I hear multiple sets of footsteps above me and catch her fragrance again. Human males are coming down the stairs, one of them carrying her. I see her feebly struggling in his grip and three of her shirt buttons are undone, for fuck’s sake.
Her frightened eyes hit me while my face contorts into rage.
“Put her the fuck down! Do it gently!” I instinctively try to move in that direction but crash, knees hitting concrete, because my fucking ankles are shackled. I fight my way to standing and take small shuffling steps in that direction while I reach to steady myself with the pole Bailey was attached to. I can’t reach it. What? It’s in front of me but I can’t grip it despite the fact I see my own hands trying. It’s out of reach. It’s out of reach despite it being right fucking here. What the fuck? What the fuck did that witch give me?
The witch responsible for all this shit follows the two guys down the stairs and as unsteady as I am, I’m heading for her, determined to take her out before she can inflict further damage, envisioning me clotheslining her, knocking her out, and shielding Bailey before I take the males out, making sure they don’t get up again, ensuring we get the hell out of here.
None of what I’m planning is possible because it’s like I’ve walked into what feels like a glass wall when I get to the witch, who’s now backed up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, staring at me with confusion.
“What the fuck?” I shout in a near blind rage. “Put her down right now!”
I’m glaring at the asshole who’s still got Bailey, wanting to rip her from him, wanting his goddamn hands off her.
But I can’t reach anything. I’m stuck.
“What did you do?” I demand.
Bailey is crying, lips moving like she’s talking, but my senses are adrenaline-fueled and my own blood thunders so loud in my ears that I hear nothing else. Finally, a link between the handcuffs snaps and my arm movements are my own again. But I still can’t touch anyone in front of me and can’t move any closer to the witch against the wall in front of me.
The guy releases Bailey and the witch squeezes past me, throws something at me that she pulls from her pocket. Thick, pale green goo floats in thin air in front of me, dripping slowly down to the floor.
She and the other two run up the stairs. Bailey is on the floor and I can’t reach her. I’m now stepping on the green goo, but can’t feel it, it’s not sticking to my shoes.
I squat, wobbling; my equilibrium is all fucked up, and it makes me fall to my ass. I try to work at breaking the leg irons, but the chain is too thick for how weakened I am. I lift one of those green flowers from the floor and the burn is like a hot ember, so I toss it but strangely, it lands by my feet.
Bailey is directly ahead, lying on the concrete floor, smelling like apples with her glasses beside her. Her clothes are grass-stained and there’s a tear at her knee, a scrape across her skin. Her shirt is halfway undone, showing a strip of pink lace between her breasts. Rage thunders in my veins.
She’s breathing normally, but I can’t touch her. I’m stuck.
I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life as I roar out rage so hard the building around us quakes.
It dawns that Bailey brought me something to help with trouble she heard was brewing and slapped that bag in my hand in the doorway of the hotel room. I reach into my pocket but the bag she gave me is gone.
Wait.
Realization hits. She must have put me under a shield when I was out. The same sort of shield Stacy’s jackhole brother was in.
Fuck!
Scent and motion catch my attention behind me at the window as the window is covered from outside, plunging us into darkness. Someone hammers a piece of wood into place.
7
BAILEY
I’m guessing if I weren’t a half-blooded shifter I’d be panicking waking in the dark, but my eyes quickly adjust and I know where I am. Alta Starling’s basement, at the bottom of the staircase.
I rub at the painful goose egg on the back of my head, slowly sitting up. Everything hurts and everything is blurry, but within a few more seconds, my eyes have adjusted well enough I can make out shapes around me. I must have collapsed after being put down, maybe because Alta Starling threw something at Jase and it bounced off his bubble, meaning lights out for me instead.
When they caught me and brought me back in, one of them threatening to hurt me if I didn’t cooperate, I stopped fighting. But then as we descended the stairs, the guy who carried me whispered that maybe we could have some fun later. He told me my tits were beautiful, said he wanted to taste them. This had me struggling, feeling like my skin was crawling. He laughed, threatening to use the knife in his pocket to slice away my bra and set them free.
When I saw Jase at the foot of the stairs on his feet, looking furious and also weakened, I was relieved they couldn’t hurt him behind that magic bubble. It was like it was when Wyatt Meadows was trying to run away and the council shifters kept punting him with their heads and noses as if he was in an inflatable bumper ball like the ones we used on the lake at my teen summer camp.
Jase looks normal, uninjured and that might be because he’s behind that shield. And right now, he's close. I smell him and can make out his fuzzy shape a few feet away from me.
I feel around for my glasses and find them still in one piece. I put them on and tighten my loose ponytail, making details out a little better.
He’s worked his handcuffs apart, but they’re still on his wrists. He’s broken the chain between the cuffs on his ankles, too. There’s one of those flowers by his feet, so I’m guessing it’s inside his protective shield and he got the others off when he knocked that pole over. Speaking of which, I sure hope the ceiling over us won’t cave in without that support beam.