Witching Tree (Alice Gray Book 1)

38

The small thread of hope that Thomas had brought me back to his apartment snapped. He must have another place to bring his 'girlfriends'.

One more step towards the psycho theory then.

Turning my attention to the window, I nudged the heavy curtain aside, careful to make as little movement as possible. I wasn't ready to let him know I was awake yet.

I needn't have worried. Behind the curtain was a wall of grey. The window was blocked up with concrete.

Next step, a quick sweep of the walls and ceiling. I was no expert, but I'd watched enough James Bond films at Christmas to give it a go.

No signs of any cameras or bugs. So not a professional operation. The fact that this wasn't a fully equipped red room brought a little comfort, but not much.

Running out of options, I searched for any other method of escape. There were no air vents, which made me wonder where the musky incense smell was coming from. I even checked the floor for a trapdoor. It was just the sort of room to have a priest hole or secret tunnel.

Nothing, just dark wooden floorboards.

The only way in and out was the locked door. I sat back down on the bed to wait. That creepy but far too handsome vampire was bound to come for me sooner or later.

Humming to distract from my mounting anxiety, I tried to act casual as I swung my legs and leaned back, propped up on my arms. It wouldn't do any harm for Thomas to think I was unconcerned. No point in displaying fear. That's what weirdoes like him wanted.

Whatever tune I tried to form, the melody always shifted back to that old family song. Before I knew it, I was putting the words to it.

Instead of the eerie little girl's voice, I thought of my mother singing it to me. Her rich voice merged with mine in my head bringing warmth and comfort. The chimes of silver leaves accompanied us, and the heavy gloom that came with the memory of the tree wrapped me up in its blanket of power, bring security through familiarity. My body and mind fell into the rhythm of the leaves, the song merging with it, creating something that felt like home.

After ten minutes or so, a scraping sound from the old lock told me someone was at the door. I darted behind. If I could surprise them by hitting them with the door on its rebound, I might have a chance of escape.

Reaching out with my senses, I tried to pick up the heavy thrum of Thomas's power on the other side of the door. Nothing.

I was so intent on discovering the vampire as my captor, that I almost missed the buzz and hum of energy that told me it was a different kind of creature.

Thomas didn't take me as the kind that would have a partner.

Whoever it was, they'd still kept me locked up like an animal. Fury burnt the last trace of fear away. My body crackled with electricity, waiting to connect and discharge the force that was inside me.

With every second that past the charge built, power flooding my insides. Life-force heavy and ripe, I was ready to show this bastard that he'd picked on the wrong girl.

Tense and eager as I waited for the last click of the lock, finally the door started to open. I waited until it reached its full capacity, then I hurled it back, gathering my energy, ready to fight.

Nothing happened. No cry or thump. It just swung closed.

I slowly pulled the door open again to check if they'd been pushed back out by the force of the rebound.

Empty.

I looked up and down the corridor. Nothing. No movement, no noise, only a dilapidated corridor with peeling paper and piles of rubble.

Disappointment added to the heavy energy that pulsed through my blood with no outlet. I wanted to face my captor, to show them who they were dealing with. I'd been denied, and the power surged in discontent.

But at least the door was open. Just as I was about to step out into the corridor and make a run for it, a flash of reflected light caught my eye.

That wasn't rubble scattered all over the floor. Shards of glass glinted meanly under the florescent tube lighting that ran along the peeling ceiling. The spiky carpet was evenly spread all down the long corridor.

No footprints.

I was not going to think about that right now.

I looked down at my bare feet. Maybe I could rip the fabric of my dress and wrap it around as makeshift shoes. I tore at the material, but the delicate fabric was absolutely unyielding. How was that possible?

Crouching down by the open door I studied the shards. They were scattered evenly, the floor beneath distorted through the refracted angles of the broken pieces.

Reaching down, my hand repelled the formation of the fragments which changed in response to my movement. A small patch of threadbare carpet became visible as the shards of glass parted. I gingerly lowered my foot towards the scattered glass hoping for the same reaction.

Nothing happened.

Gathering my courage, I pushed on until my big toe touched the floor. A sharp pain made me pull back. I sat back on the hard wooden floor of the room to inspect my toe. A drop of crimson blood welled out of the cut.

The glass glinted, mocking me.

I limped over to the door, and slammed it shut. What the hell kind of prison was this?

"Hey, come and get me, you bastard!" My voice rang out, clear and loud, an echo repeating my challenge over and over with no-one to hear.

The power that my adrenaline had generated was a dead weight now. Pooled at my core with no outlet, a sludge of lethargy and dejection it slithered through my veins; unused magic corrupting my limbs and organs. I fell back on the bed, giving in to it.

All I could do was wait, reliving every encounter since moving to the priory. Stewing on every miniscule detail, every syllable of every word of every conversation, I tried to fathom the reason for my confinement.

If it wasn't Thomas, the list of culprits was short.

My enemy had to be a witch.