So, where was he now?
Two options. Either the demon had reached his final destination and was confident enough in the surrounding security to venture off on his own, or someone had stolen her from him.
Next thought: if someone had stolen her, they wouldn’t have abandoned her. They would have wanted her to know their intentions. Good or bad.
So. Defeat had her where he wanted her. The door and the window were probably wired, so there was a very good chance an alarm would sound the moment she touched either one.
Would an army of demons come gunning for her?
Probably. But she didn’t care. She had to try. Giving up wasn’t in her nature.
Haidee gripped the warm edge of the panel and shoved. Cursed. Nothing, no movement. Not just because her fingers were as weak as her knees, but because the pane was sealed. She’d been wrong about the cleanliness factor, but at least she’d also been wrong about the wire.
Still. She’d have to find another way out. And she would. She’d been in far worse situations than this and survived. Hell, thrived.
Steeling herself, she peered outside to note what she’d have to overcome once she left this place. The sun shone brightly, amber rays causing her eyes to tear. She wiped each drop away with the back of her wrist. No girly weaknesses allowed. Her prison rested high on a mountaintop, a barbed gate—electric?—stretching skyward and wrapping around the perimeter. She’d encountered similar gates in the past and knew this one would be impossible to climb without inflicting so much damage she’d die on the other side. If she even made it over.
Still. There were hundreds of trees, each more lush and green than the last, their limbs stretching in welcome. Those limbs would hide her, their leaves draping her and allowing her to search for a way to bypass that gate. And if there wasn’t a way to bypass it, she’d forgo cover and climb. Bottom line, death was preferable to staying here and being tortured by a demon.
Okay. So. New plan. Shatter the glass and shimmy to land. Easy.
Yeah. Right. I’ve never been that lucky. Haidee twisted and surged through the room, her steps not getting any smoother. Clearly, whatever drug Defeat had repeatedly injected into her vein still poured through her.
Concentrate, woman. The spacious chamber boasted a king-size canopied bed with a white swath overlaying the top and falling to the floor like clouds sprinkled with fairy dust. A floral print love seat and a small glass table perched in a tiny alcove, illuminated by a chandelier weeping with glittering crystal. None of which she could throw.
To the left was a freshly polished desk and matching chair. No paperweights or knickknacks rested on the surface, and the drawers were empty. To the right was a full-length mirror surrounded by an ebony frame. Both were bolted to the wall. Next she tried the door. As she’d suspected, it was locked.
Panting, fury blooming, she kicked the bench at the foot of the bed. The heavy wood didn’t move an inch. And shit, that hurt! She yelped, hopping and rubbing her stinging toe. Someone had removed her shoes, leaving her barefoot. Something she wished she’d noticed before.
Damn, damn, damn. The luxury and wealth here made a mockery of the hovel she’d scrimped and saved and finally managed to buy for herself, yet there wasn’t a damn thing she could use to aid her escape. What the hell was she going to do?
Come to me!
The tortured, pain-filled voice overwhelmed her senses, the words like licks of fire, somehow heating her up. A voice? Heating her? Could be a hallucination, yeah, but she’d seen and experienced all kinds of weirdness throughout her too-long life to simply write this off.
“Who said that?” She spun, fighting a wave of dizziness and automatically reaching for the blades she kept anchored at her thighs.
Only silence greeted her—and she sported no weapons. Defeat had taken her knives, guns and poisons, foolishly thinking he’d triumphed. But that’s what he—it—did. Broke down the opponent through any means necessary, destroying all thoughts of achieving victory, no matter the cost of surrender.
Not that he’d broken her.
He’d learn. Haidee was unbreakable.
Come to…me… Weaker now, riding a tide of despair, but no less urgent.
Not a hallucination, she thought. Couldn’t be. That heat… So, who was he? A prisoner like her? There was something oddly familiar about his voice, as if she’d heard it before and it had made an impression. Yet she couldn’t specifically place it. Was he a Hunter? Had they met during training? At one of the thousand debriefings she’d attended?
Come…
Her ears twitched, and she turned, following the sound of his voice this time, determined to help him, just in case he was a Hunter as she suspected.
Come…please…
There. She frowned. A wall. Was he on the other side? The fact that she’d heard him certainly suggested he was nearby.
Slowly she approached the wall. She padded her hands along the smooth, delicate paper, finding no hint of a doorway, and yet… Haidee dropped to her knees, gaze zeroing in on a tiny gap between crown molding and floor. A small crack of light seeped through.
No, not light. Not fully. Woven with that stream of light and dancing dust motes was a wisp of black, a writhing phantom, curling up, inching toward her.
With another yelp, she scrambled backward. The black tendril followed her, avoiding her pants and her T-shirt to reach the skin bared at her wrist. But when it touched her, a screech rent the air and the…thing was sucked back through the crack, returning to the other room.
What. The. Hell?
Had she just met one of the demons, stripped of its human cloak? Was that what tormented the man who’d called her? Probably.
Her fight-or-flight instinct screamed flight.
Haidee replied, Screw you, flight! I won’t leave a man behind.
Teeth grinding, she scraped her nails over the wallpaper until she created a groove. Then she began ripping, tossing the pieces she extracted over her shoulder. She worked feverishly and finally revealed enough of the wall to find the outline of the door.
No knob. Of course.
Through faint scrape patterns on the floor, she knew the door had once opened from the right. Which meant there would have been a knob at one point. She had only to find where the demons had spackled over the hole its removal would have left behind….
She scraped the center of the right side, cringing at the grating sound she created, until flecks of white chalk began to embed in her nails. Bingo! Clawing harder, deeper, she removed the spackle as fast as she could. Took half an hour to reach the other side, and by then, ice coated her entire body in a chilly sheen.
Her arms trembled violently, her sense of urgency increasing. She was swiftly using up her reservoir of strength and knew she wouldn’t be able to stay on her feet much longer.
When she collapsed, she wanted to be outside, the man with her.
Haidee latched her fingers around the edges of the hole and jerked. The door eked open a mere fraction of an inch. Fighting disappointment, she gave another jerk—only to be rewarded with another fraction. Get in the game, Alexander. You can do this. Deep breath in, hold, hold… As she exhaled, she tugged so hard she feared her spine would snap. Finally. Real movement. Not much, yet just enough. When the door stopped, it stopped hard. She lost her grip and fell to her ass.
Pinpricks of starlight dotted her gaze, but when the crackling orange and yellow washed away, she focused on the gap she’d created. A sweet sense of victory flooded her as she popped to her feet. Her knees rebelled with every step forward, but she didn’t pause.