventually the sound of the wind rushing around the car as we hit the highway and head…west, I think.
My sense of direction is all screwed up, but I’m pretty sure I feel warmth from the sun coming into the car on the back of my head through the rear window. It’s still morning and the sun is rising in the eastern sky, so…west.
But west to where?
And how far?
As we drive and drive—and drive—my panic gives way to a steadily simmering anxiety and an eagerness for the other shoe to drop already.
Where the hell are we going?
Just as I’m about to ask how much longer we’ll be in the car—and if I should go ahead and wet myself or if a bathroom will be made available to those of us who can’t go hours without peeing—Jacob asks in a husky voice, “Can we stop for beef jerky and grape sodas, already? Only a bunch of real dicks would take people on a road trip without snacks.”
“No way,” Diana says. “Not grape soda. I told you, the smell makes me want to puke. It’s like melted cough drops mixed with old Halloween candy.”
“No, it’s like childhood in a can,” Jacob shoots back, the playful note in his voice belied by the sweet-and sour odor drifting from the other side of the limo.
It’s similar to a wolf’s fear scent, but with a top note of spun sugar.
It reminds me of my djinn friend Vivi’s cat, Whiskey, when I was little. Her fur always smelled so sweet, especially after she gave herself a bath. Whiskey would only let me get close if she was sleeping and I crept up very quietly—my dad was right about housecats not enjoying the company of shifters, even in our human forms—but I loved to hover my nose over her warm body and inhale her yummy scent.
I wanted to cuddle her so much I must have tried a dozen times and ended up with scratches all over my arms to show for it. Vivi felt so bad for me that she promised to grant my wish to be beloved by all cats as soon as she was old enough to come into her genie powers, but her family moved away before we started fourth grade.
Victor sent his men to scare off all the non-shifter families living in our building, banishing all the other supernaturals to even worse housing situations in Parallel Red Hook.
I haven’t thought of Vivi for years, but as Diana and Jacob continue to banter about road trip snacks—and our captors continue to sit in stony silence—I vow that when this is all over, I’ll track her down. First, I’ll crush my enemies here in Human Side, then in the Parallel, and then I’ll set up an integrated council to establish peaceful rule in supernatural Brooklyn.
I realize I’m thinking like a queen—and a mad one, at that, considering my current situation—but I don’t care.
I refuse to be afraid anymore. Wherever we’re going and whoever sent these men, they don’t want us dead, or we’d be dead already.
Which means there’s no reason to be a model prisoner.
“Pull over, take this bag off my head, and let me use the restroom,” I announce firmly. “Now.”
Diana and Jacob are quiet for a second—clearly shocked by my outburst—but a beat later Diana says, “Yeah. I have to go, too. And I’m on my period, so we need to stop somewhere where I can buy tampons or I’m going to bleed all over your fancy car.”
My pulse spikes with hope—smart, Diana.
Make them stop at a shop where we’ll have a chance of getting help.
If we can get someone to call the police, we’ll have a shot. Human police won’t have a chance against our captors—they’re wearing fairy armor that bullets can’t pierce—but they might at least slow them down long enough for us to get away.
But as anticipated, our guards continue to play the quiet game.
But the quiet game is a stupid game, and I’m sick of it.
“I’m not kidding,” I say, straining at my zip ties, a little shocked when they stretch a bit. I’m either stronger than I thought or they’re using inferior materials. Either way, there’s a chance I can get my hands free, especially if I keep them distracted. “If you don’t pull over and take me to a restroom, I’m going to go all over your seat.”
“Me, too,” Diana says. “And I drank a lot of coffee this morning, so…”
“I actually don’t have to go,” Jacob says, loud enough that I feel safe tugging on my binding again.
The tie gives a little more on the left side.
I squish my hand into a narrow shape and start wiggling.
“But I get really car sick without road trip snacks,” Jacob continues. “If I don’t at least get a soda in me, I’m going to be sick. And I will absolutely lose my breakfast over as many of you cowardly fuckers as possible.”
“Oh, damn, me too.” Diana groans. “Just thinking about grape soda is enough to turn my stomach. If I keep thinking about it, we could have a serious situation on our hands. It could be coming out of both ends of me at once.”
Jacob grunts and says, “You have never been sexier to me than you are right now, princess. I love you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” Diana says, emotion creeping into her voice as I force the fattest part of my hand through my cuff. It tears my skin on the way out, but a second later my hands are free.
Now I just have to decide the best thing to do with them…
Pulse racing, I shout as loudly as I can, “I really have to go. Pull over now! Pull over!”
My captor finally flinches beside me and shifts in her seat. I sense her leaning toward me and trust the animal instincts rising inside. Moving fast, I rip off my hood and give my wolf free reign.
For a moment, I’m not certain I’ll be able to shift. My fur ripples beneath my skin without bursting through, but then my right hand shrinks enough that the metal binding slips off.
A second later, I’m swimming in my human clothes in my much smaller wolf form, but my head is still free and clear.
I lunge at my captor, teeth bared.
For the first time in my life, I go right for another being’s throat. In scrapes in the woods with other young wolves growing up, we always aimed for the haunches or a leg or paw. Even when we hated each other, we all knew better than to risk causing too much damage.
Even in The Parallel you can’t murder people and get away with it—at least not as a child or a female wolf who hasn’t been sworn into Victor’s private army.
But now, I don’t second guess or hesitate.
I unhinge my jaw and then snap it closed around the woman’s throat. Her flexible fairy armor is well made and covers her from head to toe, but I can feel my teeth working between the enchanted strands. I’ve broken through enough for the first rush of blood to flood my mouth when I’m dragged away by the other guards.
I thrash in their arms, snarling and snapping until they drop me on the floor of the limo. My initial captor, blood soaking the front of her armor, reaches for me, but Diana kicks her in the head, sending her skull snapping back as she falls against the seat.
Somehow, Jacob and Diana have their hoods off, too, though they’re still bound.
But they’re clearly on board with the “let’s put these people out of commission” plan.
Jacob lashes out at the masked figure beside Diana, punching him in the head with both feet over her bent back, while I pounce on the man behind Jacob, digging my teeth into his thigh near the femoral artery.
>
It’s actually starting to seem like we might come out on top when the car comes to a sudden stop and the limo doors are wrenched open on both sides.
I smell woods—crisp air and fall leaves and fresh spring water—and then a voice straight out of my childhood shouts, “Willow, stop! They’re our friends!”
My jaw loosens in spite of myself.
I can’t help it. Even now, as a grown woman, my big sister’s voice apparently has an immediate effect on me.
I turn to see Kelley standing outside the open door on the right side of the car, dressed in a flowing purple linen gown with her dark hair loose and long around her shoulders. She looks more like an elf from a fantasy movie than the punk-loving, black-eyelinered girl I remember, but there’s no doubt it’s her.
My sister is alive and apparently sent a bunch of masked creeps to kidnap me.
Just in case there’s any confusion as to how I feel about that, I bare my teeth and growl low in my throat.
I see my blood-soaked muzzle reflected in Kelley’s shocked eyes and think, Good, now we’re both shocked and appalled.
“Yang, get these three to the medical team,” a deep voice rumbles from the other side of the limo. “We’ll take it from here.”
I glance over to see the man from the video, Bane—Maxim and Diana’s brother—and instantly know we’ve made a terrible mistake.
In the videos Bane came off as earnest, intense, and dangerously charismatic. In person, his energy is oily and cold and the look in his eyes as his attention shifts my way so calculated that it makes me feel like a hunk of meat he’s just chosen at a butcher’s shop.
Like he’s mulling over the best way to cook me and already anticipating a satisfying meal.
“Oh, fuck,” Diana mutters as she begins to shiver in her seat, leaving no doubt my aura-seeing friend is also realizing what deep shit we’re in.
Oh fuck, indeed.
It’s my last thought before a giant hand grabs me from behind, snatching me up my scruff and locking thick fingers over my muzzle to keep my teeth in check.
I’m carried away from the limo as easily as a puppy in a sack, bound for a quick toss off the nearest bridge, while hundreds of Kelley and Bane’s supporters wander away from their camp duties to watch.
But these people aren’t going to kill me.
Whatever they have planned is going to be worse than that.
Much, much worse.
Chapter Nine
Willow
I’m stripped of what clothes still cling to my fur and tossed into a one-room cottage with bare log walls and no furniture aside from a small, crooked wooden bench in front of a stone fireplace filled with old-timey cooking implements.
I land lightly on my paws and spin immediately back toward the entrance, but the door has already slammed shut and no doubt been locked from the outside.
A quick prowl around the rest of the room reveals one other door—locked—and only two windows, both near where the ceiling peaks in an upside-down V overhead.
I cock my head, studying the frames, which are set into the logs at odd, forty-five-degree angles.
For a moment, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, but then the door opens and closes behind me again and my sister says, “They’re called witch windows. The early settlers put them in crooked on purpose. They thought it kept witches from flying into the house on their brooms at night.”
I glance over my shoulder, my eyes narrowing on hers.
She lifts her hands in the air, playing innocent, though we both know she’s anything but.
She holds a wad of wrinkled fabric in one hand but appears unarmed. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I understand witches don’t ride brooms, but you know how humans are. They love their folklore.”
I sit back on my haunches and lift my blood-smeared snout into the air.
If I were concerned about being polite, I’d shift and pick up my end of the conversation. But I couldn’t give less of a shit about manners right now, and I have nothing to say to this stranger who set off a bomb in a theater full of innocent people and arranged to have me kidnapped by creeps.
Her expression softens and sadness flickers in her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to come for you myself, or at least give orders for the guys to tell you what they were up to. But we couldn’t risk it. If the plan had failed and you were returned to Maxim, we didn’t want him to know we sent the team to fetch you. It would have compromised future rescue attempts and getting you and Diana out of there was our top priority.”
I make a gurgling sound low in my throat.
Kelley arches a brow. “Was that a derisive laugh or an outraged snort? I get that you’re pissed, Willow, but I still don’t have any telepathic ability. If you want to give me a piece of your mind, you’re going to have to shift.” Her shoulders inch closer to her ears as she holds the wrinkled dark brown fabric out between us. “I brought you a dress. It isn’t much, but it’s clean and will look pretty with your hair.”
I come out of my fur so fast it stings my skin and leaves a painful crick in my neck.
I clutch at the tight muscle as I snap, “You think I give a shit about looking pretty right now? You brought me here against my will and are holding me prisoner, all after nearly a decade of not a fucking word from you. I thought you were dead,” I say, tears rising in my eyes despite the anger rampaging through my veins. “I mourned you,” I add in a thicker voice. “And I missed you every damned day.”
Her eyes begin to shine, too. “I missed you, too. So much. But we’re together now, and I can explain everything if you’ll just give me the chance, Lolo.”
I flinch at the old nickname. “Don’t call me that. That’s not who we are anymore.”
“I’m still your sister,” she insists, moving slowly closer. “And you are still so important to me. That’s why I had to get you out of there, honey, before he hurt you.”
“Maxim wouldn’t hurt me,” I say, but even I can hear the lie in my tone, so I hurry to add, “At least not like this. He pisses me off, but he doesn’t scare me.”
“Well, he should,” she says, holding out the dress.
It’s so close now that it nearly touches my arm. Figuring I should save my energy to fight about serious shit, I snatch it from her with a frustrated huff and pull it on.
It falls around me, soft and pleasantly heavy, and I grudgingly say, “Thanks, but I want my other clothes back. I won’t be staying long, and this isn’t practical for travel.”
She sighs and crosses her arms at her chest. “Let’s have a talk first, okay? Let me explain everything, make sure you have all the facts, and then we can chat about when—or if—you want to leave.”
I’m about to tell her that there is no question about if—only when—when the door opens again and an ancient woman with silver hair in a long braid and a brown dress very much like what I’m wearing steps into the cabin.
Her pale gray eyes meet mine across the small space and she smiles. “Hello, Willow. I’m Elsbeth. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”
My brows pinch together.
The name is unusual, but familiar for some reason.
I’m on the verge of pulling the memory from my mental files when the old woman adds, “I stole the Orphan’s Sword from the Thorn family many years ago, hoping to unite the shifter factions. But I was young and impulsive and didn’t have enough allies on my side.” She moves slowly across the bare wood boards, beaming at me the entire way. “But now we have you and your sister and the sword and an entire army at our backs. We won’t fail this time, dear girl. Soon, we’ll have peace and prosperity in our world unlike anything we’ve known in centuries. A queen will rise again, and our people will rejoice.”
“They will.” Kelley touches soft fingers to my arm, the gesture so warm and familiar it sends an ache of longing across my skin.
If only we were being reunited under different circumstances.
But we aren’t, and I have no
interest in battling my sister for a crown. Maggie made it pretty clear this wasn’t going to be a peaceful revolution.
Maggie…
A vision of her frothing, twitching, and dying on the carpet in the North Star Pack’s library flashes on my mental screen, reminding me of another of my sister’s sins.
I jerk my arm away from her touch and take a step back. “You have Maggie’s granddaughter. You threatened to kill her if Maggie didn’t help you. It’s the last thing she said before she killed herself.”
Kelley’s eyes go wide, and her jaw loosens. “What? Maggie’s dead?”
“Yeah, because of you, and what about the bomb in the theater?” I challenge. “And the boy who was burned alive after? From what I’ve heard, your mate likes to set things on fire.”
Kelley winces. “All of that… All of that is awful and I’m so sorry for it. I didn’t want any of those things to happen, I swear, and I’ll do my best to explain the part I’ve played in everything so far. But first you have to know that my only priority from here on out is making sure no one else dies.” Her jaw tightens. “And I believe we can make that happen, as long as we work together. I swear to you, Willow, Elsbeth and I don’t want to hurt anyone. We just want to change the world for the better. Aren’t you tired of living like this? At the mercy of bullies and monsters like Victor, Pax, and Maxim?”
“Yes, but I’m tired of being lied to, too,” I say. “And you’re lying to me Kelley. I watched Maggie die. I knew her, and I believe she was telling the truth about you threatening to kill her granddaughter.”
“But you know me, too,” she whispers in a hurt voice.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t. Not anymore. And I don’t think you kidnapped me to protect me. I think you want something, something you know I won’t want to give, and that you’re prepared to take it if this little persuasive intervention fails.”
Kelley blinks and pulls in a deep breath, doing a decent impression of being flummoxed by my challenge
But she always was a good liar.
Back when we were kids, her lies were relatively innocent falsehoods to cover a missed curfew or a bad test grade, but I was always impressed with how lightly lies floated from her lips. I lied about those sorts of things, too, of course, but never as easily or as successfully as my sister.