The world spins away from me, and my thoughts snuff out.
Two
Elodie
My mind swims back into consciousness slowly, with the impression that I’m wearing the scratchiest of wool outfits. Only worse than wool, because the scratchy sensation is coming from under my skin rather than on top.
My mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls. There’s a distant ringing in my ears, like when you’ve just left a concert where the music was blared way too loud. The air is cool and crisp, with a whiff that’s oddly… meaty?
It takes what seems like an hour before I can locate my eyelids and force them to blink. When I open them fully, all I can make out at first is wavering whiteness.
With several more blinks, the haze fades and the mottled blotches condense into more definite shapes. I assess the situation cautiously while testing my muscles with subtle flexing.
I’m lying on my back on a flat surface, uncomfortably hard against my shoulder blades. Birch-pale bookshelves line the wall to my left. A matching cabinet stands a short distance beyond my feet. The domed light overhead is framed by what looks like an antique bronze fixture.
Memories of alien abduction stories I’ve read flit through my mind, but I can’t imagine a spaceship looking so ordinary. I don’t think I’m about to be probed, at least.
Where the fuck am I? We don’t have any furniture this sleek or lights that fancy in our apartment. I don’t recognize anything around me.
Or anyone. The guys—where are my matches?
I jerk upright, and my brain lurches as if it’s been thrown into a spin cycle. Swaying, I clamp my mouth tight against a surge of nausea.
Then I catch sight of what’s lying on the table next to me, and I can’t stop myself from doubling over.
Tomato-soup-red vomit sears through my mouth and splatters the light beige floorboards. My stomach heaves, and heaves again, until all that comes up is clear spittle laced with the acid that’s burning my throat.
A sunny but cautious voice pipes up from behind me. “I’m sorry.”
I jerk around, every muscle tensing, but whatever’s happened to me has screwed with my reflexes. Another wave of dizziness nearly knocks me off the table. All I can do is clench the smooth steel edge to keep my balance and stare at the woman who spoke.
She twitches her hand past her billowy hair, tawny as a lion’s mane. Her mouth twists into an apologetic smile. From the lines at the corners of her lips, I’d guess she’s around forty.
She doesn’t look like much of a threat, all wide eyes and skinny limbs, I think a little shorter than me. But appearances can be deceiving.
I should know better than anyone.
Her frenetic voice babbles on. “I figured the trip would be hard on the body, but there wasn’t much I could do to ease the way. I didn’t even— Well. Don’t worry about the mess, anyway, not at all. I’ll get it cleaned up later.”
As if what I’d be worried about is the vomit I spewed on her floor.
My defensive instincts scream at me to pull into a crouch so I’ll be in a better position to maneuver, but from the way my head is reeling, I suspect I’ll end up sprawled on the ground if I try. Instead, I brace my hands and feet against the table.
My voice stings my raw throat. “Where am I? Who are you? How did you— What did you do with the guys?What the hell is going on?”
Another instinct tugs at me. I need to search for an escape route, for potential weapons…
My mind balks at turning my head. At the thought of getting another glimpse of?—
The woman holds up her hands as if I’m a wild animal she’s attempting to tame. A shadow passes through her bright brown eyes.
I don’t think she was expecting me to react like this. How the fuck would anyone else react to finding themselves kidnapped in a strange room with a strange woman and—and?—?
The woman speaks before I have to wrap my head around the worst of the strangeness. “You don’t recognize me. I never considered— Well. Of course it was possible. Ellie, I’m your Aunt Daphne.”
I snap to stiffer attention, unnervingly grateful to have a more specific puzzle to latch on to. “I’ve never seen you before in my life. No one calls me ‘Ellie,’ and I don’t have an aunt.”
Daphne’s forehead furrows. “Elodie, then, if that’s what you’d prefer. I suppose it is possible… Where you came from, is your father an only child?”
