For a while Lani tried yelling for help, but the heavy wooden box swallowed the sound, locking the noise inside with her. Her shouting, like the pounding that had preceded it, brought no help. No one would come, she realized at last. Rescue, if it came at all, would have to come from inside, from Lani herself. Otherwise, she would simply lie in this overheated box until the heat got to her or until she died of thirst or starvation.
As she had done countless times in the past, she reached up to her throat to touch her kushpo ho'oma — her hair charm-only to discover it was missing. At first, when her fingertips touched only the naked gold chain, she thought she had lost the medallion and she was bereft. Seconds later, though, she remembered taking it off and putting it in her pocket-hiding it there in hopes of keeping it out of the hands of the evil man who had hurt her so badly.
It was still there in her pocket, exactly where she had hidden it. That reassured her. At least Vega hadn't stripped off her clothes again, hadn't discovered where she had hidden the charm, so perhaps, this time, he had left her alone.
She had no idea how long she had been asleep. From that moment early in the morning-some morning-when she sat down on the rock for him to begin sketching her until now could have been one day or several, for all she knew. For one thing, she had been out of it long enough for him to draw that second picture. Just thinking about that-about lying there naked in front of him all that time, for what must have been hours-made her wince with shame. And if Lani didn't remember any of that, there might be other things the man had done to her that she didn't remember, either.
She lay very still and tried to sense the condition of her body. Other than the damaged breast and what felt like a series of splinters in her back, she seemed to be intact. If he had raped her, she would feel it, wouldn't she? There was a sudden feeling of relief that deserted her a moment later. Of course he hadn't raped her. Not yet. That was why she was still here. That was what awaited her once he came back-that and more.
In that moment, Lani saw it all with appalling clarity. Of course Vega would return for her. He had no intention of her staying in the box forever until she died of heat prostration or thirst or starvation. He had locked her in the crate for a reason-so she would be available to him, helpless and waiting, when it was time for whatever came next.
Sooner or later, Vega would come back for her. Closing her eyes in the darkness, she saw him again, with an almost gleeful smile on his face, standing over her with the overheated tongs in his hand. Vega was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain. When he came back, Lani knew full well that he would hurt her again.
Had she been standing upright, that awful realization might have tumbled her to the ground. As a child Lani had heard the stories of Ohbsgam Ho'ok — Apachelike Monster-who lived around Rattlesnake Skull and who carried young girls away with him, never to be seen again. Vega was like Ohbsgam Ho'ok. They were different only in that Vega was real. He was a bully-strong and mean and powerful. Lani was alone and helpless.
"The best thing to do with a bully is to ignore him," Davy had told Lani once. After yet another run-in with Danny Jenkins at school, she had turned to her older brother for advice.
"Those guys thrive on attention," Davy had continued. "That's usually all they want. If you treat 'em like they don't exist, eventually they melt into the woodwork. The only way to get the best of them is to try to understand them, to figure out what their weaknesses are. Then, the next time they come after you, you'll know what to do."
Following Davy's suggestions, Lani had made a show of ignoring Danny Jenkins all the while she studied him. It didn't take long for her to realize that he was desperately afraid of not being accepted, of not fitting in. Bullying was his sole defense, his weapon against being bullied himself. Once Lani understood all that, she had been able to use that knowledge to turn Danny Jenkins into a friend.
But how could she understand someone like Mr. Vega? And did she want to? How was it possible to comprehend a person who was capable of such cruelty? Trying to find a more comfortable position for her aching back, she settled herself on the rough floor and pulled the cloth of the shirt away from the singed skin of her breast. Then she closed her eyes and tried to think.
Just like Danny Jenkins, Vega thrived on power and on other people's pain. He had hurt her, yes, and he would do so again, but hurting her wasn't the real point, or, at least, not the only one. She sensed that what he had done and would do to her constituted a means to an end rather than an end in itself. His real purpose was to hurt her parents. She didn't understand the why of that, but she knew it to be true. Vega wasn't Andrew Carlisle, but there was some connection, some bond between them. Vega was fueled by the same kind of rage and lust for revenge that had caused the evil Ohb to invade the house in Gates Pass long before Lani was born.
So that was most of what she knew. Vega was angry and cruel and hot-tempered. Bagwwul — one easily angered. That word, which Rita had taught her, seemed to come to Lani through the coils of the basket pressed tightly in the palm of her hand. She remembered Vega's fierce anger when she had slapped away the cup he was holding out to her; how he had yanked her hair back as he forced her to drink the second one.
Anger was one of Vega's weak spots. He demanded obedience but had to enforce that obedience with either drugs or some other form of restraints. That meant he was also chu ehbiththam — a coward. Only cowards attacked their enemies when they were helpless and unable to fight back. His outrageous physical assault on Lani had been staged when she was tied hand and foot, when she could do nothing to defend herself.
Obedience. Lani's thoughts strayed back to that word and stayed there. And once again, out of the past or out of the basket, Lani heard Rita's voice, singing to her:
"Listen to what I sing to you,
LittleOlhoni. Listen to what I sing.
Be careful not to look at me
But do exactly as I say."
Do exactly as I say.
Lani hadn't even been born on the day of the battle with the evil Ohb, but she heard the words to that life-saving war chant as clearly as if she herself had been locked in the long-ago darkness of that root cellar along with Rita and Davy and Father John.
Perhaps the two darknesses-the one in the root cellar and the one here inside Vega's stifling wooden crate-were exactly the same thing.
"That dollhouse looks just like my dad's," Quentin said, taking a confused look around as they pulled up the long curving driveway of the Gates Pass house. "What are we doing here?"
"Dropping off your sister's bicycle," Mitch told him.
Lani Walker's knapsack had yielded a garage-door opener and a door key as well. "Take a look in that paper bag over there," he said. "The gate-opener-door and house key are both inside. Get 'em out, would you?"
Quentin seemed dazed and stupefied. His fumbling movements were maddeningly slow, but he did as he was told. "How'd you get these?" he asked, holding up both the key and the opener once he had finally succeeded in retrieving them.
"I already told you. Lani gave them to me so we could bring the bike back," Mitch answered. "What did you think, that I stole them? And don't just sit there holding the damn thing. Press the button, would you?"
Obligingly, Quentin pressed the button, and the wrought-iron electronic gate swung open. Quentin started to hand the opener over to Mitch. "Keep it," Mitch told him. "We'll need it again on the way out. Now drag the bike out of the back. Where does it go, do you know?"