18
“Ready to talk now?” Mr. Trent removes his suit jacket and perches on the edge of his desk. Pain radiates through my head, so intense my stomach churns. After tasing me enough to make me pass out, he left the room and I woke up with the handcuffs of course still on my wrists, but with my arms and legs bound to the chair as well.
The sun is setting, sinking lower and lower in the sky, and I haven’t decided if that’s a good or bad thing yet. The guys will be able to sense where I am and will come rushing to save me. I can see it play out now. Hasan will crash through the window and go straight for Mr. Trent. Maybe he’ll rip his head off in the same way he ripped the heads off the vampires. Or maybe we’ll go all supernatural mafia on him and hold him upside down by his foot off the roof of the building.
Or maybe Mr. Trent is counting on that. He has me tied up, bound from using my powers, and has tased me a few times. But that’s it. So this whole torturing me for information thing seems a bit tame…not that I’m complaining. My head still hurts from the car crash, and I’m pretty sure a few ribs are bruised if not cracked.
He’s waiting for me to relinquish control of the runes, to give them to him willingly in exchange for my freedom. I don’t know if a ritual will actually give him control over the guys. I’m bound to them through blood, but if there’s a chance he can control them…no. I can’t think like that. Maybe keeping me in just enough pain to summon the guys is exactly what he wants.
Because he wants to control them.
He wants to use them as his personal bodyguards and servants. Who better to do your supernatural bidding than four gargoyles? They’re strong and fast. They’re perfect soldiers to do his evil bidding.
Part of me doesn’t believe his theory, because I’m in possession of the runes and I don’t control the guys. Though, it’s not as if I’ve really tried. We made a fast friendship that turned into something more, something deeper. I don’twantto control them. We work together as a team. But if I did control them, if I could command them to do whatever I wanted…yeah. Things could get ugly.
“I don’t have the runes,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe I’m concussed. Being shocked over and over can’t be good for me regardless, and now my vision is getting fuzzy. “And if I did, I wouldn’t give them to you. Again, you should have spent some more time stalking me to find out this tie-up-and-torture thing wouldn’t work on me.”
Mr. Trent starts to roll up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. He flicks his eyes to me and smiles, looking amused. “That’s what you think this is?” He finishes rolling up his sleeves and comes over, crouching down in front of me. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to torture you, you’d be begging me to kill you by now. I’m simply keeping myself entertained until sunset.”
Sunset. Shit. He knows.
Which means he’ll be ready for them to come save me. Because when they do, Mr. Trent is going to try and capture them.
Someone knocks on the door and Mr. Trent gets up to answer. I twist in the chair to try and see who it is, but I’m unable to see past Mr. Trent. A minute or two passes before he comes back, with Charles following.
“Get her cleaned up,” Mr. Trent tells him. “You know I prefer to look at pretty things.” He goes around his desk to the shelves behind it and picks up a ceremonial dagger to use to cut the ropes from my wrists and ankles. “Now, before you go thinking you can escape,” he starts, flashing the blade in my face. The last remaining sunlight shines on the sharp metal. “Without your powers you are helpless. This place is locked down with armed guards at every exit. While I’d like to keep you alive a bit longer, they are on strict orders to shoot anyone who tries to escape.”
I swallow hard, mind racing. I know I’ll get out of here. For every near-death experience I’ve had, I’ve always known in the back of my mind that I’ll make it out alive. But it’s not just me I’m worried about.
There are other kids here and I have to save them too.
“This way, miss,” Charles says, holding out his hand, motioning to the door. He’s holding a gun in his other hand, with his finger resting against the slide and not on the trigger. At least he knows how to properly hold a gun.
I walk in front of him, leaving the office and stepping into a bright hallway. We’re in the building housing offices, and the whole floor must belong to Mr. Trent.
“Keep going,” Charles says, and we walk until we get to an elevator. He points the gun at me and presses a button. “Get in and keep to the back-right corner. I’d rather not have to use this.” He holds up the gun. “Never was a fan of these things.”
I narrow my eyes and try to get a read on him. Working for Mr. Trent makes him just as bad. Sitting back and doing nothing while others do bad things is doing a bad thing.
“How many others are there?” I ask, carefully adjusting the cuffs on my wrists so they stop digging into my skin.
“Others?”
“Other witches. How many others has Mr. Trent kidnapped?”
“Kidnapped is a strong word,” Charles says, and I roll my eyes.
“Kidnapped…manipulated…whatever. How many others?”
Charles’s eyebrows go up. “Trying to determine your odds of escaping?”
“Something like that.”
He chuckles. “You’re outnumbered, I’ll leave it at that.”
Son of a bitch. There are more than Rachel and the boy. “How are you okay with everything he does? Don’t you have any sort of heart?”
Charles polishes the gun with the sleeve of his black suit jacket. “I did. And then witches killed my sister.”
