The Heir of Aiwan--Book 1

Chapter 4

Kira comes to; face pressed against a scratchy but giving surface, her bedroom rug by the looks of it. Her eyes blink heavy against the bright light streaming through her half-opened shade. How late is it? Why am I on the ground? Her arms feel heavy at her sides, as she reaches up to brush her hair out of her face. She can feel the unevenness of sleep ridged across her cheek, that has to mean she has been here for a while.

Kira jerk up remembering the last images that crossed her vision before darkness fell. A dark figure lunged at her, knocking her off balance. She had heard a noise in the night, the faint creak of the fifth step. Anyone who lives here knows that step has been out of whack for years. She didn't usually sleep heavy, that's how Kira know something must have been on that rag he had clamped over her mouth. Although, the slight tap to her mind might have caused the blackout. It felt like a slight nudge to the inside workings of her brain. A small whisper to "go to sleep". As Kira felt around, there are no lumps on her head, no dizziness or lightheadedness. She shook off the eerie feeling as she pushed herself up and into the hallway. The wrongness was instantaneous. Her balance was off, using the wall to hold her upright. A tinge of violence still heavy in the air.

With that, she gave a sprint to Emma's room, rounding the corner with a thud, her shoulder slamming into the jam, socked feet sliding. The feeling not fazing her as her eyes scanned the room. Emma's comforter had been torn off the bed, tossed haphazardly across the wood floor. The sheets are askew, tangled in a heap. "Emma?" Kira shouted.

Nothing but silence. She can tell that she isn't here. The silence is too complete; the lack of her presence obvious. Turning around, making her way back toward her room.

"Jame? Jame are you here?" she can hear the panic in her own voice, and trying to breath through her nose, pushing through Jame's closed door. It's not unusual that his door is closed, he does live with teenage girls, the man has earned his privacy at this point.

She stalled at the door, weirdly uncomfortable intruding his space, and then she spotted him. A large bundle of arms and legs on the floor, his mountainous figure surprisingly delicate looking in it's crumpled state. The unease she felt when she entered the room dissipated in an instant, dropping to her knees next to him. Her breath catches in her lungs afraid of what she will discover. There is a small puddle of bright red blood near his head, a small trickle traced across his forehead. With a tentative hand, she reaches out to touch it and pushed his hair back. She sees a wrist twisted painfully in a crooked angle. But she can see the small rise and fall of his chest which eases some of her anxiety. In her shock, she forgets all of her her training. Her hands grip his shoulders and give a him a small shake.

"You're alive!" He startles some at her voice, his eyes clearing their haze. "Kira?" his brows creased in confusion.

"You mind unbreaking my wrist?" her eyes move toward their intermingled hands and she gives a start.

His eyes widen a fraction before letting go. A wince crossed his face as he moves his good hand toward his forehead, dabbing the blood with his finger delicately and pulling them away. Jame sits up quickly before realizing what his current state must mean. His eyes get the faraway look of dizziness, "Emma," her name escapes his lips in a whisper as he struggles to his feet. Kira stands and grab him just in time, before his body pitches forward unsteadily. It only takes him a second to right himself, his training and instinct taking over. He guides her behind him as we make their way out into the hallway. Kira doesn't have it in her to tell him that they're alone in the house, she knows that he can also sense it but let's him look any ways. Emma isn't here, she's been taken.

It doesn't take long for Jame to survey the house, the scene. Emma's room is in shambles; her bed sheets ripped of the bed, lamp in shards across the wood floors, books and papers still spread out on her desk from the night before, and the ominous smearing of blood across the open door of her bedroom. The only small consolation is that it's only a small amount and it's likely that Emma didn't bleed out, Kira hopes. Maybe it isn't even her blood.