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The door opens and the blue-eyed stranger strolls in with a look of bewilderment on his face. He doesn’t seem comfortable having me as a prisoner and quite frankly, I’m less than pleased to be here, but I’m wondering how things will play out so I stay mute as he comes near me and pulls out a four inch knife.
I don’t blink. Don’t breathe, but what he doesn’t know is that I’m trying very hard to not quiver in fear. I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not right now.
“Listen very carefully because I’m only going to say this once.” Bending at the waist, he practically shoves his face into mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. “I’m going to cut you lose. You are to follow me, quietly. If you do anything to jeopardize this momentary freedom I will not only tie you to that chair for the rest of the night, but I will make sure you don’t sleep a wink for the remainder of the evening. Do I make myself clear?” He waves the knife in front of me for a moment as if to emphasize his statement.
Why is he freeing me? Should I be worried? “Can I ask where you’re taking me?”
“No, you may not.” He cuts through the bonds on my ankles and then my wrists, backing up a step once I’m freed. “Get up, Daya.”
I rub my sore wrists for a moment before pushing myself off the chair. “How do you know my name?”
“I keep tabs on my would-be victims, remember?” He points to the door with the knife. “Go ahead of me.”
Lifting my chin, I look him squarely in the eye. “You do know that if I get the chance to send you packing to the Underworld, I will. Right?”
The most unexpected thing happens next. His lips curve up in what seems like a completely amused gesture rather than out of anger or frustration. He actually smiles. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want you catching me unawares at any point in time.”
So what was all that talk about me being an incompetent hunter and all? His statement contradicts his demeaning comments about my lack of abilities. I bite down on my lower lip to keep from tossing a few insults his direction.
Maybe he’s toying with me or trying to prove something but I decide not to test him just in case and start for the door. “I’m glad we have an understanding then.” Two can play this game. I go out and am met with a dark and narrow hallway. “Where to?”
“Turn to your left.” He’s right behind me, following closely as I march down the hall, holding the knife at my back. There’s another door at the end, left ajar to reveal a small figure moving around inside the room beyond.
“You have company?” I ask, ruled by the anxiety I’m keeping bottled up inside. One on one combat I’m used to and expect. This scenario, however, is new and utterly troubling for me. It’s unpredictable. I don’t know what to expect and it’s unnerving. On a hunt, I know what’s going down even if things don’t go exactly as planned, but nothing happening now is foreseeable. This is scarier than an actual battle with a large pissed off werewolf twice my size and three times as strong.
Out on the street, I know how to handle myself. Here, I’m a sitting duck waiting to be roasted. I don’t like that analogy any more than I do the probability of it coming true.
“You’ll meet him soon enough.”
Understanding that my captor won’t provide any details for now, I continue to the door and once it’s within reach, I push through, stopping when the figure of what appears to be a bald man, about five feet tall with unusually long fingers and sharp looking nails closely resembling claws, comes into full view standing above me in a loft.
In the few years I’ve hunted supernatural creatures, never have I come across something so rare and seemingly out of place as this being that stands in the middle of what looks like an old, dusty library of some kind. The room is divided, with a small sitting area to my right and a loft with about ten rows of bookcases—tall enough they reached the ceiling—across the room. Smaller bookcases—about waist high—were perfectly aligned in front of a wooden handrail, which overlooked a desk on the landing below.
“Come in, child.” The man—I haven’t the slightest idea as to what branch of the supernatural tree he belongs to—turns toward the door and gestures to a stuffed chair to my right. “Make yourself comfortable.”
His eyes are lowered to a page in the book he’s holding in one hand. Not once does he glance up to acknowledge me as I walk into the room and sit on the chair he offered me. My captor follows behind, closing the door after him, but remains on guard near the door. Like I’d pull anything before I find out what’s going on.
“What am I doing here?”
My captor pins me in place with a murderous look. By his reaction, I guess I wasn’t supposed to address the other creepy creature in the room unless given the authority to do so.
“It’s quite alright, Mason.” The bald-headed man’s fingers glide over the page in front of him, from top to bottom, slowly. “Naturally, she’s curious as to why you haven’t harvested her soul yet. I expect her to ask to her heart’s content.”
So my kidnapper’s name is Mason. Good to know. That’s another name I’ll be adding to my growing list of supernaturals I’ll be sending back to hell in the near future.
“Truth is,” those cerulean orbs of his turn their attention to the pasty figure at the opposite side of the room, “I’m more than a little curious myself.” Mason takes a step forward, stuffing the knife he holds in his right hand in the waistband of his pants.
Closing the petite book in his hand, the creature looks up—and scares the daylights out of me. His eyes are devoid of any life. In fact, they have no color whatsoever. Instead, where the pupil and iris should be there’s nothing but a vastness of white which seems to go on forever.
Unable to help myself, I stare back at the robed figure. Though in size he isn’t much, a few inches shorter than I am even, he has suddenly turned into the most oppressing person in the room.
“I believe you have stumbled upon an elaborate mess the likes of which you have yet to fully comprehend, my friend. That girl will get you killed if you don’t get rid of her.”
I inhale a fresh batch of stale air. “I beg your pardon?”
Ignoring me completely, the bald-headed figure places the book in his hand gently on the table in front of him and turns to feel along the many bookcases to his left until he reaches the top of a five step staircase. Once he has his hand on the wooden rail, he descends slowly.
“I’m afraid I have very little comfort to offer you.”
I’m astonished because it’s easy to see that the man is completely blind, even though to me it appeared as if he was staring right at me moments ago. And reading. Wasn’t he reading?
“Your master has put you in a predicament, I’m afraid.”
“He’s not my master!” Mason retorts with a heavy dose of conviction. “My situation couldn’t he helped, Atys. You know this.”
The tiny man, who is obviously Atys, waves a hand at Mason. “I understand. There is no need for you to get all bristled up.
I’m sitting here, stoically, because I have no idea what’s going on.
“Whether by choice or not, he owns you. But she,” Atys points one long, bony finger to me, the light from the candles hanging from the large antique-looking chandelier above in the middle of the room reflect off his glassy fingernail, “is your key to freedom.”
“You don’t have to convince him to kill me, you know. I’m sure he’s come to that decision all on his own,” I retort with just the right measure of sarcasm. It’s easy to see he’s not rooting for me.
Once again, I’m met with a look of disdain as I stare into Mason’s eyes. “Let’s get something clear, the only reason I haven’t harvested your soul yet is because I don’t know why the leaders of the Underworld want you dead.”
“Mason.” Atys carefully places one foot in front of the other as he makes his way toward us. He definitely looks as old as the chandelier hanging above his head. Maybe even older. “Make a decision quickly. Otherwise you will be the Lord’s next target.”
“Atys.” Apparently a little exasperated himself, Mason runs a hand over his short black hair. “I came to you for answers. You’re a seer. Please tell me what you see.”
“I see trouble heading your way. She is your key to eternal freedom, but she can easily turn into your damnation.” Aty’s strolls over to a second stuffed chair to my right and carefully, as if afraid of breaking a few bones by moving too quickly, slumps down on the upholstered seat. “You’ve already gained a handful of enemies when you took her out of that alley. From this point onward, whatever choice you make will weigh heavily on your shoulders.”
Mason doesn’t appear to be the least bit preoccupied by the possibility of having a few dark killers after him. “Will you not tell me why the Lords’ want to kill her? Why would I be offered such a high price for her? She’s merely a human. A hunter.” He spares a glance in my direction. “Not a good one at that.”
I flip him off. “Says you.”
Atys bursts out in a fit of gurgled laughter. “Keep her and find out.”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m weathered and old. I have seen many glorious things in my life though I was born blind. I have answers to questions you have yet to ask me, but as skilled as my abilities are I cannot see everything. This girl’s fate I cannot see. Only yours.”
“So what do you advise me?”
“As I said before, keep her and you will find out what your fate holds.”
“Do I have any say in this?” I hope to be able to plead my case to anyone who will lend an ear. I want to go home and get back to my mundane lifestyle, including my boring job at the coffee house. Anything beats this insanity I’m in.
“No!” both Mason and Atys respond in unison.
I huff a curse under my breath and sit back with my arms folded over my chest. There’s no way either of them is letting me go. I can read their intent clearly. I’m stuck and what’s worse, the magic surrounding this place prevents me from pinpointing our location. I have no clue where we are and I can’t even call for help.
“Mason.” Atys rushes to his feet faster than I would have ever thought he could move. “Take the girl and leave. Lord Blasius is here.”
To this Mason takes off his left glove. “Daya, we have to leave right now.”
I’m taken aback. I don’t know who this Lord Blasius is but judging by Mason’s reaction he doesn’t seem like good news.
Rather than fight him tooth and nail over why I should be set free, I scamper to my feet and rush to him. “What’s going on?”
He looks at me. “We’re leaving.” To Atys he says, “Buy us some time.”
Atys hastily makes his way to the door. “I won’t be able to buy much time. Leave immediately.” He pauses with his hand on the knob. “He knows the girl is here.”
Mason’s glove clad hand snakes out to grab me by the wrist. “Close your eyes.”
I don’t question him. I don’t protest. I just do as he instructs and squeeze my eyes shut, but instead of disappearing as we did before, I’m instantly surrounded by a thunderous roar that echoes throughout the room followed by an explosion of pain that expands from my back to my ribs and ends finally in my abdomen. Bleeding from an open wound in my lower left side, I fall to my knees, gasping for air. My eyes pop open to meet the look of stark horror on Mason’s face.
Evil has found me and evil will kill me. It looks like this really is the day I’m destined to die.