Rebirth (Cross Book 1)

by Hildred Billings

  “It was good. At this point, I’ve had so many, what’s a thirty-fifth one?”

  Danielle brought her knees up to her chest. “You don’t look old enough to be thirty-five.”

  “Thank you.”

  Did being trapped in an elevator erase Danielle’s boundaries? “Got any gray hairs yet?”

  “I think that might be impossible with as much as I dye my hair. It’ll fall out first.”

  “Is your real hair color black?”

  “Is your real hair color blond?”

  “Oh, fuck you.”

  “We’re not technically working, Danielle, you don’t have to keep flattering me.”

  “What? I’m fishing for something to talk about.”

  The conversation died again. Miranda kicked her legs out and leaned back, cringing from the aches traveling up and down her back. Danielle folded her hands in her lap and looked around. At first, her eyes settled on Miranda’s briefcase and military jacket. Abandoned shoes lay next to Miranda’s feet. Her toes were topped off in sheer tights.

  Then she saw Miranda’s wrists, which bore marks of having been hogtied by a sadist. Danielle somehow doubted Miranda was that kinky, let alone submissively.

  “What happened to your wrists?”

  Miranda surveyed the bruised and battered skin surrounding her hands. “Told you I had a long weekend, didn’t I?”

  “You look like you’ve been beaten up.”

  Miranda furrowed her brows. “I fell down, if that’s what you want to know. Busted part of my lip open and my hands caught my fall. Wrists took a beating.”

  Danielle muttered an apology.

  Shaking her head, Miranda curled her hands beneath her head and looked away.

  Five minutes passed. Miranda’s continued to doze, the sleepy heat of the elevator lulling her to forget the pains on her back. Remnants of dried blood caked beneath her white slip.

  Danielle attempted to make out the symbols Syrfila carved into Miranda the night before. She extended one hand and gently pushed down some of the silk.

  Something pulled her from reality. She was no longer in the elevator, but in a dark, cold room.

  I huddle in the corner. My spirit is finally breaking in this terrible place.

  Two girls a little older than me huddle around a third in the middle of the room. She can’t move. She’s been hurt, her back covered in cuts large enough to leave scars. The others are careful not to touch and infect the cuts.

  Why did our chief find this the appropriate way to show ownership over someone? It would have been more humane to use a branding iron.

  “What are you doing?” Miranda had opened her eyes.

  “Nothing!” Danielle retracted her hand. “You had a bug on your back.”

  Miranda studied her for a few more seconds before looking away again. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Her cell phone rang.

  Danielle gasped at this hopeful sign from the Messiah himself. “Oh my God, it works! Answer it!” Was this it? Would she finally get to go to the bathroom?

  Unfortunately, it was Syrfila calling. Miranda was in no hurry to answer it.

  “Well?”

  Miranda picked up her phone. “What is it?”

  Static cracked on the line. “Having fun yet?”

  Her blood simmered in a stew of rage. “What are you doing?” She turned her body toward the wall. “What kind of sick game are you playing?”

  “Sorry for disrupting your day, babe, but I simply had to keep you out of my way so I could finish business. You understand, right?”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Oh, you know, a little of this… a little of that. Villainous business.”

  “What have you done?”

  Another chortle. The more Syrfila sounded like she enjoyed herself, the more suspicious Miranda became. “I’ve found the other Relic. Stalked the owner for a bit and took ‘em.”

  “But what does that have to do with…”

  “I couldn’t have her trying to call your bitch there, since she knows her. And I couldn’t have you stopping me, now could I?”

  “Let us go.”

  “Now hold on, I’m not done having my fun yet. I want you to do something first.”A long, stagnant pause turned the humid air into bricks pressing upon Miranda’s paling complexion. “Tell her.”

  “Tell who what?”

  “Tell her everything. Tell her what you know. Tell her who you are.” What was so funny? Why was she laughing so much? “I want to see her reaction.”

  “You can see us?”

  “The camera? It’s not dead, just rewired. I’ve been watching you two this entire time. Tell her to take her shirt all the way off so I can see the goods. I already know what you have.”

  Miranda looked up at the innocuous camera. “You scare me sometimes.”

  Syrfila continued to laugh in appreciation. “Now do what I asked, and you two will be out within ten minutes. Unless you’re enjoying your free time with her. Maybe you should savor it more. It’s your choice. At least give me something interesting to watch besides sexual tension.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Do it.”

  “No!”

  “Okay then, fine. You leave me no choice, babe.” The flick of Syrfila’s pocketknife echoed over the line. “If you don’t tell her,” she said, “I will kill this girl.”

  Muffled sobs exuded over the phone before it went dead again.

  “Well?” Danielle asked.

  Miranda’s voice was forced. “My phone is dead.”

  “Fuck! So much for 911.”

  Miranda debated what to do. Syrfila’s ultimatum was two-fold: if Miranda did as requested, then not only could she and Danielle get out, but Syrfila’s prisoner would not die. She would do it, too. Miranda knew it well.

  If Miranda told Danielle what she knew about everything… about the Process, about the Relics, about Dunsman, about Danielle… Danielle might kill her! Dismay, either way.

  She received a text from Syrfila.

  “Fine, party pooper. Don’t tell her anything. Kiss her, instead. Throw in some tongue and I won’t lay a finger on this girl.”

  “What would that accomplish?”

  “What wouldn’t it accomplish?”

  “You’re so sick.”

  Miranda flung her phone down again. The easy answer was to wait it out. But she had no idea what Syrfila was up to, who it was she captured and now held hostage, or even if she would keep her word. Miranda held her head between her hands. What should she do?

  Danielle remained in her corner, hair limp and posture sagging. Her shirt hung open, sweat clinging to her chest.

  We’re on the terrace overlooking the capital city. The air is so clean and easy to breathe. We’re both dressed in the kind of finery we can’t get away with back home. For a moment, this world is ours, and nobody cares who we are.

  She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her in public.

  Miranda couldn’t do it. If she threw herself at Danielle, God only knew what kind of fist would come for her face. She wouldn’t blame her, either. Simply because Danielle couldn’t remember… what right did that give the woman who did remember?

  She thought of that girl, held hostage under Syrfila’s sick and torturous care. What was more important? Her dignity? Or someone’s life?

  Miranda turned to Danielle. Just a kiss. Buff herself against the oncoming slap. Or, maybe, if the cosmos willed it, Danielle would remember her – and kiss her back.

  But before Miranda could throw herself forward and attempt to take Danielle against the wall, the elevator lurched upward. They exchanged knowing looks of relief, Danielle buttoning her uniform before the doors could open.

  Miranda pushed herself up after grabbing her uniform off the floor. Auto-pilot decorum made her snuggle back into her long-sleeved blouse.

  The door dinged and opened. A plethora of people cheered.

  “Oh my God, I told you!” There was Ben, standing l
ike the proudest man in the world. “I told you it was them!”

  “Praise Jesus!” Danielle shoved her way through the small crowd. “I’ve gotta pee!”

  Miranda was left by herself as everyone stared at her. They asked her, in a chorus of confusion and curiosity, what had happened.

  “The elevator got stuck…” she began. “Intercom didn’t work. How did we get out?”

  Shelley, who danced around the edge of the door, filled Miranda in. “We noticed you weren’t around a little after work started, and since you hadn’t called in, that meant you were probably stuck somewhere, right? Then we noticed that Danielle was also missing without having called in and…”

  “Who fixed this shit?”

  “Maintenance people. We called them once we realized one of the elevators wasn’t working.”

  Miranda sighed. What a week.

  THIRTY-THREE

  The black smoke from Syrfila’s cigarette permeated the cold room as she traipsed across the concrete floor. Although her loft was more than adequate for her living arrangements, the rest of the building provided nothing besides an abandoned storage space. When Syrfila needed to store a body, the most obvious place was two floors beneath where she lived.

  Alicia was not dead. Yet. She was convinced she would die, however, after waking up in an abandoned warehouse with her body tied to a chair and her kidnapper fussing with a small TV set a few feet away. She was soon blindfolded.

  When Syrfila hung up on Miranda that final time, Alicia lifted her head and strained against the ropes holding her to the chair. Damn. Syrfila had given her enough freedom to struggle? Someone was getting soft.

  “Well, little darling, I’ve gotta get going soon and report to my boss.” She meant both of them. Nerilis would want to know that she had the other Relic, and her American military commander might want to know why she took the morning off. She already had some excuse locked and loaded. “Awww, what’s wrong?” A tear was on the girl’s cheek. “I don’t intend on killing you now. You’re going to make things interesting.” She stroked the poor girl’s head like she attempted to comfort a frightened kitten.

  Alicia whimpered behind her gag.

  “Toodeloo.” Syrfila patted her on the cheek and, after making sure her security was still in place, took the elevator shaft up to her apartment to change into her military uniform. Alicia was left alone with nothing but her fears and thoughts to haunt her.

  The locket still hung securely around her neck. Syrfila wasn’t ready to take it yet.

  ***

  Somebody pounded on Devon’s front door.

  “Just a second!” He pulled himself away from the dining table. The pounding continued. Probably an assassin. Devon was half-convinced he was strong enough to take one on now.

  No, not an assassin.

  Jenna. One of Alicia’s best friends from law school. “Hey, fuckface.” She shoved her way in, leaving an incredulous Devon to stand with shock on his face while he watched her pull Alicia’s winter coats off the rack.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning out Alicia’s shit.” Her stony gray eyes narrowed beneath her dull brown bangs. “Don’t worry, dickbag, as soon as all her crap is cleared out, you can have all the sluts you want in here. Wouldn’t that be nice?” She marched toward the bedroom, an empty backpack in her hand.

  “Wait!” Devon stood in the bedroom doorway as Jenna shoved some of Alicia’s clothes into the backpack. “I don’t know what she told you, but…”

  “She said she came in here Sunday morning and saw you in bed with her ex.” Jenna stopped her chore long enough to glare at Devon again. “Did I miss anything?”

  Devon gritted his teeth. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  “Shut it, asswipe!” Jenna had an endless supply of curses, didn’t she? “I mean, seriously, she fucking stays with you for some weird reason and you repay her by sleeping with her ex? We all knew you were probably gay, but Jesus Christ, asshole!”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Her ex. You’re sick.”

  “Wait, you think her ex is a man?” Devon wanted to double over at the sweet, sweet irony. “Wow, she refuses to tell anyone, even her best friend, the truth? Then again, it’s not like she ever told me, either.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Devon leaned against the bedroom door. “Her ex is a woman.”

  For a moment, Jenna’s eyes widened. Had she believed him? “Alicia’s not queer. I would know!” Apparently not.

  “Like I said, she never told me either. Should I call up her ex and ask her for you? Seriously, go ask Alicia about it. See if she cries.”

  Jenna shoved a blouse into the backpack. “You’re disgraceful. I never liked you.” She strutted across the room and opened dresser drawers until she found Alicia’s underwear. “What a loser. I hope your dick falls off.”

  Devon could barely contain himself from laughing at the sight of a fuming Jenna fondling underwear. Biggest panty raid Devon ever witnessed in college.

  “Tell her I wish her the best,” Devon said on his way back to the kitchen. “And that I hope she gets her shit together. For her sake.”

  Jenna slowed down once he was gone from the cursed bedroom. A pair of purple silk panties hung from her hand. When was the last time she heard from Alicia, anyway? Girl went to do her laundry that morning, then nothing.

  Devon wasn’t the only one hoping Alicia the best. The difference between them, however, was that Jenna started to hope that her friend was at least okay.

  ***

  Well, Alicia wasn’t dead. All the good it did her since she was losing her mind in fear over what happened and why anybody would want to kidnap her.

  She wanted to pass out again when she heard the freight elevator open. After being left alone for hours on end, she was trapped between needing the bathroom, nourishment, and a good stretch. Right now, her body only knew one song, and that was the scream of great discomfort.

  “Oh, good, we’re still alive.” Syrfila pulled over a tray and slammed a supper of half-frozen vegetables and crackers on top of it. “Aww, kid, don’t be so sad!” She wiped away a cold tear from Alicia’s shivering face. “This is just circumstance. You may live through it!”

  Alicia’s gag muffled her next wave of sobs. Her fingers clutched the arms of the chair.

  “Like my knots? I’m really good at tying shit up.” Syrfila nuzzled her nose against Alicia’s sweet-smelling head. She had yet to meet a soul who could free themselves from any knot she tied.

  The blindfold came off Alicia’s head. Might as well let the girl get some light.

  “How’s that?”

  Alicia stared wide-eyed at the woman before her. She vaguely recalled what happened between trying to comfort the woman at the laundromat and waking up in that dingy place. Syrfila took out one of her thick cigarettes and a lighter from her back pocket. Alicia did not like where this went.

  A long trail of dark smoke snaked from Syrfila’s pursed lips. It had an instant effect on Alicia, who attempted to cough up her lungs on her gag.

  “Goddamnit.” Syrfila put the cigarette aside long enough to glare at Alicia. “Let’s get something straight. I’ll take off the gag if you promise not to scream – because screaming is going to get you nowhere anyway. Do you promise not to scream if I take off the gag? Seriously, nobody would hear you anyway, and you would be wasting breath and energy. And pissing me off. I should especially remind you of that.”

  Alicia waited a moment before nodding. Anything to breathe again.

  Syrfila yanked the gag out of Alicia’s mouth. Her tongue tasted stale air. Her mouth twisted in a vain attempt to stretch the skin and muscles aching for freedom. Did her voice even work if she wanted to scream? Only one way to find out.

  “Why?” Alicia could squeak something, at least. “Why are you doing this to me? I’m not worth anything… you won’t get a ransom for me…”

  Syrfila nearly spat out her
cigarette. “Don’t think you’re special, honey. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. There are some people you shouldn’t have met.”

  Alicia shook in her shackles. “Please let me go…”

  Syrfila released another plume of smoke. “Look, sweetie, begging isn’t going to get you anything. You’ve got something I want, and although I could just rip it off your body, it’s so much more fun to use you as bait.”

  “What do you want?”

  Syrfila glanced at the locket on Alicia’s chest, taunting her like the prize it was. She could take it, right there, and return it to Nerilis like a good little dog, or she could keep playing her independent game.

  “This.” Her finger brushed against the gold locket. To Syrfila, it felt like another piece of jewelry. Yet she had no doubt what kind of spiritual power it held.

  Alicia bit her lip. “Why? That’s nothing!”

  “You got it from someone special, didn’t you?”

  “No…”

  “Tell me about the woman that gave this to you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  By some stroke of luck, Syrfila was still not indignant with Alicia’s feigned innocence. “The blond. The one I’ve been hired to kill. You were once her lover, weren’t you?”

  Alicia choked on second-hand smoke. “Kill her? Why would you be hired to kill Danielle?”

  The smirk on Syrfila’s face grew larger as Alicia fell into her trap. “Strictly business, darlin’, although I’m not too fond of her pompous face.” Only a matter of time before she attempted to get her hands on that mercenary for some real lessons on power. “Anyway, this locket you got from her is what I’m really after. I’m thinking you might make a hot decoy to get her here, so I can lop off her pretty blond head. Do you think she’ll come for you?”

  Alicia’s eyes traced lines around the room. Anything to keep her frazzled mind preoccupied. “I don’t know… why would she… I’m…” She ran out of breath trying to suppress the panic rising in the back of her throat.