- SIX #3
"The daughter," Drake said, turning and flicking the lamp off. "She's not here."
"What?" the question burst from me as I fought to adjust to the dark. "She has to be!"
Drake pulled his hand up to his face, pressing a finger to his lips to remind me to keep it down. "She's not. I would know."
"Oh, God," I said, unable to stop it. "Jasper."
"He's here too?" he asked, sounding shocked. Then his head turned suddenly to the side, listening. "Get under the bed. Now," he hissed.
He really didn't need to tell me twice, not with all I had already seen in The Green and sensed about the Winters family.
I scrambled across the floor on my hands and knees and tossed myself under it on my belly.
Drake reached out and adjusted the blanket so it fell and hid me.
There was a small sliver where it slipped away from the side and I watched as the door burst open and I saw another set of feet.
"Seen anyone around here?" the same rough voice from outside asked.
"No sir," Drake said, sounding timid, borderline fearful, and the pit in my stomach sprouted and started growing outward, stretching its limbs into every part of me. If someone as big as him was scared, I was pretty sure I was supposed to pee myself.
I craned my head for a better view, seeing the door thrown open and the sun starting to break through the sky.
The man in the barn was somewhere in his late thirties with a short, but stocky build, brown hair, and ruddy skin.
There was a long black cane in his hand and I had the sneaking suspicion it was used for things other than helping him walk.
"Don't lie to me, draca," the man snapped, angry. "I can smell her all over this place. I'll ask you one more time. Where is she?"
"I don't know, sir," Drake insisted again.
It happened so fast that I wasn't sure I was seeing things right at first. The man twisted then lifted and swung the cane, landing it across Drake's already damaged back. Drake's unbearably pained yell was all the proof that I needed that I wasn't seeing things.
Hysteria bubbled up in my system, making me feel like I was going to throw up. I couldn't just stay hidden under his bed and let him get beat because of me.
There was another crack, wood on skin. Another yell, louder.
Crack, a third blow. Then his body fell, landing hard, almost boneless.
The side of his head slammed against the ground with an audible crack.
He had landed facing me, eyes pained, blood trickling from his nose, but he gave me a barely-there 'it's okay' smile.
But... hell freaking no. It wasn't okay.
It wasn't even in the same universe as okay.
I couldn't let it get any worse. My hand reached out toward the blanket.
I had barely touched it before I saw it.
If I hadn't been so closely watching him, I would have missed it- the tiny jerk of his head that said: stay put.
And maybe: this isn't the first time and it won't be the last. Better me than you.
I shrank back into my safe little hiding place, my hand falling numbly to the floor.
And I couldn't shake it, it was vibrating through every inch of me, the knowledge of what I was.
I was a coward. I couldn't take it. I folded my body up in a ball and shut my eyes tight, my entire frame jumping each time the cane landed, a hard, unbending whack onto soft human flesh.
Drake's curses and groans got louder and louder and I felt the tears sting at my eyes.
"No, please," the strangled, begging words escaped Drake's lips and my eyes flew open.
He was begging; he didn't seem like the kind of man to beg.
I scooted closer, peeking out again. Drake was still on the ground on his stomach.
The man was standing over him, cane raised above his head, aimed at the exposed armor spine.
I felt dread seize my belly. Were they more sensitive than his human skin? Would it hurt more? Would it kill him?
The man's arm jerked, started moving downward, and I couldn't take it anymore.
"No!" I shrieked, a high-pitched and hysterical sound I hadn't been aware I was capable of. "No," I cried again, yanking the blanket out of the way and scrambling out from under the bed. The man's arm faltered, then fell down at his side. "I'm right here. Stop hurting him."
"No," I heard Drake's strangled, sad voice say. I looked down to find his defeated and resigned eyes on me. He knew my fate was sealed now. He couldn't help me anymore.
"It's okay," I whispered, though I knew it was anything but. "It's alright." It was all the comfort I could give him right then. He had done his best. He was beaten and bloody because of me.
"Well well well," the man said, his eyes looking over me in a way that made me feel greasy all over.
"Aren't you a pretty one. Can't imagine what you thought you were doing coming here.
You and those other two." He shook his head.
"But no worries about them. One is gone.
The other is getting what's coming to him. "
I felt my heart constrict in my chest. Gone?
What did that mean? Dead? Was one of them dead?
Brave, loyal Jasper? Kind, funny Doyle? It hurt too much to think it was either of them.
And one of them was caught and 'getting what was coming to' them.
What did that mean? A beating? They certainly seemed fond of beatings.
I looked down at Drake and saw more of the shields suddenly sticking out of his skin and wondered if something similar was happening to one of them, without someone like me to intervene.
Shit.
I was going to get what was coming to me too, wasn't I?
That realization wasn't met with the adrenaline-filled fear I had expected.
Maybe a part of me had resigned myself to that fate the second I had yelled for Drake's beating to end.
I was going to be hauled off to the dungeons I'd heard about.
I was going to be chained up like Drake.
I was going to be beaten, starved, worse.
No one was going to save me. No one was going to stop it.
I was just going to have to endure. I was going to have to find a way to go deep inside myself and live through it with my sanity intact.
It would give me some time to work on my meditation, I thought with a hysterical little giggle that I swallowed back before it escaped.
"She wasn't with them," Drake lied, his body tensing like he expected another blow.
"What, draca?" the man barked from between clenched lips.
"She wasn't with the men," he said and I ducked my head so as not to betray the surprise there. "She was chasing a Will-o'-the-Wisp."
A Will-o'-the-Wisp? What the hell was a Will-o'-the-Wisp?
The man's eyebrow quirked up, his eyes almost seeming a little amused.
"A Will-o'-the-Wisp," he repeated with a sneer and I realized he was silently mocking me.
"What a stupid girl," he said, shaking his head before looking back down at Drake who visibly shrank away from the inspection and I had the overwhelming urge to slap the man who had beat him.
A man like Drake, strong, good, selfless, should never be made to feel so weak.
"What were you planning on doing with her, draca?
Keep her under her bed and bring her out for... fun?"
Drake's jaw clenched at the insinuation, like he was fighting to keep himself from saying something that he knew would get him another beating.
"Well, no matter," the man said. "I guess I have to bring you to the family, see what they want to do with you."
With that, he reached out and grabbed my arm in a punishing grip, hard enough to almost instantly bruise, as he dragged me toward the door.
I looked over my shoulder at Drake who was dragging himself off the floor, eyes on me, looking apologetic. But he had done everything he could. I mouthed 'It's okay' to him and gave him a somewhat wobbly smile that only succeeded in making him look even sadder.
I was pulled out onto the grounds and took a deep breath.
It was okay.
I was going to be alright.
I hoped.