The inside of the shed was devoid of furniture, barring a mattress on the floor in one corner. It was made up with a wool blanket that made my skin itch just looking at it. On top of the blanket was a single towel, a mini bar of soap, a pair of white cotton women’s underwear, two white socks, a grey sweatsuit, and a pair of moccasin-style slippers. The only light was a single bulb screwed into a ceiling fixture. As far as facilities, there was a basic sink and toilet with no seat. In the far corner was a small square of floor tiling and a drain; jutting out of the wall above was a knob, and above the knob was a stubby copper pipe with no head. The shower. There were no windows, just a few metal slats in the wall by the shower to let out moisture.
It was a prison cell, minus the bars.
18
The gravity of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks.
This wasn’t some half-assed kidnapping the Nolans had committed on the fly. Not only had they come to my home with a syringe-carrying thug on standby, but they also hadclothes—underwear, even—already picked out in my size. What did having a functioning prison cell at the back of their home say about them? Nothing good.
The lack of concern Jason, Richard, and Maxine showed for concealing their identities was worrisome. From what I’d gleaned from true-crime shows, kidnappers who planned on letting their hostage go would wear masks. When they didn’t try to hide their face, it was bad for the hostage. Very bad.
But Richard and Maxine were my relatives, I reminded myself.
Right. The same relatives who’d tossed their only daughter out pregnant as a teenager and didn’t bother contacting me until they realized I had something they needed. My wonderful, caring great-grandparents, who’d had some stinky creep drug me, tie me up, and throw me in the back of a van.
“Will you behave if I untie your hands?” Jason growled.
“Yes,” I said, resigned. I was stuck where I was unless adeus ex machinaswooped down from the heavens and saved me. A platoon of vampire-loving human soldiers sent courtesy of the VGO would be perfect right about now. Or even regular old vamps, once the sun went down.
I rubbed at my raw wrists after Jason cut the rope. I looked past him and asked Maxine and Richard, “Why are you doing this?”
“We’re doing this, Olivia, because you refused us your blood,” Richard explained like he thought I was a dullard.
“Yeah, I got that.” I hated it when people took questions so literally. “What do you plan on doing to me?”
“That depends on how you conduct yourself,” Maxine said tartly, and then she and Richard turned around and walked into the mansion.
Jason shoved me into the shed. “If you get thirsty, it’s safe to drink from the tap. It’s filtered.” Gesturing at the sweatsuit, he added, “Get changed. I’ll be back in a couple hours with some food. I’ll get your clothes then.”
Why were they taking my clothes? How long were they going to hold me captive?
He stepped out and shut the door. I banged on it as he locked it from the outside.
“Hey! That’s it? You’re leaving me in here?” I screamed, though I doubted he was even listening. “Nothing to eat? Nothing to drink? Nothing to watch or read? What am I supposed to do in here?”
My questions went unanswered. I turned away from the door and took in my sparse surroundings. What I was supposed to do was change into an ugly sweatsuit, stare at the walls, and wait, apparently.
Wait for what? Well, that much was obvious: wait for my demented family to come in and rob me of my blood.
What I still couldn’t figure out was what they could possibly do once they had the serum made. What was their big plan, to sneak up behind vampires on the street and inject them with it, hoping the vamp would simply think they’d been stung by a bee? A ridiculous strategy, of course. They could never get the slip on a vampire, no matter how fast or sneaky they were.
My great-grandparents were jerks, but that didn’t mean they were impulsive jerks. They also weren’t stupid. They’d clearly premeditated my abduction, so they probably also had a plan in place for the serum.
I didn’t want to think about what would happen if their plot to eradicate vampires gained traction, especially when it was my blood being used to commit vampire genocide. It would mean that my old boss at Dignitary, Michael Graves, might have been right in his prediction that I would be the so-called “Cataclysmic” responsible for destroying the vampire race. He’d been so convinced of his prophecy that he’d tried to kill me. Thankfully, Marlena had halted his murderous plan by killing him first.
Could Michael’s grim forecasts have been correct?Wasit my true destiny to exterminate vampires? I really hoped not. I’d sacrifice myself before I’d let my long-lost relatives use my blood to kill off an entire species.
Looking around my cell, it was clear that Maxine and Richard had thought I might do just that. There were absolutely no sharp objects in the room, should I get it in my head to slit my wrists. Even the mattress was made of memory foam, so no sharp springs inside. Nothing high enough to hang myself from, either.
Even if I did manage to take myself out, couldn’t my blood still be taken from my dead veins anyway? Talk about dying invain. Moreover, it was easy to be Miss Big Talker when thinking about martyring myself hypothetically. I had to psych myself up just to pluck my eyebrows, so it was doubtful I’d be able to end my own life if it came down to it.
So, what about escaping, then?
It took all of thirty seconds to crush my hopes. Unless I could make myself turn into mist, I wasn’t getting out through the ventilation slats. I’d need a chisel or a chainsaw to hack my way through the thick concrete walls. I jiggled the knob to test the lock, a heavy deadbolt style that would be impossible to pick, especially without tools.
I sighed. There really wasn’t much else I could do beyond sleep—would it have killed them to leave me with a book or a couple magazines?
I flopped down on my makeshift bed, still groggy from the drug they’d given me. At least the blanket wasn’t as itchy as I’d assumed. Under the blanket, the mattress had been made up with a simple fitted white sheet. I pulled off my jeans, dirty from the floor of the van, and curled up under the blanket. It was surprisingly soft . . . and . . . cozy . . .
