Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels) (26 page)

The hallway sloped gradually downward. As they went, less and less sunlight leaked through the ceiling above. The temperature dropped, but not enough to sooth Shayla’s sun burnt and blistering skin. She wanted desperately to bathe in a pool of aloe gel.

Shayla skirted around a hole in the floor. The heel of her right shoe caught the edge and sent her off balance. Her right shoulder slammed into the wall, sending new, brighter pain rocketing through her back and arms.

“Knock it off, woman, and walk.” Harry glared at her; the torchlight was swallowed in the darkness of his eyes.

“Yeah, I did that on purpose.” Shayla spat out dirt and sweat that’d dripped into her mouth. “I said, ‘Hey, self.’” She turned to the side. “’Yes, self?’ ‘You know what’d really make today top notch?’ ‘No, what?’ ‘A twisted ankle to go with the dislocated shoulder.’” She stopped and met his angry glare with one of her own.

Harry’s hand flew through the twilight swallowing the hallway so quickly, she barely registered it was coming her way until it was too late. The back of his knuckles slammed into her jaw with enough force to send her reeling into the wall again. Her skull cracked against the rough bricks. Dust wafted down into her hair and sucked down into her lungs. Each and every single tooth in the right side of her face throbbed with its own beat. Blood trickled down her scalp from the crown of her head.

“Say one more word and see what happens. I have had lifetimes to learn how to injure a person and leave them capable of opening their mouth when I want them to.”

He’s serious.
The look in Harry’s eyes stopped any and all smart-assed comments she could think of in their tracks. Shayla leaned against the wall. Her knees wouldn’t hold her any longer. The various pains in her body melded, robbing her of her strength.

Harry closed in. Shayla flinched. He hauled her away from the wall. “Let’s get going. Time to meet my father.”

Stooping down, he braced his shoulder against her midsection and stood. One hand held her in place by the back of her thighs. Suddenly the world was upside down. The walls bounced by with each long stride he took down the hall.

A home didn’t feel like a home when one knew the person who by all rights should be there, wasn’t. The rooms became shrines to the owner—displaying everything they held dear in remembrance of those who’d treasured them. Walking through an empty house was an eerie experience. Deryck hated it. He wished he could hear the pit-pat of Shayla’s bare feet on the wooden floors. The sound of her rummaging through the kitchen for a snack. The vision of her curled up against the arm of the couch enjoying a film haunted him. It felt so real, he crossed the living room and tried to push her hair behind her ear. His hand hit nothing but air.

Bone-deep exhaustion wrapped itself around Deryck. He sat down heavily on Shayla’s couch, making sure he hadn’t taken her spot in the corner. For the last three hours, he’d scoured the city, searching each and every place he knew Shayla had been since the day he met her. They hadn’t seen her at the Sweet Bean or Tea Haven. It was the same at the doughnut shop and the restaurant they were originally supposed to dine at. After each stop, he returned to her house, hoping and praying he’d see her car in the driveway. It didn’t happen. The car was missing as well as its owner.

“Please, let her be safe.”

After the first hour of searching, he’d broken down and called Faye. She didn’t sound completely happy to be bothered.
Hormones,
he’d reminded himself.

“Faye, are you sure Shayla didn’t mention any plans for tonight?”

“I’m not her day planner or her nanny. She’ll call you when she wants to see you again, Deryck. Give it a rest.”

“She’s not answering her phone.”

Faye paused then. Deryck paced in front of the café, raking a hand through his hair. Anyone passing by had noted his agitation and gave wide berth.

“Maybe she put it on silent and it fell to the bottom of her purse.” A note of worry crept into her voice. “If I hear from her, I’ll have her call. I need to go.”

She hadn’t called back.

Deryck rose from the couch in Shayla’s living room. His eyes bounced around, looking for anything that’d give him a clue as to where to find her. He’d been trying, unsuccessfully, to track her with the faint bond they’d formed thanks to the higher powers. There was nothing. No sensation of her presence, or anything on the small table in front of the couch to point him in the right direction.

Feeling guilty, but desperate for answers, Deryck walked down the hall and stopped at the last door. It was open, giving him a view of Shayla’s hastily made bed. The nightstand beside it held a clock, lamp, and large paperback book—
The Lord of the Rings
. Deryck walked his fingertips over the worn book cover. He made a note to pick up a copy of the novel at some point. If they survived the threat Herryk posed.

There was nothing in her bedroom. Deryck left her private space the second he was done searching for clues. He headed back down the hall to the kitchen. He’d seen her phone in there the night before. Maybe she’d left it on the counter.

He rounded the corner and shook his head. No cell phone. No computer that he could find, either, to check through. Deryck had picked up a few things about the devices from watching people at the coffee shop who set up camp in a chair or at a table and poked away at their computers for hours on end, only stopping to refill their cups and relieve their bladders.

Deryck pushed a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. He was running out of places to search. A notepad affixed to the refrigerator fluttered in front of him. Reaching out, he held the pages down and read the note on the top of the front page. “Eight PM, Pure.”

Relieved to have found something, Deryck tapped into his powers and transported himself half a block away from the address scribbled on the bottom of the note. He took form in a large parking lot, one providing parking for a number of businesses in the area. Only a handful of cars remained in the lot. He checked his watch. It was later than he thought. If Herryk did have Shayla, time was running out. Soon he’d have everything he needed to complete the ritual.

A grey car on the opposite end of the parking lot stood all by itself. Deryck closed in on it, his heart beating in his throat. For a miserable second, he expected to find Shayla slumped over the steering wheel, blood pooling in her lap. He took a breath to steady himself and leaned down to peer into the window of the car. There was nothing, no one—unless one counted the debris leftover from a woman who lived in her car during the workweek, leftover coffee cups cluttered the drink holders and food wrappers filled the ashtray.

Deryck made a slow circle around the car, searching the ground for signs of a struggle. He checked the doors. They were locked. Whatever happened to Shayla happened after she’d parked her car.

The sounds of people talking and walking caught his attention. Deryck left the car, heading toward the front entrance of the restaurant at the end of the parking lot.

“Excuse me?” he called to a group of young women.

One of them turned. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Hi. Sorry, we’re closed for the night. You can make a reservation in the morning.”

“I’m actually looking for someone who was here tonight.”

“Do they work here?” The girl tucked a stray strand of hair into the bun at the crown of her head.

“No, she dined here tonight with a mutual friend, but I haven’t been able to find them since.” Deryck pulled his phone out of his pocket. He called the screen to life with a push of a button and held it up for the woman to see his background picture—Shayla, taken the night before while she was watching the movie and not paying attention.

The woman leaned in and shook her head. “Sorry. I work in the kitchen and don’t get to see who comes and goes.” She tapped the arm of a man beside her. “Dwayne, did you see this woman earlier?”

Dwayne turned and studied the picture. “She was here. I didn’t see them leave, though. It was insane on the floor at that time.”

“Thank you, both of you.” Deryck pocketed his phone.

The restaurant staff thinned out, heading toward the remaining cars in the lot. One by one, they drove off, leaving him alone. He spent a short time looking up and down the sidewalk, waiting for Shayla to step around a corner. She never did.

Deryck leaned against the side of her car and closed his eyes. The tattoos on his wrist stung as he tapped into his powers to search for the part of her that called to him.

There. A flicker of awareness prodding at the back of his mind. He tried to coax it to bloom, to solidify. The sensation grew more grounded and he knew she was east of him, far east.

Suddenly the connection to Shayla cut off.
It’s already too late.

Deryck pulled at his power and tracked the fading thread leading toward Shayla. As he vanished from the parking lot, he hoped to hell and back he wasn’t transporting himself into the middle of a trap.

Dust-coated mud brick walls bounced past. The bricks were not a uniform shape, unlike ones made for modern homes. These were all roughly the same size, but the shapes varied slightly—handmade. Millions of handmade bricks stacked together in order to form the place that’d be her tomb. If she had an ego, she’d be flattered to die in what was surely an important, ancient place. Whatever the hell it was.

The pressure in Shayla’s midsection made her queasy. Harry shifted his shoulder under her stomach, sending her sliding forward toward the odd-shaped bricks below until her hip bones caught on his shoulder. She held onto the back of her dress to keep her bound arms from flinging forward and doing more damage to her dislocated shoulder.

“Put me down or I’m going to puke down the back of your pants.”

Harry’s steps faltered, but he kept moving. “You will do no such thing.”

A wave of nausea made Shayla’s mouth fill with bitter tasting spit. “Too late.” She dry-heaved. Her abused stomach clenched tight, preparing to evacuate the chicken Parmesan and cheesecake.

Suddenly the world swung upright again. Harry dropped her against a wall like a sack of flour that’d sprung a leak. He backed away, out of upchuck distance. “I’m not going to coddle you.”