Otherworld 02 - Stolen (15 page)

"Should we wait outside?" one guard asked.

"Not necessary. Please take the second table, Doctor Haig. I'll be right with you."

Haig nodded and walked to the table. His guards promised to return in an hour, then left. Unlike me, Haig wasn't even manacled. I suppose his powers weren't any great security risk. Even if he made himself look different, the guards were bound to notice an apparent stranger prowling the compound. Escape wasn't likely.

For the next twenty minutes, Carmichael bustled around the infirmary, checking X rays, peering through microscopes, jotting notes on a clipboard. Finally she stopped, surveyed the room, then snatched a tray of fluid-filled vials from a metal cart.

"I need to run a test in the lab before we finish up here, Ms. Michaels."

Déjà vu or what? Bring another captive into a room with me, find an excuse for leaving that room, and see what fun and exciting chaos ensues. Couldn't these guys think up more than one ruse?

Carmichael headed for the exit, then stopped and looked from me to Haig. After a pause, she laid the tray on the counter and picked up the intercom phone. Though she turned her back and lowered her voice, her words were impossible to miss in the silent room. She asked someone in security whether there were any "issues" with leaving Haig and me together for a few minutes, if I was manacled. There weren't.

"Don't forget to turn on the camera," Haig murmured as she hung up. His voice was rich and honey-smooth, with traces of an accent.

Carmichael snorted. "I can't program my damned VCR. You think I can operate that thing?" She waved at the video camera mounted overhead. "A word of warning, though. Don't think of leaving. I'll be locking the door behind me. There's a perfectly functioning camera in the waiting room and guards in the hall. They won't look kindly on an escape attempt."

She took her tray of vials and left the room.

After Carmichael left, I studied the video camera for signs of activity, but it stayed silent and still.

"So," Haig said. "What are you in for?"

"Raping and pillaging."

The corners of his mouth turned up. "That would have been my first guess. Are you finding the accommodations to your liking?"

"My kennel, you mean?"

Another quarter-smile. "Ah, so you
are
the werewolf. I didn't know whether it was polite to ask. Emily Post doesn't cover circumstances such as this. Werewolf. Hmmm. I had a patient with lycanthropy once. Felt compelled to turn around three times before settling onto the couch. Quite trying. But he always brought in the paper from the front stoop."

I remembered how Carmichael had addressed him. "Doctor Haig," I said. "So you're a shr-psychiatrist?"

"A shrink, yes. My special abilities aren't very profitable in everyday life. I suppose they might help if I were to become an international assassin, but I'm a terrible shot. And please call me Armen. Formality seems rather out of place here."

"I'm Elena. Psychiatry, eh? So did you know Matasumi? Before you came here?"

"I'd heard of him." Dark lips curved in a moue of distaste. "Parapsychology. With a reputation for skirting the code of research ethics."

"Really? Go figure. You must have no shortage of people to analyze here, between the captives and captors."

"Frighteningly enough, the ones in the cages would be more likely to earn my recommendations for early release."

"Matasumi's got some definite issues," I said. "And Bauer?"

"One of the sanest, actually. Just sad. Very sad."

That wasn't the impression I got, but before I could press for details, Armen continued. "The one I'd most like to get on the couch is Tyrone Winsloe. Though once I had him there, I'd be sorely tempted to tie him to it and run like the devil."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Where do I start? Tyrone Winsloe is"-Armen cocked his head toward the door; footsteps entered the waiting room, then
[49]
stopped-" out of town on business at the moment." He lowered his voice. "If you need any help… adjusting, please ask. This isn't a very pleasant place. The sooner we can be out of it, the sooner we'll all feel much better."

As he fixed me with a knowing look, I knew he wasn't offering help with my psychological adjustment.

"As I said, my special ability isn't very useful," he murmured. "But I'm very observant… as a psychiatrist. And like everyone, I can always use companionship. For moral support. Additional resources and strength. That, I believe, is your specialty. Strength."

The doorknob turned. Carmichael bumped it open with a clipboard and walked in, flipping through pages.

"Off you go, then, Ms. Michaels," she said. "Your escort is in the waiting room."

"A pleasure to meet you, Elena," Armen said as I left. "Do enjoy your stay."

Bauer and the guards took me back to the sitting/interrogation room. One guard fastened me to the leg and torso restraints, and removed my arm restraints, which pleased me until I realized they'd only left my hands free so I could eat lunch. Once I finished, on went the handcuffs. Then Matasumi and Tess joined us, and I endured round two of interrogation.

A couple of hours later, as Bauer walked me to my call, I checked across the hall. The opposite cell was empty.

"Where's Ruth?" I asked.

"A slight setback. She's in the infirmary."

"Is she okay?"

"There's no immediate danger. We're probably overreacting, but our guests' health is very important."

"Can I see her when she comes back?"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," she said, reaching for the door to my cell. "But I have arranged for company of a different sort."

"I'd like to speak to Ruth."

Pushing open my door, Bauer walked through as if I hadn't said anything. The guards prodded me forward. I stepped into my cell, then stopped. My hackles rose, and some ancient instinct warned me that my den had been invaded.

"You remember Leah, don't you?" Bauer said.

The red-haired half-demon sat at my table, pouring a glass of wine. She glanced up and smiled.

"Hey," she said. "Elena, right?"

I nodded.

"Welcome to the party," she said, raising her glass in a toast. "Can you believe this? Wine, cheese, fancy crackers. I don't eat this well at home. Are you joining us, Sondra?"

"If you don't mind."

"The more the merrier." Leah beamed a smile 100 percent sarcasm-free. "May I pour you ladies a glass?"

"Please," Bauer said.

I didn't answer, but Leah filled two more glasses. As Bauer stepped forward to take hers, I could only gape. A wine and cheese party? Please tell me they were kidding.

"Do you like white?" Bauer asked, extending a glass to me. "It's a very good vintage."

"Uh-thanks." I took the wine and managed to fold myself into a chair, a task that seemed far more onerous than it should.

"Elena's a journalist," Bauer said.

"Really? TV or radio?" Leah asked.

"Print," I murmured, though it came out as a guttural mutter, dangerously close to a grunt.

"She does freelance work," Bauer said. "Covering Canadian politics. She's Canadian."

"Oh? Interesting. You guys have a prime minister, right? Not a president."

I nodded.

Leah gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Well, there's the extent of my knowledge of international politics. Sorry."

We sipped our wine.

"Leah's a deputy sheriff in Wisconsin," Bauer said.

I nodded, struggling to think of some germane comment to make and coming up blank. Oh, please, Elena. You can do better than this. Say something. Say anything. Don't sit there like a grunting, nodding idiot. After we'd touched on my career, I should have asked Leah about hers. That was how small talk worked. My experience socializing with other women was embarrassingly slight, but certain rules held true no matter who you were talking to.

"So you're a police officer," I said, then winced inwardly. Duh. If I couldn't come up with something more intelligent than that, I should keep my mouth shut.

"Not as exciting as it sounds," Leah said. "Especially not in Wisconsin. Cheese, anyone?"

She cut wedges from a round of Gouda and proffered the cheese board. We each took one, along with a lacy cracker that crumbled most unbecomingly as I bit into it. As we munched, Bauer refilled our half-empty wineglasses. I downed mine, praying it might help, then noticed both women watching me.

"Thirstier than I thought," I said. "Maybe I should stick to water."

Bauer smiled. "Drink all you want. There's more where that came from."

"So, do you live in Canada?" Leah asked.

I hesitated, but realized if I didn't answer, Bauer would. My life wasn't exactly a secret around here. "New York State."

"Her husband's American," Bauer said. "Clayton is your husband, isn't he? We couldn't find a marriage record, but when we were following you, I noticed he wears a wedding ring." She glanced at my left hand. "Oh, but you don't. That's an engagement ring you have, though, isn't it?"

"Long story," I said.

Leah leaned forward. "Those are always the best."

I inched back in my chair. "So, how about you two? Married? Boyfriends?"

"I've run through the marriageable material in my little town," Leah said. "I've put my name in for a transfer before the seventy-year-old widowers start looking good."

"I've been married," Bauer said. "Youthful rebellion. Married him because my father forbade it and soon realized that sometimes father does know best."

"What does your husband do?" Leah asked me.

"Clayton's an anthropologist," Bauer answered before I could deflect the question.

"Oh? That sounds… fascinating."

Sipping her wine, Bauer gave a giggling laugh. "Admit it, Leah. It sounds perfectly awful."

"I didn't say it," Leah said.

Bauer drained her glass and refilled everyone's. "No, but you were thinking it. Trust me, this guy is no tweedy academic. You should see him. Blond curls, blue eyes, and a body… Greek god material."

"Got a photo?" Leah asked me.

"Uh, no. So, how do you like-"

"We have some surveillance pictures upstairs," Bauer said. "I'll show them to you later. Elena is a very lucky girl."

"Looks aren't everything," Leah said, flashing a wicked smile. "It's performance that counts."

I studied the bubbles in my wineglass. Oh, please, please, please, don't ask.

Leah downed her wine. "I have a question. If it's not too personal."

"And even if it is," Bauer said with a giggle.

Oh, please, please, please-

"You guys change into wolves, right?" Leah said. "So, when you and your husband are wolves, do you still… you know. Are you still lovers?"

Bauer snorted so hard wine sprayed from her nose. Okay, that was the one question even worse than asking how Clay was in bed. This was a nightmare. My worst nightmare. Not only thrown into a wine and cheese party with two women I barely knew, but with two women who knew everything about me and were getting a wee bit tipsy. Let the floor open up and swallow me now. Please.

"This is really good cheese," I said.

Bauer laughed so hard she started to hiccup.

The door whooshed opened. A guard stuck his head inside.

"Ms. Bauer?"

In an eye blink, Bauer was sober. She coughed once into her hand, then straightened up, face as regal as ever.

"Yes?" she said.

"We have a situation," he said. "With prisoner three."

"They're not prisoners," she snapped, getting to her feet. "What's the problem with Mr. Zaid?"

"His clothes are gone."

Leah snorted a laugh and covered her mouth with her linen napkin.

"What's he done with them?" Bauer asked.

"He-uh-hasn't done anything, ma'am. He finished his shower and they were-uh-gone. Started raising a hel-ruckus. Cursing, ranting. All that voodoo stuff. Demanded we get you. Immediately."

Annoyance flitted across Bauer's face. "Tell Mr. Zaid…" She stopped. Hesitated. "Fine. I'll speak to him. Step inside. I'll be right back."

Bauer wasn't gone long enough for Leah and I to exchange more than a few sentences. When she returned, she brushed past the guard she'd left in the cell with us. She didn't looked pleased.

"How's Curtis?" Leah asked.

Bauer blinked, as if distracted by her own thoughts. "Fine," she said after a moment's pause. "He's fine. Just… unnerved by all this."

"Where were his clothes?" Leah asked.

Another blink. Another pause. "Oh, on his bookshelf." She settled into her chair and refilled her wineglass. "Neatly folded on the top shelf."

"The spirits are at work," Leah intoned, grinning mischievously.

"Don't start that," Bauer said.

"Did you move-" I began. "I mean, can you do things like that?"

Leah waved a cheese-topped cracker, scattering crumbs. "Nah. It would be fun, though. Telekinesis is limited to a half-demon's range of vision. If I can't see it, I can't move it. My powers aren't very precise either. If I tried lifting a pile of clothes-" She turned and looked at my bed. The folded blanket at the end levitated, floated over the side, and fell in a heap on the carpet. "Gravity takes over. I could throw it against the wall or toss it in the air, but when I let go, it would never fall nicely folded."

"So it's that random psychic energy thing, then?" I asked Bauer.

"They're back," Leah said in a high-pitched child's voice.

Bauer laughed, covering her cracker-filled mouth with one hand and wagging her free index finger at Leah. "Stop that." She turned to me. "That's what I meant. Leah's pet theory. She thinks we have a poltergeist."

"Poltergeist?" I repeated. "Don't tell me you built this place over an Indian burial ground. After three movies, you'd really think people would learn."

Leah laughed. "There, see? Thank you, Elena. Sondra hasn't even seen the first
Poltergeist.
All my pop culture references are lost on her."

"So you're kidding," I said. "About the poltergeist."

"Uh-uh."

"Don't get her started," Bauer said.

"You don't really believe in ghosts," I said.

"Sure," Leah said, grinning. "But I draw the line at werewolves. Seriously, though, how much do you know about poltergeists?"

"I walked out during the second movie and skipped the third. That's it."

"Well, I'm something of a self-taught expert. When I was in high school, I read everything I could find on poltergeists. Because of the similarities with my 'condition.' I wanted to know more about myself and my kind and figured maybe so-called poltergeists were really manifestations of telekinetic half-demons."

"Sounds plausible," I said.

"It does, until you learn more about it. Poltergeists typically appear around children approaching puberty. Half-demons don't come into their full powers until closer to adulthood. Poltergeists are also associated with noises and voices, which aren't part of my repertoire. Neither is stuff like rearranging furniture or neatly moving objects from one place to another, other marks of a poltergeist."

"We haven't heard any strange noises," Bauer said.

"But not all poltergeist manifestations involve sound. Everything else about these occurrences points to a poltergeist."

"A poltergeist who just happened to appear here?" I said. "Of all places?"

"It's
not
Savannah," Bauer said, slanting a warning look at Leah.

"The young witch?" I said.

"Just another theory," Leah said. "Savannah is at the perfect age, and with her powers, she'd be an ideal conduit, especially under these strained circumstances."

"You think she conjured up-"

"Oh, no, no," Leah said. "Savannah is a sweetheart. A total innocent, I'm sure. Now, her mother was a real piece of work, and I wouldn't have put anything past her, but I'm certain Savannah didn't inherit any of her darker powers."

"If," Bauer said. "And I repeat,
if
Savannah has caused some kind of poltergeist to materialize, which I doubt, I'm sure she isn't aware of it."

"Certainly," Leah said. "She probably can't even control it. There's been no evidence to the contrary… well, except for…"

Bauer sighed. "A few of the more alarming disturbances have revolved around Savannah. When she becomes upset, the activity increases."

"If that poor guard hadn't ducked…," Leah said. "But no, I still say it's beyond Savannah's control. More likely, her anger spurs the poltergeist to react. An unwitting emotional connection, though potentially, it could be quite dangerous if someone were to cross-"

"It's random psychic energy," Bauer said firmly. "Until Doctor Matasumi or I see anything to the contrary, that's the assumption."

The door opened.

"Yes," Bauer snapped, then turned to see Matasumi's assistant hovering in the doorway. "I'm sorry, Tess. What is it?"

"It's nearly four-thirty. Doctor Matasumi thought I should remind you-"

"Oh, yes. The conference call. I'm sorry. I'll be right with you. Could you please send the guards in to escort Leah back to her room?"

"Party's over," Leah said and chugged the rest of her wine.

After dinner, the voice I'd heard the night before called again. This time I was sure I was awake. Well, reasonably sure, at least. I still held out hopes that the whole wine and cheese party had been a nightmare.

"Who's there?" I said aloud.

"It's me, dear. Ruth."

I hurried to the hole I'd punched between my cell and the next, crouched, and peered through. No one was there.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Across the hall. It's a ranged communication spell. You can speak to me normally and I'll hear you as if I were there in the room. Thank goodness I finally got in touch with you. I've been having the devil of a time. First the sedatives. Then the blocking field. Just when I figured out a way around that, they whisked me out of here because my white blood cell count was low. What do they expect at my age?"

"Blocking field?" I repeated.

"I'll explain. Sit down and make yourself comfortable, dear."

To ensure our privacy, Ruth cast a sensing spell that could detect anyone in the corridor. Useful things, spells. Not my cup of tea, but far more practical than I would have imagined.

Our captors had taken Ruth around the same time Bauer and Xavier had trapped me, so she hadn't known I'd been kidnapped, which meant she didn't know whether Jeremy and Clay had returned to the others or even if they knew what had happened to me. When I told her I hadn't been able to contact Jeremy, she was surprised to the point of shock, not that we couldn't make contact, but that any werewolf had telepathic abilities. We all have our stereotypes, I guess. Witches equaled mental power, werewolves equaled physical power, and never the twain shall meet.

"What happened when you tried to contact him?" she asked.

"I can't do that," I said. "He's the one with the powers. I have to wait for him to make contact."

"Did you try?" she asked.

"I wouldn't know how."

"You should try. It's very simple. Relax and pretend-Never mind. It won't work anyway."

"Why won't it work?"

"They've put up a blocking field. Have you met their spell-caster?"

I shook my head, realized she couldn't see the motion and said, "No. I've heard of him, though. Katzen, I think they called him."

"Isaac Katzen?"

"You know him?"

"I know of him. He was with one of the Cabals, I believe. Oh dear, I hope they aren't involved. That would be the devil of a problem. Sorcerer Cabals are-" She stopped. "Sorry, dear. Spell-casting business. You don't need to know anything about that."

"What about this Katzen guy? Do I need to know anything about him? Bauer says I'm not likely to run into him. How'd she put it? He doesn't associate with 'lower races'?"

A short chuckle. "That is most definitely a sorcerer. No, dear, I shouldn't think you'd have to worry about Isaac Katzen. Sorcerers have little use for non-spell-casters. Little use for witches, too. Sorcerers aren't male witches. Completely different race. Nasty bunch, I'm sad to say. No sense of themselves as part of something greater. An absolute absence of altruism. They'd never dream of using their powers to help-" A sigh and a chuckle. "Stop digressing, Ruth. Age, you know. It's not that the mind starts to wander; it's that it's so stuffed full of information that it's forever jumping off track and zipping down tangents."

"I don't mind."

"Time, my dear. Time."

I turned toward the door. "Is someone coming?"

"Not yet. If they have Isaac Katzen 'on staff,' as you'd say, then he has almost certainly cast a spell to block telepathy, among other things."

"What other things?"

"Well, he could monitor communications, provide added security-"

"Monitor communications? You mean he could be listening to us right now?"

"No, dear. He'd need to be close by to do that, and I've already ascertained there's no one down here but our fellow captives. Do be careful, though. If he does visit the cells, he could listen without using the intercom system. For most spells, he'd need to be nearby, but he can block telepathy remotely."

"But you've figured out a way around that. Can you contact someone outside the compound?"

"I believe I can, though I haven't had a chance. I will later. I'll get in touch with Paige and tell her you're here, so she can communicate with you. She's had the proper training. Never had the need to use it, but it should go well. She'll be a very powerful spell-caster someday. She has the potential and more than enough ambition. Some difficulty accepting her boundaries right now, so it may not go as smoothly as she'd like. Be patient with her, Elena. Don't let her become frustrated."

"Why do I need to communicate with Paige at all? You can do that, right? You talk to her, I'll talk to you…"

"I have something else I need to do. I don't mean to be rude, my dear. I'm not abandoning you. With Paige's help, you'll get along fine without me. There's someone else who needs me more. They have another witch here. A child."

"Savannah."

"You've met her?"

"Seen her."

"Horrible, isn't it?" Ruth's voice clogged with emotion. "Just horrible. A child. How anyone could be so callous-but I can't dwell on that. I need to help her."

"You can get her out of here?"

Silence. As it dragged past ten seconds, I wondered if someone had entered the hall. Then Ruth continued, "No. Sadly, that's beyond my capabilities or I'd get you both out, along with every other poor soul in here. The best I can do is give the child the tools she'll need to survive. At her age, she has only the most rudimentary knowledge and can cast only very benign spells. I need to give her more. Accelerate her development. Not the path I'd choose under any other circumstances. It could be… well, it may not be the best thing, but given the choice between that and perishing… I'm sorry, my dear. I don't need to bother you with the details. Suffice it to say, I'll be busy with the child, though I'll contact you when I can. Now, here's what you'll need to do to help Paige communicate with you."

Ruth told me how to prepare for Paige's telepathic spells. "Be receptive" was the condensed version. Nothing terribly complicated. I might feel something like the grains of a tension headache. Instead of ignoring it, I had to relax and concentrate on clearing my mind. Paige would do the rest. Ruth would contact her tonight, let her know we were both safe, and give her some tips on how to work the spell so it would overcome the blocking field. Once I communicated with Paige, I could tell her how to contact Jeremy.

"Now," Ruth said when she'd finished. "One caution. You mustn't let Paige know about Eve's child. Savannah, I mean."

"Did she know her?" I asked.

"Savannah? No. Eve left when she was pregnant. Paige probably doesn't even remember her. She was only a child herself then. No one was close to Eve. It doesn't matter. If Paige knows there's a young witch here, she'll insist on rescuing her immediately. If she couldn't get to her and something happened…" Ruth inhaled sharply. "Paige would never forgive herself."

"It won't matter. When we break out, we'll take Savannah."

Ruth paused. When she spoke, there was a pain in her voice so deep I could feel it. "No, you can't concern yourself with the child. Not now. I'll give Savannah what powers I can. You must concentrate on getting yourself out."

"What about you?"

"It's of no consequence."

"No consequence? I'm not leaving-"

"You'll do what you must, Elena. You're the important one now. You've met these people. You've seen this place. That knowledge will be invaluable in helping the others fight this threat. As well, your escape will secure the aid of your Pack. If you don't get out-But you will. You'll get out, and your Pack will help the others to stop these people before they capture more of us. Then, when you return, you can worry about the child. If-when-you get her free, take her straight to Paige. That's important. After what I'm going to do for Savannah, only Paige will be able to control the damage. At least, I hope…" Her voice trailed off. "I can't worry about it. Not now. The important-"

She stopped and fell silent. Then, "Someone's coming, dear. I'll speak to you when I can. Be ready for Paige."

"Expect the second ghost when the clock strikes two."

Ruth chuckled. "Poor Elena. This must be quite unsettling for you. You're doing fine, dear. Just fine. Now get some sleep. Good night."