Wanted: Undead or Alive

I Wish

Three hours is nothing when you're trying to get the house clean before company comes. It'll fly by while you're laughing with friends over drinks. It's not even long enough to drive across Michigan from east to west. But when you're sitting on the floor, tied up, alone, waiting for someone to come and eat you, it's a really freaking long time.

I blew fifteen minutes or so crying and another twenty raging helplessly against the ropes that bound me. It took at least five to get myself upright again. A wish for Nick hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't bring myself to utter it. My butt hurt and my back hurt. My face felt crusty and gross with blood and snot and tears.

After close to an hour—I guess—how could I know for sure? I closed my eyes and thought about making love to Nick. For half a year I'd fantasized what it would be like, and I'd missed the mark entirely. Imagination had fallen so far short of reality, it was absurd. He was wild and passionate, cruel and gentle, thoughtful and greedy.

Yesterday had been much better than today.

What did Mx. Landry do after they hung up the phone?

My hope was that they read between the lines. I needed them to set the machine in motion, but keep Nick out of it. I had no clear idea how many people worked at The Recovery Agency or exactly what kind of ties existed between The Agency and The Organization, but I'd be willing to bet that, with the proper motivation, a small army could be mustered with astonishing speed. In fact, I had bet on that. With my life.

The sham hostage exchange was planned for sunset. That put it around 8:00, maybe 8:30. So Gray Hair made the call around five. I'd only been unconscious for an hour or two. Not long enough for anyone to really miss me. Even if Chantelle or Busia tried to call, they wouldn't freak out after just a couple of hours. My heart constricted at the thought of Busia. If I died, she's the one who would take the call, and Jaja still wasn't really out of the woods. It was too much for an old lady to deal with. It was too much for anyone to deal with.

Again, the wish for Nick teased my tongue. Again, I swallowed it. Nick couldn't have anything to do with this. He was already on the edge of going supernova, even if he had burned off a significant amount of energy.

Yup. Yesterday had been much better than today.

I let my head fall back against the wall. A few hot tears squeezed from the outside corners of my eyes and rolled back toward my ears.

A powerful whomp shivered through the building. The lights flickered. My heart flopped over and played dead. About the time it remembered to beat again, sweat broke out everywhere on my body.

I held my breath and listened.

Is that gunfire?

A sulfurous wisp of smoke coiled sinuously through the gap under the door, and a moment later, Benji kicked it open and burst through with an honest-to-God Samuri sword in hand. Because of course. Smoke roiled around her as if she'd just leapt out of the bowels of Hell. 

She didn't speak but scanned the room, taking a beat to study the air vent near the top of the wall, then raced over to me, produced a flask of holy water, and dribbled it over my exposed hands. Since I didn't burst into flame, she crouched down, set the sword aside, yanked a Bowie knife from a sheath on her belt, and began sawing at the ropes. "You're a mess. How bad is it?"

"I think my nose might be broken. Everything else is fine." I'd decided my rib wasn't cracked, but I'd be willing to bet I had a truly impressive bruise. The ropes fell away, and blood rushed into my arms, causing a breathtaking case of pins and needles.