Quicksilver Dreams(194)
Don’t forget. You come from a proud Brausiian warrior, Taylor. The words were a faint whisper in my mind. It sounded like Dreya, but could she communicate from so far away? I listened intently once again and heard nothing but the tires on the road, rhythmically spinning.
Mylunate!
How did the stupid mylunate work? Was it still on my toe? Ryder hadn’t taken it from me. He’d told me to hold on to it because of the danger that surrounded me, but what to do with it? How did it work? There’d been warnings, precautionary rules or something.
I tried to think back to the night he’d told me about it. It seemed that you had to try to imagine a place to go, but there were restrictions, weren’t there? How much and how far—and things from that night were fuzzy because of the alcohol. Damn! Cynthia had also given me information, but I was so uncertain. What was the worst that could happen? I hadn’t really found that out.
And what about Paul? Was he there too? Could I just leave him without trying to help? He was a nice man trying to do a good thing. Could I live with myself if I didn’t try to find him? I could always find my way out of wherever they were taking me and send for help. But who knew what might happen if they got me fully enclosed in some space?
The van jerked to a stop sooner than I’d anticipated, while my thoughts were still contradicting each other.
A meaty grip took hold of my arm. My survival instinct kicked in.
With as much strength as I could muster, I reared up on my left knee and did a roundhouse kick that would have made Rico proud. My foot connected solidly with a mouth, knocking Crew Cut off of me long enough that I could jump out of the van and run.
Ignoring the stabbing pain from my kicking foot, I jammed on the speed and ran up what looked like a long driveway, trying to go all out despite the fact that my arms were behind me.
My breathing was harsh and heavy. Adrenaline roared in my ears. I only made it fifteen yards before I was tackled from behind. A heavy body slammed into me, and I felt the air leave my lungs in a whoosh. I landed hard, smacking my head against the ground in a whiplash effect. Stinging pain stabbed my body, and hitting my head scrambled my brain for a moment.
“She’s a live one, is she?” The amused British tones carried on the breeze, clear as a bell, to where I lay under one of my attackers. My right shoulder and arm throbbed, my forehead stung and I could feel a trickle of what was probably blood dripping down my temple. The sting of failure was sharp. Lying on the ground, breathing through the pain, I saw that the van was parked in front of a Mediterranean-style mansion, likely somewhere in Malibu or Pacific Palisades or something. I hadn’t even made it halfway up the driveway. Was the hidden mylunate cavern nearby?
“Damn it. Another tooth,” I heard Crew Cut snarl somewhere behind me. “Someone’s gonna pay.”
“Back off, Pen. You’ll be paid well enough to get your teeth fixed and then some.” Frank’s silky tones turned steely. “Bring her inside. We have work to do.”
Baldy got off me, grabbed my arm and yanked me upright. Stabbing pain shot through my foot and shoulder, and the world seemed a bit off-kilter, and then I was being shoved toward the sliding glass door of a large estate where Frank, aka Ranik, stood in all his silver-maned glory, wearing yet another sharp, sleek suit. He was large, and he emanated a feeling of power and dominance.
“Why am I here?” I asked shakily, but he said nothing, gave me a silky smile and led the way in. With a feeling of pleasure and satisfaction absolutely spilling from him, Pen shoved me inside. I nearly tripped over my own feet.