Page 2 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

Nothing. She’d blacked out. He must have drugged her before he brought her here. Wherever here was.

No. That wasn’t the entire memory. She had first awakened elsewhere. In a bed. Not tied up against a wall. A woman fed her soup. A strange woman with... No... Impossible.

That recollection was too fuzzy. Maybe not real.

Rocking her body from side to side and tugging on the ropes ravaged more of her tender flesh. She sucked back tears, swallowing the screams in her mind. Not only was crying useless, but it was also a hindrance. She needed a clear head to think. Madeline drew a deep, calming breath in through her nose. Pursing her lips, she exhaled through her mouth.

Focus.

She was bound to a wall in a room that looked like an empty warehouse. She couldn’t get loose.

Yet.

But the calm she had won vanished. Once again, panic set in.

No. No.

When Madeline was young, she had wondered if she had a touch of OCD. Her sister Darya had said, “So what! You’re seriously hooked on lists and order.”True. She organized clothes in her closet by type and color. In her kitchen cabinet, all the cans of chicken soup were side by side. Vegetable soup was with vegetable soup. And so on. Anything that could be grouped was.

She blamed her needs on growing up in the out-of-control home of an alcoholic. It drove her desire for order. She became a librarian because of the structure. Each book had its proper place.

Now was the time to call on tried-and-true relaxation methods. When stressed, she recited the Dewey Decimal Classification Chart. Since she could use some tranquility, she mumbled, “Computer Science, Information, and General Works. Philosophy and Psychology...”

A door banged open, interrupting her mental recitation. When the light switch flipped on, most bulbs came to life, though a few flickered and dimmed. Madeline slammed her lids shut against the painful brightness. The ominous sound of boots thudding across the floor caused her heart to nearly burst out of her chest. Someone was coming.

Managing rapid, shallow breaths, she prepared to face her assailant.

Calm. Think. Steel yourself.

A deep voice punched through her quiet. “Good. You’re awake.”

Inching her lids open, Madeline stared at the man before her. Her gaze traveled up his long legs to a trim waist and broad shoulders. His sandy hair was tied back. She judged him to be a bit over six feet. What met her next was the stuff of nightmares. His eyes were cruel, uncaring, murderous.

And solid white. Irises. Pupils. The works.

Breath shot from her chest. She shuddered, stifling a scream. He was a monster.

Her kidnapper jerked his fists to his hips while he scrutinized her. “We’re going to have such fun. Well, at least I shall.” His laugh was deep, loud, hollow.

Madeline cleared her throat twice, finally squeaking out, “Who are you?”

Leathery, veined charcoal-gray wings popped from his back.

Unable to control herself, she screamed.

Fucking bat wings. Impossible. Like the woman she dimly remembered, the one who had fed her.

Madeline couldn’t stop herself. She tugged on her arms and tried to kick her feet clear of the ties. Blood dripped onto her shirt. What her captor did next, however, led her to gravitate from scared to pissed in seconds.

He laughed, and she wanted to bitch slap him. She may be a librarian, but she didn’t fit the stereotype. No shy, retiring demeanor for her. She was more inclined to rip out your throat if you didn’t obey the posted quiet signs.

Not really, but sometimes the urge was there. She was a librarian for the lists and order, not to hide behind the bookshelves.

Years with her mother’s erratic, drunken behavior had taught her well. Never let the enemy see you sweat. She wiped the fear from her expression and stared at the monster, her gaze devoid of emotion.

The nightmare vision in front of her tapped his chest. “I’m Praevus.”

Latin forevil,perverse. Uselessly tugging on her wrists again, she asked, “Where am I?”

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