Page 2 of Seducing Scylla
2
Morgan
The rest of my shift passes uneventfully, with Joe finding no evidence of the man I hit with my returns trolley or the young woman he was harassing. Closing time rolls around and I make my rounds of the library, ensuring no one gets left inside after hours.
“Sorry, Bruce, you gotta head out for the night. I’m locking up.” I usher one of the regular visitors out of the booths at the far end of the library.
Bruce grumbles, looking sheepish. “Sorry, Morgan.”
“Me too, hon. Me too.” I give his arm a sympathetic squeeze as Joe escorts him out to the foyer and locks the doors after him. Joe returns and we begin our routine of flicking each light off and checking each window and door is locked as we circle the interior perimeter. When we’re back at the foyer, I grab my satchel from the locked drawer atthe front desk and flick the last light off before exiting into the brisk night air, feeling glad for my fluffy pink cardigan.
“You want me to walk you home, Miss Morgan?” Joe asks as I lock the front doors behind us and tuck the key away in my satchel.
I shake my head. “I’ll be alright. Thanks, Joe. It’s only five, plenty of people still around.”
I gesture out to the park where people are still, in fact, around, despite the slowly darkening sky. Plus, I know Joe has a bus and a train to catch before he makes it to his home in one of the outer suburbs of the city.
“A’right, you be careful now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I give Joe a quick hug and wave him off in the direction of the bus stop.
My eyes flit around the park before heading in the direction of the path, when I spot an older-looking camper van parked in the far corner of the library parking lot, its rear window covered in stickers from all over. The kind that people collect on family road trips.
Sighing, I make my way over to the vehicle, tilting my head to peer into the front as I approach, not seeing anyone in the driver’s cab.
“Yoo hoo, anyone home?” I knock on the rear passenger door. “You can’t park here overnight. City council will have you towed when they come to lock the gate in an hour!”
The door opens with a dull click of the handle. I paste a friendly smile on my face, expecting a bedraggled tourist to open the door. What I’m not expecting is the dark-eyed man from earlier today.
“You.” His growl is a deep timbre.
Uh-oh.My danger radar goes from green to blaring red in ten seconds flat.
“Oh, hello!” I pale. “Sorry again about earlier. I’m so clumsy. I tripped over my feet. Um, you can’t park here overnight. The council will have you towed. When they lock the gate.”
I wave my hand lamely at the parking lot gate, my mouth not taking the cue to stop talking. My smile slips slightly.
The man’s eyes flash dangerously. I gulp, taking a step backward, prepared to run, if need be. I’m suddenly feeling grateful that I wore flats to work instead of heels like some of the women at the high fashion retail stores.
“You cost me my catch, and now I’m short a body.”
“Uh, body?” I squeak.
Pearly white teeth peek out as a grin splits his face. It would be handsome, if not for his dead eyes, instead, it’s just menacing. I let out a whimper, my eyes darting back and forth to see if someone has eyes on us, but the sky has deepened, and most people have since moved on to more well-lit areas.
My mind races a mile a minute. His mention of a catch and a body has me thinking I’m about to be in a bit of a pickle. Whirling on my feet, I make a break for it, not waiting to find out if I’m about to become somebody’s lampshade like I’m imagining. I make it two steps before a strong hand grips me around the back of the neck. My feet fly out from under me as the man yanks me backward and I let out a small grunt as I fall into a hard body. His arms quickly wrap around me, and a hand covers my mouth to smother the scream I’m seconds away from letting loose.
My nostrils flare as panic rips through me, and I thrash in his arms, my breathing short and sharp. Black spots creep into the edges of my vision at the lack of oxygen filtering through his palm.
“Get me the stuff,” he grunts to someone.
Oh my god, there’s more of them.I whimper, trying to breathe through my nose in squeaky inhales and exhales. All the crimedocumentaries I’ve watched run through my head. Are they going to stuff me in a freezer? Cook me up and dish me in a pie? I don’t want to be a pie!
The man removes his hand for a brief moment, allowing me to suck in a deep breath of air, but the relief is short-lived as his hand comes back up again. I shake my head back and forth, a shrill keening slipping from my lips. My legs swing, trying to make contact with any part of him I can, to no avail. He wrestles my jaw with his hand, a damp cloth coming over my nose and I unwillingly inhale a sickly-sweet smell. My vision clouds at the edges and sleepiness creeps in as my limbs gradually give up their fight and hang limply in the man’s arms.
The next lot of tourists can just get towed.
3
