Girls' Night Out (6 page)

“Er, I’m fine, luv,” he said, patting her back again.

Al pushed back from him finally, but she didn’t let go. “She threatened you, didn’t she?” Al asked. “That’s why you dropped out. And why you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

Gary looked sheepish. And guilty, though Al didn’t seem to notice that part.

“I value my hide, Al. Sorry, but she was real . . . persuasive. I wanted to at least leave word, but she said she’d kill me.” His accent was more upper-crust than you’d expect in this crappy neighborhood, and I could understand him much better than Yellow Undershirt Guy. I had the immediate suspicion that it was an affectation, maybe one he’d used to hide his background from Al.

My bullshit meter maxed out. He was just parroting back the explanation Al had already handed him, the one she wanted to hear. If he’d held up a sign saying

“I’m a sleazeball,” he couldn’t have been more obvious. Maybe he was afraid of what Al might do if she found out he’d dumped her and didn’t care enough to even answer the phone when she called.

“How . . . how can you be here?” he asked, shaking his head. “You’re Fae.”

“And the award for Best Statement of the Obvious goes to . . .” I muttered under my breath.

Al dabbed at her eyes and beckoned to me without turning. It was like she was afraid Gary would disappear if she let him out of her sight. Having no desire to get a closer look at Gary, whose bathrobe was starting to gape and reveal way more than I wanted to see, I stayed where I was.

“This is my friend Dana,” Al said, apparently unperturbed by my refusal to come closer. “She’s a Faeriewalker.”

Gary blinked. “What’s a Faeriewalker?”

Al gave him an abbreviated explanation, stressing the absolute necessity of keeping me close. I wondered if she was also trying to remind me why I couldn’t just turn around and walk away. I suspect the expression on my face was forbidding enough to make her worry I might forget—if she’d even bothered to look at me.

“So,” Al said, “are you going to invite us in, or are you going to keep us standing on the doorstep?”

Gary didn’t look thrilled about the prospect of letting us in, but he stepped aside and opened the door wider. I guess that was an invitation of sorts, though it surely wasn’t the level of enthusiasm Al had been hoping for. Personally, I didn’t want to set foot in the house. Gary had tripped my Creep-O-Meter the moment I’d laid eyes on him, and I didn’t think getting behind closed doors with him was all that safe.

If only I thought there was a chance in hell I could get Al to walk away. She accepted Gary’s invitation without even glancing at me to see if I was coming. I had to hurry to catch up. I thought we’d be okay with about fifteen yards between us, but I didn’t want to take any chances and planned to stay as close to her as possible. Which was going to make this touching reunion even more fun.

The inside of the townhouse was even more disreputable-looking than the outside. It looked like Gary furnished the place by Dumpster-diving. The carpet was a stained, puke-green shag, and the couch was some nubby, burnt-orange fabric with a big strip of duct-tape across one cushion—his idea of patching a rip, I guess—and three or four little round black patches that I took for cigarette burns.

Fast food wrappers and dirty dishes hid the coffee table from view, and the only decoration on the wall was a spiral-bound calendar featuring a topless babe and a red Corvette. Add to that the eye-watering stench of stale smoke and spilled beer, and I figured Gary’s house was now officially the grossest place I’d ever set foot in.

Even Al, looking around and frowning, wasn’t completely oblivious to the squalor. The frown turned to a narrow-eyed scowl when she caught sight of the girlie calendar. Gary blushed and hurried over to block her view and take it down.

“That’s not mine,” he said. “It’s Tom’s. My house-mate.”

“Oh,” Al said in a small voice, and for the first time, I thought she might be starting to rethink this whole adventure.

“Have a seat,” he said, waving at the couch. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

He didn’t wait for us to agree, hurrying out of the room like a cockroach scurrying away from the light. Al was regarding the disgusting couch doubtfully, and I sidled over to her.

“Let’s get out of here, please,” I said. “You got what you came for. You know he’s okay. We obviously—”

Al abruptly forgot her distaste for the couch, sitting down and crossing her arms over her chest. “This may be the last time I ever get to see him. I want a proper visit.”

I wanted to point out that you couldn’t have a “proper” visit in a stinking hovel, especially not when the guy you were visiting was a loser who’d probably been in bed when we came by because he was sleeping off a bender. I’d been around my mother in that state often enough to know it when I saw it. But Gary came back into the room, carrying two open cans of beer. He handed one to Al, who accepted with enthusiasm, then offered the other to me.

“No thanks,” I said, wrinkling my nose. My mom’s drinking had given me something of a complex about alcohol, but even aside from that, I thought beer was disgusting. How anyone could develop a taste for something that smelled and tasted so foul I’d never know.

“Aw, c’mon, luv,” Gary wheedled, his accent growing a little heavier. “’Ave a drink to celebrate our reunion.” He thrust the beer at me again.

“No. Thanks.”

To tell you the truth, this guy creeped me out enough that I wasn’t sure I’d even have accepted a soft drink from his hand. Not if it was already open, anyway.

Al had no such qualms, gulping her beer like she was parched. I think she was more unnerved by the squalor of Gary’s living conditions than she’d have liked to admit. Maybe she thought a little alcohol would make the place look better. I didn’t think anything short of a wrecking ball would do the trick.

Gary gave me a sour look, really insulted that I’d refused his beer. He plopped down next to Al on the sofa and put his arm around her, letting her cuddle into him. He shoved aside some of the trash on the coffee table, putting the other can of beer down before reaching over and putting his hand on Al’s thigh in an uncomfortably intimate gesture.

I was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, unable to bear the idea of sitting down. I sure as hell wasn’t sitting next to Gary on the sofa, and if I wanted to sit on the other chair in the room, I’d have to move the porno magazine first. Maybe if I stood there looking impatient, it would hurry things along.

I looked over at Al, cuddled contentedly against Gary’s side, and then again at the can of beer he’d put down on the coffee table.

“Why aren’t you drinking the beer?” I asked him suddenly, not caring that my tone was decidedly abrupt. I’d only met him like ten minutes ago, but I already knew he wasn’t the type to waste a can of beer he’d already opened. Unless there was a good reason to, that is.

“Al, don’t!” I cried as she raised her beer to her lips and took another swallow. I darted forward and knocked the can out of her hand, spilling beer all over her and all over the couch.

“What the hell?” she said indignantly, surging to her feet and glaring at me.

For half a second, I felt foolish. I was being paranoid, too on edge about this dangerous adventure to take things at face value. Until I saw the little smirk on Gary’s face that is.

“He put something in the beer,” I told Al, grabbing her arm and dragging her away from the couch. “We have to get out of here.”

But I hadn’t figured it out fast enough, and Al had already guzzled too much of the beer. She staggered, and the constant buzz of her magic sputtered strangely.

One moment, she was the Goth girl with black and purple hair and piercings; the next, she was a typical blond-haired Fae girl and the only piercings were the two in the lobes of her ears. She gasped, and the glamour flared back to life for a moment. She staggered more heavily, and only my hold on her arm kept her upright.

“Fight it!” I commanded her, slinging her arm over my shoulders.

Al mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and her magic flickered out once more. And this time, it didn’t come back.

“’M sorry,” she mumbled.

Then her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed.

Chapter Four

“Al!” I screamed as she fell. I tried to hold her up, but the best I could do was slow her fall and keep her from hitting her head on the coffee table as she went down. I dropped to my knees beside her, slapping her cheeks lightly in the vain hope that she would wake up.

“’Ere now, no need to get hysterical,” Gary said calmly as he came over and shoved me out of the way. “She’ll be fine.”

“What did you give her you, you asshole?”

“Watch yer tone, missy,” he growled at me. “It’s just a little GHB. Harmless.”

His definition of “harmless” and mine obviously weren’t the same. I wanted to put all my self-defense training into use, kick Gary in the head while he was conveniently low and vulnerable. If he didn’t see it coming—which he wouldn’t, because who would expect it from a teenage girl?—I could probably knock him out and make a break for it.

The problem, of course, was Al. She was out cold and wouldn’t be running anywhere, not for several hours at least. I wasn’t strong enough to carry her, and, of course, I couldn’t let myself get more than a few yards away from her. Though if she were conscious, I might want to give her a good hard slap in the face for getting us into this mess.

Ignoring me, Gary satisfied himself that Al was unconscious, then started rooting through her bag. He pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts list, frowning in concentration. “I knew ’er mum didn’t like me,” he muttered to himself. “Bet she’d do anything to get ’er little girl back now.”

So Al pulled out all the stops to come to London and make sure the man she loved was okay, and his only thought was how he could profit from her infatuation. Her taste in men sucked.

“You think she has the Faerie Queen on speed dial?” I asked, knowing full well Gary wouldn’t appreciate my sarcasm.

He glared at me, then put his hand on Al’s throat and gave a squeeze. “I told you to watch your tone,” he said, using his cultured accent once more. It made him sound colder and more dangerous.

I was sure he wasn’t going to kill Al, not when he thought of her as his key to a big payday, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her. I know some girls are drawn to losers, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. Al could probably have just about any guy she wanted, and this was what she fell for?

“Sorry,” I forced myself to say, hating that I had to apologize to someone this loathsome.

Gary took his hand off Al’s throat and rifled through her bag some more, emptying her wallet and shoving the handful of bills in one of his robe’s pockets.

Then he found my phone, with my dad’s name and number clearly marked in the contacts list. He smiled smugly, pleased with his find. He tucked the phone into his other pocket, then put his arms under Al’s shoulders and dragged her toward the couch. His robe gaped open, letting me see that in the age-old debate between boxers and briefs, he favored briefs. I thanked the universe that he didn’t go commando.

I hated standing by helplessly. My every instinct screamed at me to do something, to make an escape attempt, or to attack, or at least try to talk my way out of the mess. But as long as Al was unconscious, anything I did could too easily get her hurt or killed. The fact that Gary had GHB lying around the house didn’t exactly speak to a sterling character even if he weren’t planning to hold us for ransom.

“Help me get her on the couch!” Gary snapped at me, and I had no choice but to do as he said. “Now sit beside her and smile for the camera,” he commanded, pulling my phone out of his robe pocket.

“Why are you taking our picture?” I asked, though I already had a good idea.

Gary didn’t answer except to sneer at me. I sat on the couch beside Al. He snapped a couple of pictures with my phone and seemed satisfied. I chewed my lip, thinking that Gary might be a little smarter than I’d given him credit for. If he was going to contact my dad to demand ransom, he’d have to show proof that he had us, and a picture was worth a thousand words. It also meant Gary wasn’t going to let me talk to my dad to prove I was alive. Which sucked, because it meant I couldn’t blurt anything out to let Dad know where we were. He couldn’t come after us himself, but I knew he had human friends who could.

When he was finished taking pictures, Gary flung Al’s limp body over his shoulder and marched toward the stairs, snarling at me to follow if I didn’t want Al to die. I had no choice but to comply.

____

Gary wasn’t a complete moron, but he wasn’t what I’d call a rocket scientist, either. He dumped Al on the floor in a dusty, stuffy attic, then used a plastic zip tie to fasten her wrists together around a support post. I knew he was going to do the same to me, and I think he expected me to make some kind of a stink about it.

However, Keane, my self-defense instructor, had made me watch a bunch of videos on the Internet about escaping zip ties, and had then made me practice until I’d practically sawed my wrists off.

Instead of trying to fight, I was very helpful, putting my arms around the post he indicated, just out of reach of Al, and presenting my wrists to Gary peacefully. I didn’t think he was stupid enough to fall for it if I put my wrists side by side, so I crossed them over one another, making sure to flex my wrists as much as possible. Gary looked at me suspiciously, and I did my best to give him scared, innocent eyes. It’s not hard to do when you’re a sixteen-year-old girl. I’m sure I looked about as helpless as helpless can be.

Gary fastened the zip tie around my wrists, pulling it brutally tight. I winced and gasped, but kept my wrists flexed, thereby making them bigger. When Gary was satisfied with his work, he nodded and left Al and me alone in the attic. No doubt he was on his way to call my dad to make his ransom demands.

I listened carefully to his footsteps as he descended the stairs, waiting until I was sure he was gone before I set about trying to get out of the zip tie. I relaxed my wrists, and now there was a little slack. It was still tight enough that it wasn’t going to be much fun to get out of it, but at least I didn’t have to try to break it, which I wasn’t very good at despite lots of practice.