Kit blinked a few times at the man in the dim light. His blond hair lay slicked back on his head, and his face was handsome, but altogether too polished.
The man smiled sharply. “Hello.” His English-accented voice was as soft as melted butter. “I don’t suppose you can help me with some directions?”
Did the man think Kit was stupid?
“Fuck off, paedo,” Kit said, and then turned in the opposite direction. Back to the relative safety of the park it was. Better that than deal with dodgy posh wankers.
At least, that’s what Kit intended to do. Instead, he walked headfirst into a body; solid and unyielding. He flailed backwards, only to have both arms grasped in twin tight grips.
“That was rather rude of you,” the man said, looking down at him with piercing blue eyes. The blue disappeared as the man’s black pupils expanded.
Kit opened his mouth to speak, but the man spoke first.
“Be quiet now. There’s a good boy.”
Only a gasp escaped Kit, his words of protest getting snatched right out of his mouth.
“Don’t make a noise. Don’t fight me. Don’t struggle,” the man said, and a fog descended on Kit’s mind. The man pulled him along the street, back to his waiting car.
Before Kit could comprehend what had happened, he found himself sitting in the front seat of the sleek silver car, buckled in. Panic setting in, he reached for the door handle, intending to get right back out.
The man’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “You try to run, and you’ll regret it.”
Kit turned, seeing the man more clearly than before. His eyes were almost fully black, like they’d swallowed up all the light.
“What are you?” Kit asked. There was no way that anything other than a monster lay underneath the skin of this creature.
The man smiled, wide and terrible. “I knew you were smart, little Christopher. Normally, the questions are ‘who are you?’ and ‘why are you doing this?’” His smile turned caustic. “Well done.”
“I’d also like the answers to those questions if you’re in the mood to share,” Kit said, trying to keep his voice level. He doubted he managed it, but he couldn’t hear his own wordsover the pounding of his heart. The man knew his name. Kit’s memories of the past few minutes jumbled in his head, but he didn’t recall providing that information.
“All in due time,” the man said.
“Are you trying to sound cryptic, or is this just how you are?”
Pain ricocheted from his cheek through his jaw, and he stared at the man in shock. Kit knew violence intimately, but he hadn’t expected the reaction, or even seen the man’s hand move from the wheel.
Which was when Kit came to the sudden realisation that the car was moving.
He looked around, one hand pressed to his throbbing face. “Where are you taking me?” he asked, wincing as his jaw stretched the forming bruise.
“Your new home.” The man said it with such certainty that Kit almost didn’t question it.
Almost.
“Why me?”
The man leaned over, raking a fingernail down Kit’s face. It didn’t cut into his skin, but it was a close call. “You’re pretty. I like pretty things.”
Kit hadn’t ever been called pretty before. He hoped nobody ever would again. “That isn’t…” he started, but the man stopped him with a sharp tap on his lips.
“No. Quiet now.”
Kit did as he was told, which he didn’t do often. He was used to being contrary and difficult and combative. But now he sat in the car, meek and all too agreeable.
More than anything, however, confusion filled him. He didn’t knowwhyhe’d followed the man’s orders, or how he kept losing time. He scrounged up the wherewithal to look at his watch for the time. Well past midnight, and yet he would have sworn he’d been in the car for less than ten minutes.
The next time Kit checked his watch, more than an hour had passed. That was more concerning than anything else. It also confirmed one thing: he was probably going to die.
