Page 116 of Close Your Eyes and Count to 10

“Who are you?” Angeline yelled again at the still form in the corner.

The figure hadn’t moved, and the red light kept blinking.

Was she losing her mind? Was she dreaming? Maybe this wasn’t even happening. It was so bizarre that it didn’t even seem real. The painwasreal—her head, her neck, her bound arms and legs. She heard the distant sounds of the storm and dripping water. There was a heavy smell—mold, rot, age.

“There are people out there. Please,” she said, desperation replacing anger, fear settling in. “What do you want?”

But the form stayed still, silent. Unmoved and unmoving. Maybe she was imagining it. Was there anyone even there?

“Is it money?” she asked. “How much?”

That earned a snort, but no words in response.

“Then,what?”

Silence. Which was somehow worse than anything else. The silence allowed her mind to race, thinking about all the reasons she found herself in this place. Her abuela had liked to get biblical:We reap what we sow. What we put into this life is what we get from it.

But that wasn’t true, was it? How many evil, undeserving people were living lives of ease and luxury? And how many good people were toiling, suffering, struggling to get by? It was just another lie they told you to keep you obeying the rules, doing whattheywanted. Do good, be good, and life will treat you well.

She worked to measure her breathing, clear her head from panic.

“You must want something,” she said. “Everyone wants something.”

More silence.

Finally, her rage and distress took over.

“Help!” she screamed to the camera, to the air around her. “Help me! I’m in the basement of Enchantments. I’ve been kidnapped.”

A shuffle to her right caught her attention, but she didn’t turn to look.

“He’s going to come for me,” Angeline told her captor. “Maverick will be here.”

And then she realized that’s what the person wanted. Too late it started to make sense. That’s what they were doing. That’s who they were waiting for. She was the bait; Maverick was the catch.

“Ange!”

Maverick burst from the darkness then, gun in hand, looking like some kind of action hero come to the rescue. Her heart flooded with love and relief. He hadn’t taken the money and left her. He’d come for her.

“Over there,” she said as he raced to her. “There’s someone there. In the corner. There’s a camera.”

He turned to face whoever it was, putting his body in front of her.

“Who’s there?” he asked, raising the gun. “What do you want?”

“Mav,” said Ange urgently, “untie me.”

There was a loud groan, the sound of the building straining. The powerful wind, the rising water—warnings from Petra loomed in Angeline’s memory.This land is unwell.Nothing good can happen here.

She kept working her bindings, feeling them start to loosen. They had to get out of here.

Maverick pointed his gun at the figure in the corner. “What do you want?” he asked, voice shaking. “Who are you?”

“Put the gun down, Mav.”

When the person stepped into view, Angeline knew her right away, before she even took off her mask. Still, when she did remove it, honey hair cascading down her shoulders, Angeline released a gasp.

It was Chloe Miranda. Thinner, but looking older, stronger than Angeline remembered her. She had an unfamiliar sense of purpose, a coldness to her.

---