Page 13 of Taken By Raider Kings
Since leaving Hammerheath, the sensation had always been accompanied by the buzz of copper-bottomed pans knocking together.
Did I feel it last night, and just not pay attention?She pushed the question aside and took the first few tentative steps into a terrible, desperate plan.
Her purse was still in the van.Stupid, stupid, stupid!she chanted inwardly as she edged, heart hammering, for the bathroom entrance.Cold tile gritted under her naked feet, and she eased into the chill of a winter morning.
Without the heels, her footsteps were silent.Soon her feet would get numb; she just had to power through.
She set off for the Kiwanis booth, not daring to look over her shoulder.Don’t act guilty.But walk quickly, walk determined.Catch his eye.
Her stomach rumbled.If she could attract the man’s attention and ask him to call the police, she could get free, she could… what?Give a statement?
How would that work?She hadn’t seen anything she could swear to, just a terrible, unbelievable nightmare.Things with fangs, a confused impression of leaping forms, shapes covered in hair like a…
Likewhat,exactly?She couldn’t put it into words.And the rattling in her head got louder.
Forty feet away, the man coughed behind a raised newspaper.Her feet were indeed getting to blessed numbness; she stepped on a pebble and winced.Going habitually barefoot at home was nothing like this.The jeans were raspingly unfamiliar, and she really wanted nothing more than her own kitchen, her ratty chenille robe, and a hot cup of coffee.And a Danish.A warm one, dripping with icing and with chunks of apple drenched in brown sugar.
She could almost taste sweet pastry, and hurried up.Thirty feet.Twenty-five.
Fresh morning air was still except for the hum of traffic from the freeway.What was she going to say?This isn’t a joke.I’ve been kidnapped.Please help me.
She practiced the words inside her head, clutching borrowed clothes to her chest.One heel dug into her left biceps.A sluggish breeze started, caressing her tangled hair; the sky was still orangeish in the east.At home she’d probably still be in bed, and if Lucy stayed over?—
Sharp pain jabbed her heart.Oh, Lucy.Luce.God.
The rattling in her head got worse.Fifteen feet.Ten.
She opened her mouth—and let out saved breath in a sigh when the man looked up, his hazel eyes caught in a net of crinkles, his smile immediate and genuine.
The buzzing rattle stopped.
A heavy arm fell over her shoulders.“Cup of coffee, sweetheart?”her kidnapper said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Sophie’s entire body, desperate to cringe, was instead frozen in place.She stared at the old man, willing him to realize she’d been about to ask him for help.The sore spot under her hair throbbed, and her cheek was on fire.
“What a pretty young miss.”A wavering tenor; the old man grinned even wider, if that were possible.She saw the thick, heavy plastic-framed glasses dangling on a chain at his chest, and her heart sank.“I call all the young girls ‘miss.’Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”The kidnapper’s arm tightened.“Make that three coffees, please.And probably a doughnut for her, too.We’ve been driving all night.”
“Family trip?”The man, nearly cross-eyed, eased off his stool, began shuffling around the small booth.“Reason I ask is, I heard your van door.”
Zach—that was his name—grinned easily.“Yeah, heading south.Warmer down there.”His arm tightened further, and her kidnapper, of all things, bent down and kissed the top of Sophie’s head, inhaling deeply.As ifsmellingher.She writhed inwardly with embarrassment; what was she supposed to do?Start screaming?
What would he do if she did?
A sudden crystalline image from last night burned through her brain, from right before she’d run off like a panicked rabbit.It was the thing that had killed Lucy, snarling and champing its too-big, gleaming razorteeth, while Zach’s shape changed like clay under running water.
Growingfur.
Sudden certainty nailed her in place, chill concrete biting her soles.I didn’t imagine a goddamn thing, Isawit.That’s what made me run.I saw it all.
“Oh, I hear ya, I hear ya.”The old man shrugged, setting out three foam cups, settling a big pink bakery box on the small counter.His filmy hazel eyes wandered, refusing to focus.“Honey, why don’t you just peek in there and see if there’s a doughnut you like?I got apple fritters, and Bismarcks, and all sorts of good things.Fresh this morning, too.”
Sophie swallowed hard, her throat making a tiny clicking noise.Zach-the-kidnapper bumped her, almost gently, and she was suddenly very sure that if she didn’t try to act normally, something dreadful would happen.
Like something “happened” to Lucy?He said they weren’t going to hurt me.
He could have been lying.She’d heard “I’m not gonna hurt you” before.If she had a quarter for every time, she wouldn’t have to worry about scraping together rent for a year.
