Captive (Igniting the Flame Book 1)

by Dani Matthews

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Copyright

  Captive

  Copyright© 2016 by Dani Matthews

  All rights reserved.

  This book is meant for entertainment purposes only. Names, characters, and events are all products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. All comments and conversations written within these pages are part of a fictional story and are not meant to be taken in the literal sense. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book. Trademarks have been used without permission.

  One

  Arista

  As I walk down the cracked sidewalks, I firmly hold onto the brown, paper bag full of groceries. My eyes are alert, and I am conscious of all movement around me as I walk through the debris that litters the sidewalks. There are a few guys lingering at the street corner up ahead, and they are smoking and looking at me with interest. I can feel their hungry eyes looking me over, and I wonder if this will be the day they make a move on me. I’ve seen them before, but they’ve been content to watch from afar. I’m quite certain that the bulky hoodies they wear are hiding an array of weapons, including guns.

  It’s days like this that I wish I had one.

  I walk confidently down the sidewalk, my right hand free so that I can grab my knife if needed.

  I’ve learned from experience that if I act timid or try to go unnoticed, it’ll bring more attention to myself.

  As I walk past, they call out a few degrading remarks, and I ignore them and continue walking past the dilapidated shops. This area of the city is a mess, but there’s nowhere to go if you’re just barely scraping by. Glass crunches beneath my shoes as I pass by a shop that has a shattered window.

  Stupid vampires.

  I don’t know why they felt it would be a good idea to announce their existence to the world five years ago. Did they really think the humans would welcome them with open arms? Even the most beautiful predator can be feared.

  Once the vampires came into the open, the rest of the supernatural world was revealed, and the old world was no more as a new one replaced it. The US is now in an economic depression and on the verge of collapse. There’s civil unrest all across the country, and a large increase of unemployment and bankruptcies. The US is poverty stricken, and there’s no more access to credit. Cash is the only way to buy anything these days.

  The nation has now become a ‘kill or be killed’ country. With increasingly low supplies of food and gas, anything a person owns has to be defended. The states are now filled with violence and murder as people fight to survive. Everyone these days is being hunted. Humans are being hunted for blood, and supernaturals are being killed off as the humans try to fight to regain their freedom. Five years after first learning that they are the lowest on the food chain, the human masses are still panicking.

  I can’t say I blame them.

  An unwashed woman my age cuts me off as I’m walking past an alley, and I stop in my tracks. Her clothes look well-warn, and it’s obvious that she’s living off the streets. She’s a sad sight with her ratty hair and gaunt face, and I harden my heart against the sight.

  She holds a broken bottle threateningly, her dull gray eyes focused on me intently. “Give me the bag,” she hisses.

  I gaze back at her calmly and pull out my knife. It’s bigger than her little piece of glass, and it’s certainly deadlier. I hold it warningly and gaze back at her unflinchingly. “You sure you want to do this?”

  Her eyes flicker to the knife and then back up to my face as she studies me. I can see her mind working, and she’s trying to figure out if I actually know how to use the blade.

  I wait patiently to see what she’ll do. I will defend myself if I have to, but it’s not something I enjoy. A few years ago, I would have shared my groceries with her out of kindness, but these days, I can no longer afford to give away necessities. Nany and I are just barely scraping by as it is.

  The woman decides I’m not the easy prey she’d thought me to be, and she reluctantly backs away and slinks off into the shadows of the alley.

  I’m relieved, but just in case anyone else thinks I’m easy pickings, I keep the knife out so that it’s within sight. It’s still daylight, but even in daylight, shit happens. One wrong move or run across someone deadlier than yourself—and you’re likely to stain the pavement with your blood.

  Just three more blocks, I tell myself. I continue walking, stepping over trash. The city long ago quit sending out trucks for trash pickup to this area. I hate this daily walk because I never know if I’m going to reach the apartment in one piece. Every day is a ‘live in the moment’ kind of day, because there is no guarantee that there’ll be a tomorrow. However, the only way to survive in this world is to have cash, and I refuse to steal it. I’m one of the lucky few that has a job. I work at a little diner six blocks from the apartment building where I live with Nany. As soon as I’d turned sixteen, I’d insisted that I would take over bringing in the money. Nany’s just too old to be holding down a job, and her health has really begun to deteriorate the past few years.

  Luck is with me today, and I reach the old, brick, rundown complex that Nany and I have called home for the past three years. I know better than to go in the front door, so I walk around to the back of the building. There’s trash in bags strewn all about, and a sad looking swing set still sits amongst the overgrown weeds in the back lot. Someone’s attached a noose to the top of the swing set, and there’s a dead, rotting cat hanging from it. As much as I would like to get rid of the horrendous sight, I know that someone else will simply do something far worse to replace what was taken down. I look away from the swing set and slip through the old, creaky doorway. I enter the darkened hallway that has graffiti sprayed all over the walls. The sour scent of stale milk and cigarettes greets me as it does every day, and I already miss the fresh air from outside.

  A small child is playing on the stairwell with a soda can that someone has cut into a jagged airplane. I’ve seen him around before, and I know he lives up in D12 with a pair of drug addicts. My heartstrings tug, and I walk over to him and smile. “Hey there.”

  He looks up at me with big brown eyes, and I can see the hunger in the depths of his gaze. He’s dirty, and it looks like his hair hasn’t been washed in days. He says nothing and just stares.

  I cautiously squat near him, careful not to frighten him away. “Are you hungry?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and welcoming.

  He hesitates, and then silently nods.

  “I just so happen to have something extra in here.” I open the bag and pull out a package of grapes that I had splurged on. I typically buy canned food—the kind that takes years to spoil. Today, I’d been hungry for grapes, but I think he could use them more than me. I hand the entire pa
ckage of grapes to him, and his eyes widen with excitement. “Do you have a safe place to hide, hon?” I ask gently.

  He shoves two grapes in his mouth and nods.

  “Good. Go find your hiding place and enjoy your snack,” I tell him with a smile.

  After shoving three more grapes in his mouth, he scrambles to his feet with the bag and soda airplane clutched in his grimy hands. He turns and hurries up the stairwell as fast as his little legs will carry him.

  I rise to my feet and begin to follow at a slower pace. As I come upon the second flight of stairs, I slowly come to a halt. A dead body lies there, and I begin breathing with my mouth open so I don’t inhale through my nose. He wasn’t there this morning when I’d gone to work, but he’s probably been there most of the day. A needle rests near his limp arm. Another OD death. Not surprising.

  Cautiously, I step over his prone body and continue up to the third floor. Then, I pause by the doorway that leads into the hall. I crack it open with my freehand. I’ve learned not to saunter down the hall with a bag full of groceries in my arms. The hall looks all clear, so I step into it and carefully let the stairwell door softly close behind me.

  My body is tense as I make my way to my apartment door. I quickly pull out my key and shove it in the doorknob. The lock clicks, and I hurry inside, firmly closing the door and exhaling with relief. Another day, another meal.

  “Nany?” I call. I straighten from the door and enter the small apartment. It’s mostly empty and lacks furniture except for Nany’s recliner. I see her sitting near the window where she likes to watch the street below. “I bought us grapes, but I gave them to the little boy from D12.”

  She doesn’t reply.

  “Nany?” I set the bag on the floor and walk over to her. She’s facing away from me, so I move around the chair so I can face her. Her gray hair is pulled back into her usual bun, and her sallow cheeks look colorless. Gray eyelashes rest on thin, papery, wrinkled skin. My heart skips a beat in my chest, and I reach out to touch her cheek. The second I touch her, her head falls to the side, and I instantly know that her neck has been broken. Anguish cuts through me like a knife, but I don’t have time to feel the crushing agony her death brings me.

  Someone’s been here.

  I look around anxiously, my ears straining to hear any movement. Only silence fills the apartment, but I’m certain it won’t last for long. This isn’t the first time my cover’s been blown, but Nany’s never lost her life over it. We’ve always been one step ahead.

  Today, our luck has run out.

  It’s imperative I get out of here before I can be cornered, and as much as I want to stay with Nany, I have to follow the plan. She’s had me practice it weekly in the event of a situation just like this one.

  I pull out my knife and soundlessly cross the living room as I head towards the back of the apartment. I just have to grab my bag that’s already been packed, and then I am out of here.

  The apartment seems empty, and I’m certain that whoever’s after me expected me to come through the front entrance of the apartment. I’m not sure why they didn’t wait for me here, but my best guess is they wanted to keep me from grabbing a weapon or perhaps receiving help from a neighbor—which is laughable. I have no friends. As soon as they realize I’ve slipped in unnoticed through the back, they’ll be coming back up for me. I estimate that I have seconds to get my ass to the roof.

  I quickly enter my small, closet-sized room and reach under the bed, snatching the backpack that’s filled with the necessities I’ll need to flee the area. After I slip it on over my shoulders, I leave my room and quietly make my way through the living room.

  I hesitate as I pass by Nany, and my chest aches over not being able to give her a proper burial. I know she wouldn’t want me to risk my freedom in exchange for something so sentimental, and she’d be cursing at me to get a move on and stop dawdling.

  With my knife gripped in my hand, I move to the apartment door and carefully crack it open, my ears straining for any movement in the hallway. It seems safe, so I open the door and step out into the dingy hall.

  That’s when I hear them.

  Multiple footsteps are coming up the stairwell, and I’m certain they’re coming for me.

  I whirl around and race down the hall in the opposite direction. I can’t take the stairs, so the rickety elevator is my only option. I skid to a halt and shove my finger in the button, my heart thudding as I hear the elevator squeaking in the shaft as it comes up from somewhere down below.

  The stairwell door slams open at the opposite end of the hall, and I look up the same time the elevator dings, announcing its arrival. Three men dressed in black fatigues have entered the hall, and when they see me, they lift their guns.

  Shit!

  I fling myself into the elevator as the doors open, and then I hurriedly push the button repeatedly for the fourth floor. Damn it! Hurry the fuck up!!! I hear them running down the hall, and just when I expect them to burst in, the doors slide shut.

  I exhale loudly and lean weakly against the back wall of the elevator. Holy shit. That was way too close for my liking. I’ve never been this close to being caught before. I’m not in the clear yet though, and I straighten and draw in a calm breath.

  I can do this.

  The second the elevator doors slide open, I bolt out into the hall and hurry for the door that leads to the roof. The men haven’t reached this floor yet, but they will shortly. I slam my shoulder into the metal door, and it slams open as I push my way through it. After being in the shadowy recess of the building, the bright sunlight briefly blinds me. As soon as my eyes adjust, I slip my knife into the waistband of my jeans and begin running across the roof, ignoring the late afternoon heat.

  Up ahead is ten-foot gap between this building and the next. I dig my feet into the pavement and run as fast as I can, building up my speed to give me more momentum when I jump. The gap draws closer, and then I am flinging myself with all my might to the other building’s roof. It’s a move I’ve practiced plenty of times, and I duck and roll as I hit the unforgiving pavement of the next building with my shoulder. I don’t have time to dwell on the pain, and I scramble to my feet.

  Something whizzes past my face, and I look up with alarm, my dark hair swinging around my face. The men have burst out onto the roof of the apartment building, and they are firing at me—but they aren’t bullets. They’re tranquilizer darts because they want me alive.

  I spin around and run, knowing my life depends on it. There’s a fire escape on the other side of the building, and I rush for it and jump down. My feet hit the metal flooring, and it wobbles. I quickly shove the ladder down and scramble along it to the third floor. Two floors to go. I navigate the fire escape as fast as I can, and when I am on the second level, ready to drop down to the first, I see four men in fatigues down below—waiting for me.

  I freeze as my heart lodges in my throat.

  I have nowhere to go, and there is no escape.

  A sharp, needle-like pain radiates from my shoulder, and I wince. This is it. I’ve finally been caught, and my freedom is now a thing of the past.

  My limbs begin to feel heavy, and as the tranquilizer kicks in, my eyelids begin to close. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel my fingers peeling back from their death grip on the railing, and I’m falling backwards into a black abyss.

  * * *

  The first thing I become aware of is that my body aches, especially my shoulder. For a long moment, I lie there and wonder what I’ve been up to that would cause me such pain. I must have landed wrong when I was practicing my escape plan. Nany’s not going to be happy with me.

  Nany…

  It all comes back to me, and I sit up abruptly. Disorientation sweeps over me as my head seems to spin, and my hand automatically reaches for the knife that should be in the waistband of my jeans. It’s not there, and I don’t think the blackness before my eyes came from my momentary dizziness. Am I blindfolded? I raise my hands to my face, but
nothing is there to hinder my vision.

  I draw in a deep breath and try to fight off my panic. Everything Nany has taught me kicks in, and I know that I have to calmly investigate my surroundings before I do anything else. Wherever I am, it smells dank with a hint of urine. That second recognition has me shuddering.

  “Are you okay?” a soft, accented feminine voice calls from somewhere in the darkness.

  The sound of her voice startles me, and my head whips around as I try to locate it. I scramble to my feet, my hands raised in self-defense as my eyes dart around—searching for some hint of light. “Who are you?” I demand.

  “Easy,” a new voice speaks up, this one distinctly American. “We’re not the enemy.”

  I stand still and try to assess the situation. Wherever I am, it’s dark, and there seems to be two other women with me. With one hand, I reach behind me and my fingertips brush against cement. It feels like blocks. “Where are we?” I ask them.

  “Who knows. I was brought in earlier today,” the new voice says. “Andi says she’s been here since sometime yesterday,” she informs.

  “I’m Andi, and that’s Brinley,” the accented voice introduces.

  “Brin,” the other woman corrects.

  Silence falls upon us, and I don’t have to ask them who has us and why we are here. I already know. In this new world, no one is safe. Not the humans, and not even the supernaturals—who are quite outnumbered by the humans.

  Unfortunately, for us women, we’re more vulnerable than the men of our races—thanks to the witch and warlock elders. They’d once called themselves saviors to the human race, and anything that interfered with the humans, they would involve themselves in. Four hundred years ago, they’d tried to exterminate all other supernaturals by developing a virus that spread quickly amongst the other races, killing off most females. Only the ones that were naturally immune survived. The virus had been unstoppable, and so many deaths and heartbreak had brought the supernatural world’s racial disputes to an abrupt standstill. For the first time in history, all the supernatural races temporarily called a truce and came together to eliminate all the elders—permanently. The younger generations of witches and warlocks that followed thereafter are weaker without their elders’ guidance and wisdom, and they are unable to produce a similar virus. They themselves are now the hunted right along with us.