Page 101 of Marked by the Demigod

She dials Trixie, and she picks up before the first ring even finishes.

"I meant tonight, Aimes, not right now," Trixie says.

"I think something's' happened with Katya and Iakov, and I don't know where they are," Aimes blurts out. "I got a call that they tried to burn down my apartment but it's fine, and I don't --"

"One sec," Trixie interrupts, then says something in a flurry of French to someone off phone, then, "So you're at your place."

Aimes smoothes a hand on her bedsheets, not wanting to sit down. "Yeah."

There's a pause. "You don't know where they are?"

"They suggested they were here."

"That sounds...suspicious." Trixie's voice echoes that tingling feeling in the back of her neck.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, but --" A breath of wind, just the movement of air, and she twists, hand gripping the knife in her purse and --

Harsh fingers dig into her shoulder, and she's not in her apartment anymore, her phone crunching to the ground.

She staggers back, and one of the twins - Vanya or Pieter - just grips her arm tighter. His lip is split, and he looks as if he had been drug through a dirt road, his hair peppered with grime. He bleeds, sluggish, from what looks to be a bullet graze on his arm.

The other twin, looking put together and polished smooth, paces behind a chair, where Iakov slumps, his eyes bleary.

It's like time froze. His arms twisted behind him in some parody of restraints, Iakov meets her eyes, his shoulder cranked back, suggesting a dislocated socket. He's tied to a chair, lashed with something resembling computer cords.

Behind him, on the floor, almost beyond view, lies Katya's crumpled body. The quick moment she gets to look doesn't tell her if her chest is rising or falling.

Her gun is next to her.

There's a lot of blood on the carpet.

The room they're in is so nondescript that she feels like she's in some sort of parallel universe. Something almost a hotel room or almost a basement, and the frozen moment ends.

The polished twin, pacing behind the chair, smiles at her, and it's too close to Iakov's smile for comfort. "So you did come." He grins outright, as if it’s a clever joke.

Her purse slides down her shoulder, and she struggles to hike it up. "I don't --"

The other twin's hand tightens further, almost to the point of pain, deep into her shoulder...but he doesn't remove her purse.

They don't know.

The polished twin, whichever one he is, strides in front of Iakov, his attention from Aimes evaporating like a ghost. "We have her, now," he says, voice smooth, and the pit of Aimes stomach drops. "We have her, and there's nothing stopping us."

Aimes shrugs her purse back on, and dives her hand into it, closing once more on the knife. Now her heart's pounding, of course, and her palms slick with sweat, but she has it.

And they're not even looking at her. None of them are, Iakov's eyes half lidded shut narrow at the twins.

The one gripping her gives her a little shake, and it's as if he honestly thinks that the one hand on her upper arm is enough to restrain her properly. "We can kill her now, and kill you," he says, slow, his voice rattling around in his chest. "Or..."

He trails off, and Iakov jerks his eyes over to the other twin, as if years of experience shows him who will speak next.

"Or you can join with us," the polished twin's voice is smooth, gentle, more akin to telling someone something soothing than anything world changing. More like a waiter telling of a food option than something that could, if she understands it well enough, kill millions of people.

Iakov glances at her, a quick, beseeching glance, one that speaks too much. He flicks his eyes to the side, where Katya is, but she still can't tell if her chest is rising or not.

Some of the blood on the floor is coming from Iakov's side, she realizes, belated. "Are you hurt?" She blurts out.

The attention of all three Demigods turns to her, as if they forgot she could speak.

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