The sound of Dylan's phone ringing filled the kitchen, drawing him back to the present. If he had doubted that Dylan was bugged it was gone when he heard the tell tale echo from when the phone was put on loud speaker.
There was a slight distortion when Mr McGinley spoke, not that he tried to hide his identity, but it added to his already frigid voice, and with Nate's own unhappy association with Dylan's dad, an already unpleasant conversation was much worse.
"It's rather unfortunate that we needed to take this route, but your family has long denied Mr Sinclair the respect that he is entitled to. We, as his friends can no longer allow this to stand. We expect you at the pep rally in an hour. My son will drive you there. Grace shall be unharmed so long as you act according to our wishes, and Mr Sinclair's desires." Dylan sank lower into his seat, and Nate felt sorry for the other boy.
"Furthermore Mr Sinclair requests the attendance of his ungrateful son, and more instructions are being emailed right now. He must follow them to the letter, or risk his father's wrath, the severity of which I doubt the pup has forgotten. Is that understood?"
Jack said something in reply, but Nate was concentrating on the list of demands that had arrived. If the situation wasn't so serious he would have laughed out loud. His stepfather had to be insane if he truly believed that he would agree to any of it.
"Poor, little Nathan. Always late to the fun. You really missed the chance to have a bite at a tasty treat. The good doctor has been keeping you on a leash, away from the lovely Grace. If you behave yourself like a good little puppy, you might be rewarded. So let this be an incentive for you boy."
There was so much malice and creepiness to what Mr McGinley had just said, that it seemed strange that Nate's first instinct was to correct the use of the wrong name. For some reason all of the henchmen believed his true first name was 'Nathan'. He knew that Jack would say it was a form of compartmentalization so as to not go nuclear at the absolutely horrific comments made about Grace.
"We need verbal confirmation from the half breed little prince that he understands." Mr McGinley was tired of the delay, after hearing his harsh statement Mimi almost snapped and Dylan looked visibly ill.
"I'll be there," Nate spat out.
"Your godfather and I are very proud of you Dylan, you shall be rewarded accordingly this evening. We might even convince you to give Grace a try."
"Thank you Father." Dylan barely got the words out, his eyes moving wildly around the kitchen.
"Just remember Riley, one hour, don't be late or hands might wander." With that last threat the call ended and Dylan ran to the downstairs bathroom, Mimi following him.
"What does he want?" Jack asked, so Nate handed him the device which had the list of demands and other demented instructions on it.
"He has to know that most of this is not possible to swing in less than an hour."
"He wants me to fail, so that he can then seem to be forgiving. I'll play my part." Grace was in danger, and no matter the personal cost, he would pay it. Those who had taken her, and anyone else who had been involved in her abduction would live to regret their foolishness.
"Right everyone, it looks like we are going to this rally. Let's make it a night to remember for all concerned." Mimi's cheerful voice was at odds with all that had just happened, Dylan was clearly confused as he handed Nate another page:
** "Someone I trust, with my life, is with Grace. Will keep her safe. Will watch for the right moment and then free her" **
There was no time to run confirmation checks for anything Dylan had said, they had to believe that he was acting in a truthful manner. Believe that they could genuinely put their faith in him to protect the one person they all held dear. There was no other choice available to them. Yet something told Nate, some gut instinct, which he had long learned to listen to, told him to take the leap of faith.
He needed to believe that Grace would be safe, that she would do whatever she could to get away, or if escape was not possible, to do what had to be done to survive. He remembered the footballers who had accosted her, and how she had been able to defend herself.
It would work in her favor if those holding her hostage underestimated her. If her captors were working on the assumption that his stepfather was holding a winning hand of cards, then past evidence showed that his minions would became complacent, and he fully intended to take advantage of that.
"Time to get going, my stepfather is always punctual and it would be rude of us to be late, don't you think?" Nate asked, maintaining his belligerent tone for anyone who still might be listening.
He wanted them to think that he was acting under duress, which in a way he was. However the balance of power was shifting, and he was both ready and willing to do whatever was needed to ensure that the right person emerged victorious before the night was over.
Mimi and Jack had been getting ready, now dressed for the chill of the night. Mimi in particular seemed to have added more layers than were strictly necessary, and had a tight grip on her walking stick.
"Have you ever been to a pep rally Nate?" Mimi inquired, her voice sounding genuinely curious, her face a glow with mischief. He shook his head in the negative.
"The most important thing to remember is the school's chant," Jack said while putting on his coat.
"Go. Fight. Win."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The first thing that Grace noticed when she woke up was that it was dark. Completely dark. The lack of even the slightest glimmer of light had her immediately on edge.
Next came the realization that she couldn't quite feel her limbs, that there was a heaviness in her body, but also the strangest sensation of being weightless.
This was not the usual pre-waking feeling, when you are still half in dreamworld, fighting the call of the real world to arise and face another day. Rather what she was feeling, or not feeling in this case was panic inducing, like she had been given some form of anesthesia so that while her body was numb, she was awake and aware of all that might be done to her.
Most frightening perhaps was the knowledge that the most consistent thing she could feel was something cold wrapped around one ankle, yet even then it was a hazy feeling.
Ever so slowly she tried to move her arms, attempted to flex her feet and there was some minute relief that she was able to move that small amount. There was further relief that she appeared to be dressed, in the same clothes that she remembered dressing in that morning, as well as a thin scratchy blanket that had been placed over her.
Clearly she was no longer in her own room at home, and with that thought the fear and panic came racing back. Either she was having some form of concussion related hallucination or she had somehow been taken from the safety of her home. Neither option was exactly comforting.
"Okay, what would Mimi do?" She whispered the question, trying to remember all the conversations that she'd had with her adopted grandmother about staying alert, staying safe and what to do should anything ever happen to her.
Mimi was a firm believer in being able to protect yourself, knowing when to fight and when to stay quiet.
"It's about surviving lovely, so you need to be clever." She again heard Mimi's words in her head, and if nothing else, focusing on her past lessons helped to ward off some of her hysteria.
As her current lodgings were still pitch black, she had no way of knowing for sure if she was alone in the room, or if she was being watched. She let her eyes adjust as best they could, searching for any shadows or any identifying marks that might give away her location, but there were none that she could see.
Next was listening for any giveaway sounds, then trying to discern any unusual smells. The room seemed small; when she spoke just above a whisper there was no corresponding echo, but she did notice a dampness to the place, suggesting maybe a cellar or basement.
"Move along lovely, don't get caught up in your fears." Once again she listened to Mimi's voice in her head. Ever so slowly she m
oved her arms, which were finally back under her control, although with movement came some small amount of pain. There was a lingering sickly chemical smell on her hands, and the sleeves of her sweater.
"Someone drugged me, but I think I struggled." That would explain how she had been spirited away without seemingly raising any alarm.
She refused to think that Jack, Mimi or Nate had been harmed at the same time as she was taken, after all what was the point of having a hostage if there was no one left behind to pay a ransom, or make a trade. When she moved her right leg there was a loud metallic rattle, suggesting that she was chained to the bed. It was, aside from the chemicals used to sedate her, the only form of restraint that she could find.
She had no way of knowing when she was taken, or where she was, but there was one obvious person responsible. Not that she thought for one second that he had lowered himself to actually stealing her away in person. No that would be the job of one or more of his goon squad, and she was determined that when this was all over, the person or people who had physically laid their hands on her, had used drugs on her, would be severely punished for their crimes.
Locked up as she was, Grace had no way of telling how much time has passed since she had emerged from her chemically induced slumber. Her head was beginning to ache, no doubt from the drugs, and she was also growing increasingly thirsty, but she stayed quiet, trying to conserve and restore her energy levels. Hopefully she could lull her captors into thinking she was docile and compliant.
She found her thoughts drifting so that when a door was opened and light flooded her prison it took some time for her eyes to readjust. The first person through the door was Ms Fields, then two footballers, one of whom she had kneed in a vulnerable place after his hands had grabbed her.
The other was Luke, who she had believed was a genuinely nice guy. She kept a tight reign on her reactions, not bothering to acknowledge the trio. It was only when the fourth person walked in that she felt as if she would throw up. She swore the already cold temperature dropped to Baltic levels.
This had to be Nate's stepfather Charles Sinclair, pure evil and corrupter of the weak. She was struck by the random thought that for all she had heard about him, until this very moment, she had never actually been in the same space as him, and how she wished that hadn't changed. As he moved closer to her, it took everything not to flinch.
"You're a pretty little thing," his voice crawled over her skin making her feel ill. "I can see the resemblance," this he said to Ms Fields who seemed to understand words that made no sense to Grace.
"It's such a pity she wasn't available earlier, she would have been ideal. Luckily there is still time, any amount of if in fact." As he spoke, his hands lifted Grace's head, so far she had avoided looking at him directly. His grip on her chin was tight, his nails digging into her skin.
"Don't worry little girl I will make you beautiful and popular and everyone will treat you like the special girl you are. I know you understand this honor that I am bestowing on you and your shyness and respect is appreciated."
Grace had no idea what to do, she didn't think that Mr Sinclair would be happy with her if she shared her true feelings with him, namely that he was an evil creep who was going to be taken down by people with more class and dignity than he could ever hope to buy.
"The correct reply is 'Thank you Sir'. I have high standards and expect those in my care to obey." Knowing that she had to do something, she mouthed the words with no volume, then made it look as if she were about to faint.
"She is overwhelmed by being in your presence Sir." Ms Fields made this ludicrous claim, but luckily for Grace it seemed to be a reasonable response to Mr Sinclair.
"But of course she would feel this way, still I think she needs a little pick me up. I trust you will give her the necessary medication while you prepare her for the festivities tonight."
"Certainly Sir. We all know how important tonight is for you, the special role that Grace will play, the honor you are showing her. She will be ready and all that you deserve."
"See that she is or you will be punished." Grace had tried her best to hide her reactions to the disturbing conversation that had been taking place, but it was all too much for her. And it seemed as if Charles Sinclair was waiting for the slightest crack in her protective shield, taking great satisfaction from seeing her break.
His voice, which before had sounded creepy and to some extent delusional, now became a leer. He moved closer to her, with not once inch of distance between them, his breath crawling over her skin.
"You will be mine Grace, and only mine. You will obey. If that requires discipline or a helping hand then that is what will happen." She couldn't speak, couldn't formulate any kind of reply, it was all too much for her. For that brief moment she was as much a prisoner of her horror as she was of Charles Sinclair.
The man in question obviously had no need for her to speak, just threw out more bewildering instructions to Ms Fields, who stood silent, nodding her head to show that she had heard and understood all that was required of her.
"Until later little one," then thankfully he was gone, taking the two footballers with him. Both had remained quiet but they both had appeared to enjoy watching her, their eyes cruel and mocking.
"Now dear, we only have so much time so let's not delay." Was the teacher serious? It sounded to Grace as if she was dealing with a Stepford Wife of some kind.
"You do realize that I'm shackled to the bed right? I sure hope that you have picked a dress that works with my accessory."
"Now Ms Andrews there is no need to be rude or childish. Keep sweet or you won't like the punishment." She could see the syringe in the other woman's hand, brandished like a weapon and there was no mistaking the threat being made by her teacher.
As much as it pained her, she knew that she would have to give the appearance of someone who was cooperating. There was no telling what cocktail of drugs was in the needle, and above all things Grace knew that she needed to stay lucid and as clear headed as possible.
She lowered her head in an imitation of how the other woman had acted earlier, biting her lip so as not to speak. This seemed to make Ms Fields happy and what happened next was so bizarre that later she would try to convince herself it had all been part of some very weird dream.
Ms Fields had unlocked the chain from the bed, although Grace was still attached to it via the metal cuff around her ankle, which rattled and rubbed against her skin as she moved towards a door, behind which was a small but thankfully clean bathroom complete with shower.
She was told to wash, and given some small semblance of privacy to get undressed and into the shower. The water was just about lukewarm but it was sufficient for her to do as instructed.
Towels and a robe had been left for her, and the clothes she had been wearing earlier were gone.
The area around her ankle was tender and bruised, but she dried it as best she could. That was when she discovered the other few items of clothes that had been left for her, scraps of material that barely covered her, and left little to the imagination, though obviously chosen to accommodate the restrictions of her shackle. She was thankful that the robe was more plush and would protect her modesty when she left the bathroom.
Upon seeing her, Ms Fields actually clapped. "You are almost perfect, just a few finishing touches and then you will be ready."
Grace decided that she didn't need to know what she was being prepared for, if anything some of the so called finishing touches gave enough clues, and the one glance she allowed at her reflection in the mirror only confirmed her worst fears.
The make up was heavy and suggestive, her hair had been curled and then piled on top of her head. The dress chosen for her to wear was slightly confusing though. Instead of something clingy and short, Grace was dressed into a fifties style prom dress, with layers of netting and a modest neckline.
"The only problem of course," Ms Fields said almost conversationally, "was wit
h finding suitable ladylike shoes that would fit you. Although as we have been reliably informed that your balance is not the best, perhaps it is just as well that we found these little beauties."
With that strange statement, glittery flat shoes were placed on her feet, and for once Grace was happy that her unusually large feet had saved her from the torture of heels. She did of course wonder about who had been telling stories about her clumsiness.
"We had thought to have some shoes custom made for you, but there just wasn't going to be enough time for you to learn to walk in them, although if you had accepted Maddie's generous offer of friendship you would be much further on in your education. Still there will be plenty of time for all that soon." The teacher looked expectantly at her.
"Deportment classes you mean?" She whispered, thankful that she could even say those few words, her head was reeling, the chemical smell of the hair spray that had been used heavy in the air, not a good combination with the drugs she had been given earlier.
She wanted to laugh at the serious way that Ms Fields was talking to her. As if she cared about how Charles Sinclair was being denied the opportunity to see her in stripper heels, she was more concerned about what other lessons he had planned for her.
As the teacher kept talking, Grace heard more about what Nate's stepfather was expecting from her, how he would be a kind and gentle master, how if she behaved herself she would be rewarded and held in the highest esteem among Mr Sinclair's peers. Suddenly being medicated was looking much more appealing.
There was a knock on the door, and Ms Fields became stern. "This is your first lesson, how you behave will determine how the next few hours go. Put aside all the lies you have been told, accept that this is the start of a new life for you, indeed for Silver Glade." She called for whoever was outside to come in, bestowing a smile at Luke.
"You see how considerate Mr Sinclair is, he has chosen well for you. Do not disappoint him." This was said in a somewhat breathless, giddy manner as if she and Ms Fields were girlfriends gossiping about cute boys. Then she walked Grace over to the bed, seemed to bow respectfully to Luke and left.
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