The Girl in the Box 01 - Alone (9 page)

I felt Zack edge up behind me. “If your men didn’t move these clothes around, someone else has been here,” I told him.

He had the radio plugged back in and I saw his fingers move to touch his ear. “Did anyone move any clothes in this room?” He paused for a moment, waiting for responses, then looked back at me and shook his head. “Guess he’s been here.”

“Or someone has,” I replied.

He handed me a black duffel bag that he’d had slung over his shoulder. “Get what you came for and let’s go.”

I threw some clothes in the bag at random, then tossed in my eskrima sticks after retrieving them from where I left them behind the couch in the living room. As I picked them up I half-smiled, half-frowned as I remembered leaving them behind while I crawled away from Kurt as he fired his dart gun at me.

“Is that it?” Zack’s voice almost cracked with the sound of his nerves. “Can we go yet?”

“Just a few more things,” I said as I headed toward the door to the basement. My hand froze for a moment at the handle, then I slowly turned it. “Anyone down there?” I asked as I hovered in the doorjamb, waiting for Zack’s answer.

He shot a look at the other agents in the room. “Not right now.”

The white plaster of the living room walls gave way to concrete block at the entry to the basement. The staircase made an abrupt turn to the left ahead, following the foundation of the house. The steps were an old, unvarnished wood, and the only illumination was the single light overhead. I used to walk down these steps several times per day, but it was the last time I came up them that was giving me pause.

I reached the landing and turned, most of my thoughts about Wolfe forgotten. I knew he wasn’t down here. The smell of old sweat, blood and other foulness filled the air.

I looked back at Zack and saw him scrunch his nose in displeasure at the aroma. “Did your mother kill someone down here?”

I didn’t blink. “No. But not for lack of trying.”

He laughed, and I continued down the last few steps and felt the concrete underfoot. Even though there was a thick sole on the boots I was wearing, my mind filled in the sensation from the thousands of times I had trod these floors barefoot while Mom was away, giving my feet a ghostly feel of the familiar chill. It crept up my legs, infusing my body, and I felt an involuntary tremor run through me.

The smell was worse down here, and my eyes wandered over our assorted weapons, hanging from hooks on the far wall. Katanas, nunchuks, scythe, rapiers and so many more. Mats covered the floors in the middle of the room and pipes crisscrossed the ceiling overhead from the exposed beams of the floor above. A slight clinking could be heard from overhead, as well as soft footsteps of the agents treading upstairs.

A couple of buried windows provided a little bit of light in the back, but they were covered by a film of white, providing enough opacity that it was impossible to distinguish anything through them. For illumination there were three naked bulbs swinging from the ceiling. In the far corner I could see the faint outline of a blocky shape in the shadows and the tremor got a little worse; I shook for a second.

I had halted in place and I felt Zack’s hand brush my shoulder. I looked back in slight surprise and found his eyes looking into mine. My goodness, they were pretty. “Hurry up, okay?” His face was all sincerity, so I shook off my reverie and pushed myself to cross the mats to the far wall. I pulled a katana off the hooks and slid it into the loops of the bag, then threw a pair of sais and a dagger into it as well.

Zack watched me with wide eyes and a look of abject absurdity. “If you wanted weapons, we had plenty back at the Directorate…”

“Just figured I’d get them while I’m here,” I replied. “Besides, Kurt’s not too keen on me being armed.”

“I’m not that excited about it either,” he admitted with a wry grin. “But that’s because I’ve felt what you can do with those sticks.”

“In fairness, you did break into my house.”

“Yeah, I…” His words trailed off as he looked into the corner. “What is that?” He started across the mats to join me on the far wall, but I met him halfway.

“Nothing. I’m done, we can go.”

“No, wait.” He was peering into the darkness.

“It’s really nothing. You were worried about Wolfe, weren’t you?” I plastered a smile on my face. “We should go.”

“Just a minute.” He reached up and grasped one of the overhead lights, pointing it toward the corner. He took a step closer and I withheld any additional protests and felt myself brace internally. I turned away and shut my eyes, facing the stairs and took a couple steps in that direction. There was an agonizing and sudden tightness in my belly. “What…is…this?” Zack’s voice was low, but rising with each syllable, incredulous. I heard the squeak of hinges behind me, then retching from Zack, then a firm declaration. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

“OH. MY. GOD!” The last declaration was the most frightening, but it was nothing compared to the sound that followed it.

“I’m not a god, but it’s always nice to get a compliment.” I opened my eyes to find twin pools of blackness staring into mine from just a few feet away as he descended the stairwell. “Hello, little doll,” Wolfe breathed. “Time to play.”

“Hello, big poodle,” I replied, edge in my voice. “Time for your ass to get housebroken.” My hand had been clutching the katana and it slid from its scabbard, all thoughts of Zack’s discovery filed away to be dealt with later. I whipped the blade across Wolfe’s chest as he dodged, fast as I remembered.

Unfortunately for him, he dodged into the bag I threw with my outstretched hand. He recoiled when it hit, making me believe that one of the eskrima sticks got a piece of his face. Not enough to do any damage, but enough to piss him off. He grabbed the strap as it fell and winged it back at me with a little extra mustard. I dodged as it flew by, katana in my hands and a self-satisfied smile on my lips.

“You’re awfully confident,” Wolfe said as he slid sideways in a feint, “considering last time we met I left you broken on the pavement.”

“It was two days ago,” I cooed, “and I’m all better, so I don’t think you broke me.”

“She likes it rough,” he said with enough suggestion that I doubly wanted to chop him into ground beef.

“Last time we met,” Zack said from Wolfe’s side, shotgun in his hand, raising it toward the beastly, hairy face, “I ran your canine ass off, in case you forgot.”

“Wolfe doesn’t forget,” the beast said with a smile. “He was feeling a bit out of sorts and couldn’t play; otherwise he would have enjoyed eating your entrails.” Wolfe cocked his hand back and flung it at Zack faster than the agent could dodge. The hit blasted the young man in the face and the crunch told me something broke – either the cartilage in his nose or a bone in his cheek – and the Directorate agent crumpled to the ground. But not before the shotgun discharged into Wolfe’s side, leaving holes in his already dirty shirt. No blood trickled out.

I met Wolfe’s eyes as he lunged for me. I evaded and clipped him with my sword, ripping his shirt further. He didn’t even finish his landing before he reached for me again. His arms were long but my sword was longer and it dragged across his wrist as I dodged him again.

I looked at the place where the blade had kissed him but there was no evident sign of contact; only immaculate skin with twisted black hairs all over it. He caught me looking and made a very predatorial tsk-tsk sound. “Wolfe has very thick skin, little doll. Bullets don’t hurt him much.” He reached down and lifted his shirt where the shotgun blast had impacted. It was very hairy, but the only things visible were small red discolorations – not even a break in the skin.

My mind reeled.
He’s not vulnerable to the shotgun
, I thought.
Maybe a pistol or a rifle – if I had one
. Desperation filled me.
My sword doesn’t seem to do much in glancing blows – but maybe a full on, impaling strike…but doing that would put me in reach of his arms, unless I did it from behind…

I was faster than him, I reflected as he jumped for me and I dodged him again. Every time he lunged he had to commit all his momentum to his forward motion, and when he missed he was off balance for just a second. I slipped to his right on his next lunge and drove my sword down with all my strength, aiming at his Achilles tendon at the back of his leg. My sword blade sliced through his baggy, dirty pants and caught him right above the heel.

I felt the blade stop against my gloves as though I had driven the sword into a steel block. A grunt from Wolfe was all the acknowledgment I got for my efforts and I rolled to my right as he turned and I narrowly dodged a wild swing from him.

“Little doll,” he growled, the menace in his voice sending chills through me, “Wolfe’s amusement is running low…Wolfe is bleeding…and Wolfe doesn’t like bleeding…a few drops of his blood is of more worth than this entire, stinking gutter trash city…”

I chanced to look down at my handiwork on his ankle, but what was there could scarcely be described as bleeding. A few drops no bigger than the head of a pin dotted the mat where he was standing. His grin had faded, replaced by a look of savagery that brought back the fear of our first encounter full force. I was face to face with a seemingly unkillable menace – what was I supposed to do now? Run for the stairs? He’d catch me on the turn.

My breathing had become ragged, not from exertion but from fear. I put myself in this situation because I was sure I could beat him. Now I was almost sure I couldn’t. Unless…

I lunged forward before he made another move, holding my sword at maximum extension and aiming for his eye. I might not be able to break his skin, but the eyes were always a weak point…

Once more I felt the blade stop as though it hit an immovable object. I opened my eyes (I hadn’t realized I closed them when I lunged – Mother would have been very upset with me) and saw his hand wrapped around my katana, the tip stopped only inches from his right eye. I pushed it harder, and watched as a thin trickle of red ran down his wrist. He yanked the blade down to his chest level and pulled it toward him. I let it go, but not before he had pulled me off balance and brought me within his reach.

This close to him, I had a revelation. Where a normal person would have fingernails, he had claws. They jutted out an inch or so above the ends of his fingers, black, with a pointed tip that looked sharp. They seemed to extend as I watched them.

I tried to stagger back but he seized my right arm and his claws raked into the skin, shredding through my sleeve. I pulled away and fell down, rolling to my feet and slipping away just in time to avoid a slash. I felt my back bump into the wall and realized he had cornered me. I reached up by instinct and grabbed for a weapon, pulling down a dagger and holding it in front of me as he leaped forward and slammed into me, driving me into the wall.

I opened my eyes and I felt like I’d lost a few seconds. My head spun from the impact. Wolfe was big; I would have bet he weighed well over three hundred pounds. I took a sharp intake of breath and realized he had been laying across me; that he had actually broken through the concrete block of the basement wall by driving my body into it. The powdered dust from the destruction hung in the air like a haze over me as I lolled in some twilight form of consciousness.

I tried to move my arms but failed. There was a long shadow stretching to the ceiling above me and it reached down with a pointed hand and grasped me, once more, around the neck, hauling me into the air. I knew my feet were dangling below me, but I couldn’t feel them. I looked into those black eyes and my view expanded a little, like a camera when it zooms out, and I realized his face was contorted with rage.

“Look what you did to Wolfe, little doll.” He shook me, hanging in the air as I was, and twisted my neck so that my eyes rolled toward his midsection. The knife I had pulled from the wall and stuck out to stop him was buried in his gut and a steady stream of blood had soaked his shirt. I would have smiled, but I wasn’t really in a position to.

His hand wasn’t choking me this time, just dangling me in place. I realized later that I must have been concussed when he smashed me through the wall; had some bones broken, probably my spine as well, because the feeling in my extremities was missing.

“Wolfe is tired of the way you play.” He pulled me closer to him and I felt his nose run along my neck, heard the faint sound of sniffing. “I don’t think you can move now…” The ominous way he said it turned my stomach. “Now Wolfe can play with you his way…without any interruptions—”

Before I could find out what that meant (though I had a disgusting theory) a flash of light seared my eyes and something rocked Wolfe from behind. He dropped me and I fell to my side, curled up. Upon impact, I lay there for a moment, unmoving, then realized I could now feel my arms, my legs and everything else. And they all hurt. Another flash of light lit the room and I sat up, nursing a half dozen cuts and some agonizing pain in my back and neck.