but cracked one lid. Both were wearing ski masks that had eye and mouth holes.
"Sola! What are you doing?"
Come on, assholes, she thought as they struggled with her arms and her legs. Move it....
They bumped her into the wall. Nearly knocked over a lamp. Cursed loud enough to carry as they humped her deadweight through the living room.
Just as she was about to come to life and help them the hell out, they made it to the front door.
"Sola? I coming down - "
Prayers formed in her head and rolled out, the old, familiar words ones she'd known her whole life. The difference with these recitations was that in this case they weren't rote - she desperately needed her grandmother to be slow on the dime for once. To not make it down those stairs before they were out of the house.
Please, God...
The bitterly cold air that hit her was good news. So was the sudden speed the men gained as they carried her over to a car. So was the fact that as they put her in the trunk, they failed to tie her hands or feet. They just tossed her in and took off, the tires spinning on the ice until traction was acquired and forward momentum accomplished.
She could see nothing, but she felt the turns that were made. Left. Right. As she rolled around, she used her hands to search out anything she could use as a weapon.
No luck.
And it was cold. Which would limit her physical reactions and strength if this was a long trip. Thank the good Lord she hadn't taken her parka off yet.
Gritting her teeth, she reminded herself that she had been in worse situations.
Really.
Shit.
"I promise I'm not going to wreck it."
As Layla stood in the mansion's kitchen and waited for Fritz to argue, she finished pulling on the wool coat that Qhuinn had gotten her earlier in the month. "And I won't be gone long."
"I shall take you then, ma'am." The old doggen perked up, his bushy white eyebrows rising in optimism. "I shall drive you wherever you wish - "
"Thank you, Fritz, but I'm just going to sightsee. I have no destination."
In truth, she was stir-crazy from being holed up in the house, and after the further good news from Doc Jane's most recent blood test, she'd decided she needed to get out. Dematerializing wasn't an option, but Qhuinn had taught her to drive - and the idea of sitting in a toasty car, going nowhere in particular...being free and by herself...sounded like absolute heaven.
"Mayhap I shall just call - "
She cut him off. "The keys. Thank you."
As she put out her hand, she leveled her eyes on the butler's and kept her stare in place, making the demand as graciously but as firmly as she could. Funny, there was a time, before the pregnancy, when she would have caved and given in to the doggen's discomfort. No longer. She was getting quite used to standing up for herself, her young, and her young's sire, thank you very much.
Going through the hell of nearly losing that which she wanted so badly had redefined her in ways she was still getting in touch with.
"The keys," she repeated.
"Yes, of course. Right away." Fritz scurried over to the built-in desk in the rear of the kitchen. "Here they are."
As he came back and presented them with a tense smile, she put her hand on his shoulder, even though no doubt that would fluster him more - and, in fact, did. "Worry not. I shan't go far."
"Have you your phone?"
"Yes, indeed." She took it out of the central pocket of her pullover fleece. "See?"
After waving a good-bye, she went out into the dining room and nodded at the staff who were already setting up for Last Meal. Crossing through the foyer, she found herself walking faster as she approached the vestibule.
And then she was free of the house entirely.
Outside, standing on the front steps, her deep breath of frosty air was a benediction, and as she looked up at the starry night sky, she felt a burst of energy.
Much as she wanted to leap off the front steps, however, she was cautious going down them, and also careful striding across the courtyard. As she rounded the fountain, she hit the button on the key fob, and the lights of that gigantic black car winked at her.
Dearest Virgin Scribe, let her please not wreck the thing.
Getting in behind the wheel, she had to move the seat