Chapter 6
Danica
I pull at my bindings, more out of habit than hope. There’s no give. The plastic ropes cut into my skin.
My new companion glances over, shakes his head. “So what’s your name, anyway?”
“Danica. You?”
“Kellen.” He coughs and spits blood. With his gaze narrowing in on the concerned face I must be making, he adds, “Yeah. I don’t look so healthy. They hurt me bad.”
They hurt me bad is really downplaying the damage this guy has sustained. Bruises everywhere, blood everywhere.
“Well.” I keep my voice low, in case Uriel is anywhere nearby. “Well, I guess we should escape so we can get you some help, right?”
“Oh yeah?” Kellen laughs, but it cuts off fast in a groan. “Fuck, that hurts. So you want to escape? You got any idea how?”
“Not exactly. But maybe we can figure something out. See that desk over there?” I gesture with my chin toward the desk on the other side of him.
He turns to look, then turns back to me. “Yeah.”
Lowering my voice even more, I mouth, “Look beneath it.”
Again he turns. His breath hitches when he spies the utility knife. “Well, fuck me, you are an angel.”
“Not really.” I flex my hands against the ropes. My arms are tingling. I both hope and dread Uriel coming back to let me have a bathroom break. “I can’t reach the knife. Can you reach it with your foot?”
It takes him more effort than I would’ve expected to push his leg out toward the desk. He grits his teeth and grunts quietly.
“Are you okay? Dumb question.” I laugh to myself. “No, you’re not okay.”
“No, I’m not.” Kellen pushes his foot out farther. There’s still at least two feet between his toe and the utility knife. “I can’t reach. I’m sorry.”
The little hope I was holding shatters. I force myself to smile even though tears prick my eyes and my throat aches with a sob I refuse to release. “Thanks for trying.”
“We’ll figure this out, don’t cry.” Kellen looks alarmed by my tear-filled eyes. “Does he ever let you out? Bathroom breaks? How long you been in here, anyway?”
“Maybe three days? What day is it?”
“Monday.”
So this is day three. Just like I thought. “I’ve been here since Saturday.”
He gives my wedding dress a once-over. “You were about to get hitched.”
Flexing my hands again, I focus on the feeling of my engagement ring. It’s on my right hand—I put it there in advance of the ceremony with plans to move it back over to my left hand and fit it next to my wedding ring.
I wish now I’d opted for a bigger, shinier gemstone. Something sharp. Something that could free me. “To answer your other question—yeah, he’s let me up to use the bathroom. He watches me the whole time, though.”
Kellen frowns at the utility knife. “There’s gotta be a way. Maybe when he takes you and brings you back, you stumble a little. You can shove the knife closer.”
I have my doubts about that idea, but it’s all we have.
“Will you be able to grab it and lift it with your feet?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed. Is he breathing?
I swallow down my panic. “Hey. Kellen. Kellen?”
No response. His chest rises and falls—but just barely.
“Kellen? Kellen. Wake up.”
Nothing—he’s passed out. I close my eyes, wishing I was anywhere but here.
* * *
Edmund
“Man, look, I don’t think I can help you.” Caleb whines in the back seat of Troy’s truck. He hasn’t shut up since we ziptied his wrists and shoved him in here. “I can’t believe you tied me up. Come on, Edmund, we’re friends.”
I want to laugh, but I mostly want to punch his fucking teeth out of his mouth.
“We aren’t going to Rendsell?” He shakes his head. “Why are we crossing Caro? We should be in Salding—”
I adopt a bored expression. “Like I said, Sergey Aseyev is probably going to want a word with you. It’s faster to bring you straight to him so we can all have a productive conversation together.”
“Look, no. Take me to Rendsell, I’ll tell you everything. There isn’t anything, though. You guys, I had nothing to do with this. Whoever kidnapped Danica Aseyev, I had nothing to do with it.”
I can’t believe a word he says. “It’s Danica Montrose, soon to be Layton, you asshole.”
“Montrose! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t do it, though, whatever happened to her, it wasn’t me.”
“You’re talking too much, Morraine.” I flick a glance toward Troy, whose lips are pressed in a hard line, his jaw tight, his hands clenching the wheel. “Maybe you should try shutting up. Manchester looks like he’s about to do some violence.”
Caleb closes his mouth. Good thing, because I wouldn’t put it past Troy to pull over and drop Caleb off an overpass. And I’d help.
But first we need to know what he knows.
We will find Danica. We will bring her home.
My father calls, but I ignore it. He probably knows we grabbed Caleb. He can leave a message.
Taking Caleb to Aseyev’s place is a much better move than Rendsell. At Rendsell, my father might be persuaded to show mercy to Caleb, his mistress’s son.
At Aseyev’s house? No mercy.
* * *
Danica
I’m not sure how much time passes. Maybe an hour or two.
I doze off at one point, but I don’t sleep for long.
My arms and hands hurt, especially my fingers where my nails tore when I tried to crawl away from Uriel.
And no matter how often I try to shift from side to side, the rest of my body is uncomfortable, too.
Bruised from my fall, aching from sitting in this chair for days.
Kellen told me it’s Monday. Why haven’t Edmund and Troy come yet? Maybe they don’t care enough.
No. I know they care. That last night I spent with them was full of care—I have no doubt they cherish me. They treasure me. They had been giving me space because of everything Malcolm put me through, but when I said I needed them, they were there.
I need them now. And they’re trying to get here. I know it.
Except I told Edmund I wouldn’t marry him if I didn’t have to. Would he take that stupid thing I said and think I left on purpose? What if nobody knows I’m missing? Leah would know, but if someone hurt her…
I struggle against my ropes again, grunting with effort.
“Calm down there. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Kellen’s voice is soothing but gravelly.
“You’re awake.” I stop struggling and force my arms to relax. “You passed out for a while.”
“Did I miss anything fun?” He grins, but the effect is grotesque. His gums are still bleeding where his teeth were knocked out.
“Nothing happened at all. I don’t even know why this guy has us here.”
“Uriel? Because he’s a sick freak.”
“That much is obvious.” I swivel my head to indicate the creepy religious knickknacks and icons.
Kellen nods. “More’n that. His brothers, Tate and Allen, haven’t been able to keep him in line since Cressilda died. You probably know all about that.”
“I don’t know who any of these people are.”
He gives me a side-eye. “You really aren’t a part of the Aseyev business, are you?”
“No, why would I be? Everyone left me out.”
“Huh. Doesn’t seem fair.” When I shrug in response, he huffs out a heavy sigh. “Guess I may as well tell you about it. This knowledge will die with me otherwise.”
“You aren’t going to die—”
“I am.” He levels me with a no-bullshit look. “I’m a tough motherfucker so I’m not showing it, but they got me bad in the gut. It’ll take some time, but unless I see a doctor, oh, a few hours ago, I’m a goner. You have a time machine? Neither do I.”
His resignation alarms me for some reason. I guess I care about him already, or, selfishly, I just want someone to help me escape. It’ll be hard to get him on board if he doesn’t believe he can get out. “I don’t think you should decide you’re going to die, Kellen. There’s always hope.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not getting out of here. No way.”
He can’t know that, not for sure. But I still want to hear about Uriel. Knowledge is power.
“So even though you are absolutely going to survive because I’ll make sure of it,” I say, “will you tell me about Uriel?”
The room seems to grow colder as Kellen speaks.
“He’s a psychopath, right. He’s Allen’s brother, Tate’s half-brother.
Tate’s running the show these days, with Allen’s quote-unquote help.
Allen’s a fuckin’ wimp. Tate is bad news, but it’s Uriel who scares the shit out of everyone.
Every city the Vorsongs move into, Uriel does some new ‘art installment.’”
I mouth the words art installment. Uriel and Allen were talking about art, and I finally figured out they meant killing people.
“I think he hasn’t been nabbed yet because Vorsong Circle is a crime family—they’re used to flying under the radar,” Kellen goes on.
“Uriel’s ‘art’ takes on a different theme in each city, usually something flamboyant and tasteless.
In Florida, he had the victims looking like mermaids.
In Boston, it was all maps and compasses and shit.
The theme here is…I don’t know. Some kind of mix of religions? ”
“Yeah.” I shudder. “I think so.”
We’re quiet for a long moment. I glance around the room.
A dim fluorescent light buzzes and flickers overhead.
A gold-painted saint gleams on a flat piece of wood, propped on the desk.
Her saccharine smirk is far from reassuring.
The prints of demons and torture no longer freak me out.
Instead, my heart rate picks up with anger.
How dare Uriel do this? He’ll never get away with it.
Even if he does end up killing me and Kellen, no fucking way will Edmund and Troy rest until he’s gone.
“You said you’re a traitor.” I force my gaze away from a particularly gruesome demon scene so I can look at Kellen. “What’d you do, anyway?”
“Tried to leave the family. I was going to go to the feds with some information—the Vorsongs are bringing in a fuck-ton of heroin on Friday. Straight into Mirarosa. I thought I could get immunity, and the feds would offer me protection.”
“And?” I prod. “What happened?”
“Talked to the wrong fed. He’s a part of the Circle.” He snorts. “Should’ve gone to the local PD instead.”
He stops talking and closes his eyes.
“Are you awake?” I ask.
He nods subtly. “Just tired. But I’m working on a plan.”
“A plan? I thought you were resigned to dying. Not that I’m complaining—wouldn’t we both rather die out there, free, than in here?”
“Oh, I’m definitely gonna die in here, angel.” He coughs and spits blood. “But you don’t have to.”
I don’t like that he’s giving up.
He closes his eyes and groans, wincing. “Anyway. If I get you that knife, can you free yourself?”