Chapter 13

13

F ighting the fog swamping her mind, her nose itching so bad it almost hurt, she wiggled and squirmed, trying with all her might to raise her arm and scratch the tip of her nose. Forcing her eyes open and only finding more pitch black darkness, she tried to turn her head to the side and realized she couldn’t move that either.

“What the hell is happening? Have I fallen down the rabbit hole? Am I still asleep?” Moving her fingers then trying to lift her hand to pinch herself, she yelled, “Son of a bitch, where in all that’s holy am I?”

The click of a switch was the only warning she got before what seemed like a million overhead fluorescent lights flared to life. Closing her eyes so tightly her cheeks felt like they were on her forehead, she screamed, “Not funny, whoever the hell you are? As soon as I find my gun, I promise I’m gonna shoot you in the ass and leave you for the vermin.”

“You always make me smile, Detective Hale.” The nasal, but somehow musical chuckle, was familiar. She’d heard it before. There was no doubt in her mind but try as she might she couldn’t place it.

Needing to hear the voice again, she deadpanned, “Glad I can help. Now, how about you lend me a hand and get me outta here.”

The chink and clink of metal instrument hitting metal instrument preceeded a tsked, “Oh no, Donatella, can I call you Donatella?” He went on without waiting for an answer. “Why would I help you out of here when I am the one who put you here?”

Attempting to raise her head to see who was playing the world’s cruelest joke on her, Nat ground her teeth so hard she felt a molar crack when her upward progress was halted before it began by the thick leather band wrapped around her forehead. Suddenly it all made sense. Not only was her head strapped down, but also her wrists, her ankles, and her tummy.

Why my stomach? What has it ever done to hurt anyone but me? If you ask me, it’s a total waste of a strap, but then again, I want them all off of me so I can rip the bastard responsible limb-from-limb.

“Okay,” she finally answered. “I can see your point. So, maybe you can explain why I’m here and what you have planned.”

More tinkering sounds came from somewhere beyond her feet as she looked up at the ceiling trying to figure out which fallout shelter out of the hundreds of thousands still accessible in the DFW area she was in. Wherever it was, it was huge. Had to be an industrial shelter. One built for a shit ton of people because the ceiling was higher than most and from the way her voice echoed, she knew the area was vast. If it hadn’t been for the sprinklers on the ceiling with the Bunker Boys logo on it, she’d have sworn she was in an empty warehouse or at the very least a large storage unit.

Thank the Goddess dad was a DIYer. Without him, I would’ve missed that little tidbit of information…

“First, I’d like to say how disappointed I am in you. You’re the best and brightest detective I’ve ever seen. Very little, if anything, gets past you. You solve cases without clues, leads, or evidence.” His footsteps, the sound of rubber soles on concrete, echoed in the silence, stopping before he began again. “But this Yellow Ribbon Ripper had eluded you at every turn. Why do you think that is?”

Usually by this point in any situation, good, bad, or deadly, her Gift would kick in and give her the clues she needed to save her own ass. Because her life was quickly spinning out of control, not even her Sight was working. She was tied down, stuck staring at the ceiling and mind-blind, at least that’s what Nona called it.

Alright, Hale, get your head outta your ass. Use your skills and kick this guy’s ass…

“I’m guessing he’s just smarter than I am.” She hated saying it but was trying to play to her abductor’s ego. If he was the Yellow Ribbon Ripper, she had one shot of getting out alive – Rafe. Hopefully, everything written in that weird old book of her grandmother’s was the truth, because Nat seriously needed some magical mojo and raging, roaring Dragon in the worst kind of way.

Maybe there really was something to this whole ‘Universe picking out your mate’ thing. Thinking about what she’d read while her captor remained silent, she remembered hearing Rafe speak in her mind.

Focusing on the glowing white light shining in the base of her soul, spreading through every fiber of her being, she closed her eyes and thought of the man, the Dragon, who’d captured her heart no matter how hard she resisted his charms. The twinkle in his eyes, the way his hair curled where it touched the collar of her shirt, and the most importantly, the way he made her feel just by being in the same room.

Thinking the words she wanted to say, she whispered, “Rafe? Rafe, are you there?” Waiting a few seconds, wondering why he wasn’t answering and where the guy who’d drugged and kidnapped her had gone, she demanded, “Rafe O’Rhordan, answer me now. I need your help.” She paused for half a second and then added, “Here’s your chance to gloat. You were right.”

When the only answer she got was no answer at all, she yelled, “Hey! Guy who tied me to a table, are you still here?”

The rustle of a plastic curtain and squeaky footsteps sounded right before her captor’s snickered, “Oh, I’m still here, dear Donatella. I promise not to leave you alone ever .”

Great, I’m his George. He’s gonna hug me and pet me and squeeze me… Oh, and let us not forget, drug me and kidnap me and strap me to a table…

“What did I do to warrant such an honor?” She asked, having decided to play to his ego in the hopes of stalling him or at the very least, figuring out who he was.

“Do you really not know?”

“No, I really have no clue.”

“You are special, Donatella Hale, very special. Not only are you smart and fearless, but you are beautiful and resilient with a special talent that makes you truly unique.”

He knows about my Gift? How the hell does he know about my Gift?

“Rafe, where the hell are you? Get your scaled ass over here before things get anymore freaky.” Screaming inside her own mind, making her brain shake inside her skull, she turned to pray.

“Look God, I know we’ve never been real close, but you know I’ve been a pretty good person. I went back in the store and paid for the tomatoes that were covered by my purse. I always give to charity and take clothes and blankets to the Homeless Shelter. I try not to bother you, ‘cause I know you’re really busy with all the wars, and conflicts, and don’t even get me started about politicians, but right now, I could really use your help. Some crazy…”

“Do you not agree that you’re special, Donatella?”

Something about that voice pricked at the back of her mind. She knew him. Had to know him, but something was different, something that was keeping her from putting the voice to the face and the face to the name.

“Answer me, Donatella.” His tone was sharp, demanding, and more than a little maniacal.

“Yes, I’m special, but isn’t everyone. I mean, every life is special and deserves respect and preservation, right?”

The tip of a sharp point striking metal tapped a repetitive rhythm that grew louder and louder the longer she waited for an answer. Opening her mouth to ask again, her need to at least know who had abducted her from the sidewalk of her favorite pizza joint, she slammed her mouth shut when he vehemently disagreed, “No, Detective Hale, every life most certainly does not deserve preservation.”

The tapping grew louder, more syncopated.

“Some lives are wasted. They are a drain on the limited resources that people like you and I, the supreme members of the human race deserve.”

Tapping louder still being accompanied by the squeak, squeak, squeak of his rubber soles on the concrete and he paced.

“Oh, they serve a purpose. They can support the greater good, the continuation of a superior race of humans, not through their lives, but through their deaths.”

More tapping, more pacing, and then came the panting as his steps quickened.

“They are a drain on our resources. All they do is take, take, take. They are lazy and spoiled. They reap the benefits of our great minds, our hard work, and our superior genes.”

Tap, squeak, pant…Tap, squeak, pant…Tap, squeak, pant…then nothing.

Holding her breath, fearing her fate was a deadly foregone conclusion, Nat stayed perfectly still and stared at the ceiling, her body jumping as far as it could when her captor once again spoke, this time his voice back to calm, cool, and collected. “I always knew this day was coming, but in my original plan, our union was not to take place until December, but that was before…”

Waiting for him to finish, the pounding of her heart the only sound she could hear, Nat missed the final squeak of her abductor’s shoes and shrieked, “Oh my god,” when the round pasty face of Dr. Norman Batterfield appeared overhead a split-second before he drove a needle into her arm.

Almost immediately her vision blurred, and her tongue refused to move. The sting of drugs tore through her veins and her muscles twitched uncontrollable. Stuck staring into the Medical Examiner’s beady eyes, she groaned inside her mind when he smiled sweetly, brushed the hair from her forehead, and finished explaining, “You see, since that stupid Fed arrived, I had to move up our timetable.”

Her skin crawled as he kissed her on the cheek and her heart stopped when he whispered, “Tonight, we die together, and tomorrow, we rise in Hell, servants of the Devil himself.”