11.10
This goes against every instinct I have, I thought.
But what good was my argument, if I told the members of other families to take a different path, to step away from the status quo, if I didn’t do the same?
Roxanne, Callan, and Kathryn were pretty beaten up. One of Kathryn’s eyes was so swollen she couldn’t open it. Callan wasn’t moving at all, even in response to the voice.
Roxanne looked like she’d taken it hardest, which she had. I could hear her hoarse breathing from a few feet away, and her right hand and wrist were black and purple with bruises, her upper lip was crusted with blood, and her ear was swollen enough to look like it belonged in a cartoon, puffy and overlarge. She was more lively than Callan, though.
Ellie, Peter, and Christoff, by contrast, looked mostly okay. Peter was slow to move, and had dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there an hour ago. Christoff looked spooked.
Evan continued to pick the locks, one after the other. I wished I could see more. The footsteps I’d heard earlier suggested the witch hunters were upstairs, but there were no guarantees.
I strained my ears, to hear if there was trouble incoming.
“…I have a concussion,” Kathryn said, setting her head down on the hard ground. “I’m hearing things.”
“You’re not imagining this,” I said. “Which of you can move?”
“Who are you?” Ellie asked.
“If I had to come up with something serviceable,” I said, “I’d say I’m your cousin that was never born.”
“My head,” Kathryn groaned.
“Fuck this shit,” Ellie muttered. I saw her move toward the hallway.
“Careful!” I spoke. In trying to convey intensity without actually screaming at her, I found my voice in a weird middle ground that I probably wouldn’t have reached if I were human. Hollow, broken.
It served to stop Ellie in her tracks, though.
“What?” she asked.
“They rigged traps at the doors,” I said. “Probably in other places.”
“I know,” she replied, her voice a whisper. “I heard them, I saw the stuff. I was looking to see if they’re around. Which they aren’t.”
“Okay,” I said. “Do not go running off. Things are volatile, and not just in the bomb sense. They have other tricks.”
“Like the flashbang,” Kathryn said, not lifting her head off the ground. “Why am I talking to the voice in the bike mirror?”
“Bike mirror?” Ellie asked. “I figured it was a small camera and microphone with a bit of video. Shitty resolution.”
The sound of voices from upstairs made everyone stiffen. Eva and Andy.
“Focus,” I said. “Who’s capable of moving?”
“I am,” Ellie said.
Christoff nodded, “Me.”
“I can,” Roxanne mumbled. She sounded like her mouth was full. Her jaw was probably swelling.
Peter nodded, too, but he didn’t speak. He was staring intently at me.
That made me nervous.
“Kathryn?”
“I feel dizzy.”
“Short distance?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Evan, hiding places?”
“Um.”
Ellie raised a hand. “Sh.”
Footsteps.
“Cuffs back on,” I said, “Resume position.”
Peter was quick to obey. Kathryn, however, resisted, starting to rise, then tilted and stopped. The two kids were frozen.
“Shit,” Ellie whispered, but she hurried to the radiator, following her brother’s lead.
The kids obeyed, leaving only Kathryn.
She glanced down at me, then collapsed heavily onto her side. She reached for the handcuff that was still partially attached to the radiator and missed it by a foot.
Ellie helped cuff her.
“The mirror,” I said.
Evan flew down, grabbed the mirror, then flew to the kitchen. As the space between kitchen and the living room was fairly open, we had a good view. Evan squeezed back into the space between the spray painted toaster and the row of tattered cookbooks, holding the mirror in one foot.
Ten seconds passed, and Eva passed by the cuffed Thorburns, heading to the front door.
“Hey,” Ellie called out.
Don’t be stupid, I thought.
“Please let me go?” Ellie asked, her voice a little rough, “Please? My throat hurts.”
Eva stepped into the room.
“Please,” my cousin pleaded. “I don’t care about these assholes. Just please let me go?”
The witch hunter kicked her, hard, in the side.
“Please!” Ellie said, louder.
Eva kicked her again.
“I’m not a part of this!”
Another kick, sharp. Roxanne shied back from Ellie and the kicking foot, wincing even though she wasn’t the one hit.
Eva spoke, “There’s a pattern here. I’ll explain: you speak, you get kicked.”
Ellie shut her mouth. She didn’t speak again.
The witch hunter used her toe to nudge each individual set of hand cuffs, shoving hands and feet around until the chains went taut. Roxanne made a small noise when her badly bruised hand was moved.
“Be quiet,” Eva said. “You don’t know when I’m coming back. You’re not my concern here, you’re just in the way. Stay put, be quiet, and you’ll never have to see or hear from us again. Make yourself a concern, and we’ll remove you as a concern.”
She waited a moment, then strode out of the room.
“Fuck you,” Ellie said, and her voice was a complete change of tone from before.
She’d baited the kicks. For some reason.
I didn’t presume to know how her warped mind operated.
Evan relocated us to our old position, against the wall, right of the radiator. He nudged the mirror until he was sure it wouldn’t fall over.
“Good job, Evan,” I whispered.
“Of course,” he said, feigning arrogance.
“Who’s Evan?” Ellie asked. She couldn’t hear him. “Who names a fucking bird Evan? So lame.”
“You’re lame!”
I ignored her, speaking calmly, my voice almost but not quite a whisper, “We need a good hiding spot for the others, or the witch hunters might take someone as a hostage.”
“Let them,” she said. “I don’t give a shit about Kathy or Callan.”
“Fuck you,” Kathryn said
I refused to get caught up in the debate. I hated this. The stupidity. I remembered it being a large part of my frustration, part of the reason I’d fled.
Rather than make ourselves collectively better, the family had a way of dragging the successful down.
I could remember thinking how I’d never be the person I wanted to be, so long as I stuck around.