Page 78 of Trick's Trap

Right. Go right.

The locked doubledoors wouldn’t budge. That was how he knew he’d found the right place. His instincts were screaming. Tahlia needed him.

Trick reared back and kicked with all his might. The door splintered, but the wood was too thick. Focusing, he put everything he had into the rapid strikes. It took three more blows before the door fell open.

He plunged into the room, his eyes watering as a thin acrid smoke hit his face. Inside was a nightmare straight out of a B-level horror movie.

He’d found her, but Tahlia was gagged and bound. She was lying motionless in the middle of a white powdery pentagram surrounded by candles and strange occult symbols. His dramatic entrance interrupted a chant from a robed man at the upper left point of the star.

Putting his hands up, he registered motion from his left. Someone rushed him, hitting him in the middle.

But Trick was ready. He twisted, blocking the guy’s tackle. Years of no-holds-barred wrestling and sparring with his brother honed his reaction time to a sharp-steeled edge.

He followed the block with a lightning-fast punch. It glanced off the guy’s head, but it slowed him down enough for him to get a second shot in. The guy hit the floor, sliding against Trick’s leg.

“Patrick?” Tahlia moaned and turned, rolling on the floor to face him.

Relief flooded through him as her eyes opened, but she couldn’t seem to focus on him. She blinked, her mouth gaping.

He swayed, wanting to run to her. The other man in the room was coming around, being careful to step around the pentagram.

That was when things got weird.

Trick’s vision blurred, and he swayed on his feet. Objects in the room began to glow with an iridescent edge. The second man tackled him while he was distracted by a sparkling blue table.

He hit the floor with a grunt, fighting back with lackluster coordination.

What the fuck was wrong with this room? His limbs were growing heavier, and everything was waving or blinking at him. Trick was a skilled fighter, but he’d never done it while under the influence.

Doesn’t matter.He needed to get it together. Tahlia’s life was at stake.

A fist landed in his gut, nearly incapacitating him. His abs absorbed the shock, but the pain cleared some of the haze in his head. Giving himself a shake, he clamped his hands on the guy’s head, boxing his ears before twisting them.

The man’s scream was deafening. He reared back, giving Trick room to punch him. He followed that with a kick that knocked the second man next into the first. Both groaned as one landed on top of the other.

“Only one can pass,”a new voice said.

Trick blinked, searching for a third assailant, but his head was spinning too fast. He put his hands on his head, trying to steady his vision.

“Patrick.” It was barely a whisper.

Tahlia.

He forgot about everything else. She was there, at his feet. Bound hand and foot, she’d managed to crawl toward him from the center of the pentagram, breaking the circle of white powder surrounding it.

“No!” one of the men screamed, hitting a frequency that made Trick’s ears ring.

Out of nowhere, a roar filled the room. Wincing, he got down on his hands and knees, pulling Tahlia toward him.

More screaming followed. Trick’s head was pounding. His vision was starting to fade in and out, and he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. The only solid thing was Tahlia in his arms. She was counting on him. Unable to pull her behind him, he crawled in front of her to shield her.

“What have you done?” someone shouted.

One of the robed men was shrieking, his mouth fixed wide like a berserker. He was holding a knife.

The double doors burst open. He distantly registered a bang and a thud. Then everything went dark.

“Wake up, princess.”

---