Close to You by Stacia Kane

Author:Stacia Kane [Kane, Stacia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466849198
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press
Published: 2013-10-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Fuck, her neck hurt. Well, her whole body hurt, but her neck seemed especially sore, like someone had bitten her really, really hard. Harder than even Terrible had ever bitten her neck.

Terrible. Where was he? Opening her eyes didn’t help; it was too dark in whatever room she was in. Her wrists and ankles were tied, which made it rather difficult to sit up, and her mouth was so dry that when she tried to call his name, all she managed to produce was a sort of wheeze.

Shit. Turning her head made stars dance in front of her eyes and sent waves of fresh pain radiating from her neck. Pain she could take. Panic, though... panic wasn’t as easy to deal with, and she could feel it threatening as her eyes started to adjust to the darkness and she didn’t see him.

“Terrible?” It still sounded like a wheeze, but at least it was audible. She licked her lips with her too-dry tongue, swallowed, and tried again. “Terrible? Are you in here?”

He’d been hit twice, she remembered. That bitch Eliza had plugged two darts into his neck. Animal tranquilizers, she’d bet; like the ones Mr. Hudson had probably used on the sleeping tiger in the photograph, like the ones any vet would have. Hudson Veterinary Clinic, and the Hudsons standing there grinning. Motherfucker.

At least the fear and anger were helping her wake up. She wriggled along the floor—eew, she pictured sliding across germs and bacteria like a box on a rolling conveyer belt—until she’d moved her head away from the wall so she could see more of the room.

A dark shape against the wall. A big dark shape, a Terrible-shaped shape. Mrs. Hudson had managed to drag him into the house somehow, then. She hadn’t left him unconscious in the freezing cold. It would have been a relief except she still didn’t know if he was alive. She assumed she would have felt it if he wasn’t, that she would know, but she honestly couldn’t be sure.

Time to make sure. More maneuvering across the sticky, nasty carpet, until she was close enough to hear Terrible’s breathing. He was breathing. Thank fuck. “Terrible. Terrible, wake up.”

Nothing. Shit. She probably could have woken him if she’d had access to her bag—some of those herbs were pretty pungent—but her bag hadn’t been at her side when she woke up. Bending her legs told her that her knife wasn’t in her pocket, either. Great. No knife, no—no bag. Not only was she tied up, not only did she not have a weapon or any of her magical supplies, and not only did she suspect a crazy old woman was going to try to use her like a battery, but if she didn’t end up killed by Vincent’s ghost, she’d end up withdrawing there in a filthy room in a house that seemed held together only by mold and delusions.

She took a deep breath, pulled her tied-together ankles back, and kicked Terrible as hard as she could.

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