Then, snatching away the blanket, he grabbed at her top, gripped it tight, twisting it around till she almost choked.
He wasn’t laughing now. Instead, he had that wild-animal look again. Baring his teeth, he lifted her off the floor, slammed her against the wall, and held her there.
A mirthless grin twisted his mouth.
He let go. She slumped forward. Then, quickly, he began winding the blanket around her.
Holding her up with one hand.
Unbuckling his belt with the other.
Snapping it like a bullwhip, looping the belt around her, trapping her arms.
Drawing it tight.
Buckling it up.
Still holding her upright.
Deana wasn’t screaming now—she’d almost stopped breathing.
Can’t breathe… and scream at the same time.
Gotta breathe.
Short, shallow huffs.
Panic welled. Her head hurt.
Sweat oozed, slick and hot, from every pore.
My God. He really, really means to kill me!
I’m gonna die, and no one’ll ever know…
Hoisting her onto his shoulder again, he shifted around, his bulk kneading her guts as he balanced her weight. Her head swung low, and the blood throbbed and pounded, hard.
He stepped forward, catching her head as he went out the door. Smashing it sideways with a sickening thud.
She felt blinding, flashing pain. Her head spun…
A rush of vomit surged in her throat…
Mace was outside now. His breath coming quick and heavy as he traveled over rough terrain—undergrowth, bushes—snagging his boots. With each step, each lurching jolt, his shoulder humped into her belly, pummeling her aching gut. She gasped, heaved, not knowing how much more she could take…
Through the blanket, the sun scorched her back. Nausea rose again. She retched, forcing it back down.
Then she hit dirt, feeling hard knobbly humps beneath her buttocks. She rolled over, steadied herself… and came to rest on her back.
Listening to Mace stomp away.
Seconds later, a door opened.
Mace returned. Hoisted her onto his shoulder again.
A sudden draft caught at her legs. Earlier, jolting along on his back, it’d been hot.
Now… it’s icy cold…
Where am I? Where’s he taking me?
Deana started to cry.
Wishing that Warren were here.
If—when Warren finds me, he’ll get even with Mace. Pound his brains out. Tear him apart. Kill him with his bare hands. Then he’ll take me home.
She smiled faintly, feeling Warren’s hand caressing her thigh, his mouth hard on hers, moaning as her fingers curled around his shaft…
Dank, earthy odors stole through the blanket, curling into her nostrils. It was cold here… wherever it was… Damp and so cold.
A sunless place.
Oh my God!
She plummeted down. Hit something that gave under her weight; it felt soft, but not springy.
Like a mattress on a hard dirt floor.
She heard Mace’s breath, huffing out in short, sharp grunts. Felt him pulling at her middle, picking at the belt, loosening it. Unwinding the twine from her legs… Pulling the blanket from her face.
Christ, the stench… Bad, rancid dirt beneath her, water slick on the walls… She focused her eyes, but it was so dark, she couldn’t quite see where she was.
Uhhh… It’s so COLD!
Like the grave…
Shuddering, whimpering, she dragged the blanket to her. Fierce, fiery, tingly pain seared her legs as the blood came pumping back.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Let me go, Mace. PLEASE,” she blurted. “I’ve done nothing to hurt you. I kept quiet about you coming into my room like that. Mom doesn’t know a thing… When I get outta here, I promise I’ll never tell.”
“No sweat, sugar. Uncle Mace knows you won’t tell.” His voice dropped a notch. It went quiet, calm, confiding.
“Best listen up, kiddo. You won’t tell, ’cause—you’re—going—NOPLACE. Geddit?”
His eyes glittered, shining in the dark.
She stayed quiet.
A chill crawled up her spine. The numbness, the tingling, the pain in her legs were nothing to the fear she felt now.
Her heart hammered.
Goddamn maniac! He’s gonna kill me! I’m gonna die here and nobody’s gonna find me…
In her mind she pictured Mace carving, gouging all her intimate, secret places—then tearing her apart… slurping on her flesh with fiendish glee, sucking his lips, his bloodied fingers…
Her hands flew to her face.
Feeling grateful relief that he’d done with her.
For the moment.
She heard him stomp away.
Then she was crying, with hard, hurting sobs.
Peeking through her fingers.
Catching a slice of daylight as he went out the door.
The door slammed.
A scattering of debris hit the floor.
A key rattled home.
With a harsh scraping sound, it turned in the lock.
FIFTY-NINE
The thing came closer…
Moving quietly with animal stealth.
She heard its raspy breathing.
Felt its foul breath as it hung over her bed…
From out of nowhere a cloth fluttered down.
Covering her face.
Clinging so tight, it was like a second skin.
A surge of panic set her screaming, tearing at it.
All the while, the thing watched.
She saw the huge veined wings spread out behind it… Ropes of matted hair. Small darting eyes. Spiky teeth. Curved, clawed hands reaching down.
Her screams turned to whimpers and died. She lay rigid with fear. Sweat, like globs of blood, oozed down her body. She opened her mouth to cry for help, but no sound came. She tried again, straining, willing her voice to work. Her jaws ached; her throat was like sandpaper, dry and parched.
As she twisted and turned, the hands gripped her neck, tighter and tighter… until… she was falling… into deep dark space…
Leigh struggled awake, tearing the bedsheets from her slick, damp body, clutching at her neck, looking around for that eerie nightmare creature…
The curtains billowed softly. Cool air played on her sweat-soaked skin…
Still not convinced she was alone, she stared anxiously into the shadows, seeing familiar things—her wardrobe, dresser, wicker chair, hamper… pictures on the wall…
She sighed. Her breath evened out. Everything’s okay, she told herself.
Then:
No it’s not…
Panting again, she peered into all the gray creepy spaces, into the shadows where anything could hide…
She trod the bedsheet down with her feet.
Feeling her nightgown up around her neck, cutting across her throat, almost strangling her. This hadn’t happened since that last nightmare, when Edith Payne had grabbed her, shrieked at her by Charlie’s graveside…
Charlie’s funeral.
Now it could be Deana’s…
NO NO NO!!!
STOP THAT. RIGHT NOW!!!!
Deana’s safe.
I know it I know it. I’d know in my heart if she was d… Can’t say it. WON’T SAY IT…!!
The realization that Deana was gone engulfed her once more. This was the second terrible night of drugged, blacked-out sleep. Sleep broken by hideous phantoms. Ghosts invading the night like demented harpies.