Page 4 of Ghost
It was so cold.She’d been alone for hours.The masked people who’d snatched her from the corner outside her dance studio hadn’t reappeared since chaining her to this chair.There was a table in front of her.
Tears swam in her eyes again.
I want my mom.
She didn’t dare say the words out loud again.Even if the barn was empty.Her swollen lip throbbed from the last time she’d told the kidnappers that.By now, her mother, father, and older brother would be frantic.Surely the police would find her.
She was far from home.She’d been in the trunk of the vehicle for what seemed like a couple of hours.While being carried to the barn, she’d noted the sprawling countryside.They weren’t in Moscow.
I want my bed.My room.My stuffies.Mommy, please find me.
She shoved aside the plea that wouldn’t help her.She had to find a way out.At some point they had to unchain her.She studied the floor and walls.
Metal rattled near the single door.Chains clanked together and the door swung open.Mila squinted, but the only light in the barn hung over her head, casting the entrance in shadows.
No shouts of warning, no police announcing they were here to save her like they did in the movies.
A deep quake started in her bones and crawled its way up her body until her teeth chattered with fear.Her vision blurred and a wail sounded from her mouth.
“Quiet!”said the cruel, hateful voice in Russian.
Mila clamped her mouth shut.Broken sobs shook her shoulders.The woman approached, her form erect.Mila pressed her knees together to stop herself from peeing.
The woman stepped into the light.This time, she wore no mask.The yellow glow spilled over her alabaster skin.Her dark hair was pulled back tightly into a bun.Her features were pinched and her eyes, so familiar, beady.
“Madame Irinia?” The owner of the dance studio.Hope filled her.The woman was strict and mean, but seeing her familiar face offered a strange comfort.Even if her instinct told her that was foolish.
Maybe there was some mistake.
“Madame, please.I need to see my mom.She’ll be so worried—”
“Shhh.”Irinia yanked forward a chair and sat across from her.“Enough,” she hissed, in their native tongue.
Mila’s nose stung.Her bottom lip trembled but she clamped it between her teeth, terrified of crying.
Irinia sighed long and low.“This is hard.I know.You need to understand right now you will not see your mama or papa again.”
The tears sprang down her cheeks.Mila shook her head.“Why?”
She’d trained under the dance teacher since she was three.Competition season had just finished, and she’d taken home four first-place medals and one second-place medal.Was that it?She was being punished?She hadn’t won all the routines, but she’d been the youngest one in her category for the ballet number.
“Madame.”The word came out strangled and fear brought forth the urge to pee once again.“I’m sorry I got second place.I—”
The barn door creaked open.Cold prickles of unease hammered the base of her neck.Her chest tightened as heavy footsteps approached.She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg...anything to make Irinia listen.But she couldn’t do anything but stare at the woman she’d known most of her life.
A person who’d never shown warmth and who’d given very little praise, but someone she wouldn’t have thought dangerous.
Surely not someone who would take her from her family.
Alexei, Irinia’s husband, approached the table.Mila had met him numerous times and he’d always been kinder than his stern wife.His bald head shone beneath the glow of the light as he took a seat next to Irinia, his blue eyes so different from the woman’s green ones.Softer.
Mila shook her head.“Please, let me go home.”
Alexei’s face tightened and he glanced at Irinia.“Have you fed the child?”
Irinia’s forehead wrinkled, the only sign of defiance as her gaze slid his way.“First, she must understand why she’s here.Her purpose.”
“I don’t understand,” Mila said with a sniffle.
