Page 69 of Of Blood and Smoke

“Those are wraiths,” he said. “Well-fed wraiths.”

THIRTY-TWO

Della

The van lurched up a short, steep hill and the two beings disappeared right before my eyes.

“They need more food,” Brett stated casually. The glint in his eye told me he wanted me to freak out or ask more questions. I did neither.

“You know your boyfriend is a bloodsucker, right?”

I ignored him.

“You’re just a snack.”

Still, I ignored him.

“Snack Pack.” He laughed.

“You’re on the wrong side, Della,” he said, softening his voice. “We’ve got money too.”

The van backed up to the house and I looked through the windows. This was where my whole drug-debacle began. Here, at a party. I didn’t want the memories; I’d left it all behind. “I don’t want anything to do with drugs.”

Brett barked out a laugh. “You’re dating a drug dealer, princess. Or, I should say,wasdating a drug dealer.”

“That’s different and you know it.” The rear doors opened, and a small group of armed men stood there as we got out.They followed as I was led down a path around the side of the house into the dark backyard. We were escorted to an entry and then down a short set of stairs where Brett brought me into the basement.

There was no sign I’d once almost burned the whole place down. It was dingy and dirty with a weird, faint odor. Other than that, there was a table and chairs, a couch, a daybed, and I could see a small bathroom tucked in the corner.

“Until I know you won’t run, we’re keeping these on,” Brett announced, pushing me into a chair and unlocking my cuffs before relatching one side to the seat.

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” Brett produced two more pairs of cuffs, joined them, added some zip ties, and attached my ankles to the chair so only my toes reached the floor.

“We'll deal with that when the time comes.”

A door creaked open, and a man walked in.Vincent. “What are you doing down here?” He stood in the open doorway and looked at my jailer. I could see a flight of stairs behind him.

“Rescue mission,” Brett answered, cracking open a beer.

“More like kidnapping.” I tried and failed to lift my arm to show the handcuffs.

Vincent stepped into the room. “What the fuck are you doing, Brett? Get this out of my house.” He pointed at him, and then at me.

“She’s in danger, Vincent. My woman is in danger,” Brett said, taking a seat.

How many times did I have to tell him? “I’m not your girlfriend.”

Vincent gave me a quick look and then motioned to Brett with his finger and the two of them left the room. As much as I could with my wrists bound to the chair, I tried to see how I would possibly free myself. The stool was similar to a seat onewould find in a school, all metal and thick plastic. There was no way I could break it. The best I could do was rock it slightly and move around a little. My wrists started bleeding from the friction. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it.

I stopped hopping in my seat and took a deep breath when I felt my hair stirring at the back of my head. “Who’s there?” I couldn’t turn my shoulders far enough to look, the cuffs were attached to the spacer bars between the chair legs, and I had next to no range of motion.

The hair at the nape of my neck was pulled out of my bun but nothing had touched my skin. I tried bouncing the chair around and whatever was behind me kept up with my movements. My hair was still suspended in the air by the ghostly presence.

The creeping feeling it sent down my spine was like that of fingernails on a chalkboard.

“Who’s there?” I asked again, raising my voice.

There was a sound behind me like the rustle of fabric and I tried to turn the chair yet again. The faintest cold touch trailed down the back of my neck, stopping between my shoulder blades as my heart slammed into my ribs. Panic began to flow through me at the phantom contact and my eyes started watering all over again.

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