Taken

Chapter 17

It was a Doze Inn, in a section of town Sophie had never dared to enter before—south of downtown, just on the edge of the core of housing projects that were always in the news. The concrete building slumped, tired and dispirited, under a gray sky, and the room had two beds, a kitchenette, and the hopeless smell of burned food and desperation.

“It was a productive morning,” Eric said, with a meaningful glance in Sophie’s direction. “We went channel-surfing.”

“Good.” Zach shrugged out of his wet coat. It had started to pour again, as if the sky wanted to wash the city clean. “See any other Tribe since we split up?”

“Not yet.” Eric looked like he wanted to say something else.

Sophie pushed past him, heading for the bed that wasn’t piled with a mound of clothes. Her feet were killing her, and she was soaked clear through. Her purse was heavier than she could ever remember it being; her shoes were full of water and, she was sure, half a street’s worth of gravel. She sank down, shivering, and kicked the heels off. Immediately her groaning feet felt wrinkled and slightly soiled from the cheap carpet.

“Holy shit,” someone said in the kitchen, and the girl—Julia—appeared, holding a steaming, industrial-white china mug. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” Zach relaxed, his shoulders dropping and a grin flashing across his dark-stubbled face. He filled up the room, and a wave of relief spilled through the air. It smelled like warm cookies, and Sophie found her own shoulders loosening, tension sliding out of her. She sighed.

What is that? She had to examine the feeling before she figured out it was safety, again, that weird sense that things were going to be all right. Julia shoved the mug into her hands, and Sophie found it contained blessed, fragrant coffee.

“You brought her back.” Brun sat in front of the room’s puny little television, cross-legged on the floor, a large piece of leather across his lap. A shy smile lit his young face. “Hello, shaman.”

Sophie blew across the top of the coffee. She felt a little faint. Her lower back was cramping up, waves of pain tightening the muscles.

“I figured out your sizes and got you some clothes. Oh, and you can use my shampoo.” Julia’s dark eyes were wide and pleading. She looked a lot younger than she had, and the way she hunched down, glancing at Sophie only peripherally, was a little…troubling. The pale streak in her hair almost trembled as she hunched, easily, as if it was perfectly normal to crouch at someone’s feet.

“Thanks.” Sophie wrapped her aching hands around the mug, welcome heat soaking into her bones. Her hair dripped. “You wouldn’t happen to have a towel handy, would you?”

“I’ll get it!” Brun bolted to his feet and leaped for the bathroom. Julia collided with him halfway there, and they crashed into the door. Sophie flinched, and Eric swept the room door shut and rolled his eyes.

“They’ve been like this the whole time. Goddamn pups.”

“They’re young.” Zach actually grinned for a moment, but quickly sobered. “Any oddness around?”

“Not that I can smell. I’ve kept us in here all rutting day. Bored out of our minds, but we caught the soaps. Brenda finally ditched that SOB.” Eric shrugged, his leather jacket creaking.

“No shit?” Zach’s smile came back briefly. “Because he slept with Susan?”

“No, she doesn’t know that yet. It’s because she’s carrying that other guy’s baby. Or she thinks she is, because someone switched the pregnancy tests. I think it was her roommate—the blonde girl.”

“Huh.” Zach scratched his cheek, ran his hand back through his dripping hair. Water darkened the pale streak, slicked it back from his strong-boned face. “Wow. No kidding.”

They watch soap operas? For a moment, Sophie had the exquisitely weird sensation of being in a world where normal rules didn’t apply. I can’t even afford a television. And here I am with a bunch of striped, soap-opera-watching werewolves. Jeez.

A swell of laughter hit right under her stomach, rose to her lips with a burp. She took a scalding gulp of coffee, and Brun leaped out of the bathroom, bounding up to the bed with two quick strides. He presented her with a towel as Julia burst out of the bathroom, as well, her face a thundercloud and her entire body rippling.

Sophie didn’t even see Zach move. One moment he was by the door, one hand in his pocket and the other combing his hair back. The next, he had the girl by the throat, and the impact rattled against the flimsy wall. She kicked, but he avoided her foot and slammed her against the wall again—not as hard as he could, Sophie could tell, but hard enough to make everything rattle again.

“Calm down.” The touch of a growl under the words made the window—looking out on a sorry weed-strewn parking lot, the maroon van parked right in front of the room—flex and clatter. Sophie’s jaw dropped and she almost dropped the mug, as well. There was no place to hide herself. “We’re not going to have any of that.”

Sophie braced herself, waiting for the explosion, but Julia seemed to shrink. She made a curious noise, half-whining way back in her throat, and Sophie was reminded of a nature special she’d seen about wolf packs way back in high school. Fights in a wolf pack rarely turned deadly, because the submissive wolf would surrender in some way and the other, more dominant wolf would take the submission as a signal to stop fighting.

Now she wondered if Mark just hadn’t been able to get that signal, if that was the reason why he had kept going until he really hurt her. Made her cry, or scream…or bleed. Her hands shook.

What was she going to do if Zach started yelling and punching? There was nothing she could do. She was as helpless as ever.

The misty faces sharpened, laying over the real world in a gossamer sheet. She tried pushing them away; they crowded around Zach and Julia, watching. Some of them reached out thin, insubstantial hands, smoothing them over the girl’s body without quite touching her.

And just as soon as it had started, the violence in the air…disappeared.

Zach let go of Julia, who landed on her feet and shook her hair back, the pale streak flashing. “Bully.” Her lip curled, but some essential unsteadiness had vanished, and she slid away. The faces retreated just a little bit.

She didn’t seem afraid or upset in the least.

What the hell just happened? Sophie’s eyes darted across the room, searching the different faces.

Eric let out a short breath, his shoulders dropping. He glanced at her, and she could have sworn he looked…grateful? Was that it?

Brun had dropped the towel and now stood watching this, his eyebrows drawn together. His face went through several changes, emotions flickering too fast for Sophie to decipher, and finally settled on deep relief.

“Yeah, right.” Zach sighed. “I think we’d better get out of here. We’ve got work to do. Got to find our shaman a new place to live—the upir torched her apartment building last night. She’s not too happy about that.”

Boy, is that the understatement of the year. A completely inappropriate urge to giggle shrilly bubbled up inside her, right next to the unsteady, panicked feeling she used to get when Mark came home angry and silent.

“Don’t they hate fire?” Brun had dropped down into a half crouch, watching Sophie’s face. She firmed her mouth into a usual expression, or what might pass for one. Her face didn’t feel like it wanted to cooperate, so she dropped her gaze and focused on the coffee’s brown-black swirls. The liquid sloshed; she tried to steady her hands.

“Yeah. Which is why we’re going to be keeping a low profile for the time being. Since we have a shaman, though, there’s no need for us to be Tribe-quiet, and we’ve got to find out who wants her dead. Julia, Brun, start packing. Eric, get the van ready.” Zach’s gaze swung over the room once, taking notes, and met hers. “Sophie. Want to get cleaned up, get some fresh clothes?”

She didn’t miss the way all of them suddenly focused on her. Their attention was heavy weight, settling against her shoulders. She hated being looked at. Cold rainwater dripped down the back of her neck, her hair was a mess, and her entire body ached so bad she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand. “Sure,” she said into the mug, coffee trembling as her breath touched it. “Love to. You wouldn’t happen to have any aspirin, would you? My head’s killing me.”

“Find her some aspirin, Julia.” Zach didn’t miss a beat. They all whirled into motion except him—he just stood by the bathroom door looking at her, both hands stuffed in his pockets now, wet hair hanging over his dark eyes.

I must look like a bag lady. Her clothes were sticking to her skin, her glasses were fogging, and she felt suddenly shapeless and very vulnerable.

The coffee smelled good, though. It was warm, it wasn’t raining on her, and there was nothing to worry about right this second.

Unless it was her entire apartment building, gutted. Or Zach’s eyes on her. Or the ghostly, gauzy faces even now clustering around her, their mouths moving. Under the sounds of the real world—Julia asking a question, Eric humming to himself, Brun rolling up the leather he’d been working on—was a reedy little mumble, like crickets.

And now she was wondering if she might see Lucy’s face, and the prospect was enough to make a little shiver of dread slide down her spine. What exactly were these spirits? Was she going crazy? Zach said she was sane, and he knew what she was talking about. It didn’t seem like a joke.

No, this was all too real. And Lucy was gone.

“Sophie.” Zach’s hand touched her face, cupped her chin. His fingers were far too warm, almost scorching, and that smell of warm safety was coming off him in waves. “How are you feeling?”

Dizzy. Aching. Half-crazy. “Fine,” she mumbled, trying to avoid his eyes. Why am I not terrified of him? I just saw him…what was that?

He leaned down, his nose a few inches from hers. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” She tried to scoot back on the bed, failed. Coffee slopped inside the mug. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

“And probably hungry.” His eyes were kind, she realized. Deep, and dark, and very soft. The water on his tanned skin looked like a decoration, and the slight curl in his hair made it drop stubbornly over his eyebrow again. Her heart made a funny lurching movement, and she wished he didn’t look so concerned.

“Aspirin, your highness,” Julia said behind him. He held out his free hand, she dropped two tablets in, and went on her merry way. She didn’t seem fazed in the least about being held down and threatened.

The sense of motion intensified, the door opened, and a burst of chill rain-washed air cut through the musk.

He handed her the aspirin. “Here you are. We’ll get you something to eat, too. For right now, how about you get dried off? I can’t get cleaned up until you do. There’s only one bathroom.”

Why don’t you use it, then? But her clothes seemed suddenly, incredibly sodden and irritating, and the idea of a hot shower became just short of heavenly. “All right.” Let go of me, and I will.

But he didn’t. He still cupped her chin, his fingers warm on one cheek, his thumb touching just under her bottom lip. Her skin was still wet, and she could feel every single ridge of his fingerprints. She clutched the aspirin in one hand, the coffee in the other, and suddenly felt like a huge idiot.

“You’re going to have to let go of me.” Why do I sound breathless?

He nodded slightly, still staring at her. It was the same look, like he saw something green on her face, or something. “Yeah. I guess so.” But he didn’t move.

“I mean it.” She blinked. The faces were clustering behind him, their lips moving, and that reedy cricket sound became the rattling of copper-bottomed pans.

Sophie flinched, and he let go of her as if burned. He straightened and stepped away, shaking his fingers, and gave her a scorching, unreadable look. She slid to the edge of the bed and had to try twice before her body would let her stand upright. Julia was suddenly there, with a handful of clothes. “God, Zach, give her a minute. She’s soaked. You don’t have to—”

“Shut up, Julia.” But there was no heat to it. He simply stood there, watching her, as Sophie palmed the aspirin up to her mouth and took a throat-scouring mouthful of coffee to get them down.

“Jeans. A T-shirt. I found a pair of Keds that might fit you, too. I even got underwear.” Julia tucked her dark hair behind one ear. “About the only thing I didn’t get was a bra, since I didn’t know your cup size. But nobody ever died from going braless. Let’s get you dried off and cleaned up and warmed up, and then we’ll—”

“I’m fine.” Sophie grabbed blindly for the clothes and beat a retreat to the bathroom door while she could. Halfway there she had to brush past Zach, so she looked over her shoulder. Julia looked crestfallen, and in that moment Sophie saw how young she really was.

I feel old. “Thank you.” The words were ashes in Sophie’s mouth, but Julia brightened. And then Sophie was past Zach, who stood very still. She swept the bathroom door closed, locked it, and took a deep breath.

The mirror held a very pale, half-drowned Sophie, dark circles under her eyes and every scrap of feeling okay she’d had that morning drained away. She took another gulp of the too-hot coffee, and found a furious heat rising to her cheeks.

Why was he looking at me like that?

And another, more troubling pair of questions. Why did he hold her up against the wall? And why didn’t he hit her afterward? I was sure he was going to.

She didn’t know. She didn’t know their rules, and she had to learn quickly.