Page 24 of Kidnapping of a Myth

He shook his head as fat tears welled in his eyes.

“It’s okay, don’t cry,” she soothed. “You’re so brave, and I found you. I’ll find him too.”

“Promise?” his tiny voice escaped.

“We swear it,” Eamon said with a deep rumble, and the boy hugged his neck harder.

“How about we go home and get you some dry clothes?” Bel said. “Then if you feel better, maybe you can tell me what happened. What do you say? You think you could be brave a little while longer?”

Michael started to nod, but then he froze, his eyes darting to the trees. Terror overtook his entire being, and he curled his small body tighter against Eamon’s chest. The hairs on the nape of Bel’s neck rose at the sight of him shrinking in on himself. Someone was watching them.

Eamon’s fist tightened around her hand as he registered the threat, and Bel followed Michael’s line of sight. The trees were empty, though. No footfalls besides theirs disturbed the forest floor, no breath polluted the afternoon air save theirs, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling. Eyes were on her, their vision as oppressive as a physical touch.

With slow movements, Bell pulled the gun from her pants; thankful she’d had the foresight to spare it from the water. The trio walked in silence for minutes, but they were alone in the woods. Nothing stalked them. No one watched them.

And then an arm shifted from behind a tree.

“Stop!” Bel ripped free of Eamon’s hold and launched into a run. “Stop! Bajka Police!”

“Isobel, no!” Eamon lunged after her, but with the boy in his arms, he froze, torn between who he should protect, and his hesitation allowed Bel to escape his capture. She raced after the arm, a full body coming into view, and she pushed harder, thighs burning as she increased her speed. The stranger bolted deeper into the woods, and she leaned into the run, vaguely aware that this might be a trap. Was their stalker leading her to her death, to an IED beyond Eamon’s reach? She hesitated, contemplating slowing her pace, but then the man darted out before her, almost close enough to touch.

“Stop!” she shouted. “Bajka police! Stop or I’ll shoot.”

The man ignored her, picking up speed, and her exhausted and dehydrated body began to lose ground.

“Final warning!” She raised her weapon high, aiming at an enormous tree above the man’s head.

The stranger didn’t so much as hesitate, and Bel fired. He flinched as the tree’s bark splintered, obviously surprised she followed through, but Bel’s patience had drowned in that flooded bunker. A witch had tried to kill her. A man had kidnapped her. A lunatic had attempted to blow her up and then drown a child. She was done being patient, and as the man faltered, she leaped for him.

Her body collided with his, and they went down hard, rolling over the grass with painful grunts. Bel gracefully shoved him to his stomach and climbed onto his back, wrenching his arms behind him with brutal efficiency.

“You’re under arrest,” she said as her thighs tightened around his waist. She finally got a look at his face as he struggled below her, but she already knew who was stalking them. Peter Pann. The Tinker.

“You have the right to remain silent,” she began the Miranda Warning as Eamon jogged up behind her, keeping Michael’s face pinned softly against his chest so the boy wouldn’t witness hisabductor. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you.”

Eamon undid his belt and handed it to her, and she looped the leather around Peter’s wrists as makeshift handcuffs before hoisting him to his feet. Peter didn’t resist, though. He was suddenly docile, letting Bel restrain him without so much as a twitch, and while his sudden compliance confused her, it was his face that set off the alarms in her brain.

Peter Pann didn’t seem upset about this turn of events. He didn’t appear angry. He didn’t struggle or speak. He simply stared at her with a pleased expression, as if this had been his plan all along, and dread clutched Bel’s chest at that realization. The Tinker had wanted to get caught.

Wendy racedout of the house as they parked, screaming so loud that Bel understood every hysterical word despite the car’s locked doors. Wendy had been in the dark ever since Eamon crushed the camera, and without their phones, they hadn’t been able to contact her with the news. After arresting Pann, their return had slowed significantly. The man didn’t fight. He didn’t protest. He simply walked alongside them with a placid expression that unnerved Bel; his arms handcuffed by Eamon’s belt. He’d eyed them as if he was picturing them blown apart, their limbs scattered over the torn dirt, and his presence had caused Michael to cry so uncontrollably that Eamon handed the ten-year-old to her as he seized control of the bound Tinker. Seeing the almost six-and-a-half-foot Eamon restraining hisabductor had instantly calmed the boy, but their momentum slowed to a snail’s pace as Bel struggled to carry him. He was at least half her weight, but the child refused to release her. He clung to her neck with inconsolable screams any time she tried to put him down, so she gritted her teeth and carried him the rest of the way. After an endless walk that thankfully didn’t trigger any more IEDs, Eamon restrained Peter Pann in the back seat of his car and then drove them to the house.

“Where is he?” Wendy tripped as she ran, her movements erratic. “Please, where’s Michael? Tell me he isn’t dead. He can’t be dead.”

Bel shoved the car door open, twisting so Wendy could see Michael curled up on her lap, and the strangled sound that escaped the young woman was inhuman. She flung herself at her brother, the boy practically falling out of the car as he leaped for her, and the pair fell to the gravel in a tangle of limbs and excruciating sobs.

Tears pricked Bel’s eyes at their reunion. Every horror she’d experienced was suddenly worth it, and while the hours to come would be equally grueling as they searched for John, this moment was worth their pain. Eamon rounded the car, pulling her into his arms, and she clung to his chest, letting her emotions finally find their relief. She never wanted to see his destroyed body again. She never wanted to witness another child chained to a wall to drown, and her fingers gripped his shirt as she allowed herself a single moment of triumph before she plunged back into hell.

“John?” Wendy asked as she clutched Michael to her chest. “Did you find John?”

Eamon shook his head, and Wendy pulled her brother into her lap, stroking his almost dry hair. “You’ll find him, though? Right? Like you found Michael? You’ll get John back?”

“We’ll fi—” Eamon started, but Wendy’s scream cut him off as she finally spotted who sat bound in the car.

“Oh my god!” She seized Michael and scrambled backward, running to her husband for protection, and Bel noticed for the first time that Henry was glaring at them instead of celebrating Michael’s return.

“Where’s John?” Wendy shoved her brother at Henry and launched herself at Eamon’s car, the heartbreaking reunion forgotten at the sight of their tormentor. “Where is he?” She pounded on the glass, but Pann simply stared at her, unfazed by her rage. “How could you do this? We trusted you!” She hit the window so hard that Bel practically felt the pain radiate through her own fist, and Eamon captured the woman’s waist before she injured herself.

“Let me go!” Wendy struggled, but there was no escaping Eamon’s hold. “He has my brother! Let me go.”

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