She shrugged his touch away but not before she saw a glimpse of him with Acheron.... a glimpse that told her he was a Dark-Hunter.
With those demonic eyes?
Something was wrong. None of this made sense. None of it.
And she wasn't going to stick around to sort it out. "Stop me, asshole."
That cockiness died as she took a step away from them and something hit her hard in the chest.
With a gasp, she crumpled to the street.
Sam woke up with her head splitting sideways. Front ways. All ways. Never in her life had she hurt so badly. She actually felt nauseated from the pain.
What had caused...
Suddenly, she remembered the demon taking her and then the weird couple who had "rescued" her. Anger and panic mixed as she opened her eyes to find herself alone in a small room. It strangely reminded her of something out of the Victorian era. What? Did all demons like that time period? The beige walls were stenciled with a dark brown scroll print and the bed she lay upon was Gothic black wrought iron. The headboard and footboard reminded her of spiraled cathedral windows.
Ah gah, I'm trapped in the Victorian Trading Company catalog. Not that their stuff wasn't beautiful, it just wasn't her cup of tea. And right now, she really wanted to know what was going on.
Danger didn't seem imminent, but then she'd been kidnapped, which tended to make her think she wasn't as safe as she appeared. She moved from the bed and realized someone had put her in a short pink gown.
Yeah, this was getting creepy and it was made creepier by the fact that she wasn't getting any vibes from the clothes or anything else. For that matter, she hadn't dreamed of other people.
It was like being with Dev, only without the warm comfort of his touch.
She went to the door and quickly learned it didn't have a doorknob. There was no way to open it.
Sam turned around slowly, looking for a window or some other means to leave, but there wasn't one. She was trapped here. Alone. There wasn't even a cockroach sending thoughts to her.
"Hello?"
Big surprise, no one answered. Oh, how she didn't like this.
Okay, girl. Don't panic. Not that she was particularly prone to panic, but...She wasn't used to being locked in rooms that looked like they'd been taken off a Hammer movie set either.
Great. I've been captured by Boris Karloff.
A low sinister laugh whispered in her ears. "I'm not exactly Boris and he's not the actor you're thinking about anyway. That would be Peter Cushing. Never dawned on me before that they favored, but I'll give you that. However I do have one thing in common with both--"
"You abduct women?"
"Not as a rule, but I do tend to creep people out. At least those who have common sense."
She turned around trying to locate a source for the voice. It seemed to be all around her and again, she picked up nothing from him. How could this keep happening?
Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.
Because right now, she wanted that power back in the worst sort of way. It was only now that she understood just what a blessing it'd always been. She always knew where she stood with other people. Always knew what they were thinking and what kind of person they were.
Now...nada.
Yeah, bring me back my weirdness.
"Who are you?" she tried again.
He tsked at her in that deep, provocative tone that sent a shiver over her. "You don't really care about my name, sugar. You want to know why you're here."
"Yes, yes I do." She moved around the room and his voice followed her. Was he a ghost?