Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot) (18 page)

Evan stared at me blankly.

“You said you could tell if someone had magic or not if you got a blood sample.”

“Oh.” Evan nodded. “It could be more than one person, though. And we still can’t be sure.”

“You should also know about the rumors that Mackenzie had an inappropriate relationship with the girls. One man saw him kissing Laura, though Mackenzie claimed it was the other way around.”

Evan went silent for a long time, but before he spoke again, I smacked myself in the forehead. “Of course, the lust spell! It was Laura’s bracelet. She might have actually used it on Mackenzie, but then, if she had, he would have known about her magic.”

Evan nodded thoughtfully.

“Who are you going to call for backup?” I asked.

“Scott Lee owes me a favor.”

“Scott?” I didn’t know anything about him except that he was a werewolf, but as my dad used to say, that was enough. Werewolves were dangerous, deadly, and unpredictable. Evan and Scott were cousins, but even so, I couldn’t imagine what had caused Evan to befriend him. When it first started, I thought it had been a bit of teenage rebellion, but now...

“And my dad,” Evan added.

“Oh.” This was getting better and better. “How about my brother?”

“Well, he may not be too bad in a fight, but I think I really need someone with more experience. And I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to call both your brother and my father.”

“Probably not.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so we remained silent until Evan spotted a McDonald’s and pulled into the parking lot. He checked his cell phone and gave a satisfied nod. “We may as well go inside and get some lunch while I make these calls. I don’t think I want to go back to camp without backup.”

I wasn’t thrilled about eating fast food. I was particularly not thrilled about Evan eating fast food when he may need to go into battle, but there didn’t seem to be any better options. He handed me a twenty and told me to order while he started making phone calls. I got us both salads, fruit and yogurt parfaits, and orange juice. I figured we were both better off staying away from the hamburgers and French fries, even if the lettuce in the salads looked a bit limp.

Evan had procured a table at the back, near the play area, and was still on the phone when I put the tray down in front of him. He held up a finger to let me know he would just be a minute, then said, “All right, Scott, I’ll see you soon.”

He hung up. “That should do it, I think.”

The three of them together would make a powerful force, but I still didn’t know what, exactly, he planned to do. “We still don’t have all the answers.”

“We’ll get them. The time for subtlety is over. We’ll find out who’s using magic at that camp if we have to physically force each suspect to donate a blood sample.”

I recognized the look in his eyes – determination and power. It was a look no one wanted to be on the wrong side of.

“When they get here,” Evan said, “I want you to take my car and drive back to Eagle Rock.”

I had seen it coming, but that didn’t change how angry I felt at his insistence on getting me out of the way. “You still need me here. While you’re tramping around letting everyone within a hundred miles know there are angry sorcerers on the rampage, I can keep an eye on whoever conveniently disappears.”

“You’re leaving. I’ll make it an order, if I have to.”

“Which effectively means you just did.”

He turned his attention to his parfait, not even deigning to respond. I wasn’t finished, though.

“You are so full of yourself sometimes,” I told him.

“I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“Really? Like you took care of me this morning?” It was a cheap shot, and I realized it the minute the words came out, but it was too late to recall them.

“You know I wish I could erase that.”

“I’m not stupid. I know when I need help, and I don’t charge recklessly into danger.”

“That’s true.”

“So why are you treating me like a child? You’re only a day older than me, remember?”

“I remember.” He didn’t say anything else, though. He just dove back into his lunch, telling me as clearly as he could that the subject was closed.

I picked at my salad for a minute, then put my fork down. “I’ll be right back.”

Evan nodded distractedly, as I made a beeline for the ladies’ room. I spent a few minutes in there, splashing water on my face, brushing my hair, and generally trying to find some kind of inner peace. Finally, deciding I wasn’t going to get any more prepared, I stepped back into the dining room.

The half-finished food remained at our table, but Evan wasn’t there. Deciding he must have gone to the restroom as well, I began making my way back to the table.

I didn’t even make it out of the restroom alcove before I felt someone at my back. The next thing I knew, there was a hand clamped over my mouth and my hands were being forcibly twisted behind my back.

I couldn’t see the hand over my mouth. It was completely invisible. Moreover, the moment it had touched me, I went invisible too. I could no more see my own hand than I could see his.

“Don’t move,” a somewhat familiar male voice whispered in my ear.

My pulse thudded in my ear as I twisted, trying to free myself. Whatever the man said, I knew that I needed to get free and get to Evan – wherever he was.

“Move!” He pushed my back. When I started to fight him, he muttered a few words that sounded ominously like a spell. The next thing I knew, my entire body went limp. I couldn’t even move my mouth, but my eyes worked. The man held me in his arms like a baby, but I stared up into absolutely nothing. I could feel him, but I couldn’t see the invisible man holding me captive.

No one else could see us either.

A minute later, I was being shoved into the backseat of a dusty black Ford pickup truck, roughly strapped into a seat that could be folded into the wall. The car rumbled to life and began to move, but my body remained limp and motionless, thanks to the effects of whatever spell he had used. The truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot, while my mind worked frantically for some kind of solution. Nothing came immediately to mind except the bitter knowledge that Evan had been right.

I
COULDN’T SEE OUT THE TRUCK’S WINDOW.
The spell had left me paralyzed, and my captor had not taken care when tossing me into the backseat. I hurt everywhere. I felt every aching muscle, I simply couldn’t move them to more comfortable positions.

I guessed we were heading back to camp based on the direction the truck had taken. Why? Who had done this? His voice had sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Someone from camp?

The truck rumbled to a stop on uneven ground – possibly a dirt path – then the driver’s side door opened and closed.

My body couldn’t move, but my heart had no trouble pounding out its terror as the back door opened and invisible hands reached for me. Instinctively I tried to shrink away. I couldn’t, but my legs were able to move just a little bit. The spell was wearing off.

Had my captor noticed? I didn’t know, but I feared so after he tied nylon ropes around my wrists, pinning them behind my back. The bindings were tight and painful, but rope burns were the least of my concerns.

Where was Evan? Had they gotten him too? I wanted to deny the idea, but he hadn’t been at the table when I’d left the restroom.

Please don’t have Evan
. If he was free, there was hope.

There’s always hope
, I reminded myself.
I’m alive, so there’s hope
.

My captor yanked me out of the truck and half dragged me towards a building. The smell of horse and hay told me where we were headed even before I caught sight of the wooden beams of the stables.

The stables
. My captor’s voice had sounded like Mackenzie’s. I had been right to suspect him. Little good it would do me now.

Slow down. It could be a trick.
Auditory illusions are not as easy to accomplish as visual illusions because the eyes are easier to fool than the ears. But they are possible. I could take nothing at face value.

That’s the trouble with magic. It’s hard to take anything at face value. It’s why I called myself a normal detective. Not that I would have turned down this case, even knowing what would come. This was personal. This was family.

It might also be the death of me. I could think of no nice, benign reasons for my own kidnapping under these circumstances.

I was close to something. Too close, apparently.

My captor dragged me down a long row of stalls, all of which were occupied by horses of various sizes and breeds. I only caught glimpses of them as I passed. One or two neighed in agitation, possibly smelling my terror.

I still couldn’t move. I willed my body to twist and writhe. I saw the motions in my head. In reality, my knees scraped the ground, collecting dirt and cuts along the way.

I gritted my teeth against the pain. It was the least of my worries. Better the pain of cuts and bruises than whatever awaited me at the end of this journey.

One stall, about halfway down, was empty. As I neared it a new smell entered the mix – something like rotting flesh. I had a sudden, traumatic memory of an abused vampire corpse, its head cut off, decaying beneath a deck. That had hit me so strongly at the time that I’d had to flee to throw up. This time, I didn’t have any problem keeping down my scant lunch, but my heart felt like it wanted to escape my chest.

Twist. Writhe. Was that a wiggle? I kicked my leg slightly. Not enough that my captor had noticed.

I was visible. When had that happened? It didn’t matter. If I could get out of here, someone could see me.

I tried a scream. It came out as a squeak, but the sound was there.

“Shut up,” my captor said. “No one to hear you but horses anyway.”

At the end of the row of stalls was a small tack room. The man threw me unceremoniously inside. I fell on my face, no doubt adding to my cuts and bruises. I wanted to turn. I needed to see him. But before I could, he slammed the door. A click told me he had locked it from the outside.

I wasn’t dead yet. I found the fact comforting, despite the desperate nature of my captivity. Whatever he had planned, it hadn’t happened yet.

I managed to climb onto hands and knees, then twisted into a sitting position. From there, I could see more of my surroundings.

A small window, no more than a foot across, let in a glimmer of sunlight but would provide no means of escape, even if I could get my hands untied. Shelves lined one wall, a small cot and a water cooler took up another. The room was full of potential weapons – whips, spurs, horseshoes, nails, and leather working tools – but first I had to untie my hands.

I could use this. My captor had to know I could use this, which meant he didn’t plan to keep me here very long. Either that or he put too much stock in his paralysis spell. I had to believe in the former possibility, which meant I had precious little time.

First, I had to stand up. It took me a few tries, but finally the paralysis wore off enough to allow me to stand, unsteadily, as long as I leaned against the wall. From my new vantage point, I could just see out the tiny window. Far too small to climb through, even if I could break the thick glass. I thought of crying for help, but there wasn’t anything interesting out there, unless you counted the horses heading out to pasture.

I almost turned away, but something made me pause to look again. I recognized the horses from the stalls. There was the brown one with the black mane and distinctive star pattern on its forehead, the ugly one with the salt and pepper coat, and the fiercely handsome black one.

Something wasn’t right here. I needed out – now.

Fear caused bile to rise in my throat, but I fought it down.

How long had I been here? Long enough for Evan to know I was gone, assuming he hadn’t been taken. I had to assume that.

Could he find me? How would he look? He’d had hair samples from his missing cousin and been unable to spot her. If the same sorcerer had me...

Backing away from the window, I took stock of the tools in the room. There, sorted neatly on one of the shelves, were some leather working tools, including a couple of sharp-looking knives.

My muscles were beginning to respond again. If I was free, then at least I could fight. Perhaps I could use some of these tools to break open the door. It was only made of wood, after all.

One thing at a time, I chided myself. First, I backed up against the shelf and fumbled with a steel blade, managing to nick my finger as I unsheathed it. Ignoring the sting, I tried sliding it against the nylon rope, only to discover that it wasn’t nearly as easy to pull off as it seemed in the movies.

Then I fumbled the blade. It nicked my hand again as it clattered to the ground.

“Argh!” Thanks to my thick tongue, the noise sounded strange in my ears. Lowering myself to the ground, I fished for the blade again, figuring it might be easier from a sitting position anyway. As my fingers once again found the sharp steel, I wondered whether I would manage to cut off the ropes before I cut off my hands.