gone, Taron had leaned over me, shoved the rag into my mouth, and was tying the ends together behind my head. I thrashed my head from side to side trying to yell around the sour-tasting cotton. When that didn’t slow him down, I shifted my hips and kicked him square in the stomach with every ounce of force I had, sending him flying backwards out of the van and onto the ground with a thud. He rolled over clutching his stomach, gasping and coughing, and I waited for my captor to look over at him, or maybe lean over to check on him – anything to make him lose focus for the split second I needed to wiggle free.
But it didn’t happen. His grip on me never faltered, nor did it get stronger in reaction to my aggression. He was like stone, completely oblivious. What the hell was wrong with this guy?
“What the bloody hell took you so long?” asked the irritated voice of a tall man in a black leather trench coat.
It was the Holder I’d sensed. He pulled the still coughing Taron to his feet, then froze as he saw me.
“Where’s the kid?” he barked at Taron.
“Calm down, Cail,” Taron wheezed.
“You were supposed to bring the kid!”
“This is the one he wants, trust me.”
“Well get her inside then, before someone see us,” he said, glancing around, still looking more than skeptical.
“A ghlacadh a cosa,” Taron ordered my captor.
He released me, sliding around to the door, allowing me a good look at him. At first glance, he seemed a normal man – albeit huge, but otherwise not unusual. It wasn’t until I saw his eyes that I could tell something was wrong. He looked… dead. His eyes were glazed over and had no light in them, no awareness. He was like a zombie, doing exactly what he was told, with no other thought in his mind. It was one of the scariest things I’d ever seen.
I’d been hearing stories for weeks now about bad Holders stealing abilities, and evil Darragh, but for some reason they had seemed just that: stories. I’d believed they were true, but even so, subconsciously, they had always seemed far away. Like an erupting volcano: real and very dangerous, but not something I was ever likely to see in person. But now, looking into the cold, lifeless face of the man locking my feet together in his massive hands, I knew that whoever had done this to him was evil.
The feeling of barbed wire constricted around my ribcage as the realization fully sank in: they were going to take my ability.
And that the only way to do that… was to kill me.
I took a silent breath and reevaluated my situation. If I wanted to get through this then kicking and screaming was not the way to do so. There was no way I was going to be able to fight my way free of three grown men, therefore there was no point in wasting the energy trying. Besides, the more I struggled, the more likely they were to bind me, which would only make things worse. I was already gagged, if they decided to hog-tie me I was dead for sure.
I let them remove me from the van, only making a show of struggling so they wouldn’t get suspicious.
“How long do I have?” Cail asked Taron, as they carried me into the dark building.
“An hour at least, but you won’t need it,” Taron told him.
“An hour! It’s never taken less than two!”
“Only with a Drain, which is why we’re using the Iris.”
“You’re sure it will work as well as a Drain?”
“Better. Trust me, I saw what it did to her. With the Iris she’ll be dry in under a minute, then you’ll have both her vial and the Iris to give the Master.”
They set my feet on the floor and shoved me into a dark room filled with a bunch of rusty music stands. Before I could make it all the way up to my feet, they had shut and bolted the door. I tore the gag out of my mouth and crawled quietly over, leaning my ear against the crack between the door and the wall.
“Here,” I heard Taron say, his voice low. “When you’re ready, take her Sciath off and put it in her hand. Make sure you have the vial ready before you give it to her, and it will do the rest. Leave this book with the body, I took it