The Hidden

I rolled my head back and glared.

“Your eyes say you want to kill me, but your tears say you are such a baby.”

He let go of my hands, and I kicked my legs against the seat out of sheer frustration.

All it did was scuff up the leather a bit.

He noticed it, though. So I did it again.

“Don’t.” His voice was deadly.

I kicked harder. My legs weren’t moving much, but my shoes had black soles on them that left nice rubber marks on what looked like a brand-new leather interior.

“Stop it,” he said again. “Do. Not. Do that.”

I kicked as hard as I could, and he leaned down and touched my jaw.

Pain like I’d never felt before roiled through me and split my head in two. I screamed again, but it was muffled by the bandanna. He just kept his finger there, pressing on that tender nerve, until all I could do was whimper. And stop kicking.

He moved his hand a fraction of an inch. “Will you stop?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now let’s go inside. That’s where the party is.”

He got out of the car and came around to the back. The door opened, and then he was grabbing the front of my jacket, trying to haul me off the seat. I fell to the ground and took the brunt of it on my knees. The driveway was gravel, and I knew I was going to be sore the next day.

Vincent tried to get me to stand, but I couldn’t with my legs tied together. I just kept flopping over. Finally he grunted and lifted me up, swinging me over his shoulder. My head was upside down, my curls flinging back and forth as he walked.

I wiggled a bit, testing to see if I could get free, or maybe hurt him somehow, but a firm hand clamped down on my butt. Immediately I stopped moving.

“Believe me,” he said with a note of distaste in his voice, “I don’t want to be touching you either. Just stay still. We’re almost there.”

Upside down the world looked different, but bit by bit I started to place things. When we came to a standstill in front of a wooden door, I already knew where we were. Even from my position.

Vincent had taken me to our cabin. My family’s very secluded cabin, way out in the woods.

The cabin where I’d first heard the news about Kristen’s death.

He fumbled for a key, then opened the door and stepped in.

With one arm he tossed me across the room, and I landed hard on the couch. He locked the front door and pocketed the key. Turning back to me with an evil smile, he patted his pocket. “That should be safe in there. Are you comfy?”

I glared at him, and mentally promised him a slow, agonizing death.

“What do you think of the place?” He gestured around the room. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, yet all of the windows were completely boarded up. “I made a few upgrades. Took care of the exits and entrances. Cut the phone line, of course. Sure, it’s been unbearably shabby to stay here these last couple of weeks, but I’ve managed to keep myself occupied.” His smile turned into a leer. “Oh, the sacrifices I’ve made for you!”

My hands might have been zip-tied together, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t flip him off. Which was what I did.

He came over and sat next to me, propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I was going to take the gag out of your mouth, but just for that? I think I’ll give it another hour.”

I shifted away from him, and he grabbed a nearby magazine. I was starting to lose feeling in my hands when he finally looked up.

“You aren’t going to scream, are you?” he said. “No one’s going to hear you if you do. I just don’t want to have to listen to your caterwauling.”

I shook my head.

He reached for the back of my head and undid the knot. I spit out the bandanna and took a deep breath. “What do you want from me?” I exploded. “Why did you bring me here?”

Vincent sneered. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Then, I’m here because …?”

“You’re here to stay as far away from Sleepy Hollow and Caspian as possible.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you just shut up now? Stop talking. It’s annoying.”

“Can I have a glass of water? And maybe some Advil?” I said. “My jaw is kind of sore. Must be, oh, I don’t know, maybe because you punched me in the face!”

Vincent gave a sigh of epic proportions and launched himself off the couch. “Fine.”

He went rummaging through a couple of drawers for the Advil and then got me some water.

I swallowed down the pills and gently touched my tender jaw. Then I held my hands out to him. “Can you cut me free?”

He pulled out a pocketknife and sliced through the plastic. I rubbed my hands together, trying to massage some of the life back into them. He pocketed the knife and moved over to the fire, throwing a fresh log onto it.

“Look at me!” he said. “I’m going all mountain man up here.”

“What exactly are we supposed to do here?” I asked. “Read books? Do crossword puzzles? Oooh, I know! Monopoly by the fire.”

“You can do whatever you want. I’m going to be catching up on the latest season of Supernatural.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Oh, great.”

“Hey!” he said. “I went through a lot of trouble to make sure you would have supplies. I’m not heartless, you know. I bought food, water, even toilet paper. What else do you need?”

“Supplies? How long are you planning to keep me here?”

“Today is November second, so … it won’t be much longer.” He looked disappointed. “I guess you won’t be needing all of those supplies, after all.” Then he brightened. “But we can stay longer if you want.”

Chapter Twenty-four. BLOODLINE

… a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane, who sojourned … in Sleepy Hollow … He was tall, but exceedingly lank … with huge ears, large green glassy eyes …

– “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

Before I could answer, Vincent went over to the DVD player and grabbed the remote. Returning to me, he propped both of his outstretched feet across my lap. With a grimace I shoved his feet off. “I’m not your footrest. Thanks.”

My own feet were starting to ache, and I massaged the skin that was pulled tight at the ankles by the zip tie. “Can you please cut these off me?”

“Let me think about it. … No.”

He pressed PLAY, and a ball of fire appeared on the screen. Two guys ran out of a building, each one holding a shotgun. “I saw this one already,” he said. “Dean’s going straight to hell for this. Or wait. It might be Sam this time. I can’t keep them straight.”

I didn’t want to beg him. But the pain was heading toward unbearable. “Vincent, please,” I said. “Cut these off of me?”

“What will you give me?” He cocked his head and slowly slid his eyes down my body. Every nerve ending shrank back, and my skin felt like it wanted to run away screaming. What exactly was I going to have to do to earn my freedom?