"I hear nothing," he replied, a look of exasperation crossing his face. "Could she have doubled back to the road?"
The girl shook her head furiously, glaring into the trees around her.
“Your ring is white,” he said, grasping the woman’s hand in his own and moving it from side to side.
“She’s not in here.” The woman sounded angry, but also frightened, like she had failed.
“But we can still find her, Vesta. Let’s go back to the library and wait at her car.”
“You fool,” she hissed. “You think she’ll return to her car after we chased her?”
He said nothing.
"Tobias was right, of course he was right." She spoke more to herself than the boy, her right eye twitching angrily.
A loud buzzing interrupted them and the boy took out a slender black phone.
"We lost her," he told the caller, running a pale hand through his hair. "Yes, she is aware of something, but I don't know what. We can keep looking… are you sure? Okay we'll be there."
"What is it?" the girl asked, moving closer to him.
"We have to leave. He's being followed, he's sure of it now."
The girl's face contorted in rage, and she raced from the trees, the boy close at her heels.
Abby waited, the seconds crawling. A slow aching had spread from her feet, up her legs and into her lower back. She longed to shift, even just a bit, but could not move. Her fear left her immobilized, like an ice sculpture, frozen inside and out. They could be trying to trick her. As she waited, she heard an engine roar to life. Through the trees she saw a flash of red as a car whizzed by.
Was it them? The minutes crawled. The bushes became stifling and Abby felt her tank-top clinging to her back. She let out a long, slow breath of air and waited. Nothing. No pounding steps through the woods. She was alone.
Pushing branches to the side, she ducked low and then back up, disentangling herself from the brush. They hadn't seen her; she could hardly believe it. Her car was dead, and if they were laying in wait, they would see her leave the woods. She knew the way to Sydney's house on foot. If she followed the path of the woods closest to the beach, she'd be near tourists, but still out of sight. Walking slowly, each foot carefully placed for the least amount of noise, she moved back toward the beach.
* * * *
Sydney’s house came into view, and Abby leaned against a tree in relief. She'd been walking for over an hour, and even the shade from the forest could not dull the boiling sun. The air was still and wet, the humidity causing what remained of her hair to frizz and the soft short hairs on the back of her neck to kink into a matted ball. She slid to the ground and lifted her shirt, wiping the bottom across her sweaty forehead.
Her vantage point revealed the front, right corner of the house, the bay window jutting out of the pale blue siding. She could see the long porch that wrapped around the lakeside of the house, the black, wrought-iron lounge chair that Sebastian had sat in just a day and a half earlier. She had hoped for Sebastian's car, but the driveway stood empty. Somehow, in all that had happened, she felt that Sebastian was an ally. She did not understand how he came to have Aubrey Blake’s stuff, but Abby could not forget the confusion on his face when she fled. He seemed genuinely confused and not at all threatening.
She waited and watched. If the two strangers had followed her to the library, they might know where she was staying. She pulled off her tennis shoes and massaged her feet. A blister had formed on her left heel and throbbed dully. Even Sydney's tennis shoes were built more for fashion than function. She wanted to wade into the lake, allow the water to cool her down, but of course she couldn't. Even in areas where the stretch of beach was thin, she couldn't risk being out in the open. So, what, then?
Wait, wait and hope.
After a half hour of observation and no discernable movement near the house, Abby decided to go in. She sprinted from the woods to the door, her feet clacking on the wooden planks of the porch. She pressed against the house and slipped forward, shooting a final glance towards the empty driveway.
Fishing her keys out of her pocket, she turned to the house lock. It was broken, the entire knob smashed out. A gaping hole revealed the interior of the house, splinters of door littering the floor. She stifled a scream, an automatic reaction to the invasion before her. They'd been to Sydney’s; they might still be in the house. She pulled away from the door, flattening her body, and waited, but no noise sounded, there were no muffled voices. She crept to the kitchen window and peeked inside. The kitchen was empty, but a mess. There were open cabinets, coffee dripping off the edge of the counter, a bottle of wine smashed, leaving long maroon streaks across the small white kitchen mat. She continued around the house, peering in windows, searching for any movement, alert to any sound.
After biting her lip until it bled, she decided to go in, at least to call the police and arm herself with something other than her car keys. She slipped her shoes back on; they felt snug on her swollen feet.
Lamps were smashed on the hardwood floor, books strewn across the living room and nearly every shelf was tipped on its side.
Her hands shook, and she had to balance against the wall to face the destruction upright. Terror unfolded anew as she plodded over shards of glass, images of her childhood staring back at her. Sydney’s wall of memories had been annihilated viciously, and for what reason? She bent and ran her finger along a silver-edged frame. A spider web of glass blocked most of the image, a picture of Abby dressed as a fairy for Halloween. She must have been ten.
The living room phone was ripped from the wall jack and lay tangled next to the shattered television. She winced at every crunch of some valued possession beneath her sneakered feet. Sydney kept another phone in her study. This room was not nearly as ravaged as the living room and kitchen. The desk drawers were pulled open and a bookshelf lay on its side, otherwise it was untouched. Abby lifted the phone from the cradle to a dead dial tone, and her stomach dropped again. But even as she faced the dead air, she knew that calling the police was futile. Who would they send but Detective Alva? And he had some corrupt hand in the whole mess, Abby was sure.
She missed her mother, not for the first time that week. Her invasive, overbearing mother, who, in a moment like this, would have some iron clad plan that could not fail. Like the "family fire strategy" that her mother created after a news broadcast about the frequency of dryer fires. Not only did her mother coordinate the plans with their next-door neighbors, she typed them up, laminated them and stapled them next to every door in the house.
Her mother’s tight-lipped smile rose in her thoughts, and Abby knew that her mother was not equipped to face the violence that Abby stood in, ankle deep. People wanted to kill her. They were not normal people and they had already killed once, maybe more.
Abby clicked the dial but there was still no tone. She turned, searching hopefully for her cell phone. It was dead, but maybe if she could get enough time to dial…someone. Her hands flew across the desk, scattering papers, and her eyes roved over the room, but she could not find it. Lowering to a squat, she pressed the heels of her hands deep into her eyes. Everything wanted to pour out.
Abby heard a sound and froze. The study had only a single doorway for escape, no windows. She stood fast, blood rushing to her head, followed by a wave of dizziness. Unsteadily, she tiptoed to the door and slipped into the hallway. Someone was on the deck, their shoes shuffling quietly, but not quietly enough. Abby held her breath and edged up Sydney's stairs; she could not make it out of the house without passing the intruder.
From Sydney’s bedroom window, a chilling sight greeted her. The blond woman with dead eyes paced the dock, her hair billowing in the breeze coming off the water. The pale skin of her forehead was wrinkled in thought and her chin was tilted. She was sniffing the air.
Downstairs, the front door groaned. Someone shuffled into the house; the door clicked closed quietly, intentionally. Abby searched the room for a place to hide, but knew that she could no
t risk getting trapped. Sydney's window was the only possible escape. If Abby climbed through it the blond woman would have a clear view of her; maybe she could already smell her. Her entire body perspired, her already filthy shirt stank. She cursed herself for putting on the sequin tank top. How could she be courageous in glitter?
"Vesta!" The shout echoed from the lower floor.
The blond woman's head jerked up, and she moved toward the house. Abby could see her scowl deepening.
"Shut up, Tane," she growled as she crossed the porch. "What if she's close?"
"She is…" Abby swallowed, her tongue thick and heavy. His voice was low and excited. "Look at your ring.”
Abby felt her body moving before her brain comprehended the danger closing in. She jerked open Sydney's window as their feet hit the stairs, each explosive smack blistering her thoughts. Tumbling onto the small eave, Abby felt her body thrown forward as she slid down the steep shingles. She hit the eaves trough and shoved her feet in, flattening her back on the hot roof. The ground lay fifteen feet directly below her, a straight drop.
Above her, Vesta was screaming orders at Tane, who had stuck his head out the window. His dark eyes connected with Abby's. She did not wait, but pitched forward and flung herself from the roof, flailing in mid-air before she hit the grass with an audible thwack. A searing pain shot up her calf, but she ignored it, springing to her feet and running for the woods. Tane had followed her down the roof, but Vesta banged out the front door, already running across the lawn towards her, her teeth bared.
Abby reached the woods first and raced in, searching for any place to dive and hide, but there were none. She'd entered a thicket of pine trees, the ground littered with red needles and the trees thick with green. She had only a second before Vesta would reach the woods. Darting ahead, she jumped to pass over a decaying log and sprang into the air. Her legs scissored wildly, but she shot straight up, hitting the bough of a thick pine nearly twenty feet high. Her fingers clawed the bark and she nearly fell back to the forest floor, but with a single heave she looped her bicep around the branch and hung on.
Below her, Vesta rushed into the woods, her muscular arms pumping savagely. She passed beneath Abby, oblivious to her hanging high above. Tane followed, darting past, a slur of inaudible words coursing from his mouth.
Swinging her legs and biting her lip against the noise, she arched back and up. Her right leg hooked the branch and she scrambled onto it, her body flat against it, legs and arms dangling over either side.
She struggled into a crouch and shuffled to the trunk, pressing her back against the sappy bark. The forest floor stretched out below her, and she fought the dizziness brought on by the height; too high, she could not have jumped that high.
She tried not to think of her current dilemma – of the power that had sent her literally flying into the tree to safety. She'd read about amazing strength during adrenaline rushes, though never anything as bizarre as jumping the height of a telephone pole.
Vesta and Tane moved back into her line of sight. They were arguing, Vesta’s face contorted with fury.
“You’re a fool, Tane. I knew that you were not ready. If she escapes…” She spoke through gritted teeth, anger banging out every word.
“Come on, Vesta. No biggie. So we lost her… again. Big whoop. We’ll get her.” Tane was much more relaxed, even joking as he playfully punched Vesta’s shoulder.
She caught his fist, and he squealed in surprise, shrinking away from her.
“I will not be shamed by you.”
She stomped ahead of him from the woods, her fists balled at her sides. He followed, but his head was cast down. He shot a final glance into the trees, but saw nothing.
Abby wanted to scream at them, “What do you want?” But bit her lip instead. She didn’t want to die, but she was tired and scared. She’d done nothing to deserve this. She’d only found the body. Dammit, why hadn’t she just stayed out of it? They probably knew that she was investigating, trying to find clues. She had brought this on herself. But what was the alternative? Do nothing? No, it wasn’t even an option. Devin had lived, she’d breathed, laughed, probably even loved. Abby could not stand idly by, she had lived that way for too long. Her crusade, however, did little to comfort her as she huddled high in the trees like a raccoon watching the wolves circle below.
* * * *
Ink had begun to dim the smoldering sky, and Abby's entire body ached. She'd shifted positions on her tree branch a hundred times, but to no avail. Frankly, she didn't know how the squirrels did it.
She had no idea where Tane and Vesta had disappeared to - most likely back to Sydney's to lie in wait. Returning to the house was a death wish, and Abby intended to live. Of that, at least, she was sure. Her only chance was to backtrack through the woods, maybe watch the road for somebody to flag down to take her…anywhere.
When the last of the pink slipped below the horizon, she began a slow crawl out of the tree. Her calf had swollen, throbbed and then stopped hurting. She kept putting pressure on it, but the pain seemed to have vanished. It was probably broken, and her body kept the pain at bay by producing copious amounts of natural painkillers, which might also explain why she felt buzzed, like she’d just drank a pot of coffee on an empty stomach. Halfway down the tree, headlights swept over the forest, pulling to a stop in Sydney's driveway. Pausing in midair, she squinted through the branches at the silhouette of a car. Had more of them arrived?
She heard the door slam and a familiar shape emerged. Sebastian.
She started to call out, but stopped herself, a shocked hand going to her mouth. If she called to him, they would hear her. She hesitated for a moment, considering a final time that he might be in on it, but the thought felt wrong. He wasn’t in on it, and she could not allow him to walk into a trap. She had to get to him.
Clenching her jaw against the fear that seized her, she dashed from the trees. He was crossing the porch as she reached the lawn, her arms flailing in a silent warning. Nearing the door, a single hand outstretched, he turned, his wide eyes glimpsed Abby and registered her hysterical gestures, but she was too late. The door flung open and Tane dived out, connecting with Sebastian and driving him to the porch floor.
"Run!" he screamed at Abby, but she stayed rooted in place, her feet like cement boots.
Tane straddled him, holding a hunk of his black hair in a single hand. Sebastian thrashed beneath him, but could not break free.
“Abby, there’s a gun in my car,” he screamed, twisting to look at her.
She started for the car, but Vesta rocketed from the back of the house. Abby turned, but her foot caught a divot, and she tripped. Vesta was on her, her black eyes flashing as she shoved Abby's face into the grass. Abby tried to lift up, twist her head to get a breath, but Vesta held her in a death grip. Her fingernails dug into Abby's scalp, pushing her face down and down. She opened her mouth to dirt and grass; it pushed in, suffocating her. She felt a sharp poke, like a bite on her shoulder. Lungs burning, her muscles gradually growing slack, twilight shoveled its darkness on Abby’s bursting skull.
Chapter 14
Sebastian could not see. He blinked against the fabric covering his eyes and tried to assess his surroundings. His hands were bound tight, legs too, but he was upright. Something that tasted coppery, like blood, was shoved in his mouth, and it scared him to smell the scent so close.
He was bound to a tree, his arms wrapped tightly behind him and around the trunk, which dug into his bare skin. The bark pressed into his back, and his head hung slack on his shoulders. He had been hit hard with something, a bat maybe, and wondered if the blood that he tasted was his own.
He had failed, returned to Sydney’s like a fool, hoping that Abby might have come back. Now they would both die, and the Vepars would go on.
“No,” he murmured. He had to, to maintain control of his thoughts.
Claire had learned that from Adora. “It is the most important thing,” Adora had said, “monitoring your th
oughts. It is not the danger that kills you - it’s the fear. Don’t let the fear in.”
He heard movement, but did not want the Vepars to know that he was conscious. He had the advantage if they underestimated him, and he needed every possible advantage. The gun was gone; he’d left it in his car, foolishly imagining that Sydney’s house posed no danger. He had kept a knife in his back pocket, but its familiar pressure was gone as well.
* * * *
Abby’s head was slick with pain. She registered the ache and understood that she was still alive, not suffocated in Sydney's yard. She kept her eyes closed, listening closely to the sounds around her. Shuffling feet, something thick dragging across the ground, and a sharp scraping in the dirt. Her hands were bound separately above her head and her legs as well, her form in the shape of an X.
Carefully, she stared out through slitted eyelids. Trees yawned over her, limbs reaching towards each other in a skeletal embrace, leaves thick and green bowing down. Darkness had closed in, but the moon cast a bright tunnel onto the forest floor. Three cloaked figures moved around her, their faces hidden from view. None turned as she opened her eyes fully, followed by a low gasp of fear as she recognized her location. She lay at the site of Devin's body, the rotted log in full view to her right. Twisting her neck, she stared at a leather coated stake dug deep into the earth. She followed a silk cord to where it wrapped tightly around her wrist. One of the hooded figures used a long sword to scrape symbols into the dirt.
Sebastian. His face popped into her head and she jerked against the restraints. No point trying to play unconscious now.
"Sebastian!" she screamed. It was pathetic, her voice, hoarse and sandpapery, barely filled the cavern of her mouth.
"Relax, little girl." Vesta lifted her hood, long blond tresses rolling over her black cloak. She moved toward Abby slowly, a wicked grin stretched over her parted mouth. Riveted, Abby stared at the vicious animal that was Vesta, only moments before the attack. Vesta squatted down and dipped her fingers into a black chalky substance that she wiped roughly across Abby's forehead, pressing hard into her thumping skull.
Ula (Born of Shadows Book 1) Page 12