“I think the plastic’s caught on the bottom of that seat,” the man shouted over the music. “Can you get it?”
“Sure.” Jax leaned into the van and felt around.
Pain shot through every nerve in his body.
He screamed, his limbs failing him. He went down face-first, his nose slamming into the floor of the van. Every part of his body was on fire, twitching and flopping. He couldn’t even lift his face to breathe.
As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The echo of pain racked his body, but he lifted his head and gasped for air. The bass in the music vibrated the vehicle in time with his pain, as if the whole world throbbed. There was a weight on his back, and when Jax struggled, a hand shoved his head down.
“Yeah, I know. Getting Tasered is no fun. Lie still if you don’t want it again.”
His arms were pulled behind his back, and something cold closed around his wrists with a ratcheting sound. “Help!” he yelled.
“Shut your mouth, Jaxattax,” the voice spoke in his ear. “Or I’ll Taser you again. Nobody can hear you anyway.”
The weight disappeared from his back, but before Jax could react, the door of the van slammed shut. Feet stepped over his head. Then he felt the van shiver with the closing of the driver’s door, and the vehicle jerked into motion, rocking to the Killers’ latest song.
22
SO STUPID.
Jax’s body convulsed in pain and fear. How could he have fallen for something every child had been warned against? He should have slammed the front door in the man’s face. He should have grabbed his dagger.
His dagger.
Melinda had told him to wear it whenever he wasn’t in school, and Riley had told him to keep his phone or his radio on him. But he hadn’t. The sheath was uncomfortable to wear when he was sitting around the house. He’d left it on the coffee table with the radio, and the phone was charging. He kept them all handy, but not on him.
Jax moaned. He’d been asked to hold the fort, to watch over Evangeline, and within hours he’d gotten himself kidnapped.
Evangeline. Would they come for her next?
Jax heaved his body upright. His hands were cuffed behind his back. His nose throbbed, and his tongue stung as if he’d bitten it while convulsing.
The man in the driver’s seat extended one arm in Jax’s direction, his hand clasping a black, blunt-nosed weapon. “You can sit up,” he called out, “but stay real still. If I have to pull this van over, you’re going to regret it.”
“You’re Terrance from that stupid website,” Jax guessed.
“I’m Lexi too.” The driver laughed. “As for stupid—stupid is giving me the same username and password you use for your email account. Didn’t they teach you any better at school?”
Jax groaned. Of course, he’d been taught not to use the same username and password for everything. He’d ignored the advice. Everybody did.
Terrance held the Taser in his right hand, but Jax was more interested in his left hand. When the van made a turn to the right, Terrance’s left hand arced upward, and Jax got a look at his wrist.
He had no tattoo. He was a Normal.
Jax hung his head and tried to think. Had he been snatched by a nut job who knew nothing about Grunsday? No, there was too much stuff on that website that matched what he’d been told. This guy knew something. What Jax wouldn’t have given for Riley’s voice of command right now! But of course, Jax had his own talent. He started muttering one of Melinda’s chants.
Terrance swung the Taser toward him again, and the van lurched sideways. “No spells, Jax.”
He knew what Jax was doing. That couldn’t be good. “I’m praying,” Jax snarled. “Praying you drive into a ditch, because I’d rather die in a car accident than be chopped into pieces by a psycho killer!”
“I’m not going to chop you into pieces,” Terrance shot back. “You’re my golden ticket, kid. Do what you’re told, and you won’t get hurt. But if you ask me a question—any question at all—I’ll Taser you till you pass out.”
Jax sagged against the rolled-up carpet. Terrance knew his talent.
“Cheer up, Jax. You didn’t like living there anyway, did you?” Terrance’s voice rose an octave. “Naomi, I don’t like it here. Riley is mean, and the only person who’s nice to me is Mrs. Unger.” He dropped into his normal register. “Only Naomi didn’t come, did she? She dropped you like a hot potato.”
So Terrance had read his email and chats. Crap, even Riley’s address had been in an old email Jax sent to Naomi back when he first moved there. And this guy knew about magic, even if he didn’t have his own. But he was also giving Jax information, practically volunteering it. Was Jax’s talent working for him even when he didn’t ask a direct question? Melinda said he was stronger when he really needed to know.
Jax prodded him but made sure not to phrase it as a question. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you were left alone this week.” Terrance smirked in the mirror. “Nobody’s going to miss you for days.”
Melinda would miss him. She was expecting him for his lesson tomorrow, and when he didn’t show up, she’d contact Mrs. Crandall, and they’d . . . do what? A Normal wouldn’t have activated Melinda’s security net, and he already knew that she wouldn’t detect Jax’s leaving. She’d have no idea what had happened.
Sitting for hours with hands cuffed behind his back was a torture that started small and grew steadily unbearable. Jax squirmed, trying to ease the pressure on his arms. He also managed to survey the vehicle. Besides the rolled rug Terrance had used to lure him in, there was a large toolbox in the back of the van and what appeared to be garbage bags.
The bags worried him. Bodies were disposed of in garbage bags.
Jax watched the clock face on the outdated dashboard. When midnight came, Terrance would vanish. But Jax was worried about what would happen to the van. He remembered the car he’d seen frozen on the highway because it had been moving with velocity on Wednesday at midnight. Would that happen in this case? Would Jax be trapped inside the van, unable to get out? Or would Jax’s presence in the vehicle be enough to send it hurtling seventy miles per hour into Grunsday—minus the driver?
At eleven thirty p.m., Terrance left the interstate and headed into a town over the border of Ohio. Rain pattered against the windshield, and Terrance flicked on the windshield wipers. He drove quickly and, as near as Jax could tell from the mirror, kept his eye on the clock. Finally, with less than ten minutes to spare, Terrance drove the vehicle into a strip shopping mall. He cut the engine and exited through the driver’s door. He walked around the van, opened the passenger door, and thrust the Taser into Jax’s face. “Get out. Slowly.”
Slowly was the only way Jax could move. He had no arms to help him. He fell trying to step out of the vehicle, and the pavement smacked his knees. Then Terrance planted a hand on the back of Jax’s head and shoved. “Get your head down.”
This was it. Terrance was going to kill him. Jax filled his lungs with breath to yell and plead . . . when suddenly his left hand fell forward. A second later, pain tore through the tortured muscles of his arm.
“Get up,” Terrance ordered, jerking on his other arm. Those muscles screamed, too. And then Jax realized his right hand was cuffed to Terrance’s left one.
“What the—”
Terrance laughed. He held up their connected hands and shook the cuffs. His other hand still held the Taser. “It’s a piggy-back ride,” he explained. “In a couple minutes, either you’re going to drag me into the other world, or . . .” He grinned. “Or one of us is going to get a hand cut off.”