Alias: The Doyen Series book 1

(8) TRUTH

PICTURE: Aisling's closet. ( Must be nice. Mine's as big as the ottoman. Actually, I think the stool is larger than my bedroom.)

I am being carried.

I came to this realization what feels like ages ago but I cannot speak or even open my eyes to see who it is carrying me.

My mind tells me it must be Kayde because he is the last person I saw.

We burst through a door and he lets it slam with a resounding WHAM! almost like he wants the building's inhabitants to be scared out of their minds.

All they have to see is what you are. Whatever that is, I think cynically.

I am unable to believe what I have seen. Surely, I am mistaken. No one looks like that.

He looked like he wanted to kill me; he did killthose other 2.

Didn't he?

Yet there is still something that connected me to Kayde. Something keeping me from freaking out.

Maybe I am insane after all.

At first, the room is extremely quiet; there isn't a soul around.

And then, all at once, I am surrounded by people and shouting.

"What are you doing here?" I hear a deep voice yell at my capturer.

"What is wrong with her? She can't be here! It's not safe!" I hear a strong frantic feminine voice. I instantly recognize the voice as the one from my nightmares/dreams.

I hear a growl that makes all the hairs on my body stand at attention. "I will killyou. You will suffer to great lengths and begfor the sweet solace of death," he booms, causing the thin walls to shake.

My capturer doesn't even flinch. Instead, he stands more firm. "Witches attacked her in the streets. This is the safest place I could think to bring her," the frantic voice belongs to Kayde.

We are moving again, this time up a flight of stairs. I hear a light switch flip on and a door open.

I am gently engulfed in a cloud of pillows and blankets.

"You wouldn't believe me. But she defended herself. She took out one of them out in self-defense. She was amazing," Kayde went on.

What did I do again? Oh yeah, the whole palm-burning-someone's-face-off-bit.

That really was me?

How?

"Oh I definitely believe it." The growling man is back. "She's a Whitlen. Born to be a fighter," he confirms proudly.

Whitlen? I am a Collins.

They have the wrong chick.

And if I did not have quarter sized cotton balls lodged in my throat, I would have spoken up. Instead, I feel my mind swimming—the signs of another fainting spell.

Great.

Just

freaking

great.

Kayde catches on quickly. "She's passing out. Maybe we should give her some space for a while," he suggests.

I hear grumbles from the others in the room—3 people maybe—but they decide to go towards the door anyways.

Kayde is still sitting next to me on the bed, stroking my hand.

"I know you do not think I am going to stand and let you stay with her," Cranky Pants says.