Page 20 of Taken By Raider Kings
She clambered into the cab, slamming the door so hard she was amazed the window didn’t shatter.
“You damn lucky,” he said as he pulled away, excruciatingly slowly.“I usually tell people get out, they slam the door that hard.This thing’s my livelihood, ya know.”
Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?“I’m sorry.”Her throat was on fire and her glasses were probably never going to be the same.Three hundred fifty bucks she couldn’t afford for the frames alone.“I guess I’m… I’m sorry.”Werewolves.And what the hell was that?Something came in the window, they were fighting.
More werewolves?Jesus Christ.I can’t believe I’m even thinking this.And I saw it and heard it all myself.More fresh night air poured through the driver’s window; it felt so, so good against her fevered cheeks and sweating hands.She gulped in the close, comforting reek of exhaust, vinyl, the muggy smell of other people who’d sat in this very seat.
Real people.Humanpeople.
“Aw, don’t worry about it.”His cold-coffee gaze skittered to the rearview, returned to the road.“What happened to you, lady?You look awful scared.”
Scaredseemed too pale a word to encompass this emotion.So didrelieved.Only a massive effort of will prevented Sophie from twisting in the seat to look out the back window.
If this guy got the idea she was maybe being followed, he might decide not to help after all.
“My ex-husband,” she said, softly.Lying, Sophie?But you’re getting away from kidnapping werewolves, that’s got to be a karmic pass.And besides, she had the terrified-woman look down pat; it fit just like an old shoe.“He’s a real… He’s?—”
After a few moments, the cabbie felt around on the seat next to him.He produced, of all things, a battered box of Kleenex, held with one hand over the seat back; it was a mercy this cab didn’t have a bulletproof shield between driver and passenger.
“Wipe you face, honey.”He sounded much kinder now.“You leakin’.”
* * *
Fifteen hours later, bone-tired, still in sockfeet, freezing, and so tired even her hair hurt, Sophie locked her own apartment door with shaking, weak fingers.The scab on her left palm crackled with pain; the familiar warm scent of an apple-cinnamon candle Lucy had brought as a housewarming gift managed to penetrate her running nose.
Christ, I’m a mess.The thought drowned in a flood of relief so strong her knees actually went weak.
She slumped against the door, wishing she had more than two dead bolts and a chain.A mad mental vision of nailing boards over the opening like a cartoon character danced through her tired skull.The little plastic-jeweled purse dangled from her fingers.
Nobody knew she’d planned to go out with Luce.But there were her friend’s car keys, big as life and twice as ugly.She should have dropped them off the train somewhere, except Luce had Sophie’s house keys on her ring as well, and Sophie had left her own at home.
Then throw them away.Just get them out of here.
She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, or the kind of irrational impulse that might take hold of a woman after she’d been kidnapped by werewolves, seen vampires—and, oh yeah, witnessed the death of her best and only friend.
Pale beige carpeting lay stark and sane under pearly morning light, the walls still bare of everything but a single print of van Gogh’sStarry Night—another gift from Lucy.One bedroom, one bath, a living room, and a kitchen barely wide enough for two skinny women to stand in.She’d traded the luxurious mansion out in the Hammerheath suburb for this little slice of paper-thin walls and baseboard heating in what Marc always called “the blue-collar slum.”
But it was allhers,and she paid her rent a month ahead of time by living on ramen and frozen peas—plus a generous helping of Lucy’s cooking.
These were, after all, the types of places she’d grown up in.Big apartment blocks crowding tiny corner stores, trash bins overflowing outside the supers’ doorways, kids playing in the streets, and the sounds of other people carrying on with their lives behind every flimsy door.She’d even thought Marc was the prince, taking her away from the noise and the stink.
He’d turned out to be something else entirely.Everybody did.For example, she never would have thought flighty, bubbly Lucy would be the friend to stick by her through all through hell and back.
And now Luce was gone.Sitting on a train gave a woman entirely too much time to think; the inside of Sophie’s brain felt moth-eaten and acid-dipped all at once.
Oh, God.She almost slid down the door to collapse on the square of linoleum in front.No welcome mat on the other side, even, but then, Sophie never felt particularly welcoming anymore.She didn’t wantanyoneto know where she lived.
Except Lucy.
God.Oh, God.
Her face crumpled, and she pushed herself into motion.Her fingers cramped; she mechanically slid the keys back into the purse and dropped both on the counter next to her own cheap black vinyl bag, placed precisely next to a stack of textbooks so she could take the ones she needed every morning.
“I have a Child Development final this week,” she muttered, blankly, to her empty apartment.It was midmorning and the entire building was strangely deserted for a weekend.Maybe everyone was sleeping, or hungover.Another cab had let her off right in front, and nobody—not even the conductor on the train—had said a word about her feet.
She was going to starve a bit next month; she’d had barely enough to pay her way home and her savings were nonexistent.
None of it mattered.Sophie dragged herself into the bedroom.The blinds weren’t down; she’d forgotten to pull them Friday night.It was Sunday, and she could sleep in her own bed—she had escaped werewolves and God only knew what else.
