Jivaja (Soul Cavern Series Book 1) Read online

Page 21


  Clouded in shadows, the interior reeked of sweat, hay, manure and urine. Mecca wrinkled her nose while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Beneath the soft snorts and whinnying of the horses, she heard shuffling and the dim sounds of crying coming from the cages. She picked her way over, concentrating in the murkiness so she wouldn’t trip over some discarded piece of farm equipment.

  A gasp came from the first cage just as Mecca reached it. A woman’s face pressed against the bars. She looked young, maybe Mecca’s age, but her skin, her clothes, everything about her was filthy. Blonde hair hung in dirty tendrils around her face, accenting the high cheekbones in a way that would have been beautiful if the girl’s face weren’t so gaunt.

  Aghast, Mecca turned her gaze to the rest of the people behind the bars. Two cages butted up against one another, each with a small handful of people. The one closest to her held women, all in different stages of filth. Mecca counted seven. Two sat on the dirt floor and paid her no mind. The others, save for the girl who gasped, cowered away and huddled together like frightened children.

  The second cage held seven men, all just as dirty as the women. Also like the women, most looked young, in their late teens or early twenties. Scattered around the small cage, some stood and others sat.

  They reminded her of cattle. And she felt guilty at the thought.

  One man, older than the others, squatted in the corner facing out, facing her. His eyes looked black. He lifted his head in a half-nod to her and his voice, though quiet, carried across the murky darkness.

  “Come open the cage. The guard outside has the keys. You can get them from him.” His voice, monotone, didn’t carry the confidence to back the words he chose, and he remained squatting in his soiled and tattered clothes.

  “No!” whispered the blonde girl, frantic. “Go, run away. Get help!”

  The words set the women to twittering in panic. Mecca only caught bits and pieces of what they said, her own terror creeping beneath her skin like ants.

  “She can save us!”

  “No, no! You won’t survive…”

  “She’ll never get those keys.”

  The young woman with the gaunt face reached out a skeletal hand. Mecca jerked when the cool fingers brushed her elbow.

  “Run. You should leave us and run as fast as you can. Send help back.”

  “How long have you been here?” Mecca asked, lowering her voice to match.

  “I don’t know. Weeks. Maybe months.”

  “All of you?” Mecca looked again at the other women in the cage. Two had found some bravery still in their hearts and had stepped forward to listen. They weren’t as emaciated as this girl, but they looked horrible. Like refugees. Mecca’s stomach roiled.

  “I haven’t been here more than two weeks,” one said, her voice cracking.

  Mecca looked back at the blonde who first spoke. “What’s your name?”

  “Alicia.”

  “I’m Mecca,” she replied absently as she studied the door of the cage. Not even high enough to walk through upright, it only spanned half the height of the cage and sat on a sliding track. No hinges to work with. A tarnished silver padlock hooked through the eye of the closure. Mecca tugged on it, though she knew it would hold. It did.

  “They’re going to come and take us somewhere tonight. They talked about it when they were in here earlier,” Alicia said. “It’s going to be soon. You should hurry.”

  Mecca nodded, pushing away the mental image of these captive people being herded into the hedge maze. She understood what the corral was for now. But once they were in the maze, then what?

  Accustomed to the shadowy dimness now, Mecca looked around. Five stalls took up the wall across from the cages, but only two had horses in them. Though both were beautiful, one grey and the other white with black spots, Mecca didn’t have time to admire them.

  The barn entrances in the front mirrored those in the back, with large double doors in the center and a small door in the right corner. She guessed the doubles were padlocked like the others, so she made her way toward the corner.

  When she glanced back, she saw that all of the women and the men had stood and crowded toward the fronts of the cages, watching her. Even the older man stood with his face between the bars, his dark eyes following her every move.

  Their hope powdered the air like the scent of a too-sweet flower, trapped in the filth of decay.

  The responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders. She had no doubt that these people would die if she left them here. She didn’t know exactly how, but she knew in her heart that Emilia wouldn’t keep them like this only to let them go. Did they understand that? She thought the older man might, at least.

  She pressed her ear against the door and winced when a splinter of wood jabbed against her lobe. But she kept her position and listened to the sounds of work on the other side. Still putting up the fencing, she guessed, but they had to be almost done by now. What else would take up their time before they came in here and pushed their captives to the slaughter? For surely, there was to be a slaughter.

  The smooth latch moved easily under her hand and she cracked the door two inches. Voices became louder, words more distinct. She tried to separate the different conversations, hoping to hear someone mention the night’s plans.

  Without warning, the door pulled away from her with a jerk. A monster of a man towered over her with thick shoulders, a solid middle and Paul Newman blue eyes. The beauty of those eyes was no match for the nasty look on his square face.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Mecca stuttered and stepped back into the barn as he pushed his way through the doorway, his huge body barely clearing the frame. Dark curls framed an awkward and ugly face, with a large, bulbous nose that had been broken more than once. He reached a massive paw toward her, but she ducked to the left and broke away.

  The women in the cage behind her let out a collective gasp, then broke into a cacophony of shouts that echoed around the high ceiling.

  Mecca wanted to tell them to shut up, that they’d bring more attention, but she could barely stay out of reach of the gorilla after her. He moved faster than she expected him to and when he lunged for her again, his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, half over her sleeve. The squeeze of his grip sent jolts up her arm.

  Mecca sent her energy out, into him, even as she struggled, trying to escape his iron hold. She envisioned seeing him a withered corpse at her feet but his strength kept distracting her. Her energy gushed into the Cavern. Warmth suffused her there.

  Warmth.

  With her surprise, her energy recoiled, slammed back home and sent her reeling.

  She shifted her body around and suddenly his broad, sloped forehead clouded her entire field of vision as he head-butted her. Her head snapped back and stars exploded in front of her eyes.

  She stumbled. Something hard got under her heel, and she railed backward. His hand lost contact with her as she fell. She tried to catch her balance, but everything moved twice as fast as she could. Her head slammed against the side of the first horse stall, sending a crackling white pain down her spine. She fell in a pile on the dusty floor.

  Human.

  He was human.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: David

  “Wake up.”

  The quiet voice filtered through the dark buzz of dead sleep.

  “She’s gone. Wake up.”

  David’s heart double-pounded, and he jolted upright. One curtain had been pulled back to let in the silver light of the street lamps. Sara stood a few feet away dressed in bright green cotton shorts and a black shirt with the words Bella Morte in ghostly white script on the front.

  “Are you awake?” she asked.

  David nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose as he swung his legs around and his feet hit the floor. Sleep still covered his mind, catching his thoughts the way feet get tangled in a blanket. “Who’s gone?”

  “Mecca. I thought I heard the front door a little while
ago, and when I passed the spare bedroom, that door wasn’t closed all the way. She’s gone.”

  His limbs turned to rubber, and panic rose in his chest. Mecca couldn’t be gone. She had no place to go. Maybe she went for a walk. That made no sense, but his fear hoped for it. “Damn it. What time is it?”

  “After one,” Sara said as she flipped on the overhead light.

  David closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips against them and then he sucked in a deep breath to calm his heart. When its thudding slowed, he opened his eyes. The almost-bare coffee table mocked him. The cell phone he’d borrowed from Sara sat near the corner.

  His keys.

  Gone.

  He dropped to his knees and to look under the table. Panic wrapped around his heart like a boa constrictor. His stomach lurched. Not finding the key ring, he turned and shoved his hands into the cracks around the sofa’s cushions. He pulled out an elastic hair band and a Snickers wrapper, but found no keys.

  “God damn it, Mecca!”

  Sara perched on the chair arm and watched him. “They’re not in your pocket?” she asked, her voice patient, but not hopeful.

  David patted his jeans, though he knew they weren’t there. “No. I laid them on the table before I went to sleep. They kept poking me in the hip.”

  “So where’d she go?”

  “And that’s the question. I don’t know.”

  He didn’t think her so naive as to try to go back to their house or her dorm. Jim’s house held nothing. Perhaps she went back to the cabin. But no, he didn’t think so. Not the way she’d been talking about not running away, about confronting them and fighting—

  “Shit.”

  Sara pulled a foot up onto the chair arm, rested her chin on her knee. “What?”

  “I think she went back.”

  “Back to where? Your house?”

  “No. Back to the place they held her.”

  Her brows furrowed, the confusion very clear on her face. “Why the hell would she do that?”

  “It’s complicated.” David rubbed his hands over his face, the stubble on his cheeks scraping his palms. He just wanted to crawl into a soft bed and sleep for a few years. Was that too much to ask?

  “Of course, it’s complicated. Jesus.”

  The edge in her voice made him look up. She hadn’t moved from the chair, but her stance changed. She held herself more rigid, her lips pursed, jaw tight.

  “I suppose you’re going to want to borrow my car now,” she said.

  The first step of the nebulous plan in his head had been to borrow her car; she hit that one out of the ballpark. But she didn’t look all that willing to loan it right now.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’d hoped you’d let me use your car.”

  “Okay.” She slipped from the chair and walked to the stairway.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes, okay, you can use my car. I’ll get dressed. Because I’m coming with you.”

  She’d changed into a pair of blue jeans with ragged hems at the ankles, but kept the Bella Morte shirt. Over it, she wore a beat-up, dark red, Adidas windbreaker. She’d wet her hair down, and its small curls shone deep black.

  “No. This is dangerous,” David said, as he stood. He’d had no choice but to wait for her to change, since she had the keys to her car. “I am not taking you.”

  “So you’re going to what, knock me in the head and steal my keys? Call an Uber?” Sara stood with one hand on her cocked hip and an eyebrow raised.

  “Of course I’m not going to hit you,” he said. He completely ignored the Uber comment. “Why are you pushing this now? I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Sara stepped toward him and brought her face as close as she could, being a full foot shorter. Her breath smelled of spearmint.

  “I’ve helped you, with no questions asked, ever since you messaged me yesterday. I’ve cracked your hard drive. I’ve given you a place to crash.” She counted each item on a finger of her raised hand. “I’ve loaned you equipment. I’ve welcomed your daughter here. You haven’t even offered to tell me what the hell is going on. You're the only family I have besides my mom. I want to help you.” She tilted her head to the side and gave him a tight smile. “But I’m not the type of girl to wait for a man. I was patient, but I’m done now. So, you want my car? I have no problems with that. But I’m going with you one way or the other. Don’t forget who found that address for you. I can find my way there on my own, you know.”

  David couldn’t stop the ominous dread dragging itself up his spine like a corpse pulling itself out a grave. But this dread had never really died, had it?

  This was going to end very badly.

  “Sara, please. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

  “That’s not your job,” she said, drawing a jangly set of keys out of the jacket pocket. “Are we going?”

  His nerves bounced along with the keys. He darted a hand out and snatched the key ring from her. “If you go, you’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you.” He didn’t bother keeping the frustration from his voice.

  She shrugged.

  “I mean it, Sara. I will dump you out on the highway if I have to.”

  “Okay, okay. Whatever.”

  The old Chevy Cavalier puttered along, barely reaching the 60 mph speed limit without shaking itself apart. Now David knew why Sara had such great computer equipment. All her money went into the techie stuff, not practical things, like tune-ups and new tires. At least she'd put gas in the car.

  They’d ridden in silence since pulling out into the late-night traffic. She didn’t fight when he insisted on driving. He estimated they’d get to the house by 2 a.m. He didn’t like the idea of trying to get in at night. While the cover of darkness would prove helpful, the idea of running into a group of blood suckers in the dark didn’t give him warm-fuzzies.

  “So, why would Mecca go back there?” Sara asked again.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You said that already. I’m a smart girl. Explain it to me.”

  David sighed. He could feel the situation moving beyond his control. Bringing Sara here, even if he left her in the car and down the road, could expose her to Emilia's people. Not telling her about them—would that protect her, or would it make her more vulnerable? He had no idea, in truth.

  “I don’t know that you’d believe me if I told you.” David turned onto the two lane blacktop highway that would lead them to Emilia’s estate. Ten minutes. “I've learned that there are things out there I never imagined could exist.”

  Sara didn’t respond, but the weight of her stare told him that he had her full attention.

  “The other night, Mecca was bitten.” He had to tell her something, but David didn’t know how much. If he told her about the Gift, could he keep his own secret?

  “Bitten by what?”

  “A person.” Was the man a person? Again, no idea.

  “Okay…” She drew the word out, so it had three syllables.

  “Look, I told you it’s complicated. When we get there, I’m going to park just off this road. I want you to stay with the car. I’ll need you on the outside.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m going with you.”

  David frowned. Sara glared at him, her jaw set and her eyes flashing with intensity. Her attitude sparked the rising tension in him. His blood burned, his face flushed. He stomped on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the right. Sara tilted forward before the seatbelt locked and held her in place. The car shuddered and bounced as it went from sixty to twenty, then down to a slow crawl. Three cars whizzed by.

  David slammed the gearshift into Park and turned in his seat to look at her startled face.

  “I told you when we left that you’re to do what I tell you, when I tell you. I’m not fucking around, Sara. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but this is my daughter’s life we’re talking about, and your own too, even though you don’t realize it. This isn’t a game. So if you don’t want to sit in the car and wait for me
, you can get your ass out right now and walk back. Your choice.”

  He leaned across her and yanked on the passenger handle, shoving the door open with his fingers. The smell of pine filled the car.

  She stared at him. Her indecision rolled off her and hit him like a heat wave. David looked out the windshield at the street, anxious about the time wasted sitting here. But she was going to listen, or she was going to get out. He looked back at her. Finally, she slammed the door shut and trained her gaze through the windshield at the dark roadway.

  David caught the relieved sigh before it left his lips and shifted the car into Drive. He waited as four luxury vehicles — two Jaguars, a Cadillac SUV, and a Dodge Viper — raced past, then he pulled onto the two lane road.

  Five uncomfortable minutes later, David spotted the tree-lined drive to the estate. He pointed it out to Sara but didn’t slow. As they passed, he looked up the long driveway. A line of cars, including the Jags, the Caddy, and the Viper, waited to be checked in at the guard house just inside the gate.

  “They’re having a party,” Sara said.

  “It looks that way.” David tried to figure out what it meant for Mecca. Was she already in there? Had they caught her or had she blended in with the party-goers?

  He drove another mile down the roadway and pulled over. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. He put the car in park and turned to Sara.

  “I’m going to go check things out. If I can find a way in, I’m going in, so don’t freak if I don’t come right back. You’ve got your phone, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll call you in an hour to check in. If you don’t hear from me, go home. I’ll find my way back.” He pulled out his phone and put it on vibrate. “Call if you need to, but only if it’s an emergency.”

  She watched him slide it into his front pocket, her expression hard and indignant.