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I should have been safe, walking with a constable close by.
The van jostled, pressing me further against its floor, and I could sense we were accelerating. Where the runestone had grafted into my skin was a pulsating, relentless pain. I thought maybe it was cycling down, lessening in fractions, but my access to magic was not returning, and fear fluttered in my chest.
I wished I could squeeze my eyes shut, but that too was denied me and I fought to think clearly.
There were any number of reasons why a warlock like me might be abducted and none of them were good. These might be some of the rare humans who knew about the Bright and intended to use my talents for their own purposes. But they would have needed a warlock to make the runestone in the first place, so I imagined this was not the case.
It might be an angry client.
I had overseen at least a dozen divorces in the course of my time as a counselor, which I suppose was on the low side given statistics these days, but for those whose marriages had ended, I was not a fond memory.
Or, and this was more likely the case, I was about to be the victim of warlock trafficking.
Terror made a vice of my lungs and for several seconds I couldn’t breathe. Would they kill me first? Or would they go straight to dismemberment?
Warlock trafficking had been around since the dark ages, but human advancement and technology made it a lot easier for the unsavory element of society to get us these days. It was a constant threat, but somehow I’d never imagined it would happen to me.
Gorge rose in my throat at the thought of what alchemical spells my various bits and pieces might be used for.
Curse that Derrick King and his too-good features. If he hadn’t distracted me, I might have brought along some better form of defense for the short walk across town.
I should have let him walk me home.
I would have been safe.
Chapter Three
After much driving and jostling we apparently arrived at our destination because I was moved from the van. I tried to pay attention to touch and smell – the only two senses left to me – but because the runestone was still throbbing into my palm it was hard to concentrate. We seemed to be somewhere near the ocean. The smell of salty-fishy sea was overcome by a distinct curry scent when we came indoors.
I could feel the presence of a fan, and then a scratchy, plush surface as they set me down. I could not say why, but I had the sense that there were several more bodies here. The hood was ripped from my head, and I blinked several times, blinded by light and accosted by sound all at once. There were low growls and several voices raised, though for the moment I could not make out what they were saying.
The wallpaper was torn in places, and the yellow pansy pattern it boasted once upon a time was now faded to a grimy off-white. From the corner of my eye, I could see dinged, hardwood flooring and a window shaded with heavy brown drapes. Mold crawled across the ceiling and for a sick moment I wondered if this would be the last place I ever saw.
As my vision came into focus, I was able to see one very clear, very familiar face: Derrick King.
“Have you lost your minds?” Derrick shouted, his attention swerving from me to my captors.
This seemed to suggest that Derrick had not ordered my abduction, but since my joints were still in a state of magical freeze-frame and I was laying on a cheap bed in what I imagined was one of those pay-by-the-hour type hotels, it didn’t matter.
I let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, which might have been humiliating but I was too pleased that my vocal cords were working to care.
Derrick spared me another glance and then directed his questions to a lean, clean-shaven fellow in suspenders and a white shirt that I immediately pegged as a werewolf. He was at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, and was giving the smuggest smile I had ever seen in my life. He was not the least perturbed that Derrick, a constable, was demanding to know what they’d done to me, and that was far more chilling than the prospect of warlock trafficking.
“Relax, Constable, she’ll be fine,” the man said, giving me a once-over and a sneer. “We just needed her compliant for a while.”
“Compliant?” Derrick echoed.
The man shrugged. “You heard her, no counselor worth their salt is going to take the deal.”
“So you kidnapped one?” There was no mistaking the growl in Derrick’s voice and the tension in the room tightened around us.
Smug-man uncrossed his arms to glare at Derrick. “Last I checked we were on a deadline. Maybe you’re willing to go back to Ms. Maureen empty-handed, but I’m not.”
There was a smear of movement as Derrick grabbed the man by the shirt, planting him against the wall in the next breath with so much force it shuddered. Bits of the cheap hotel room dusted to the ground like snow and there was an alarming moan through the wood. My heart faltered and I fought to move my fingers. I’m not sure why, but I thought if I could move my fingers then I could maybe break the spell binding me. Which was insane because even if I did break the spell, there were four wolves in the room, not including Derrick.
Maybe Derrick’s training could help him in the fight, but without magic I had nothing to aid him with.
“Maureen put me in charge of this assignment for a reason,” Derrick was saying, his nose inches from smug-man’s face. “You don’t get to decide when we go back.”
