Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
T illy was done with the sound check and was waiting for Manu Robinson to finalize the sets with her when she heard the click of Marjo’s heels as the assistant ran up to the mixing station. The woman bolted straight toward Griff who was sitting back in a metal folding chair.
“Griffon, come quick.” The assistant caught her breath. “There’s trouble.”
“What’s going on?” Tilly’s hand froze on a treble dial and looked up from her console with a frown.
“It’s Osh. He’s belligerently drunk.” Marjo’s skin was flushed with panic. “He has a knife. He’s trying to stab Cass!”
Shocked, Tilly shot upward from her seat.
“Oh god, Mathilda. You can’t go back there.” Eyes wide, forehead beading with sweat, Marjo stopped Tilly with a palm in front of her. “Griffon?”
Griff exhaled and exchanged a knowing look with Tilly. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Is he though?” A knife was no match for a vampire, but Tilly couldn’t help but worry. “Where are Raphael and Evan?”
“They’re patrolling the venue with the extra security Karim hired,” Griff told her.
“Maybe you should go,” she said, with a pleading look. She had an overwhelming, sinking feeling that something just wasn’t right.
Griff shook his head. “He made me swear not to leave you.”
“Come on. I’m okay. There’s no one here.” She looked up at the arena seats. Aside from the staff by the stage, the place was empty. “No one can come in here, there are guards everywhere.”
For Marjo’s sake, she added, “A deranged fan couldn’t get past security. Can you check on Cass real quick?”
“Please Griff,” Marjo begged. “The thugs with Osh look really scary. One of them is huge. A true musclehead. The other looks shifty. He might be armed, I don’t know.”
“Just go take a look,” Tilly pleaded with Griff. Could vampires survive gunshots? Yes, she thought so. But he could become disfigured. Or suffer permanent damage. “Plus, others could get hurt, too. I’d feel better knowing Cass is fine.”
Griff shook his head in resignation.
“You stay right here, though. Just in case,” he cautioned her. “Marjo, you stay with her. If you see anything weird, you call me right away.”
“And you,” he pointed hard at Tilly, “you scream as loud as you can if anyone comes near you.”
“Sure, boss.” She had no intention of wandering anywhere.
“I’ll be right back.”
She already felt better. Any threat Osh presented would be neutralized and Griff would be back soon enough.
If she had to be ready for eight, she needed to focus. She wanted everything to go right for Cass and his band, wanted his last show to be perfect. There were so many changes, it was taking a while to plan.
She swiveled back to her console. “Cass will be fine, right Marjo?”
But Marjo wasn’t saying anything.
“A knife… How wasted is Osh? Truly,” she questioned to reassure herself, while typing another note on her laptop for the second set. “And you texted the bodyguards, yes?”
Maybe they should both go down and check. She hated to think of Cass in trouble.
“I’m so sorry, Mathilda.”
Tilly frowned and turned away from her laptop to look up at the assistant.
Oh fuck! Marjo had a gun pointed right at her.
“What the hell!” Her heart hammered in sheer terror, numbed by disbelief.
No. Not Marjo.
“I’m sorry, Mathilda,” she repeated, her voice broken with visible distress. “You have to come with me.”
“You’re mad.” Tilly looked around. The place was deserted. The stage crew gone.
She opened her mouth to scream.
“Don’t even think about calling for help.” Marjo took a step closer and with a hard, unemotional look, aimed the barrel of her weapon at Tilly’s belly. “Or your baby won’t make it.”
“I don’t understand.” Tilly tucked her hands in the front pockets of her hoody to protect her precious cargo. She became hot, flushed, and her legs started to shake.
“I know what you are,” Marjo spat. “Took me a while to believe it but I saw things. You’re a banshee. Your scream can kill.”
“That’s crazy talk,” Tilly said, trying to keep her voice steady. Whatever Marjo knew or heard, she was getting everything wrong. And she’d been seriously beaten at the gala, she couldn’t have been behind the failed abduction.
“Don’t scream or I’ll shoot.” Her face bunched in a tight expression, her brows knitted together hard. “Come on down. Some people want you.”
“But why, why do you want to hurt my baby?” Tilly was really panicking now, cold sweat trickled down her spine. “I thought we were friendly.”
She had trusted the woman. How could she have been so wrong?
“Shut up!” Marjo had flinched at Tilly’s plea. But she’d caught herself and her determination renewed. “Come down to the floor, I tell you.”
“But…” There was no way Tilly could leave this post. With Osh’s drama, no one would know where she was. She glanced at her phone on the table beside her laptop.
“Don’t even think about it.” Marjo swiped the device onto the platform’s floor and smashed her heel through the screen.
Despair rooted as reality sunk in. Someone had to be around. But no, the stage was still deserted. They were probably all attending to the latest crisis.
If any of that was true. For all she knew, Marjo had lured Griff under false pretenses.
“Now,” Marjo ordered, visibly under pressure.
“Where?” Tilly asked, trying to buy time.
“Down the steps.” She shoved the barrel of the handgun deeper into Tilly’s stomach and a primal fear for her child prompted Tilly to do as she was told.
They took the few steps to the main floor of the arena. If Tilly screamed, she might be able to alert someone, but Marjo looked unhinged enough to actually shoot the baby.
“Down through there.” Marjo motioned her into the exit in the middle of the seating area and to the wide hall surrounding the center. “I’m really sorry, Tilly. I had no choice.”
“What do you mean?” Was that doubt piercing through the resolute command?
Marjo refused to answer. “This way.”
As they walked a few feet into the hall, no one was in sight. The concession nearby had not opened to welcome the concertgoers.
“Take that service passage right there.”
Tilly’s fear was mounting to excruciating proportions, her entire body a jumble of adrenaline. Could she run? But Marjo was holding her close with one surprisingly strong grip on her arm and the gun was still pointing at her belly.
Tilly had to appeal to her. “Please don’t do this. I never did anything to you.”
“I said I was sorry,” Marjo shouted, obviously disturbed. “Just do what I tell you.”
“You were involved in the first attempted kidnapping?” Tilly couldn’t help but ask. Why would somebody so sensible and normal be ready to kill her baby?
“Sort of,” she croaked as they hastened down into a narrow corridor leading out of the arena.
“Someone beat you up for show,” Tilly suddenly realized with shock. “They hurt you!”
“Keep marching!” Marjo would not back down.
“You have a child. Surely,” Tilly pleaded. The memory of her failed abduction resurfaced. She wouldn’t make it this time. No one would come.
“Over there.” Marjo shoved her toward the outside door by a couple of janitorial closets.
“Don’t do this, please.” Her panic was a rushing torrent pounding in her ears.
Marjo pushed open the heavy metal door and guided Tilly outside onto the concrete sidewalk in the dark early evening.
The cool breeze disoriented her for a moment. People were already lined up, waiting to get in, and, in their excitement, no one noticed them. Tilly was dying to scream for help, but the steel barrel of the handgun buried in the fabric of her hoody was a terrifying reminder that her child was defenseless.
“We’re getting in that brown SUV coming up the road,” Marjo said, curtly.
“Why,” Tilly cried. “What’s so important that you want me to be killed.”
“It’s you or my son.” Her voice broke on the last word. “They have him.”
“No!” Tilly twisted to face her kidnapper. A trickle of hope found its way into her mind. “We can turn back. We’ll tell Cass. He can find your son.”
“No. They’ve been clear.” Her expression was completely closed in. “They have people at my mom’s house. I don’t bring you and they kill her and Tobias. That thing with Osh, that was the perfect opportunity to snatch you for them.”
“I’m sorry,” Tilly implored, “but there must be another way.”
“It’s them.” Marjo turned callous again as the bright headlights of an approaching vehicle made Tilly blink.
“Don’t do this, Marjo.” Tilly stared blankly at the large murky-brown minivan that had pulled by the curb. “Please. Let’s go. Cass has friends, the police?—”
“No police.” For a moment, Marjo looked like a scared woman about to cry. I’m sorry , she mouthed.
The door of the van slid open, and a stern male voice barked, “Get in.”
She hesitated.
Looking at the line of people wearing Cass St-Amand gear, all thrilled to see the show, her heart sank in sorrow. This was supposed to be their night.
Tears welled, but she refused to let her fear get the best of her.
“Get in, I said,” the man yelled again as the front passenger door opened.
The rest happened so quickly, she had no time to react. Someone grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her into the back seat. They shut the door on her before the vehicle took off in a scream of wheels biting into the pavement.
She found herself sitting across from Marjo in the center of the van between two of her abductors. The front passenger turned to her, and she froze.
What the hell?
“Well, finally!” Avery Brooke, the annoying and wealthy college kid from the gala, was beaming eerily at her, the multitude of gold chains at his neck catching the stark light of the city streetlamps. “Getting you here took a lot of work.”
Now she remembered where she’d seen the sigil from her dream and on her door. The stylized “M” and a small hook. It was tattooed on Avery’s neck.
It was all connected. He was the one who wanted her sacrifice. Death couldn’t have been more clear.
Terrified, she looked out at the Montreal streets, seeing the Bell Center getting farther and farther from her line of vision.
She shook uncontrollably as her fear swallowed her whole.
Oh god. Who was going to save her now?