“If you wish, we can call der Vater.”
“Maybe we should,” Angela said, calling his bluff, although, deep down she knew she didn’t stand a chance. She pulled out her phone and flipped it open.
“Go ahead, or you can listen to me, instead.”
Narrowing her lids into a skeptical glare, she closed her phone. “What?”
“There is no point finding the friend he helped. We should follow him.”
“Into town?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he has something planned?”
Micah didn’t bother elaborating any further. He closed the logbook and set it back on the table.
Angela’s eyes landed on the book, then back on him. “Could you see something from the daybook?”
Instead of answering her question, Micah simply repeated what he’d said previously. “We should follow him.”
27
Exhaustion clung to Ellyssa’s body like a needy toddler. The weight of it dragged on her feet as she made her way to the cot. Physical demands didn’t contribute to her weariness, though. Heat and humidity were the culprits. She hadn’t ventured outdoors for weeks, and her body had adjusted to the cool underground living.
Despite the exhaustion, today had been one of the best days Ellyssa had ever experienced. Full of sun, blue skies, tall trees, and fresh air, not to mention the people who were really interested in what she had to say. Even a couple of the mothers and their children had come for the unscheduled lesson.
A ten-year-old female child, with bright dark eyes and wavy hair, had a natural gift for finding roots quickly. Excitement shone in her smile every time she’d brought back a bag full of wild delicacies.
What surprised Ellyssa was that she’d enjoyed watching the children. She’d never given them any thought at all before, never even wondered about them. But interacting with the young Renegades today, as they discovered and learned and explored, holding their mothers’ fingers with chubby little hands, made her appreciate the pleasure they’d brought to their parents.
After class, Ellyssa had returned to the kitchen with Trista and Bertha. She’d shown them how to prepare some menu items, and instructed them on others. If not for their yawns and haggard lids, Ellyssa might’ve kept on talking.
Now, as her body met the cot, she was happy she’d called it quits, too. Yawning, she yanked off her dirty shirt and pants and replaced them with fresh ones. Tomorrow, Trista had promised to show her where to do laundry.
No more guards. People depended on her knowledge now. Being accepted, true happiness lifted her heart.
Ellyssa rolled over and bunched the pillow under her head. For the first time ever, she drifted to sleep grinning.
Ellyssa woke to the sound of a click. In the haze of sleep, she thought she was back in the abandoned store in Deepwater. But the next thing she heard erased anything as hopeful.
“Ellyssa,” said a whispery voice, a tinny note resonating within the syllables of her name. The same voice that grated down her spine, like fingernails on a chalkboard. Jason breathed heavily.
Completely awake, she didn’t answer, trying to assess the situation. Sending out the tendrils of her mind, she entered Jason’s.
Nervousness and anxiety elevated Jason’s desire. Diseased pictures, red and lustful, spiked through. His mind spoke of revenge and strength, control, and her body receptive, wanting.
Ellyssa’s stomach rolled, and bile rose within it.
Somehow, Jason had concealed his true nature. She’d never seen this side of his fantasies. Maybe his conscience had squashed them, until now. Maybe his memories were distorted by his own perception of right and wrong.
“I know you’re awake. I want you to roll over, slowly.”
Ellyssa heard the click again. It wasn’t a gun, as she’d first suspected. It sounded like metal on metal. Slow and steady, she rolled onto her back. Jason leered over her, ropes draped from his left shoulder, a butcher knife poised in his right hand. He tapped the blade against a button on his pants.
Click.
Running his finger along the length of the blade, Jason watched her. “Let me explain to you how things are going to work. You’re going to roll onto your stomach and place your hands behind your back.”
Ellyssa, still in his mind, watched his objective play out to the finale. Excitement thrummed inside him.
Jason planned on taking her arms and tying them to the frame of the cot, spread-eagle-style. The next part involved him kneeling between her legs.
He was insane.
Instead of flipping over, Ellyssa stared at him, her eyes holding steady, her face an emotionless mask. Fear of him didn’t exist. Not for her. She wanted him to be aware of the fact that intimidation wouldn’t work.
As she held his gaze, Jason’s tongue darted out, snakelike, licking his dry lips. Strings of spittle stretched on the edges of his mouth. Sweat trickled from his left temple and coasted down the side of his face. He ran his free hand through his dark hair, pushing back the strands hanging over his forehead. A tic developed over his right brow and jumped at regular intervals, beating with his pulse.
For a split second, Jason’s confidence wavered under her scrutiny. Ellyssa wasn’t cowering like he’d expected. He wasn’t used to the defiance. Unease settled as Jason wandered if he’d be able to force her to keep quiet.
Blinking, Jason broke eye contact, but, as his gaze floated down to her breasts, he reclaimed his conviction. Of course she would keep quiet. Women like it rough.
He stepped back and poked the tip of the knife into her thigh, applying pressure. “Roll over,” he ordered, his tinny voice steady and demanding.
When she didn’t comply, he leaned into the knife.
Anger boiling, her natural instincts stampeded to the front, overcoming everything else. She didn’t feel her skin slice from the pressure of the blade, or the trickle of wet sliding down her thigh.
Jason clicked his tongue, as if in reprimand. He pushed harder. This time she felt the stab of the smooth metal, but not enough to hinder her. He pulled the blade away. “Now.”
Ellyssa did as he commanded. Not out of fear, but waiting for the mistake that would give her the upper hand, without her being harmed.
As she settled onto her stomach, Jason moved to the other side of the cot, slowly, quietly, barely a whisper from the soles of his shoes along the ground. No wonder she hadn’t heard him come in, alerting her to the intrusion. When Jason wanted to be sneaky, he was better than she’d expected.
Jason placed his knee in the middle of her spine, grabbed her right wrist, and twisted, pulling it behind her. Ellyssa’s breath hitched as his weight crushed her ribs. Her face pressing into the pillow, he rotated her hand, the palm facing inward, hitching her thumb, and brought it over her head.
“One little move,” he said, leaning over her, his fetid breath brushing her ear. He jabbed her in the ribs with his weapon. “I’ll break your wrist.”
Ellyssa tried to nod.
After warning her again with a quick jab from the knife, he withdrew the sharpened point from her side as he yanked her hand down to the frame of the cot. He shifted his weight and leaned over to secure her hand to the metal leg.
It was a stupid move on his part.
His hands busy, the weapon no longer a threat, she bucked up onto her knees, and in one fluid motion, flipped him over the cot and landed on her feet.
Jason squeaked in surprise, as his back smacked the ground. The knife clattered next to him. His fingers found the hilt, and he popped up brandishing the blade.
Armed or not, Ellyssa moved toward him. Her body fluid, fast, she struck. Once, twice in his face, her backhand strike finding its mark. His head rocked back with each impact. Blood spewed from his nose and more flowed from a split lip.