Gray's Domain: Purgatorium Series, Book Two (12 page)

“Not anymore.” Emma’s sobs took over her again. “She’s been like a mother to me. I can’t believe she’s treating me like this.” Her lips quivered, teeth chattered.

“If she thinks of you as a daughter, maybe it’s weird for her to see you with her son.”

Emma shook her head. “I wish that was it. If that
were
it, I could take it. But she’s been nothing but cold and rude to me since Greg and I took up with each other last summer. I was serious that day I told you to get off the island while you still can, before she lures you in like the others. I only stayed because of Greg.”

“Lures me in?”

“These people
live
here,” Emma whispered. “Most of them were patients at one time, but all of them stay for the thrill of the games, and they’ll do anything she tells them to do. It’s like they worship her.” Then she added, “Most of them are wealthy, like you and your family, and they give her all their money. Just wait and see. She’ll be hitting up your parents for more.”

Daphne glanced up at Brock, who was still standing where she had left him and was joined by Cam and Bridget. Her parents were just now getting their drinks handed to them by the bartender. Over at the entrance, three men dressed as bank robbers came in. They wore cut nylons over their heads, loose clothing, boots, and machine guns strapped across their shoulders.

Their costumes were pretty realistic.

“Who are they?” she asked Emma.

Before Emma could reply, one of the bank robbers pulled the double doors shut as another fired in the air and shouted, “Everyone down!”

Then a ring of
real
bullets shot past Daphne, bursting glass and flower vases. She dropped to the floor between the tables, nearly losing her wig.

Emma lay beside her on the floor bleeding from the shoulder.

“Emma?”

Yeah right. It was probably fake blood. Daphne touched the wound, causing Emma to wince. The flesh was torn. Real blood poured out.

“They friggin’ shot me,” Emma cried. “God, Daphne. Get me out of here. They’re going to kill me!”

“This isn’t happening,” Daphne muttered as shots continued to fire and screams exploded throughout the room. Daphne inspected Emma’s wound again, unable to believe it was real. As Daphne reached out to touch the blood pooling on the marble floor, her hand shook uncontrollably. Some of the blood got on the lacy sleeve of Daphne’s dress. “Why would they do this? Do you think it was an accident?”

More firing. Daphne flattened beside Emma.

“They must have heard me talking to you.” Emma gasped like a fish out of water. “They’re going to kill me, I know it.”

“They’re not going to kill you.”

They wouldn’t. Dr. Gray wouldn’t risk losing her precious
Purgatorium. But Daphne wondered just how far the Mad Hatter would go.

Chapter Ten: Helicopter Hostages

Daphne folded her hands across the back of her wig and screamed, “You shot Emma! You shot her for real!” She had to believe Emma was shot by accident; otherwise, the terror would be too much.

The tallest of the three shooters stepped toward her. “Of course I shot her for real. You think this is a game?” He grabbed Daphne’s wrist and pulled her to the center of the room. “You’re coming with me.”

She staggered, nearly tripping on the hem of her costume. As she adjusted her wig, she wondered if it was possible the shooters
weren’t
part of an exercise. That seemed unlikely, especially since Pete had described a similar scenario. No, the odds of gunmen coming to the island to take over the ball were ridiculously small. Daphne searched the crowd. Everyone was on the ground. Brock, Cam, and Bridget stared up at her in horror. Her parents were perched on the floor, their faces peering at her from behind the bar. Dr. Gray was beside them, her eyes narrowed.

Daphne stared back at the doctor with wide eyes. Hortense Gray was mad, and all her minions were mad, too.

“Take me instead!” Brock shouted from where he lay on the floor.

“Shut up!” the tall gunman ordered.

“Shoot him!” another shouted.

“No!” Daphne pleaded. “Stop the game!” This
was
a game, right? They were just playing along.

A string of bullets grazed her boot, narrowly missing her toes. Daphne screamed and then clamped her mouth closed.

“Where’s Arturo Gomez?” The shooter dragged her toward the doors where another stood with his gun pointed.

No one said anything.

“I’m going to kill this girl if someone doesn’t tell me where he is.”

Arturo, dressed as a jester, stood up. “I’m here.”

Daphne was horrified to see that Arturo had wet himself. The front of his costume was soaked. No, he must have poured water on his lap. Yet, she hadn’t seen him move since he hit the floor a few yards away from her. Did he do it on purpose? For the sake of the exercise? This was insane.

“We want the money from your safe and your helicopter out of here,” the shooter demanded. “Who here can fly the bird?” He motioned to the roof with his gun.

Arturo looked around the room. Maybe he was looking for his pilot.

Daphne was shocked to see her father raise a shaky hand. “I’m a pilot. Take me.”

Had Dr. Gray arranged this event to get her father to fly a helicopter? Tears of anger stung Daphne’s eyes, and she glared at the doctor. Then she was shocked by a subtle smile crossing the doctor’s face.

The shooter holding Daphne motioned to another to grab her father.

“Keys?” the man demanded.

Arturo Gomez reached into his pocket, shaking in a way that looked alarmingly real, and handed them over to the shooter standing closest to him. The man grabbed Arturo in a headlock.

“We’re going for a little trip to your safe first,” the man said, tossing the keys to the one holding Daphne, who must have been the leader.

The gunman led Arturo out of the room. The other shooters backed out the ballroom with Daphne and her father. They were dragged into the elevator while Arturo was taken in another direction.

The elevator was saturated with the smells of sweat and body odor. Daphne thought she was going to pass out.  Her father stood trembling beside her, staring at her with shock and fear. He was breathing rapidly, and though she was too, she was worried about his health.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, though she wasn’t so sure that was true.

“No talking,” the leader said as the elevator doors opened.

As they emerged from the elevator and onto the roof, Daphne’s father said, “That chopper’s not meant to carry five.”

“Kill the girl,” the leader said, shoving Daphne into the arms of one of the other men. She looked into his eyes, hoping for a flicker of recognition, but she’d never seen the man before.

“Wait!” Joe cried. “I didn’t mean that. I was trying to throw you off. The chopper will hold us.”

“We don’t need her anymore anyway,” the leader said nonchalantly.

Daphne couldn’t breathe. This was ridiculous. No way were these men going to kill her.

“Then you’ll have to find another pilot,” her father threatened.

“If you don’t do what we say, we’ll kill you, too,” the leader said in a low growl.

“Fine by me,” her father said.

The leader motioned the other to follow him. He opened the helicopter doors, and Daphne and her father were shoved inside the cockpit.

As her father took the pilot’s seat, she was forced to sit with her knees pressed against her chest in a tight space on the floor at her father’s feet. The gown of her costume bunched up around her legs, taking up most of the floorboard. The leader sat in the co-pilot’s spot with his gun pointed at her father. The other gunman climbed onto one of the seats behind them, which were separated from the cockpit area.

She stared at the gunman, asking him with her eyes,
Is this a game?

But he ignored her.

“Where are we going?” her father asked the leader.

“Just start her up. We’re waiting on one of my men.”

Her father’s hands shook violently as he pushed buttons and moved gears. She hated that he was being forced to do this. It was hard enough for him to ride one of these things, but to fly one? She hoped and prayed he wouldn’t crack.

Before long, the other shooter stepped out from the elevator onto the roof with a burlap bag in his hands. He ran to the back of the helicopter and climbed in.

“Lift her up,” the leader ordered.

“I need coordinates. I can’t just fly her blindly,” her father protested.

The leader crammed the barrel of his machine gun against Daphne’s cheek. “You better damn well do as I say, or…”

Daphne’s heart raced. She wasn’t feeling very confident that her father could fly this thing. The helicopter jerked upward a few feet off the ground and wobbled in the air. The gun shifted from her face.

“I need a direction,” Joe said, as he struggled to gain control of the aircraft.

“Up,” said the gunman.

Her father eased them into the air. She could see the rooftop of the main building moving away from them.

“Now what?” her father asked.

“Head west.”

The helicopter tilted too far to the right. Daphne suddenly felt nauseated. Was it possible to get seasick in the air? They hadn’t gotten very far when she heard gunshots.

“Dad?” she asked.

“Don’t they know we’re up here, too?” her father muttered. “Why in the hell are they shooting at us?”

Daphne gritted her teeth as she watched her father fighting to keep control of both himself and the helicopter. She didn’t know what to say, so she sat there and prayed to God.

“Get us out of here!” the gunman demanded. “What are you waiting for?”

“She’s not a fast flyer!” Joe said. “And we’re a heavy load.”

“Dump out the girl!” the leader said. “She’s dead weight anyway.”

Daphne wrapped her arms around one of her father’s legs, beginning to believe this was not an exercise. No doctor—not even a mad one—would take such chances with so many lives.

“You drop her, and I’ll run this chopper into the ground!” her father warned.

“Dad!” Daphne said. “I’m scared!”

A shot rang out. The helicopter jerked and dropped several feet. Daphne screamed.

“Do
not
land on the island!” the gunman said. “Take us out to sea, further west. I got a ship waiting.”

Daphne’s father looked down at her, as though trying to communicate something to her. She gazed back, wishing she could read his mind. Then he sucked in his lips and took the helicopter down.

“What the hell are you doing?” the gunman shouted.  “I said take us to the sea. I’m gonna kill that girl if you don’t…” The man looked wildly angry. He was losing control. “Do you hear me, man? I said take her into the sea!”

The gunman sought Daphne’s eyes. “Tell him, girl! The sea is safer! There’ll be a boat waiting for us. Don’t let him run this bird into the ground!”

The gunman’s face was white beneath the nylon. Sweat beaded on his skin. He glared at her, as though attempting to transmit a psychic message to her, just as she had tried to do earlier to him.

The helicopter jerked in all directions, throwing Daphne against the door, then against her father’s leg, and
then back against the control board. Her wig shifted. They were spinning, and so was her mind. The gunman was just an actor, and now he was terrified that her father was going to get them all killed. They had to land in the sea. That must be the plan. 

“Take us to the sea, Dad!” she cried, about to throw up.
“The sea!”

“Listen to me, man!” the gunman shouted fervently. “You’re
gonna get us all killed if you don’t take us to the sea!”

He fought for the controls, but her father elbowed him in the side of the head, and the gunman fell back.

“The sea, Dad!” Daphne cried again.

She closed her eyes and tried not to be sick, holding onto her father. She thought of her mother and of Joey, and how hard this would be for them to lose two more loved ones. She prayed to God to help them.
And poor Brock. She hoped he would meet someone new. When she could, she kissed her father’s knee, but then the helicopter jerked up and back, and she hit her head hard on the door and bit her tongue. She felt herself losing consciousness and fought to open her eyes. Her father reached out and grabbed her, and before she knew what was happening, he’d opened the door and jumped out with her in his arms. Her wig flew off. They fell in the water, her back stinging against the surface. She winced as her father scooped her up and headed toward the beach.

Then she heard the crash of the helicopter and the enormous wail of the propellers against the earth and sea. She opened her eyes as her father splashed through the shallow water to see the chopper dancing and floundering like a giant dying octopus about fifty yards out.  Sparks and flames flew up. Daphne couldn’t see if the others made it out alive as her father reached the beach and headed toward the woods.