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“Fine,” Thing One said. He looked at me. “Better get your strength up, or you’ll be no good to us. We’ll be better off killing you, then, so decide what’s more important.”
He walked out of the room with the other one following.
“No reason to bother locking the door,” one of them said. “She can’t get out, looking the way she does.”
“We can’t be too careful, I’m not losing her again. He’ll have our heads if we’re not back with her this time.”
“Come on, let’s just go—don’t worry about it,” the other one insisted.
Footsteps receded. I tried to figure out what they were talking about. Who wanted me? Oscar didn’t know about this, so this was about something—or someone—else. With my mind so fuzzy, it was hard to think straight. I couldn’t piece together who might be after me and why. Nothing made sense anymore.
The bottle of water and carton of food stood on the floor next to the cot. It took a lot of energy, but I managed to hoist myself up and pick up the bottle. I fought with the cap until I unscrewed it and took a sip. When it went down okay, I took another, and another.
I picked up the carton and undid it, finding the sandwich that had been mentioned. When I took a bite, it was the best food I’d eaten in a long time. I’d been hidden in a different realm, and aside from the pies I’d baked, the fresh fruit and berries that looked like they’d been foraged, I hadn’t eaten much at all. Yet, back there, my strength hadn’t waned, even with my strange diet.
Had that been about the magic?
Why was I getting so weak so quickly now?
I struggled to swallow down the sandwich. I ate another bite or two before I gave up on the sandwich and dropped it back into the carton. I drank more water—I could survive for a while without food, but I had to drink and stay hydrated. I didn’t know what lay ahead for me, but whatever it was, I had to take care of myself so that I could escape.
I lay back on the cot and threw my arm over my face. I wished I was back at the cottage with Ash checking up on me.
Hell, I wished I was back home with Cat.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Mom asked as she pressed her hand against my forehead. Whenever she wasn’t sure if I had a fever, she pressed her cheek against mine—a mother’s cheek was the most accurate thermometer in the world. She lifted her head, her face concerned. “You’re going to get through this.”
“It’s just a rough patch,” I said hoarsely.
“We’re all allowed downtime, honey. Sleep, get better. I’m taking Cat to school, and then I’ll be back with something to eat.”
I nodded, and my mom left the room. When I blinked my eyes open, Mom was back. A tray stood next to my bed with a cup of soup and a piece of toast.
“It’s nothing too fancy, so your stomach should handle it. Sit up, try to eat.”
She sat next to me on the bed with a smile, and I hoisted myself up. I took a bite of toast, following it with some soup, and I groaned.
“This is so good.”
Mom smiled. “That’s good. Eat as much as you can. You have to keep your strength up. We won’t let this thing get you down.”
My dad walked into the room.
“How are you feeling, pumpkin?” he asked. “It’s good to see you eating.”
“I’ll be okay,” I said.
“Of course you will,” Dad said with a grin. “It’s not that easy to take us out, huh?”
I smiled, but a thought dawned on me. “Where’s Oscar? Has he come to see me?”
Mom glanced at Dad before turning back to me.
“I wish you would keep your options open, sweetheart. He’s not the right man for you.”
“What’s so bad about him?” I asked. “He’s always been good to me, and you’re always so nice to him when he’s here.” I looked at my dad, who shook his head.
“It’s not always about what someone does, or who someone is.”
