“Hey, Caroline of mine, what are you doing?”
The room was similar to the one they had been in before. Hardwood floors with threadbare rugs. Faded wallpaper. Mismatched antique furniture. It was like the set of some creepy-ass horror movie with ghost children dressed in Victorian garb.
“Mum!” Caroline abandoned her coloring to fling herself into her mother’s arms. “I made you a picture!”
“Oh, thank you,” Pari said, scooping Caroline up and settling her on her hip. “You always make me the prettiest pictures.” Pari took one of Caroline’s hands and held it up. “Do you know what this is?” she asked Layne. “This is the hand of an artist.”
He spent a good five seconds in complete and utter confusion before he saw it. Where the kid’s pinkie finger should have been was nothing more than a little nub.
Layne’s eyes burned, and he thought he might puke up what little food he had in his stomach. Lizzie made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her sit down. Her face shouldn’t have been able to get even paler, but it did.
“They seem to have an unlimited supply of drugs here, but they didn’t use any. She was awake the whole time. I know, because they showed me a video.”
His stomach was getting serious about this whole puking thing.
“They assured me next time it will not be something so insignificant as a finger.”
Lizzie was staring at the floor as if she needed it to keep her grounded in the here and now. “But she’s a baby,” she whispered. “Who does that to a baby?”
“These people,” Pari said. “The ones who brought you here against your will. The ones who will use us until we can no longer serve their needs, then toss us in the rubbish bin. These are men and women fueled by hate. They’re not going to let you walk away.”
It seemed hopeless. They were unequipped to fight their way out of the house, and to run off during a mission meant sacrificing whoever was left behind. But the SHP had made one fatal error. Layne might not be walking out of here, but Lizzie would. All he had to do was convince her to do it.
Chapter 6
In the grand scheme of things, taking a bath and getting a few hours sleep didn’t actually do Lizzie much good. She was still being held captive by people who wanted to exploit her Sight to rid the world of Shifters and Seers, but at least now she was clean and didn’t feel like she was going to fall over.
Pari had given them a brief tour of their prison and outlined some rules that basically boiled down to “do what we say and don’t try to escape,” but Lizzie had been so exhausted, she’d barely noticed anything other than the bed. Her room was off the sitting room where she first regained consciousness. Unlike the sitting room, her bedroom still held a bit of its former splendor. The walls were papered with a delicate rose pattern. The floor was the same worn wood from the other room, but the lack of old, matted rugs made it look more rustic than shabby. Her bed was small, but tall. So tall, in fact, that she had to use a step stool to get into it. It was a good thing she didn’t move a lot in her sleep. If she fell from that height she might break an arm.
A bathroom was just off her bedroom. It was small, and the fixtures were rusted with age, but the water coming out of the faucet was clean and warm, and in the end, that was all that mattered. There wasn’t a showerhead, but the clawed bathtub was deep, and sinking into its depths helped renew Lizzie’s energy and calm her frayed nerves in a way standing under a spray of water never would.
Layne’s bedroom was directly across from hers. She had been vaguely aware of striped wallpaper and a larger bed, but it had felt like intruding on something personal to look, so she’d turned away. She hoped he also had access to warm water and a comfortable bed. If there was one thing she’d learned over the years, it was an uncomfortable Layne was an unbearable Layne. He was barely tolerable when he was wellrested and fed, but when he wasn’t things got ugly.
Pari and Caroline shared a bedroom, and it shot off from their sitting room the same way Lizzie’s did. Their sitting room was at least twice as big and it held not only a refrigerator and cabinets filled with food, but also a television, so Lizzie wasn’t surprised to find the rest of their merry band of prisoners gathered there when she finally emerged from her bedroom.
“What day is it?” Lizzie asked, helping herself to a banana and a container of yogurt.
Pari didn’t look up from the complicated braid she was twisting into Caroline’s hair. “Wednesday. You first arrived on Tuesday morning, and were finally coherent enough to talk on Tuesday afternoon.”
“And you’ve been pulling a Rip Van Winkle for the past fourteen hours,” Layne added. “Thus, it’s Wednesday morning.”
Wednesday. It had been a Sunday when she and Layne left the Den for Camp Sk’elep. Three days. Three days of her life gone.
She tried to imagine what the Alpha Pack was doing. They would have held a meeting, one of those formal affairs in the rarely used conference room. Liam would calmly demand answers while Scout tapped her fingers on the table, impatient to get the fact checking out of the way so she could go out and actually do something. Mischa would sit stone still, appearing emotionless to anyone who didn’t know her, but beneath the table she would clutch Imogen’s hand so tightly the Medical Seer would lose feeling in her fingertips. Joshua would have hacked into security cameras, getting whatever footage they could of their attackers and the abduction. And once they had gathered every bit of information they could, Scout would have her way, and they would act.
Somewhere out there a group of highly pissed off supernatural soldiers were looking for her. All she had to do was wait. They would eventually find her. Maybe they were closing in at this very minute. They could be those shadows in the trees on the horizon.
Again she reached out with her mind, seeking contact with the Alpha Female, but it was like screaming into the void.
It doesn’t matter. They will still come for you. All you have to do is be patient, and they will come.
She kept repeating the mantra over and over until the fear eased its grip enough for her to move again. Once her muscles were feeling cooperative, she walked over and joined the others. Pari and Caroline were sharing one couch and Layne was sprawled across the other, so she took a round leather chair that was much more comfortable than it looked. On the television, a crudely drawn pig was having a conversation with a rabbit, which was inexplicably the same size as the pig.
“I swear to God, Caroline,” Layne said, “if this ends with everyone jumping in muddy puddles, I’m going to turn off this stupid TV.”
Pari tied off Caroline’s hair and regarded it critically. Pursing her lips, she pulled off the rubber band and ran her fingers through the braids, pulling them loose before starting back at the beginning.
“You will not,” she said to Layne. “We watch one hour of Peppa Pig every morning. After that, you may watch whatever you wish, but Caroline gets the TV back at lunchtime.”
Layne threw one hand over his eyes and massaged his temples with long fingers. “This is the stupidest show to have ever existed. She could at least be watching something with substance, like Spongebob.”
Caroline was an adorable kid. Lizzie found most kids cute in some way or another, but she was particularly fond of Caroline. There was something innocent and sweet about her little round face. It made Lizzie want to snatch her up and squeeze with all of her might. At the moment, however, Caroline didn’t look particularly sweet at all. If Lizzie were Layne, she would have flinched under the tiny girl’s glare.
“You’re not being very nice,” Caroline scolded. “Peppa is not stupid. She’s a clever clogs, and my friend. You say you’re sorry.”
Layne snorted. “I am not apologizing to a poorly animated pig.”
Before Pari could stop her, Caroline launched herself across the room. Her tiny hands landed on Layne in a fury of strikes. “You. Say. You’re. Sorry. Now.”
“Sorry. Crap.” Layne curled up int
o a ball, his hands protecting his face. “I’m sorry, Caroline. Sorry, Peppa. Crap. Sorry.”
In what Lizzie would classify as a somewhat delayed reaction, Pari crossed the room and pulled Caroline off Layne before she could do much in the way of real damage. Not that a three-year-old could do much to a full-sized Shifter, but you wouldn’t have known it from the way Layne was acting.
“That child is a terror,” he said, examining his arms.
“This child is a child,” Pari said, returning Caroline to the couch. “You, on the other hand—”
Lizzie didn’t get to hear how the other woman would classify Layne because at that moment the door to the hallway, which had been standing about three inches open, slammed shut. A second later she heard the unmistakable click of a lock sliding home.
Layne jumped to his feet and positioned himself between the door and the room’s occupants. “What the hell?” His voice remained even, but Lizzie could feel the fear coursing through him. “There isn’t anyone out there.” He turned his head just enough to meet Lizzie’s eyes to make sure she understood. “I don’t hear or smell anyone.”
With some Shifters you could shrug off such a claim, especially with only a half-moon hanging in the sky, but not Layne. He maintained coyote senses all month long, picking up on sounds and scents most other Shifters couldn’t hear or smell the night before a full moon. If Layne couldn’t hear or smell anyone, then there wasn’t anyone there.
“It’s a lockdown,” Pari said as if their dramatics were boring. “The doors automatically close and lock when someone is about to grace us with their presence.” She looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. “It’s too early for lunch. I’m guessing someone was waiting for our new esteemed guest to wake up.”
Layne made a slow circle in the middle of the room, his focus on the ceiling. “They have cameras,” he said, his eyes narrowing on the woodwork above the fireplace.
“Of course they have cameras. They are holding us captive.”
“Microphones?” Layne asked, still glaring at the camera as if he could make it disappear with sheer willpower.
Pari thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Caroline started running a fever one night. It was very high, and I didn’t have any medicine for her. I started screaming for someone to come and help me, but no one came until I wrote, ‘Help. Baby sick,’ on a piece of paper and held it up to one of the cameras. After I did that, someone was up here in a matter of minutes.”
Cameras. Why hadn’t Lizzie thought of that? Why hadn’t someone told her before she changed into the yoga pants and t-shirt she found in a drawer in her room? Her arms reflectively came up to cover her chest.
A faint clanging came from the hall and Lizzie curled up into an even tighter ball.
“He’s coming,” Layne said. He quickly surveyed the room and then perched himself on the arm of her chair. She was so startled by his nearness, she couldn’t even think of what she was supposed to do. By the time she remembered she should tell him to move, it was too late. The doorknob turned and Alistair stepped through.
Objectively, Alistair was handsome. He had the same long body, sharp features, and refined Britishness that made grown women salivate over Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston. In any other situation, Lizzie would have said he was her type. Amazingly, though, she had trouble being attracted to someone who had her kidnapped so he could exploit her Sight in order to make Shifters and Seers extinct.
Behind him trailed an older woman. She was almost as tall as Alistair, but at least twice as big around.
“Where is my Caro-Bear?” the woman asked in a mid-American accent. “What are you doing hiding behind your mama? Don’t you want to come and see what Midge has brought you to eat today?”
Caroline sank further behind Pari. The woman shook her head as if she couldn’t understand the girl’s odd reaction, but Lizzie didn’t have any trouble figuring it out. If the new wave of rage he was directing towards Alistair was any indication, Layne had figured it out too.
“I know it’s a bit early for her lunch,” Midge was saying, “but Lord Langford was eager to come up and attend to our newest guests.” She turned to Lizzie and Layne and offered a warm smile. “I’m Midge. I’ll be making sure you all get fed up good and proper. Just let me know what foods you like and don’t like, and I’ll keep it in mind when I’m making my menus.”
Neither Lizzie nor Layne said anything.
“They’re still adjusting,” Pari said to the other woman, returning her warm smile. “I’ll be sure to get a list together for you.”
“You do that. I don’t want to be making up a bunch of food that no one will eat.” She began to unload the tray, and from the amount of food she was putting in the refrigerator, someone had told her about Shifters’ appetites. “Today I’ve got some wraps made up, half of them chicken, and the other half vegetarian. And there is homemade soup in these thermoses here. I think it’ll stay warm until noon, but if not, just put it in the microwave for a bit.” She waited then for Lizzie or Layne to respond. Knowing Layne wouldn’t out of spite, Lizzie tried for a smile of her own. “Thank you,” she said. “It sounds yummy.”
Midge nodded as if it was foregone conclusion that her food would be good. “If there is nothing else then…” She looked to Alistair, who was still standing near the door holding a dark brown bag in his hand.
“No, that will be all for today, Ms. Hayes.” He held the door open, and the other woman bustled out of it quickly. With Midge’s sunny personality gone, the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Caroline burrowed even further behind her mother, and Pari wrapped a protective arm around the young girl’s shoulders.
“Lizzie.” Alistair said her name like they were old friends meeting for coffee. “You look well. I trust you found everything in your room to your liking? If not, I can get whatever you need. New linens. Different clothes. Just ask for it, and it’s yours.”
Fabulous. In that case…
“I want to go home.”
She caught him off guard. A flash of irritation pinched his face for a fraction of a second before his mask of faux concern snapped back in place.
“I know you must be homesick, and after the way you were treated before you arrived, I don’t blame you for not finding this the most welcoming of places, but things are going to be different now. I’ve talked with those involved with the unpleasantness you endured, and I promise you their actions will not be repeated.” Despite having bruises from her face to her legs thanks to Mack and his “unpleasant actions,” Lizzie felt a flash of alarm for the man. She doubted Alistair’s talks were limited to mere words. “We are going to work hard to make your stay here as welcoming as possible. We’ll bring you whatever you need to make it feel more like home. But unfortunately, we cannot allow you to leave just yet. We’re working towards a greater purpose. Once you understand the true beauty of what we’re doing, you’ll see why your role is such an important one.”
“A greater purpose?” Bile stung the back of Lizzie’s throat. “You’re talking about killing people.”
Alistair opened his mouth, but Lizzie cut off his reply with a raised finger. Normally, she would never be so bold, but Layne’s outrage was amplifying her own. It was as if his emotions were a warm cocoon around her, protecting her and lending her bravado she didn’t naturally possess.
“We know who you are and what you’re capable of. I was there when two of your members burned down a building with people inside. They were my friends, my family, and they almost died.” It had been Layne’s uncle who had endured the worst damage. There was a period of time when they weren’t sure he would make it. That night she had sat with Layne as he cried, assuring him he wouldn’t be left alone yet again, both of them knowing there was a chance she was wrong. “Do you honestly think I’m going to willingly condemn the people I love because you’re willing to make sure I have silk sheets or a cup of hot chocolate every night before I go to bed?”
“It’s not like that—”
“Sure as hell seemed like it was like that when you torched the Donovans’ house a few months ago,” Layne said, referring to the fire that robbed the Alpha Female’s parents, who happened to be human, of their home. The day after the house had been reduced to ash, the Alpha Pack received a note from the SHP taking responsibility for the blaze, claiming that humans who supported supernaturals were no better than the supernaturals themselves.
“Those were all actions my father put into motion before he died.” While they were talking, Alistair had moved further into the room. He now stood in the middle of the sitting area, directly in front of Lizzie and Layne. Behind him, Caroline’s piggy friends jumped about in yet another muddy puddle. “My father was callous. Cruel. His vision isn’t my vision.” He knelt down so their faces were level, effectively cutting Layne out of the conversation. “Please,” he begged, “don’t judge the son based on the sins of the father.”
“Your father isn’t the one who had me kidnapped, nor is he the one holding me here against my will.”
“I know it seems extreme, but I’m trying to do something important. Sometimes it is necessary for there to be questionable means to get to the justifiable end. I’m not asking for you to fully embrace what we’re doing, but merely to give it a chance. To be open to the change we’re seeking to bring to this world.”
Lizzie hadn’t had much interaction with crazy cult leaders, but she was pretty sure this was exactly what they sounded like.
“What change are you looking for?” she asked. “If your vision isn’t to kill off every Shifter, Seer, and human who happens to support or love a Shifter or Seer, then what is it?”
A slow smile spread across Alistair’s face. “Knowledge,” he said as if it was a grand epiphany. “My vision is a world where everyone has knowledge of the supernaturals who walk among us and what they’re capable of. I want a world where you can openly be who you’re supposed to be without having to hide in the shadows. A world where your friends can run under the full moon without fear of discovery. I want a world where human and nonhuman can live side by side.” He reached towards her, but at the last moment he remembered why that wasn’t a good idea and jerked his hand back. “Don’t you want to live in that world, Elizabeth?”
Whispered Visions (Shifters & Seers Book 3) Page 5