Elsbeth
Those fuckers abducted me.
Slivers of time I lost come to me as I start to wake up in a strange room.
My clothes are still intact. My bag is sitting on a chair that’s facing the window at the foot of the gaudy, antique bed.
The sun is setting outside, which means I’ve only been out for a couple hours.
I don’t know whether to be grateful for that or not.
Every one of my limbs is heavy and sore, like I’ve just climbed a mountain.
They’re going to pay for this. My arms feel like lead as I sit up and get a better sense of my surroundings.
Blinking away the fog of sleep, I focus first on the plate on the side table.
I reach over and pull the beaded metal chain to turn the light on to find an energy bar, a package of crackers, and an apple.
It looks more like a lunch someone would pack for a kid’s field trip than a meal, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
I pick up the apple and look over the bright flesh.
The thin striations of green mix with the pink and red.
It’s cold and crisp when I bite into it.
A satisfying crunch and crack as a large hunk breaks off into my mouth.
The sweet juice makes my mouth water, and I realize there’s a lingering smoky taste on my tongue.
Thorne. He used his ability to knock me out when Fox’s wouldn’t. I swallow and the jagged bits of fruit scratch at my dry throat. I’ve never smoked a cigarette, but I imagine this is what inhaling a pack all at once would feel like.
They didn’t bother to take off my boots, which now feel like bricks on my feet as I try to stand up. I know before I get to my bag that my laptop and phone are missing. They may be stupid enough to kidnap me in broad daylight, but letting me keep my electronics would have been an amateur move.
Alric will be furious. At least that gives me reason to smile.
After the incident in the library bathroom, I was sure he was going to try to attack the legacies on his own.
He’d set the fire to lure Thorne away from Asher and me.
Familial loyalty only goes so far with Alric, and he decided long ago that Thorne would be the first to die.
But he’s not here and the legacies are undoubtedly somewhere close.
It’s a bit surprising how unafraid I am.
I know I should be. I can hear Anissa saying she’s going to kill me for not having more self-preservation.
That is, if I get to see her again. I’m surrounded and outnumbered, but they’re clueless and in this game, the one with the most knowledge holds all the power.
What does give me a sinking feeling is the view from the window.
Down below is a sprawling estate with a large barn on the other side of a winterized orchard.
A thick blanket of mulch covers the rows of trees at their bases, while the paths between have been freshly tilled.
Beyond that is an another large piece of land and a house far in the distance.
Meaning that we are miles outside of Boston.
Alric said that the coven goes to great lengths to keep the grounds protected from anyone who isn’t explicitly invited by the current legacies.
Not that knocking me out and bringing me here against my will was a formal invitation, but here we are, nonetheless.
The room is sparsely decorated, but there’s a lingering smell of cleaning chemicals.
Dark floral wallpaper covers the top three quarters of each wall and butts up to thick wainscoting that may as well be stained black.
Brass wall sconces match the doorknobs and many lamps that sit on every table, dresser, and stand proud in two corners.
Someone took the mood lighting craze to heart in here.
Aside from the large, wooden, carved four-poster, there is an empty wardrobe tucked in the corner and a small writing desk and chair next to the window.
On top of the closest dresser is a tall paper bag with my name on it.
I pick it up and dump the contents onto the bed.
Several things spill out over the thick mauve-gray comforter, but the first to catch my eye is a brand-new toothbrush and large tube of toothpaste.
The toiletries are probably their way of giving me reassurance that they don’t plan to kill me any time soon, but it does nothing to soothe sense of false security since the only change of clothing they’ve provided is an oversized T-shirt that I’m sure belongs to one of them.
The fabric is soft and has the distinct muted scent of boy.
It’s not holding on to any remnants of cologne to help me figure which one of them sacrificed it.
I’ve only encountered Fox and Maddox during or right after they’ve been exercising, so whatever undoubtedly expensive scents they did wear were drowned out by sweat.
No use trying to figure it out because I refuse to wear it.
I set it on the nightstand and move on to the other slumber party favors they’ve left me.
A hairbrush, new pack of silk scrunchies, and ChapStick.
Did they Google “how to care for your female victim”?
The last thing is a folded piece of paper the size of a note card that reads:
The bathroom is across the hall.
Not the sweetest love note I’ve ever gotten but one I need desperately.
I turn toward the door and realize that it’s not shut all the way.
It shouldn’t surprise me that they’ve made it so easy for me to move around the house.
They don’t see me as a threat, just an inconvenience. A mystery they have to figure out.
The door opens with a soft creak, then there’s silence.
A line of black salt runs across the threshold and in a thin pathway to the room directly across the hall.
I run my finger through the line and bring the residue up to my nose.
Hemlock ash and foxglove. The ash is still fresh and leaves my fingertips black as I rub them together.
I test the limits of their magic and take a step into the dimly lit hallway.
There’s a small window near the ceiling at the end of the hall, but the last rays of sun are far from its reach.
Four bronze sconces that match the ones in my room are set on either side of the hallway, giving off a warm glow more than lighting the way to the stairs.
The other four doors are closed and marked with white chalk protection sigils.
I can’t fully see what form the markings take, and when I step toward the closest one, I can’t seem to force my feet to move more than an inch from the lines the legacies have drawn on the floor.
Taking a step back into the path they made, I push the bounds in the other direction, where the hallway ends, but can only take one more before the invisible tether grips my body and it feels like I’m trying to step into a wall of sand.
I brace my hands against the invisible barrier and push until Alric’s magic wakes and flows to my palms. Their spell gives way easier than I expect and I have to catch myself from falling on my face.
Using Alric’s magic makes my stomach ache.
The vengeful energy is sour in the back of my throat.
It feels like a layer of slick oil that won’t quite wash off.
He’s promised that the magic meant for me won’t make me ill, but the faith I have in that is as bare as the ancient rug that runs the length of the hallway.
My bladder won’t hold much longer. I rush into the bathroom to relieve myself before I attempt to explore one of their bedrooms. It is more spacious than I expected.
There’s a clawfoot tub that looks like it’s original to the house.
With spiderweb cracks in the porcelain and years of water damage on the tap, it easily outdates the rest of the finishings, like the modern toilet.
Its bright white bowl shows the age of the black-and-yellowing checkered floor.
A tall black cabinet stands next to the shower and holds a treasure trove of products.
It looks like each of the men who share it have their own shelves.
The bottom two have towels and washcloths, but the middle one has hair gel, styling pomade, a brush, and shaving tools.
The others are the same, holding extra shampoo and body wash with other grooming essentials that well put together men use to make women swoon.
The shower has a bench that holds even more body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.
But what I didn’t expect is the small box on the counter with my name written on it.
Like the bag I found earlier, it holds items that imply I’ll be around long enough to use them, but for how long is still a mystery.
There’s a travel-sized body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and a fresh loofah.
I should feel a bit creeped out that they want me to shower here at some point, but nothing sounds better than hot water washing the stench of fear and Alaric’s magic off my sore body.
I still have bruises on my arms from when Alric cornered me in the library, and I’m sure there are fresh marks from being taken from campus and fighting Fox in the back seat of Thorne’s SUV.
But that sort of vulnerability will have to wait until after they’ve shown themselves.
I finish up in the bathroom, wash my hands all the way up to my forearms to scrub away any sort of remnant of Alric’s magic, and step back into the hall.
The door to my room is as I left it, and all of their doors are still shut tight, but now there are noises coming up the stairs.
Footfalls close to the stairway echo through the passageway and accompany the sounds of dishes being moved around.
Would they cancel any sort of maid service while they held a woman captive upstairs?
Old and new gods forbid they have to manage housework while committing illegal deeds.
I reach my hand back to the bathroom doorknob and pull as hard as I can, slamming the door like a preteen throwing a tantrum. Seconds later, there’s a crash downstairs. The smirk their panic elicits curves my lips as I calmly walk back into the bedroom, sit on the edge of the bed, and wait.
Let the games begin.