He was curled up on a stained mattress. His hands and ankles were duct taped together and he was bleeding from several slashes on his neck and arms.
"Heath!" My voice wasn't audible, but his head snapped up as if I'd just yelled at him.
"Zoey? Is that you?" And then his eyes widened and he sat straight up, looking wildly around. "Get out of here, Zoey! They're crazy. They'll kill you like they did Chris and Brad." And he started to struggle, trying desperately to break the tape, even though all that was happening was he was making his already raw wrists bleed.
"Heath, stop! It's okay—I'm okay. I'm not here, not really." He stopped struggling and squinted around him like he was trying to see me.
"But I can hear you."
"Inside your head. That's where you hear me, Heath. It's because we've Imprinted and now we're linked."
Unexpectedly, Heath grinned. "That's cool, Zo."
I gave a mental eye roll. "Okay, Heath, focus. Where are you?"
"You won't believe this, Zo, but I'm under Tulsa."
"What does that mean, Heath?"
"Remember in Shaddox's History class? He told us about the tunnels that were dug under Tulsa in the twenties because of the un-alcohol thing."
"Prohibition," I said.
"Yeah, that. I'm in one of them."
I didn't know what to say for a second. I vaguely remembered learning about the tunnels in History class, and was astounded that Heath—not exactly an excellent student—would remember at all.
As if he understood my hesitation he grinned and said, "It was about sneaking booze. I thought it was cool."
After another mental eye roll I said, "Just tell me how to get there, Heath."
He shook his head and a way too familiar stubborn look settled over his face. "No way. They'll kill you. Go tell the cops and have them send a SWAT team or something."
That was exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to get Detective Marx's card out of my pocket, call him, and have him save the day.
Unfortunately, I was afraid I couldn't.
"Who is the 'they'?" I asked.
"Huh?"
"The people who took you? Who are they?"
"They're not people, and they're not vampyres even though they drink blood, but they're not like you, Zo. They're—" he broke off, shuddering. "They're something else. Something wrong."
"Have they been drinking your blood?" The thought made me furious with such an intensity that I was having a hard time controlling my emotions. I wanted to rage at someone and shriek, He belongs to me! I forced myself to take several deep breaths while he answered me.
"Yeah, they have." Heath grimaced. "But they complain a lot about it. They say my blood doesn't taste right. I think that's the main reason I'm still alive." Then he swallowed hard and his face got a shade paler. "It's not like when you drink my blood, Zo. That feels good. What they do is—is disgusting. They're disgusting."
"How many of them are there?" I said through gritted teeth.
"I'm not really sure. It's so dark down here and they always come in weird groups, all smushed together like they're scared of being alone. Well, except for three of them. One's named Elliott, one's called Venus—how weird is that—and the other one is called Stevie Rae."
My stomach knotted. "Does Stevie Rae have short, curly blond hair?"
"Yeah. She's the one that's in charge."
Heath had just substantiated my fears. I couldn't call in the police.
"Okay, Heath. I'm going to get you out of there. Tell me how to find your tunnel."
"Are you going to get the cops?"
"Yes," I lied.
"Nope. You're lying."
"I am not!"
"Zo, I can tell you're lying. I can feel it. It's that link thing." He grinned.
"Heath. I can't get the police."
"Then I'm not telling you where I am."
Echoing from down one end of the tunnel came a skittering that reminded me of the sound the science experiment rats made as they scurried through the mazes we made in AP Bio. Heath's grin was gone, as was the color that had returned to his cheeks while we talked.
"Heath, we don't have time for this." He started to shake his head no. "Listen to me! I have special powers. Those—" I hesitated, not sure what to call the group of creatures that somehow included my dead best friend. "Those things aren't going to be able to hurt me."
Heath didn't say anything, but he didn't look convinced and the ratlike sounds were getting louder.
"You said you can tell I'm lying because of our link. It has to go both ways. You've got to be able to tell when what I say is the truth." He looked like he was waffling, so I added, "Think hard. You said you remembered some of that night you found me at Philbrook. I saved you that night, Heath. Not the cops. Not an adult vamp. I saved you, and I can do it again." I was glad I sounded a lot more certain than I felt. "Tell me where you are."
He thought for a while, and I was getting ready to yell at him (again) when he finally said, "You know where the old depot is downtown?"
"Yeah, you can see it from the Performing Arts Center where we went to see Phantom for my birthday last year, right?"
"Yeah. They took me to the basement of it. They got in through something that looks like a barred door. It's old and rusted, but it lifts right up. The tunnel starts from the drainage grates down there."
"Good, I'll—"
"Wait, that's not all. There are lots of tunnels. They're more like caves. It's not cool like I thought they'd be from History class. They're dark and wet and disgusting. Pick the one on your right, and then keep turning to your right. I'm at the end of one of those."
"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Be careful, Zo."
"I will. You be safe."
"I'll try." Hissing was added to the scurrying noises. "But you should probably hurry up."
CHAPTER 28
I opened up my eyes and I was back in the stall with Persephone. I was breathing hard and sweating, and the mare was nuzzling me and making soft, worried, nickering noises. My hands were shaking as I caressed her head and rubbed her jaw, telling her that it was going to be okay, even though I was pretty sure it wasn't.
The old downtown depot was six or seven miles away in a dark, unused part of town under a big, scary bridge that linked one part of the city to the other. It used to be majorly busy, with freight and passenger trains coming and going almost nonstop. But in the past couple decades all of the passenger traffic had stopped (I knew because my grandma had wanted to take me on a train trip for my thirteenth birthday, and we'd had to drive to Oklahoma City to catch the train there) and the freight train business had definitely dwindled. Under normal circumstances, it would only take a few minutes to zip from the House of Night to the depot.
Tonight I was not dealing with normal circumstances.
The ten o'clock news had said the roads were impassable, and that had been—I checked my watch and blinked in surprise—a couple hours ago. I couldn't drive there. I suppose I could walk, but the urgency I felt was telling me that wasn't good enough.
"Take the horse."
Persephone and I both shied at the sound of Aphrodite's voice. She was leaning against the stall door looking pale and grim. "You look like crap," I said.
She almost smiled. "Visions suck."
"Did you see Heath?" My stomach clenched again. Aphrodite didn't have visions of happiness and light. She saw death and destruction. Always.