Lies and Illusion by L. R. Braden

Author:L. R. Braden [Braden, L. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bell Bridge Books
Published: 2024-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

MY EYELIDS ROSE slowly, like curtains on a play. Light bombarded me, blinding me. I shuttered my eyes. I was sitting up, head lolling. A strange rhythmic rocking swayed me side to side. I tried to raise my hand, to wipe my eyes, but something restrained me. All at once, the mechanical hum that had registered only as white noise in my addled brain roared to the foreground. I was pressed hard into the padding at my back. I inhaled sharply. Ropes constrained my chest, limiting my lungs. Panic surged. My eyes snapped fully open.

The interior of the private jet that had carried me to Canada was awash with white warmth as it taxied, all the previously shuttered window blinds thrown open to welcome the blazing afternoon sun. The bone-jarring rattle of the ride eased off as the ground fell away. Snow glittered on the lumps and bumps of the nearby mountains, sparkling like a diamond blanket draped over the landscape, as we rose out of the valley.

My tongue felt swollen, my mouth dry. I worked up enough moisture to swallow. My head was pounding with the incessant throb of a jackhammer against my skull.

What’s going on? The last thing I remember . . . An image of Ronald’s blankly staring eyes drifted up from my memory, followed by the painful panic that had filtered through my bond with James. He’d been fighting someone . . . and he’d been losing. Struggling to pull my thoughts together, I called out along the magical tether that pinned James to my heart and anchored him in my soul. He was there, alive, but too quiet, and every second that the plane gained altitude, the thread between us grew thinner.

“Take me back.” My voice was a dry rasp that prompted a coughing fit. My throat was swollen. Even breathing hurt.

“Awake already?”

I tipped as far sideways in my seat as I could to get a view up the center aisle. Animkii occupied the pilot’s chair, just as he had on our flight here. The second seat in the cockpit was empty.

I swallowed, winced, and forced myself to say, “We have to go back.” The words sliced like razors through my throat.

Animkii shook his head. “Just relax. Take a nap if you can. You look like hell.”

Another memory floated to the surface—Animkii silhouetted in my bedroom door and, before that, Esteban’s thrall crouched beside me in the darkness. Animkii must have been on security detail, but why was the other thrall there? I racked my brain. They said they’d seen my door ajar, but what were the odds they just happened to be passing by my room during the attack? In fact . . . the room had been pitch-black until Animkii turned on the light in the living room. If Ronald had left the door ajar, some light should have filtered in from the hallway.

Sharp pain, like an ice pick stabbing into my temple, tried to steal my concentration, but I clung to the hazy thought.

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