Interlude (The Stone Legacy Series Book 2)

by Theresa Dalayne

  Tara lowered herself to the floor. “Where are we?”

  “Shut up,” snapped another, older sounding voice from somewhere to her right.

  Tara startled and searched the pitch-black space. She inhaled the stink of sweat and urine, and what she could only identify as old food. Random scratches, coughs, and gentle whimpers came from every direction. “How many people are here? Where are we?”

  The younger voice beside her whispered. “I’m Amy. There are lots of people here, so be quiet before you get them mad at all of us cuz you’re talking.”

  Tara quieted and tried to process what had happened.

  She must have missed the transportation stage while she was passed out. And she wasn’t at all in control of the situation, unlike the plan. She ground her teeth.

  Malachi. He’d stabbed her in the back. She pulled her knees to her chest. This was her fault for falling for his story. She’d trusted him after seeing the raw pain in his eyes. All too familiar with that same torment, she’d jumped at the chance to save someone else from ending up as screwed up as her.

  Someone coughed, and from the other side of the room there was a sob. There must have been a dozen girls around her, but it was impossible to tell without any light. With her hands tied together, she managed to search her pockets one at a time. Shit. Malachi had taken her phone.

  She hung her head. There had to be someone who knew more than she did. “Does anyone in here know where we are?” Tara asked in a hushed voice.

  “Shh.”

  Tara glanced around. “We have to try to get out of here.”

  “They’ll kill us,” a voice from the far end of the room said with more conviction than Tara expected. “Some of the girls have already gone missing.”

  “Missing isn’t the right word,” another girl said. “Jesus. The screams…”

  A door at the top of a tall staircase swung open, casting light into the room. Tara squinted up at the silhouetted figure slowly descending with something in his hands.

  Several of the girls began to cry. The light in the room lifted the veil of darkness from not a dozen, but nearly fifty prisoners as far as Tara could estimate. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder, back-to-back, and leaning against each other, all dirty and terrified.

  “Hungry?” Tara watched Malachi crouch with a tray of food.

  He froze when he noticed the girl lying beside her. A tremble in his hands caused the items on the tray to shake, and the glass of water tilted over and spilled half its contents onto the floor. He set down the tray and slowly reached out to touch Amy. The girl curled into a ball and covered her face.

  Tara pushed onto her knees and forced herself between them. She wouldn’t let him scare her. The poor girl was terrified enough already.

  “You’re a damn liar.”

  He quickly recoiled any obvious signs of remorse and lifted a sandwich to Tara’s lips. “Eat this.”

  She turned her head.

  “If she doesn’t want it, I’ll eat it,” Amy whispered. Matted brown hair hugged her cheeks, framing her large brown eyes. She licked her lips. “I’m hungry.”

  Tara’s heart tore. “How long have you kept everyone down here?”

  When he set down the food, it was an opportunity she couldn’t waste. Tara swung her fisted hands and punched Malachi in the mouth.

  He fell back, flipping the tray. “Damn it, Tara. Knock it off. You’re wasting your energy.” He righted himself and picked up the sandwich. He didn’t have the slightest mark on him.

  “I trusted you,” she whispered, trying not to let anyone else hear. She’d gotten herself into something she may never get out of. She may never see Zanya again, never see Peter. Oh God—Peter. He’d think she just ran away.

  “You can’t trust anyone. Especially not me.” He lifted the sandwich to Tara’s lips. “Eat. You’ll need your strength for when you guys are moved.”

  “What about water?” Amy asked—begged.

  “All right, honey.” Tara pushed hair out of the girl’s eyes. “I know you’re scared.”

  She whimpered. “I want to go home.”

  Tara peered at Malachi. “Can you at least get her water?”

  Another girl sobbed, and this time, Tara saw her—a blonde teen, huddled against the wall with blood-matted hair. “Good God. What did they do to her?” A row of deep gashes ran down her legs, poorly bandaged with gauze.

  “I told you. A woman’s offering is more valuable than boys. Bloodletting. I guess he needed a quick fix.” He shoved the food in her face. “Now eat or you’ll be hungry for the next few days.”

  Tara gasped. “Days? Is that how long it’s been since they’ve eaten?” She stared down at Amy curled up on the floor. “She’s so young.”

  “She’s eleven,” he mumbled, and shoved the sandwich back in her face. “Now eat.”

  Tara’s stomach twisted in knots. She shook her head. “Go get more water. Tell them I spilled it on accident.”

  He grabbed her wrists and yanked her forward with a fierce glare. “I don’t take orders from anyone.” He shoved her back onto the cold concrete. Malachi’s tense features relaxed. He gazed down at the girl. “Don’t worry. I won’t let her die. That’ll be one less sacrifice. The boss will be pissed.” Malachi picked up the tray and stood.

  Tara reached out and took the sandwich, her wrists aching from the tightly wound rope. She lay on her side and pressed the bread and turkey to Amy’s lips. “Eat something,” she whispered. “Just a bite.”

  Without hesitation the girl did, and chewed like a hungry animal.

  “I want some,” one of the prisoners shrieked. “I haven’t eaten in two days.”

  The rest of the group buzzed franticly. Cries and shouts filled the room, bouncing off the cement walls, assaulting Tara from every direction.

  Malachi pulled the gun from the back of his pants. “Everybody shut up.”

  The room instantly fell silent.

  He tucked away his weapon and hovered over Amy. “Is she all right?”

  Tara glanced up at him. “You have no right to ask that.”

  He picked up the glass and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

  Malachi made another water run, and this time brought some for Amy, and some of the other girls, too. Tara gave her drink to a young brunette and instructed her to take just a few sips before passing it down. The water was only enough for a few people but it was better than nothing. She wouldn’t risk asking Malachi for more.

  Everyone was bound in one way or another. Some of the girls—probably those who had been caught talking—had gags in their mouths. Those who had tried to run had their feet and hands tied, some with raw blisters from the harsh rope. The smart ones, who had stayed quiet and cooperative, had only their hands tied in front of them.

  The stench grew stronger by the minute. There was no toilet in the room—only a bucket, which looked as if it had been full for days—sat in a corner.

  Heavy boots thumped down the creaking steps. Tara examined the silhouette, larger and bulkier than Malachi’s. She curled into a ball, trying to blend with the others as much as possible, which was a hard thing to do when her hair acted like a beacon.

  She buried her face between her knees and held her breath, listening to the footsteps grow louder before they stopped. The loud click of a cocked rifle made everyone in the room jump, including Tara. The tingle of fear prickled her skin.

  “Stand up,” ordered a familiar, thick Russian accent. Everyone remained frozen in place until a massive blast tore through the room, spitting shards of cement in every direction. With a chorus of screams, the girls scrambled to their feet. Andrei gestured to the staircase with the barrel of his rifle. “Get in a line and go up the stairs. Now!” Tara found Amy and grabbed the back of her shirt. They fell into line and marched single file toward the open door, where two more armed guards waited.

  Andrei followed the stragglers from the back with his gun aimed while he stood guard. Tara follo
wed Amy through a bare living room with only a subfloor under their feet. The entire house stank of cat urine and mold.

  Tara stepped out the front door and into the sunlight, squinting at the gravel driveway. Her eyes ached from the sudden change. Trees and tall weeds surrounded them. It was obvious nobody had lived in that house for a long time.

  Tara climbed onto a bus parked in the gravel driveway and picked a seat at the back beside Amy, who hadn’t said a word since she’d asked for food. Now that they were out of the basement, it became clear what kind of condition the girl was really in. Dry blood stained her hair and cheek from a gash on her forehead. Her face was pale, and her lips were cracked and dry.

  Andrei stood at the front of the bus, holding the gun in clear sight. As the last of the group was forced into seats, Andrei cocked the rifle back a second time, demanding everyone’s attention. “We go through town now. If any of you say a word, I will kill you. If you scream, I will kill you. If you—”

  “I’m pretty sure they get the point.” Tara’s head popped up at the sound of Malachi’s voice. Without making eye contact with her, he took a seat behind the driver’s chair. The burly Russian started the bus and the doors swung shut, followed by the hiss of hydraulics.

  It was smart. A school bus filled with young girls wouldn’t attract any attention. If a cop were to cruise by, he wouldn’t even take a second look.

  Amy slowly laid her head down in Tara’s lap. “Where are they taking us?”

  “I don’t know.” She stroked the girl’s hair, doing what she could to comfort her. “How ya doing, kiddo?”

  “Okay,” she whispered in a forced breath. “I’m not feeling good, though. My chest hurts. I have asthma.”

  “Yeah? Well, just take deep breaths.” Tara didn’t know the first thing about asthma, and if Amy had an attack, there was no way Andrei would bring her to a doctor. He’d probably just kill her on the spot. Some small talk might comfort her. Tara combed her fingers through Amy’s knotted hair. “Where are you from?”

  “The United States. Montana.”

  “Really? How did you get so far away from home?”

  Amy shivered and curled into a tighter ball. “Vacation. Me and my family came to visit my brother for winter break. He’s here on a student exchange program.”

  If she had a brother and family here in Moscow, maybe they could figure out a way to reach them and get help. She leaned down closer to Amy’s ear and whispered. “Do you know how to get a hold of your family?”

  “No,” Amy whispered in response. “Our cell phones don’t work here.”

  “What about your brother’s school?”

  She shook her head. “That’s where I was taken. My brother fought with the guy who brought you food.” A sob trickled from her throat. “My brother tried to protect me.”

  “Wait a second.” She peered at Malachi. “The guy with the dark hair and gauged earrings? He’s the one who took you?”

  She nodded. “I screamed when he grabbed my arm, and my brother tried to push him off.”

  The news.

  Amy was the girl who had been abducted from the private school, and her brother—oh God—her brother was the one who had died. Tara looked back at Malachi’s. He must be the gang member brought to the hospital in critical condition. Her stomach rolled.

  It all made sense now. This was why everyone was so shocked to see him—why they thought he’d been “snuffed out.”

  Malachi wasn’t a good guy who made some bad choices. He was the worst—a recruiter, and she’d fallen for his act. Tara hung her head, anger wringing her muscles tighter. He’d played her, and now she was stuck.

  She drew in a deep breath and stroked Amy’s arm. It was a small gesture, but it was all she could do to comfort the poor thing.

  Worse, even if they were rescued before becoming Sarian’s sacrifices, most of the girls would end up like Tara, having a part of themselves stolen. A part they’d never get back. Not ever. No matter how much they wanted it, cried over it, hurt for it.

  Malachi or not, Tara couldn’t let these girls be taken away from their families. She had to do something to help them get back to their lives.

  Tara glanced down at Amy, who had fallen asleep. Maybe some rest would do her good. There was no telling where they were going, or what would happen once they arrived.

  After what seemed like hours later, the bus cruised through a wooded neighborhood with smooth, white sidewalks and cast iron flowerpots hanging from antique looking street lamps. The homes were few and far between, sometimes a mile apart. Residents jogged in high-end sneakers with purebreds trotting beside them. Kids rode tricycles while their mothers pushed three-wheeled strollers.

  This had to be the last place anyone would suspect something like this was happening.

  The bus made a wide left turn into a smooth driveway that stretched nearly a quarter mile from the road. A brick wall encompassed the property, which was surrounded by more thick forest, making the street almost impossible to see.

  A sloping roof with wide eaves topped the sleek exterior of the house. Weeping willow trees and what could only be described as really big bonsai trees were strategically placed around the property, shading a rock garden lying beside the forest.

  The bus hissed to a stop and Malachi stood. When his gaze met Tara’s, he paused for only a split second before turning toward Andrei.

  He didn’t give her the courtesy of looking regretful—not even for a moment.

  “Get up and go inside,” Andrei said, ushering everyone down the stairs of the bus.

  Tara shook Amy by the shoulders. “Wake up.” The girl moaned, but didn’t move. Tara tried to pull her to a sitting position, but with her wrists still bound together, she didn’t have the leverage.

  “What’s going on?” Andrei watched them from the front of the bus.

  “I’m trying to wake her up.” Tara grunted under the girl’s weight. Andrei stomped toward them, gun in hand. “Oh God.” She shot to her feet and shielded Amy, but he shoved her aside like she was a feather and grabbed Amy by her hair. A shrill scream ratcheted through the bus. “I said, get up.” Andrei threw Amy to the floor. Her forehead smacked against the ridged surface.

  Malachi walked toward them and scooped Amy into his arms. He cradled her with tenderness, as if he actually cared about her. He swept hair off her pale cheek, streaking blood over his fingers. He glared up at the Russian.

  Andrei jabbed Amy in her ribs with the barrel of his gun. “She’s sick. We should do it now.”

  Tara gasped. “No!”

  Malachi grabbed the barrel of the weapon with one hand and tore it from Andrei’s grip. Propping Amy against his shoulder, he aimed the gun and curled his finger around the trigger.

  Andrei stood silently, his gaze flickering from the polished steel to Malachi’s infuriated gaze. “If you touch her again,” Malachi snarled, “I won’t need this piece of shit gun to put you down.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tara followed Malachi down the bus steps and onto the paved driveway. She wasn’t going to let Amy out of her sight, especially now that Andrei intended to kill her if he got the chance.

  The other girls were already gone, ushered out long before she stepped off the bus. Tara nearly tripped over herself when Andrei jerked her to the right. He was strong. Every movement, even if it was small, threw her around like a rag-doll.

  Cars rushed down the residential street and a dog barked from a distant neighbor’s yard. They weren’t just sounds, they were hope—people lived in those houses, drove those cars, walked those dogs. All of them probably carried a cell phone. A way to get help.

  It would take some fancy footwork to reach the brick wall before Andrei caught up to her, and it was a slim chance she’d be able to outrun him, if she could escape his iron grip at all.

  She glanced back at Malachi, who walked down a path leading to some kind of tornado shelter at the end of a walkway.

  Malachi noticed Andrei force her in t
he opposite direction. “Hey,” Malachi called out, Amy still cradled in his arms. “Where are you taking her?”

  Andrei gestured at the house as he continued walking. The fear in Malachi’s eyes sent a streak of panic through Tara. She dragged her feet, doing whatever she could to slow down their pace.

  “Wait,” Malachi shouted. He walked toward them. Tara stumbled, this time on purpose, but Andrei didn’t even flinch. His muscles bulged when he pulled her to her feet and continued to drag her forward.

  “I said hold up,” Malachi shouted again, this time with more irritation in his tone. He broke into a jog while hugging Amy tightly against his chest. The girl squinted at the sun. At least she was conscious.

  Finally, Andrei paused and pivoted toward Malachi. “I take the girl to Boss, and you take that girl where she belongs.” His accent was even thicker when he was angry.

  Malachi’s lips parted and he glanced at the house. “The boss is here?”

  “And he wants this girl first.” Andrei tugged Tara’s arm again, causing the muscle under his grip to throb. She squirmed, but his grip only tightened.

  Malachi nodded. “Fine. I’ll take her.”

  “With that sick one?” He scoffed. “You are not bringing that girl to Boss.”

  Malachi’s gaze rested on Amy.

  Why did he care so much about a girl he helped kidnap? Unless he felt guilty. Maybe that was it. She straightened her posture, studying Malachi’s face. Maybe he actually felt bad for dragging her, and that poor girl, into this mess. It would be the least he could do.

  “You’re right,” Malachi responded. After a moment of hesitation, he extended her to Andrei. “You take this one. I’ll bring the redhead to the boss.”

  So much for that theory.

  Tara’s entire body jerked back when Andrei pulled her behind him. “Why would I let you take this one?”

  Malachi paused. “Because deep down, you’re really just a nice guy who wants to be loved?” When Andrei didn’t show a hint of amusement, Malachi laid Amy on the shaded ground against the trunk of a tree.