Had I stuck my foot in it? Was admitting I knew he had plans to sacrifice me for some ritual power-grab expose Bette? She’d risked a lot to tell me about William’s true motives. I might not like the choices she made all those years ago, but after she’d explained why, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have made the same decision. So, I lied, “A conjuror warned me about you.”
“A conjuror, huh?” His tone was scornful and disbelieving. “And what did this conjuror say?”
“After she killed Cordell, she told me that you were a lying, evil bastard who was lower than a flea’s belly.” The chains rattled as my hands began to shake. “She also told me you planned on killing me on my birthday.”
“Huh.” William scratched his short beard. “She wasn’t wrong about everything.” He nodded to War. The hulking man hauled me up by the shackles and dropped me into the box. The walls were lined with insulation, and it was close quarters. Still, there was room enough to stretch out my legs.
“Enjoy the solitude,” War said. “It’ll give you time to think about your lack of respect.”
Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours as time slowly trickled by. It was pitch black inside the soundproof fish box, and the dead silence made me feel cut off from everyone and everything. I was shackled, desperate, itchy, and stuck in a box where, even if I screamed, no one would hear me.
I had to face it. Even if Jo Jo, Doc, and Chavvah were looking for me, chances were good they wouldn’t find me. William always seemed one step ahead. How? Did he have a psychic of his own?
The way he’d mocked me about the conjuror told me he probably didn’t, but it got me thinking about a certain psychic I knew. A psychic who could see ghosts. Jo Jo hadn’t been able to hear or see me when I’d astral projected, but maybe Sunny could. Is that how Bette had sent Sunny messages? It was an idea born of desperation and one I doubted I could accomplish.
Even so, I had to try. Otherwise, Happy Meal and fish bait.
I took in a few slow, deep breaths and focused on leaving my body. “Okay, Etta,” I coached. “Project.”
Nothing. This wasn’t working. How had I done it when Pete had held me down? It wasn’t like I could break my own spine. I’d been in extreme agony at the time. Had that been the catalyst? Was pain the answer? There was only one way to find out. One of the first things I learned about hand-to-hand combat is that the body has a few sensitive areas, when hit just right, will cause a hell of a lot of pain. It was impossible to hit most of these trigger points on my own body, but there was one place that never failed to hurt and was easy to reach, even shackled.
I leaned forward and rolled up my jeans. When they were up to my knees, I stretched the chain between my wrists, then used them to scrape up my shins with a hard yank.
I cried out at the shock of the pain. I knew it would be bad, but knowing and feeling were two different things. I was still in my body, though, so I did it again. Then again and again until the only thing I felt was the pain, the tears wetting my face, and the fiery itching on the back of my shoulder. When I didn’t think I could take any more, I steeled my courage and did it again.
“Work, damn it!” My shins were raw open wounds at this point. Still, I hammered away two more times.
Suddenly, as I was nearly ready to give up, the pain began to fade as my body became light as air. I let out a triumphant cry as I floated through the box. I could move through solid objects. Good to know. The real trick was figuring out how to reach Sunny in Peculiar. Would I have to fly the whole way? Was there an astral plane shortcut? Gods, I hoped so.
I reckoned it was a six or seven-hour round trip by car to Peculiar from here. I could probably cut some time off by going as the crow flies, but would my body survive that long without me in it? I wished I could ask Bette about the rules, but it was too late now. I would have to fly by the seat of my pants, so to speak.
And fly I did. I shot up higher, faster than I thought imaginable until the lake below looked like a puddle. The speed gave me hope. I could do this. I wouldn’t let this be the end of my story. Within minutes, I was high above Peculiar. I hadn’t known the exact directions, but my astral spirit was like a Sunny-seeking missile and with laser precision, I was inside her house, hovering above her bed.
I was mortified to find that she and her husband were completely naked and engaged in a vigorous round of, uhm, conversation.
I made a quiet apology, then shouted, “Sunny!”
The blonde psychic froze.
“Did I hurt you?” Babel asked her.
“Nope,” she said as she looked around. “Did you hear someone shout my name?”
Hope surged through me. Had she really heard me?
Her husband shook his head. “Nope.”
“Sunny!” I shouted again. “Look up.”
Sunny, who was under her husband’s large frame, craned her neck to the side so she could peer past him. Her eyes widened with disbelief. “Etta?”
A weakness came over me as if making the connection to her had zapped all my energy.
“Etta?” Babel rolled off to the side. “Is this about her? Are you getting another message?”
A look of consternation creased Sunny’s brow. “Sort of. She’s here?”
“Like a ghost?” his tone was full of shock. “I’m calling Billy Bob.”
