Samhain Publishing Ltd, Ebooks and Books in Print

Marie was startled by a crash from somewhere outside of the little room. She tried to calm her quick breathing in order to hear what was happening. For several minutes, the place remained quiet. She laid her head on her arm. Her body felt like lead, and her mind refused to think anymore. She was mentally and physically exhausted. Marie prayed this was all a bad dream. One she would wake from and laugh at her imagination.

She wasn’t so lucky. Marie awoke with her neck stiff as she lifted her head. She turned her body so she lay on her back.

“Grandma. Where are you?”

Holding in a sob, Marie threw her arm over her eyes and tried to pull herself together. Falling apart wouldn’t help her. She had to focus if she was ever going to get herself out of here alive, and away from the gorgeous madman who had her chained to the wall.

Gorgeous?

How could she possibly see the man as anything other than completely insane? She could not hold that opinion of him. Her dreams had seen to that. Anger, pain and fear were most likely all he had known. At least since April, the month indicated on the recording.

Marie sat up, feeling every muscle ache in her body from having lain on the hard floor. Finally, she managed to stand and shook her legs a little to ease the stiffness.

In an effort to discern where the man could be, Marie strained her ears to listen. Her immediate dilemma was her desperate need to use the toilet, but she didn’t want him to walk in on her as she sat there.

Marie pranced around for several minutes doing the pee-pee dance until she couldn’t hold it any longer. She danced toward the door and let out a small cry of anguish when she discovered it was out of reach.

Straining against the chain around her ankle, she kept trying to reach the door to close it until the man suddenly appeared in front of her, startling her so badly she almost wet herself.

“What are you doing?” he said in a low, gravelly voice.

Marie was in torment. She tried locking her legs together to keep her bladder from exploding. “I have to use the bathroom, and I want the door closed.”

She watched him inhale, his nostrils flaring. Without warning, he bent and grabbed her leg. Not knowing what he was going to do, Marie gasped. She had been startled a second time, almost making her bathroom issue disappear.

The man unlocked the manacle. When he stood, she glanced away, not daring to look him in the eye.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall. You need to bathe.”

Marie almost lifted her arms to smell herself. Was he saying she stank?

The man stepped aside, and she hesitated a moment, afraid to move. There was no attempt to grab her again. Taking a deep breath, she slowly walked out the door.

Marie could feel his looming presence mere feet behind her as he followed, no doubt making sure she did exactly as she was told. As soon as she was inside the bathroom, she closed the door. After a glance at the doorknob, she felt her chest tighten. There was no lock.



Kern followed the woman as she made her way to the bathroom. When he had returned to the small room, he immediately knew she’d been sick from the blood he had made her drink.

As soon as the woman closed the bathroom door, he stepped into the kitchen, then grabbed another bag of blood from the refrigerator. After closing the door, Kern noticed a small magnetic calendar. The page on top, staring him in the face, said December. Had he been here that long?

Kern tried to calm the churning emotions inside. Eight months of his life—gone. Eight months and no one had found him. Maybe they had stopped looking, a voice whispered in his head.

He thought about Mac, the Watcher who had taken him under his wing until he had been old enough to become a Watcher officially. The warrior had been there for him, but where was he now?

Kern placed the pouch of blood in the microwave, heated it, then poured it into a tall glass. His strength was still not up to par. The doctor had done a lot to his body over the past eight months, and it would take some time and a good amount of blood to recover fully.

The kitchen cabinets contained various canned goods Kern discovered as he opened each door. He figured the woman would be hungry, so he pulled out a can of soup and set it on the counter, telling himself his only concern was to keep her alive.

Even through the hum of the microwave in front of him and the running water in the bathroom he heard her soft sobs. The sound made the blood sit in his stomach like lead. Kern felt as though he was living a bad dream that kept on going. Where would it end?

The water stopped, and he heard splashes. Images began floating around his head. Ones he couldn’t push aside. He could see her stepping into the tub—one long, smooth leg lowering in the water, then the other. She stood a moment, then eased down, settling into the warmth. Water lapped at her breasts, leaving droplets in their wake.

Kern pictured himself leaning over the tub, lifting the soap and rubbing it into a washrag before placing the slippery piece into its holder.

With slow, easy strokes he started at one foot, running the soapy rag around her ankle and between her toes, ignoring her jerk and giggle from ticklish spots.

Grasping her leg, he rested it on the edge of the tub and eased the rag up her calf, slid it behind her knee, then over her kneecap.

Her thigh was next, and he took his time, reaching her hip, then sliding down the inside of her leg. The sigh which passed her lips urged him on.

Beeeeeep.

Kern jumped from the sound of the microwave timer. The images in his head popped like a bubble. He removed the soup and placed it on the counter. Steam rose from the top.