Silver

by Pieslak, Dixie

  Middle of the night and they could be anywhere. Miles away, by now. I drove back to Claremont and Louie was there and Conor was done at the Tavern. We sent him to sway the police and get Henna's car.

  “I'm calling around,” Louie said. “Someone will know where he is.” I paced, spewing phone numbers out of my head while he dialed. He asked about Russell, Henna, a white car. Ha! There were thousands of white cars. No one had seen Russell, but we did learn that he had a following. A female named Vanna, and two males - Dagger and Jose - all newly vamped by Russell.

  Of course not all of our kind carry phones, or if they do, they're stolen and we have no number for them. We'd have to seek those vamps out by sensing. A time consuming amount of driving around the vastness of Southern California, but no choice. And he could be in Arizona or Nevada, by now. Or the middle of California - Sacramento, San Francisco. Anywhere. I wanted to bash the walls and rip off Russell's head and feed his corpse to the coyotes.

  That reminded me of the hills. Louie and I drove up and took off running, covered the empty vastness in half an hour. Back to the car.

  I only saw him four times but I knew Russell was bound to the dark. I hoped to sense him holed up in some warehouse, Henna well and sleeping under his influence. Or better, Henna awake and not with him, but emitting those powerful vibes. Maybe even searching for me, helping me find her. My Lord God, I prayed, let her be a beacon light to me.

  “Louie, I think he'll keep her. What tantalizes me, would tantalize Russell. He'll hide her somewhere we can't find her.” I rolled my window down and spat. “I'll kill him.”

  “We'll find them, Brecken. Sooner or later. We won't stop until we do.”

  “And if he turns her, Louie?”

  “You can still kill him.”

  Henna under his control in any way at all was intolerable, yet I remembered her awareness can't be easily controlled. I never tried deep slam, but Russell might. Oh, God.

  I needed cold fire and rational planning and should stop dwelling on what he wanted with her. What he was doing to her. The thoughts pounded at me anyway.

  We regrouped and went out again. I hunched into myself and focused on the streets. Didn’t help with the anguish, but my vamp was behind the wheel so red lights and speed limits held no meaning. Up and down the highways and no glimmer of her presence. No hint of Russell. I retraced the streets that spanned out from the accident, checking for a white car with a bashed front end. Useless.

  Conor didn't know So Cal so he ranged in a spoke through cities in the vicinity of Claremont. I'd already driven those towns and no vamps there, but if Henna had been knocked unconscious, Conor would feel her when she woke. If she was drugged? No, he should feel her energy even then.

  Louie and I conferred by phone, chose separate, sprawling areas and searched the rest of the night.

  Chapter 63

  Thank heavens Russell didn't touch me. He showed me a small bathroom just across the hall then left me to straighten myself up. I saw two more doors in the hallway. Was someone in there, too? I had the feeling it was just Russell and me in the house.

  The bathroom had a tiny window with slats to let in fresh air. Sealed tight, of course. Bottles of shampoo and liquid soap lined the tub. Used towels hung on a hook behind the door, but a fresh one was folded on the toilet seat. I washed my face and peered at the slight tinge of red on my neck. The tenderness was fading. Shock and disbelief weren’t fading at all.

  I sat on the toilet seat and stared at the floor. I should be freaked out of my mind and part of me was. But the greater part was churning with a deep, fury. At least I could think and function. The only irrational part was that I was rational, even sort of calm. That made no sense, but I grasped at the calm like a life raft in the frothy turmoil of the Pacific Ocean.

  Russell directed me to the bathroom, but hadn’t threatened me with words or movements. Bizarre as it sounds and nauseating - he was almost gentle. Yet he was keeping me prisoner in this house. The woman from the accident? Maybe she was out there with him, maybe in the kitchen, because now I could smell fresh coffee.

  I only had three choices. Sit here locked in a bathroom I knew he could enter, return to the warm bed, or - the hardest - go out and face him. I chose the illusion of safety behind the locked bathroom door.

  But hiding out isn’t my style for long. I wanted escape so I finally opened the door to begin my fight to freedom, not knowing how long it would take or how I would do it, but determined to be strong and clever. And stay alive.

  He was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, a dinette table between us. A mug, sugar and a carton of milk seemed to be waiting for me. I stepped out of the short hall and looked around. The living room was just to the left. Two colorful paintings, greens, reds, yellow, and a string of chili peppers hanging on the wall. Blanket covering a couch, coffee table, two armchairs and a TV. It looked old and cozy at the same time.

  More important, to the right of me was a small foyer and the front door. The door was closed but it was right there. My muscles twitched, wanting to throw it open and run. But when I glanced back at him, he was shaking his head, ready to block any move. I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry. There was no doubt that if I stepped towards the door, Russell could and would stop me.

  So, what? Have coffee and chat serenely with my vampire kidnapper? The whole scene was terrifying. I wanted to scream. I wanted not to scream. I wanted to bash him over the head with a steel pipe.

  Finally I forced myself to meet his gaze. He looked relaxed and kind of pleased with himself, but he didn’t speak and neither did I. A minute passed and he slowly smiled. Then Russell stuck out his foot and nudged a chair. “Coffee’s getting cold, Henna.”

  I sat at the dinette table, drank the coffee and silently examined the vampire. He sat at the counter, drank nothing and examined me. Eventually a compulsion to sleep came over me and I returned to the bedroom and rolled myself in the covers, face to the wall.

  Again I awoke slowly, this time to daylight seeping under the heavy curtain above the bed. A window? I edged the curtain aside and saw iron bars. What else! That would have been too easy. The window would let air and light in, but never me out.

  As before, Russell knew I was awake. As before, he directed me to the bathroom. And tension filled the space.

  “You need a shower, Henna. You're all sweaty. Lock the door if you want. I won't bother you.” His voice was low and his manner seemed kind and I went meek, unable to resist and hating myself for it. I stood under the hot spray, totally despondent. But despondency is a form of surrender and I’m not the surrendering type, so I took hold and shook it off and began to plot. Yes, the furious coil inside of me said. Plot, get away. Get even.

  I lathered my lanky hair. There was something odd about the way I had slept so easily when I should have been sick with anxiety. I remembered the girl following after Logan and accepting the way he held her and bit into her. Uncomplaining, blankly willing - much like I had blankly and willingly returned to bed. Some sort of mind control, I guessed, and I hadn’t tried to block it - but maybe it was possible. I sort of think I've blocked Brecken, once or twice. Like the morning with the rattler. Uncomfortable to remember that but encouraging, too, with a snake waiting in the living room. Could I block that snake?

  It’s always been easy to erect walls, though it seems even easier, lately. I felt safe behind a mental barrier, even knowing my body wasn’t safe at all. Russell could do what he wanted, starting with keeping me here. So I made some decisions that might work, or at least keep me sane and fighting. First, act calm, not mad, not scared witless - and get Russell to talk. Get him relax that awful tension and be less watchful, if possible. Find out where I am, get him to take me outside. Even the back yard would help.

  I had locked the bathroom door and it was still closed, but my clothes were gone and a gray sweat suit lay on the toilet seat with my onyx necklace. I shuddered at the thought of his coming into the room while I was under the
pounding shower.

  I toweled my hair and dressed in the baggy sweats. Way too big for me, but they hid my body in shapeless gray, which was all to the good. He’d replaced my boots with white athletic socks. Music filtered under the bathroom door. Oddly enough, it sounded live. I sucked in a determined breath and opened the door.

  Russell was on the couch playing a professional looking harmonica. He glanced at me but didn’t stop playing. Strange behavior, I thought. Happy behavior, I realized. I frowned at him and went for bravado. “I’m hungry and I need a toothbrush.”

  He tucked the harmonica in his shirt pocket. “Check the kitchen. Fix anything you want.”

  I found sugarcoated kids' cereal and the milk. He returned to the same counter stool and watched me eat. So out of place, this contented silence. I had to break it.

  I'm good at keeping my voice neutral when I have to. “What’s this all about, Russell? Where are we and what do you want with me? Whose house is this?”

  He was vague, like I expected. “The house belongs to a friend of mine. Those are her sweats you’re wearing. Was the cereal good?”

  So, light talk? Okay, I’d do light talk. “Way too sweet. It’s for kids.”

  “Yeah. She has two boys.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Visiting grandparents. You won’t be meeting them.” There was a small warning in his voice, but very small, and he smiled again, like confident. Sure of himself.

  “I want to go home,” I said.

  “Home is wherever I am, now. I told you that.” Bigger smile.

  “Please. I have family who will worry. And a job.” I didn’t think pleading would do much good, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I heard you sing before.”

  “Where?” I was sure of the answer.

  “Venice Beach.” Exactly as I thought.

  “My cousin will be worried.” I added a whine to my voice. “I really need to call her.”

  “No phone calls.” He laughed. “No phone.”

  Where was my cell phone? In my purse, left on the passenger seat of my car. “The woman who banged into my car - does she own this house?”

  “She rents.”

  “But was she the one who brought me here?”

  “Alina brought you to me, I brought you here. Different cars. Untraceable, if that’s what you want to know.”

  I felt bleak, but kept talking. “Is she your wife? Girlfriend? Are the boys your sons?”

  “Just a friend. The kids aren’t mine. Want some more coffee? I’ll make it.”

  I sighed. “Yes.” Russell was quick in the kitchen and the coffee tasted delicious. He watched me sip, smiling with satisfaction. “Don’t you want some?” I asked.

  “No way. I don’t drink coffee.” So - he’s not exactly like Brecken.

  Get him to relax. “But you know how to make it. And it’s very good.”

  He made a face, “I used to make it every day. She drank it sweet, like you do.” His voice was wistful, his eyes soft on me. “Listen, I know you’re scared.”

  The abrupt change of subject startled me. “Well, hey,” I said. “Kidnapped.”

  He didn’t like my sarcasm. “You’re not hurt, except the tasering and that’s past.”

  “Taser? That’s what she did?” I went to the kitchen for the rest of the coffee and leaned against the sink. “Why did you do this to me? I keep asking and you keep avoiding it. Don’t you think I deserve to know?”

  He actually told me. “I had to. You wouldn’t have come on your own. I have things to teach you. A whole new world. You won’t believe what I can do. And you too, pretty soon.” I watched his excitement build. “I’ll start to show you in a while and you’ll see what I mean. We’ll be partners. It’s going to blow your mind.”

  An old expression. Scary ideas about partnering with me. His nauseating energy spewed through the room when he talked. I thought of last night’s compulsion to sleep, but I was still half dazed then. If I tried, maybe I could keep him out of my head. For sure, my own walls were high and strong right now and I felt somewhat secure. That self assurance surprised me, given that I was so obviously his prisoner.

  Of course, it was completely lunatic to sit here talking with him, but I didn’t know what else to do. So, keep him talking and maybe he would slip up somewhere. With nothing to lose, I continued the direct approach. “What city are we in?”

  “We’re in California.”

  A non answer. “Do you live here? You don’t look like it.”

  He scowled. “Why don’t I look like it?”

  “The plaid flannel shirt.”

  “Oh. Well, I like it. I was born in Idaho and went back there. And I was up in Oregon. Lots of shirts like this. Don’t you like it?” He was actually asking me? Unbelievable.

  “No, it’s fine. I don’t care what you’re wearing. Why did you come to California?”

  He smiled, liking the topic. “I travel around a lot.”

  I changed the subject, keeping the questions short, just like his choppy answers. “What’s out back? That's door there, right?”

  “Play yard. A fence. Empty houses. Want to see?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded and I slid back the curtain and opened the sliding door. I walked out and took a deep breath. The fresh air felt good, but the wooden fence that enclosed the yard was at least six feet high and I didn’t spot a gate. I was standing on a covered patio with a table and chairs. Toys were scattered everywhere and the grass was too long. I saw the rooves of other houses but the area seemed too flat, so we weren’t anywhere near Claremont. I could see Russell standing deep inside the house and I moved out onto the grass.

  “Henna, come back inside.” He jerked his hand at me. “I was just showing you. You can’t stay out there.”

  I didn’t move. What was there inside for me? At least here I had the open sky and the illusion of freedom

  Then I felt that strange compulsion, strong and almost instantaneous. I turned to the door, leaving what I wanted and doing what he wanted. My thoughts raced. Could I refuse to step through that door? I thought so, but if I did maybe he'd grab me and force me inside. I’d lose whatever advantage I might have, if he actually saw me resist his orders.

  But maybe I could know if I went into the house by my own decision, or by his. So I walked slowly, eyes darting, obeying him and testing myself. It was easier than I thought. A resistance from deep inside, a kind of push against his will. Yes. A little piece of freedom he didn’t know I have.

  As soon as I was inside Russell told me to pull the curtains first and then the door. I did it then collapsed in the armchair, but my mind was racing. He didn’t go outside and he stood back from the open door. Brecken was outside all the time and the first time I saw Logan, it was afternoon. Did that mean anything that I could use? This wasn’t a Hollywood horror movie and I had no idea how things worked.

  It was crazy making, trying to cope with all that's happened. But at least he hasn't touched me. Hang in there. The one thing that isn't crazy is me.

  I wanted more information out of him, but Russell turned on the T.V. and started flipping through the channels. Two game shows then a movie. I pretended to watch while I thought through the intense urge to do whatever he said. Some kind of hypnosis? Whatever, I was pretty sure he’d do it again and I vowed to resist every time and do what he said every time.

  If he was sure of me, somehow the chance would come to run. In the meantime, play at calmness and act just as nice as he was pretending to be. Keep to my basic ideas. Don’t make him mad, don’t get hurt. Escape.

  Eventually he realized I wasn’t focused on the movie and scowled at me. “Don't you like television?”

  “Yes, but I'm hungry again.” Easy, Henna. Talk polite. “Russell, could we have lunch?”

  He flicked his fingers at the kitchen. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and poured a glass of milk. Then, feeling perverse, I made one for him. He smirked when I s
et the plate beside him and over the next hour, glued to the T.V., he rolled the white bread into sticky, little balls.

  Finally he grew bored. Good or bad, at least he was talking again - about music, this time. He pulled out the harmonica and played a few tunes, then asked me to try. I was repulsed at putting my mouth where his was, but I wiped the harmonica on my sleeve and gave it a try. In spite of myself, I got interested. Music is in my soul and I followed instructions, finally producing something clean and recognizable.

  Russell was elated and I was thoroughly upset with myself. It was disgusting for me to like any part of his harmonica. But dang it, I did. Polite. “Have you always played?” I asked. “Did you have lessons?”

  “No lessons. I got one for Christmas when I was eleven and taught myself. My folks said the noise drove them crazy and made me go outside. In winter, I’d sit in the barn and play to the animals. It was cold, but when I played I felt warm.” He smiled at me, like we were bonding. Not bonding for me, but it was true that I had relaxed into our talk of music.

  He played again for me, a soulful tune that he apparently created on the spot. “That’s beautiful,” I said. “You have a feel for that instrument.”

  “Yeah, well, I play a lot. Always carry it with me. I play when I drive.” He looked sideways at me. “Can’t play the guitar when you drive.”

  I sort of laughed. “No, not a good idea. However, I can drive and sing. Do you sing?”

  Now he laughed. “Can’t sing while playing the harmonica.”

  I smiled. What phonies we were. Pretending to be friendly. Laughing as though I weren’t his captive. Despair washed over me again, but I hid it and kept smiling. I wouldn’t let him see my insides. He wanted me with him, wanted me to like him. I could and would play that role.

  “Thinking about Brecken?”

  The question startled me. I've avoided thinking about him too much. He was probably looking for me, at least I hoped he was. He’d be worried and absolutely enraged that I disappeared again. I wish I knew if Brecken had some way to find me like in Claremont when he could always find me to stalk. I could sense his presence when he was nearby, but he could obviously sense me much farther than that. How far? And where am I?