Allie’s head was pounding. She woke slowly, not moving lest she give away the fact that she was awake. She took stock of her surroundings. She was on a fairly soft bed, the feel of silk beneath her cheek soothing. The air smelled of sea and wind, and in the distance she heard gulls and the lilting sound of a muezzin calling Muslim believers to prayers.
Muffled voices drifted closer, but as she tried to focus on them, her vision dimmed and blackness threatened. He’d beaten the heck out of her. Her eyes were swollen, and as she valiantly tried to open them, she found she couldn’t. The sun shone on her arm, and the skin felt raw there. She’d burn, not that this would be the worst of her injuries.
Where was she? What did Savidge have planned? Could she manage to escape him? Probably not, she thought. Not as banged up as she was.
Were Knight and Black safe? She shied away from thoughts of King. She feared she’d go mad if she contemplated his death. Even though Savidge had told her he was still alive, there were no assurances and King had had a lot of blood surrounding his head.
Instead, Allie concentrated on surviving. Was her father waiting for her in Virginia? What would he do when she didn’t show up?
This could start a major international incident. Gray Broemig was not just going to let his only daughter be kept by a terrorist. She knew next to nothing about Vasily Savidge. He was a horrible man who had no compunction about hitting women. His employer was Horace Dresden. Should have just put a bullet into Savidge’s heart when she’d had the chance. Now she might not get that chance, and the thought was both sobering and frightening as hell.
“Is she awake yet?” Savidge’s voice called into the room.
“No,” a woman’s voice, sounding frail and small, said from beside the bed.
She wanted to kiss the woman, thank her, and hug her, but Allie realized doing so would give away the fact that she was indeed awake.
“The minute she’s up, I want to know,” Savidge bit out.
Mentally, Allie flicked him off. A soft, cool, wet rag brushed her brow, and Allie sighed.
“You are awake, but I will not tell that devil,” the woman whispered. “He hurt you badly, habiibtii. He is a bad man, but I will help you feel better.”
Allie remained silent, but tears leaked from her eyes, stinging her cheeks and rolling into her hair. The woman wiped her face softly, then wet the rag again and placed it on Allie’s eyes.
A long time later, she removed the rag and wiped some type of poultice over Allie’s eyes. Immediately, the swelling began to go down. The woman wiped the poultice off and once again washed Allie’s face.
Tentatively, Allie opened her eyes and saw the tiny, old woman. Her black hair was spun with gray, and her white hijab was slightly skewed. Allie smiled when she saw that. It would take a crazy woman wearing a skewed hijab to go against Savidge’s wishes.
“They will be coming for you, habiibtii. Tonight, the big Americans will come and you will be safe,” the woman whispered.
“Thank you,” Allie said softly. “For helping me, thank you.”
The old woman snorted and gathered her things before placing them in a pouch. “You listen to me. Bad men are here, and it is no place for one such as you.”
Allie tried to sit up, but the woman hurried to her and pushed her shoulders down. “No, he will know you are awake, and that cannot be yet. The big Americans come, and then you can get up.”
Confusion swam through Allie. “Big Americans? I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Allie whispered.
“No matter. They saved my son a year ago, and I owe them a debt. Mr. Rook and my Vivi are diamonds in the sky. They will bring big Americans and save you. Maybe they will kill the devil too, eh?” The woman began to whistle softly.
Allie lay back and noticed where she was. The room was an older one, made entirely of stone, the light-brown color of the sand in the stones reflecting the light and making it seem like she stood in the middle of the sun. Big window-like openings had been cut out of the far wall, and elaborate silk curtains flowed in the breeze.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“Beirut,” the woman responded as she brought Allie a cup and motioned for her to drink.
Allie did, suddenly thirsty beyond all reason, and drained the cup in just a few swallows. The woman took the cup and pushed again at Allie’s shoulders.
“Lie down, habiibtii. Rest,” she crooned.
Allie’s eyes were growing heavy again, and she rubbed her chest. She missed King. She missed her father. She was scared.
But now she was sleepy. Too sleepy.
“You gave me something?” she asked and heard the slur in her words.
“You must stay asleep. Otherwise, he will do bad things to you,” the woman whispered and then proceeded to pet Allie.
Allie focused on the old woman’s dark eyes, drowning in the black and feeling at peace. “Be safe, old woman. Do not get yourself into trouble for me.”
“Trouble comes to us all, habiibtii. Trouble comes to us all.”