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“She got away, but we’ll get her back. Like we got you back, bitch. We’re tracing the license plate now on that fancy SUV you showed up in.”
I instantly panicked. Obviously it would show it belonged to Shep.
Though, I could only imagine what would happen to them if they tried to enter the compound. I almost smiled at the thought. Almost.
I wondered where Poppy drove off to. If she was smart, she’d use my phone’s GPS and go straight to the nearest police station. If she called her parents or someone, there was going to be a whole-ass media blowup.
Fuck. Human cops against vampires?
“Get up, we’re moving. Again. Thanks to you and that redhaired bitch.”
I did as I was told. Moving was good, it meant we’d be out of the house. Wherever that was. I couldn’t believe the audacity of these vampires not even tying us up, too confident we were too weak and they were much stronger and faster than us to try to escape.
I also knew Shep and his guys would be looking for me. But that could take hours. I knew when I didn’t show up later with their car, they’d get concerned. But how would they find me? Even if they got their car back, and Poppy directed them to the house—which, who knew if she knew the location—I wouldn’t be here.
I was wrangled out to the living room where three of the four girls I’d left behind, along with three new ones I’d never seen, were waiting. They stared at me, and the ones I recognized, their eyes widened. They were smart enough to figure out I’d traded myself for Poppy.
As scared as I was, I didn’t regret it. She was just a scared 18-year-old kid, and hopefully she could move on from this and live a happy life. I was a witch and could get myself out of this. All of the “should haves” after I was rescued swirled in my mind for days—for weeks—of things I could have tried while I was locked up with these bastards. I couldn’t think of them at the time because of the drugs, but they were in my memory now, and I planned to use some of them. What I wasn’t going to put up with was the assault. If that bastard tried that again, he’d be very sorry.
We were all put into the van, and I recognized that it was very early morning—the sun wasn’t quite up. I’d slept all night but of course did not feel refreshed. They shackled us to handcuffs that were secured to the walls of the van, each of us having one hand free but unable to move.
Two of them sat up front and I wondered if they were concerned about the upcoming sun. Maybe it was a short drive? The other two sat with us in the back. There were no seats, so they kneeled behind the driver and passenger seats, watching us menacingly. But they didn’t scare me.
I tried to watch where we were going but there were no windows in the back and the bastards’ heads were blocking the front window.
All I knew was that it was going to be nowhere good. But I would be ready.
Chapter 19
Know Thy Enemy
Psycho
I pulled up the camera from the front door and watched it again. Sure enough, there Nera was, entering the clubhouse a few hours ago. I watched as she disappeared from view, then came back about five minutes later with a large book that absolutely looked like something a witch would have, and sat at one of the loungers. I noticed she wore earbuds, something she must have bought earlier on her shopping trip. She didn’t move a long time, reading and studying that book. Then, around 4:45, she looked at her phone, got up, went to her room, and then back out the front door, where the parking lot camera showed she took off in the Audi again.
It was now near 10 p.m. as I paced a hole in my living room floor. “Where are you?” I whispered.
Of course calling her phone was useless. It just rang, and she hadn’t set up a voicemail. No return of my texts either. I picked up my phone.
Me: You up?
Wizard: Yeah
I dialed his number.
“What’s up boss?” he answered.
“Are those tracker things on the cars still active?” I asked.
“They sure are. I haven’t had to pull one up since I tested them, but I can now.” I heard him typing. “Which vehicle?”
“The white Audi SUV.”
“On it,” he said. Then I heard a loud ding. He stopped typing. “Fuck,” he muttered. “My Google alert for Penelope O’Shea just pinged.” I heard a clicking noise, then voice. “Turn on your TV to the local news, boss.”
I scrambled for the remote on my coffee table and popped the flat-screen on where a bubbly blonde in a pink shirt stood outside in the dark in front of a police station. Her words echoed in my ear as I was on the line with Wizard.
“…but New Orleans police say Penelope O’Shea showed up at the second district precinct claiming to be a missing person. A quick check showed that Ms. O’Shea was reported missing two months ago. But that’s not the most bizarre part. She claims a former kidnapping victim she was held captive with but had escaped weeks ago was the one who rescued her. She only knows her by the name ‘Nera.’”
