Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
I’m quietly reading on the sofa, diligently doing my best to ignore Riddick, who is attempting to get my attention.
Nope, it’s not happening, this book is way too good.
The throw cover that I have over me jerks and ever so slowly moves.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Riddick has the cover gripped between his teeth.
My lips twitch. I roll my eyes, grab it, and hold on.
Ha, I don’t stand a chance in a one-handed tug of war with a hellhound. Riddy does a big jerk and the cover flies from my grip and pools on the floor. His dinner-plate-sized paws stomp all over it. I huff to cover my giggle and turn my entire body away.
Way too close for comfort, Riddick moves so he stands over me.
Nose in the air, I continue to ignore him and pretend to read my book.
Instead, I watch him. He has a glint in his eye and an evil doggy grin on his face.
From this angle he looks even larger, which is a neat trick considering that he is already huge.
In revenge for my non-action, weirdo Riddick leans across and licks my face. His great dirty tongue licks me from my jaw to my forehead, catching the side of my mouth.
I dramatically spit and scrub at my mouth.
“Eww. Eww. Eww. Oh my God, you did not just do that. Eww,” I wail, shuddering as I frantically rub at the rest of my wet face with my sleeve.
“Riddick, you are a minga. That was so gross…you are a shifter, not a dog.” I attempt to smack him with my book, almost falling off the sofa in my zeal.
Riddy jumps from side to side, avoiding my blows, a smug and delighted wolfy grin on his face.
“Bloody Riddick,” I grumble, doing a poor job of hiding my smile.
Hellhound or not, I love the stupid creature.
“John has arranged a meeting with an angel,” Eleanor says as she glides into the room.
I stop my assault on Riddick and blink up at her.
I am currently hanging off the sofa. I huff and blow at a piece of my hair that’s fallen from my ponytail and is now sticking in my right eye.
I sit up with wobbly arms and give Bert an apologetic pat.
Eleanor now has my full attention. What? An angel?
“Me? Why do I need to see an angel?”
“To heal you, of course,” she replies. Heal me? An angel can heal me? Huh.
I wiggle and my book falls to my side, forgotten. Excitement and disbelief thrum through me. I’ve never seen an angel. Like demons, they have to be of a high level of power to be on Earth. They aren’t native creatures of this world.
The ley lines that form the witches’ transport gateway system are also gateways to other worlds.
It’s all a bit hush-hush. I only know this because I listened to the whispers at the estate, and I spent a lot of time with a demon.
Only the powerful come to Earth, as they have to have the political clout in their world to do so.
Angels aren’t like religious depictions of angels, but some believe that both races, angels and demons, had input into early human and creature history…
poking their noses into our evolution, nudging us all in their preferred direction.
Angels are as scary as demons. Perhaps if there is a creature that might heal me, an angel might be the one?
I scratch the side of my head. My ponytail is lopsided and more hair has come loose.
To gain an audience with an angel is an impressive feat.
I pull the bobble out of my hair to re-do my ponytail.
I don’t know why John wants to waste the opportunity on me…
especially as there is a high risk of the magic not working.
Then again, John is a hellhound—I shrug as I gather my hair and pull the elastic tight—so maybe he’s best mates with everybody and I’m just overthinking things.
Perhaps I might get information…information about what kind of creature I am.
“I will go get changed,” I say with a bright smile.
The thought that I might be able to go to the loo normally is a huge motivator.
I stumble on the cover as I get up and use Riddick’s enormous head to steady myself.
“Thanks for that, big-head,” I say with a cheeky grin.
With a playful growl, Riddick nips at my bum as I hurry past.
“Ten minutes,” Eleanor shouts at my scurrying back.
The house hasn’t got a gateway, so we will have to drive to the angel. I make sure I have a fresh hot-water bottle handy. The heat will help me if I have any tummy pain on the way.
Twenty minutes later—as I had to check on Sam and the boys—we pile into the car and set off on a new adventure.
Thirty minutes into the drive, I’m fiddling with my phone, so I don’t see the other vehicle when it hits us.
There’s a sudden burst of impact. Time slows as my body slams into the seatbelt.
My phone flies from my hand. I’m torn between protecting Bert and protecting my face.
My stoma wins, and I hug my tummy protectively with my arms. Another bang.
My head jolts to the side, and the pain in my side and stomach is excruciating.
White-hot. My seatbelt keeps me painfully anchored in place, burning my shoulder and chest.
I whimper.
Crunch.
Weightlessness. I feel like we’re in a washing machine as the car flips, over and over. I scrunch my eyes tightly closed as the window next to me splinters and glass flies, the tiny shards stinging my face.
My vision and hearing reverberate like I’m underwater as the car settles on its side.
I blink and groan. It sounds distorted to my ears.
My head throbs, and with a shaky hand I touch an incredibly sore spot on my temple.
My fingertips come away wet with blood. I’m hanging sideways.
I blink and try to focus my dizzy vision on the condition of the other occupants of the car, but both Eleanor and Riddick are gone.
What…where did they go?
With a whoosh, my hearing comes back. Outside the car I dimly hear fighting, the hiss and singing of Eleanor’s swords, Riddick’s growls. Then the tick-tick of the engine, the crackle of metal, glass, and plastic as the car continues to settle.
I take a deep breath to control the frantic beating of my heart. I’m unsure about modern cars and engine fires, and it might be my imagination, but I’m sure I can smell smoke.
Oh bloody hell. I decide it is safer to get out.
I remove my seatbelt, grip it, and do a controlled slide across the seats until I stand on the crushed passenger door.
The plastic and glass crunch underneath my feet and I use the headrests for balance.
I slip my boot off and wobble on one foot as I surreptitiously use it to knock the shards of glass away from the broken side-window now above me.
I feel like an idiot for what I need to do next.
I’m going to have to pop my head up into the line of fire.
Crap, it’ll be like sticking my head out of a rabbit hole, hoping that a predator will not bite it off.
Boot safely back on, I tuck my hands into the folds of my jumper. Fingertips lightly on the windowsill, I take a breath, brave it, and peek out.
Vampires. Oh bloody hell, the vampires are back.
It looks as if Eleanor and Riddick have drawn the vampires further away from the car and me. I duck back down and puff out a nervous breath. My heart pounds. Thud-thud-thud. God, I feel sick. Come on, Emma. I silently count down from three. When I hit one, I force myself to leave the vehicle.
I somehow manage to scramble out with no one seeing me. The car roof squeals as I slide down it, and I land on the road in a heap. I slam my back against the car. Then I let out a frightened squeak as the car rocks a little with the impact of my body weight.
Oh bloody hell.
Thud-thud-thud goes my heart. I pant, and my arms tremble from the exertion of getting out of the car. My head throbs and my crazy heart rate makes me feel dizzier. The residual pain from the accident throbs through me, and combined with my overwhelming panic, it makes it hard to think.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” I compartmentalise and swallow down my pain.
I push it to the back of my head. I know pain, I can deal with pain.
I can do this. I don’t have a choice. I take a deep, shaky breath and force myself to be calm.
I lift my jumper and do a visual check on Bert.
Luckily, my stoma has no immediate issues. God, I am lucky to be alive.
I get on my hands and knees, tuck my head, and crawl.
The car that hit us is burning, and dark, rancid smoke billows around me.
Shards of glass glitter on the tarmac like diamonds in front of me, and unavoidable they bite painfully into my knees and palms. I quickly crawl away from the fighting and the car, desperately searching for somewhere safe to hide.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a droplet of red.
Oh no, my head wound is dripping. With horror, I look back at the small trail of blood drops that lead away from the car.
Oh God, I’m leaving a ruby-red trail of breadcrumbs.
I swallow a sob. What a stupid mistake, with all the vampires.
I rub as much blood as I can from my face onto my jumper and keep going. There is nothing I can do about it now.
Oh God, vampires, please don’t smell me.
I crawl into someone’s legs. I close my eyes and hunch over into a ball. I should have stayed in the car. “There you are, pretty demon,” a male vampire says.
My heart drops. Oh bloody hell, not this demon shit again.
The vampire scoops me up. I don’t stand a chance against his strength. Before I even think to scream for help, his hand slams over my mouth. My nostrils flare in panic as I try to get enough air into my lungs.
As he drags me towards a generic white van parked at the side of the road, he licks the blood from the side of my face.
Gag. He hums and smacks his lips as if he is at a wine-tasting.
“Huh, so that’s what a demon tastes like.
Not as bad as they have led me to believe.
See you later, pretty demon.” With a last lick and a creepy chuckle, he throws me unceremoniously into the back of the van.
I hit the metal floor with a crack, my knees taking the brunt of the impact, ouch. The van’s back doors slam closed. Waiting hands grab hold of me, and a bag…they shove a smelly black bag over my head.
Darkness. With every panicked breath I take, the thick material of the bag moves closer to my lips. I tremble as they tie my hands together in front of me. Painfully tight, the plastic digs into the scars on my wrists.
The click of chains. I shudder as a terrible memory tries to take me.
The van jerks, and suddenly we’re in motion.
I squeak as I’m thrown against the side panel.
The impact knocks my already-sore head. I try my best to brace myself, protecting Bert as much as I can.
But I slide and bump around. I let out a frustrated cry.
My bruises will have bruises. Before I can slide again, I’m gripped by big, heavy hands, and I’m lifted.
Warmth surrounds me from behind as I’m nestled into a stranger’s lap.
My kidnapper’s lap. Solid thighs pin me against an equally solid chest. I shake with fear.
“I couldn’t watch you bashing about anymore. You looked so pathetic. Settle down, lass, I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else hurt you either, so just relax. This will be over soon.”
“Where are you taking me?” I whisper. But this stranger with this smooth-as-chocolate voice doesn’t answer. He just holds my shaking, frightened body tighter.
I’d like to say that when the doors of the van finally open with a grinding metal clank and a creak, I spring into action like a ninja and fight like hell.
But I don’t.
If I hadn’t been in a similar situation before, perhaps I’d be brave and be able to fight. But all I remember is the pain, and every day, all I see is the physical reminder of my last kidnaping stamped all over my body—in Bert and a network of scars.
This is all too soon. This is all too much. I can’t do this again. I won’t.
Everything fades: thought, worry, emotion.
I retreat to a protective place in some deep corner of my mind that I’ve never found before.
I stop trembling. The big guy who has held me steady during the journey guides me carefully out of the van.
My body is being helped out of the vehicle, but I’m not currently here.
Like a coward, I’ve hidden in the dark recess of my mind.
My elbow is gripped, and I meekly follow. When I’m pushed down into a chair, I automatically sit. When the bag is tugged from my head, my eyes automatically respond to the bright overhead light. I blink.
I don’t acknowledge the sound or the surrounding movement—I can’t. Fingers click in front of my nose, but I don’t respond. Hidden safely away in my mind, I curl into a ball.
My body sits in the chair, my eyes unfocused, my heart beating steadily in my chest. A hand slaps me across the face, and my head turns to the side with the impact.
A loud noise, yelling, crashing, banging.
Silence.