My mind reels, trying to understand. And then memory returns with a crash.
Casanova grabbed me. I fought, but he choked me.
I drag my arms to my chest, feeling cold metal against my skin. There are bindings around my wrists. I move until there’s no slack. They’re hooked to something on the floor.
I shift positions, so I can feel the chain with my hands. I follow it down to the ground. My fingers trace the edges of a square metal plate that the chain between my wrists is hooked to.
He shackled me, so I won’t escape.
My eyes try to adjust, but there’s no light. It’s a darkness more than night. In the modern world, there are streetlights and commercial signs. This is darkness like we experienced when visiting theCaverna de las Brujasin Argentina. Pitch black. But there aren’t any caves near campus. It would’ve been the first place authorities looked.
Scraping around the edges of the metal, I make grooves in what feels like dirt. Yeah, I’m underground. In the tunnels that are supposed to be sealed.
“Avery?” I whisper.
Tilting my head, I listen. There’s no sound near me. Not breathing. Not the sound of a body shifting as it moves.
She was on the floor in the back room of the teaching assistants’ office. Did she open that door looking for a bathroom and find Casanova instead? And then what? Did he kill her?
“Avery?” I call out loudly. “Avery?”
In the distance a light appears.
It bobs as it moves closer.
As it becomes larger, the round light shines on me, making me squint. I can’t see past it, even as my eyes struggle to adjust.
“She can’t hear you,” an eerie male voice says. “She’s asleep.”
“Asleep? You mean dead?”
“No.”
Recalling the sharp pinch and the lights blurring into halos, I ask, “Drugged? Did you drug us?”
“Yes.”
“Who are you?”
“Look at the ground. Not at me.” A hand grabs my hair and jerks my head down so my nose and forehead touch the dirt and press against it.
The dank smell of decay fills my nose. Recoiling, I raise my head and shoulders.
His tone is like a blow. “Keep your head bowed, cunt.”
Wincing, I try to pull my head free of his grip. He hits me in the back with the heavy flashlight. The sharp pain radiates through my shoulders and down my spine.
“All right,” I gasp, resting my forehead against the ground and keeping my arms tight against my cheeks. I don’t want him to hit me in the face. On the back of my tongue I taste acid and dirt as a queasy feeling fills my stomach.
Save your fight, Arya.
I’m afraid eye contact will cause him to fly into a rage. If I want to survive, I have to be smart.
“My name is Arya. I won’t try to look at you. Could I have a blanket or something? My body’s losing heat fast.”
“I know exactly who you are.” His tone is icy and laced with such malice it causes anger to burn through me. “And I’mhim. That’s all you need to know.”
“Casanova?”
