Savage Beauty - Peggy Webb Page 0,26

the book to read. She couldn’t even conjure up a magical thought to transport her.

What if there was another prisoner? The thought of not being alone in this forbidding place brought tears to her eyes.

The key in the lock made her jump. She wiped her eyes just as he walked into the room. His hideous mask was a fresh shock to her already overloaded nervous system. He was all in black again, but this time he wore a loose black coat with multiple deep pockets.

“I see you ate and cleaned yourself up. Good girl.”

“Why do you care?” Had he heard the screams? Did she dare ask?

“I care. That’s all you need to know for now. Remove your sweater.” When she hesitated, he said, “Do as I say, or pay a stiff price.”

She took off her sweater and put it in her lap. He folded it and placed it on the bed. For just a split second his back was turned. She did a quick survey of her table. Neither the books nor the plastic tray and aluminum plate were useful as weapons. She longed for a brick, a baseball bat, a lamp to bash him over the head. Then she’d search his pockets for keys and be free.

Would it work that way?

He came back to her chair, his mask revealing nothing. “Don’t ever believe you can overpower me when my back is turned.”

Did he read minds?

“I don’t. I won’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, either. Lies are unacceptable here.”

“Where am I?”

He studied her for a long time, his eyes dark and unreadable through the holes in the rubber mask. Finally, he said, “Stretch out your right arm, make a fist and don’t ask why.”

She did as she was told, and he quickly wrapped a rubber tourniquet around her upper arm. Then he took a syringe from his pocket and pulled the cap off the needle.

She nearly fainted. She hated the sight of blood, especially her own.

“I see you’re afraid. Shut your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.”

He swabbed her arm then stuck the needle into her vein and stood beside her chair for such a long time she felt herself getting weak. How much blood was he taking? And why? She felt as if she’d fallen into the middle of a nightmare and couldn’t wake up.

She couldn’t risk opening her eyes, not after he’d ordered her to keep them shut. When she felt as if she’d topple over, he withdrew the needle, pressed a cotton ball against her vein and wrapped a stretchy piece of adhesive around her arm.

“Open your eyes, but don’t make a sound.”

Her blood was lined up in vials along the tabletop. She lost count at ten. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

He pulled a brown bottle out of his pocket and set it beside her blood. “This is a multi-vitamin. Take one every day after you eat your breakfast. You have to stay healthy.”

Her stomach roiled with nausea. She thought she might be sick all over his black boots.

He went into her bathroom and came back with a plastic cup of water and a small white pill. “Take this. It will make you feel better.”

“What if I don’t?”

“You’ll be sorry.”

She took the pill from him then the water.

“Good girl.” He rubbed his hand over her bald head then filled his pockets with the vials of blood and walked out.

As soon as the lock clicked she spit the pill out then flushed it down the toilet. She went back into her narrow room, put her ear to the wall and listened until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she slowly counted to one hundred.

Finally, there was nothing but silence in the hall.

“Are you there?” she called. There was no answer. “Please. I’ve been taken captive. If you can hear me, just say yes.”

Her heart raced as she listened. In the long stretch of time, she could hear nothing except the echo of her own voice. She struggled to hang onto a shred of hope.

“Are you afraid to talk?” she called. “If you are, take your metal plate and tap on the duct work. Please!”

She waited for what seemed forever, and then the sound came. A faint ringing along the duct work. Two taps.

I’m here.

Chapter Eleven

While the sliver of a moon shone through Lily’s window, death came whispering through her dreams. She tossed about and reached for the empty pillow on the other side of her bed. Low moans echoed on the