Page 26 of Her Magic Light

“Sure. Would you expect anything different?”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I nodded. Nothing Locke had just said made sense—except the idea that Gus and Jude didn’t like each other a whole lot. That, I could get behind because neither of them seemed like guys I’d want to meet in a dark alley. Where were we?

“It’s okay,” Locke assured me. “It really is.”

I glanced at him and clenched my fists. “Doyouget to go home after this is all over, Locke?”

He nodded. “Sure do.”

“Then don’t try to tell me this is okay. Against my will, you’ve taken me from my work and my home, and nothing about this is okay at all. Nothing.” Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I pressed my lips together to keep from crying out in public.

I hadn’t meant to get emotional. Maybe I was just tired, like Locke had said. No. Fuck that. I had been kidnapped by some alphabet agency and brought to an unfamiliar place. Emotional was better than hysterical, and I had a suspicion hysterical wouldn’t take much to trigger.

I glanced at the lady behind the desk. She looked methodically between a pad of paper in front of her and her computer screen like she was transcribing notes. A mundane action, if there ever was one. Everything I saw puzzled me further, and none of it gave me any information on what this place actually was.

This area made it feel like a medical facility, but who knew?

Why would I be in a medical facility?

Mona looked up and would have met my gaze if the sunglasses hadn’t been in the way. “They’re ready for you.”

ten

Locke stood and urged me to my feet. He shoved on my shoulder, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to participate, and I didn’t want to go. My knees locked about halfway up, and Gus sounded like he was growling again… Except the bastard was laughing at me.

Locke studied me, although my shades and his meant I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Standing,” I muttered as I half-crouched in place.

“You appear to be stuck.”

“Thanks. You’re so helpful.” I rolled my eyes as hard as I’d ever rolled them, safe in the knowledge he had no idea. I placed my hands on my thighs.

Then I gathered my strength and pushed until I stood. It was an inelegant move; but I was on my feet next to Locke, so I couldn’t have cared less. I resisted glancing over my shoulder to make a nasty face at Gus. Growly-ass didn’t deserve my time or my attention.

“Which room, Mona?” Locke addressed the lady at the desk, but she didn’t even look up from what she was doing as she focused on her screen.

She just pointed silently at another door I hadn’t noticed, one tucked between the corner of the wall and an overgrown potted plant. How many hidden doors did the waiting room have? I guess it made sense since I couldn’t see well.

I sucked in a breath and fell into step behind Locke as he stepped forward. My hands felt lighter now I could swing them at my sides like usual—like an actual human again. There was something very dehumanizing about being captive and physically bound. Perhaps it even explained why I’d obeyed pretty much every command they’d given me so far.

Locke rapped his knuckles against the door, and I flinched at the sudden sound.

Gus growled his laugh again, and I refused to look at him… again. Perhaps in time I’d be glad my predicament amused him. After all, it didn’t seem like he was any better off than me. He was still in this place, anyway. I studied my toes. Though, he didn’t have a guard following him around.

When he was still laughing as the door opened and I moved forward, I gave in and lifted my glasses behind Locke’s back, sending Gus as much side-eye as I could manage.

He met my gaze for a moment then flinched, bowing his head, and staring at the floor between his spread knees.

Weird.I let the glasses drop back into place and turned, nearly bumping straight into Locke, who’d stopped on his way through the door and was staring at me strangely. “What did you just do?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. The guy has a bad attitude, is all.”

He glanced at Gus. “Yeah, sometimes he does, I guess.” But his tone seemed thoughtful.

We twisted through several empty corridors and ended up in a small office. The walls were white, from what I could tell, the furniture dark and cheap-looking. Flimsy. The kind of stuff they’d bought in big cardboard boxes and built themselves from particle board.

But, hell, since when was I a furniture snob? Most of mine was a cobbled-together selection from local thrift stores and hand-me-downs from well-meaning women in Sweetwater. Very few possessions had made the move with me from Minnesota.

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