His shoulders relaxed.“Yup, last time I checked.”
I lowered my sword,leaving it to hang at my side.
“What-what are y’doinghere?” I moved the light over his form. “Why t’hell are you halfundressed?”
His frame wasathletic, arms made up of slender muscles, a subtle six-pack. Allin all, an indication of a healthy guy who looked after himself toan extent. But right now, he looked like shite. He looked drained,as if he hadn’t slept in a year, his gaze too dark and sad, not howI remembered him. His steel-blue eyes had always shone with suchmischief, so very fitting for him as he had been a typical lad,always up to no good. Always joking and laughing.
I’d seen photos of himover the years on social media, but right now, he looked like aghost of himself. His brown, cropped hair was tatty and flat,smudges of dirt marking his temples, his neck—heck, everywhere thatskin was visible, which was pretty much everywhere since all hewore was filthy, ripped jeans. No shoes, no top; he had to befreezing.
“What t’hell happenedt’you?”
Nathan moved his arms.That metal scrape sounded, and that’s when I noticed the thickcuffs around his wrists, the chain dangling from them. This had tobe a lucid dream or the start of some weird nightmare. I was tiredand a little amped up on caffeine, clearly worried about Than morethan I was letting myself believe because somehow, he was standingright in front of me looking like death in irons.
So surreal that itjust couldn’t be real.
Lifting my gaze fromthe chains, I looked back at his sickly face. “Why are you in— Idon’t understand. Are those actual shackles?”
“Oh, you mean my newaccessories. Well, more like extremely old.” He lifted them. “Yeah,the salesman wouldn’t take no for an answer.” A dry laugh escapedhim. “I-I was actually hoping you might be able t’help me withthese?”
I shook my head, myeyebrows surely colliding at the top of my nose from the frown.Even my temples had started to throb. “Wait, I don’t understand.How are you here right now? Your mother said you were missing.”
He took a stepforward, his eyes widening. “You’ve spoken t’my mamai?”
“Aye.”
“Is she okay?”
I blinked. “She’sworried sick about you, naturally. She said she hasn’t heard fromyou in six weeks, that you and a friend were backpacking and—”
“Six weeks?” Heslumped forward, his face a picture of shock. I moved the light tofollow him as he wandered over to the outer wall of the friar’shouse. His shoulder hit the stone, his wide-eyed focus lost on theground below. “Six. Weeks.”
Unease set in mystomach along with fear and relief, a jumble of emotions that evenmade my heart feel woozy. “Than, what happened t’you?”
“I, erm—” He liftedhis head and looked toward me ... no, not toward me, past me, andhe shook his head.
The hairs stood up onthe back of my neck. My grip on the hilt of my sword tightened as Icautiously turned, half-worried I was going to find anotherhalf-naked person standing behind me, but as I moved my phone torcharound the space, I could see nothing, just gravestones.
When I moved the lightback to him, he was sat on the grass, his head pressed against thewall, staring off into space.
“Than?” I took a steptoward him.
“Truth is I-I doactually need your help, Elle.”
“You need myhelp?”
“I had no one else Icould turn to.” He looked past me again, giving empty space apointed look. His brow furrowed, and he shook his head once more.“No, scratch that, you’re the only person I could come tolike—” he flicked his hands up and down his chest. “—likethis.”
“And how exactly didyou get like this? A casual hook-up gone wrong? Or perhaps youjoined a travelling renaissance fair?”
“What? No.” His gazewas firmly fixed on me. “I-I was attacked, Elle. Me and my friendFreddie, we were attacked in London. I-I woke up in this place, inthis dark room and, well, we were—” His jaw was trembling; hecouldn’t get the words out fast enough or without tripping over hisown tongue. “—we were fucking kidnapped, fucking experimented on,and now, Freddie’s dead—”
“What?”
His eyes grew wide.His words held too much weight, too much clarity, as if he was notonly trying to convince me but himself.
“Freddie’s dead. He’sreally dead, like dead-dead.” His face fell into his hands, hiswords muffled. “Shit. Shit, fuck, shit. I’ve spent the last sixweeks locked in a cell in some fucking facility in the middle of agoddamn forest—”
His words became ajumble of curses and broken information beyond comprehensible. Myhead hurt, my eyes riveted on this mess of a man crumbled on theground in front of me. This wreck of a man was Nathan. He wassafe—well, at least he was now, but he had been locked up for sixweeks? What? Why? His friend was dead due to experiments?
I suddenly felt likethe scrap of caffeine-fuelled energy that had been circulating inmy body the last half an hour had been absorbed. My legs felt likedead weight as exhaustion hit me right in the face. My temples werehurting, and I felt sick as all the built-up worry and frustrationI’d had for the last couple weeks dropped to the pit of mystomach.
None of this made anysense. Nathan was no longer missing, but who would have kidnappedhim? Why would they lock him up? Did he have enemies? Was he mixedup in something bad, drugs, or maybe he owed someone money? Whyhadn’t he gone straight to the police? Why had he come here? Why tome? Why—
My thoughts ground toa halted as his hands dropped to his lap.
“That’s why Ma hasn’theard from me, why no one has.” Black blood streaked his pale skin,seeping from the corners of his dark eyes.
The blood in my ownveins froze. I couldn’t move. I could hardly breathe. “You’re ...you’re crying—”
“Grown men can cryunder times of stress, Elle. It’s not that unusual.”
I wasn’t sure if I wasabout to throw-up or pass out. I felt like I had a typhoon in mystomach, and my head had grown light. Maybe it was due to the earlyhour. Maybe it was the five-hour nap I’d had—short bouts of sleepoften made
