Page 85 of The Prom

“I was heading to prom when I got a call to meet someone. It was a guy I know, someone you don’t ignore.” His voice falters and he whispers, “His name is Christian Duprey.”

It’s as if a samurai sword is shaving off parts of my heart one by one as fear grips my soul. If Christian Duprey has Imogen, this is worse than I thought.

“I met him in the drama department, where he told me that tonight was my final act and I was to bring my victim to the house at Redrock. To kidnap her, to–” He falters and my knuckles turn white against the steering wheel.

“Anyway, I told him I wasn’t doing it. That I was done with his society and wanted no part of it. He was angry. He told me I had let the society down, that I had failed my probation and he would punish me by taking something I cared about.”

Jesse’s voice shakes and his painful gasp causes me concern as his hand presses against his head.

“I tried to get away. I saw the madness in his eyes but he flew at me and I’m embarrassed to admit he overpowered me. I felt a blow to my head and woke up tied to the chair, minus my costume. The bastard even took my socks. I couldn’t move and my head hurt like hell. It still does, but all I could think of was Imogen.”

“And then I found you.” I heave a sigh. “Thank God I did, because now we at least stand a chance of saving her.”

“How?” Jesse sounds worried. “You don’t know who you’re up against. The man is psychotic, they all are?”

“Then it’s a fucking good job I’m more of a psycho than them.”

My voice is grim, my heart breaking and my resolve overflowing. I failed Imogen. I let her out of my sight and if anything happens to her, I doubt I can live with that.

I’m also concerned about Jesse. His breathing is fast and I’m aware how head wounds can bite when you least expect it.This isn’t good and I check my watch and note we will arrive at the house in thirty minutes. I calculate that Ryder will get there around the same time and if Imogen was taken somewhere, I only have Jesse’s word on that.

I last saw her twenty minutes ago. Therefore they have a twenty minutes head start on us and a lot can happen in that time. It’s a fine line between life and death and my blood runs cold when I face the fact we could be too late.

Jesse is battling consciousness and I say loudly, “Tell me about the society.”

I need him to remain focused and talking will help with that.

“It’s not a club anyone should join.” His voice is bitter, as if he is finally facing the facts, and he groans. “It started off as a game. Fucking the pretty teacher was a tick on my college list. I didn’t expect her to be so depraved and it kind of excited me.”

His painful gasp isn’t good and his voice is dimming as he whispers, “She drugged me, messed with my mind and promised me deliverance from the desperate future my folks had planned out for me. She was offering a lot, and I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Those early days were exciting. I couldn’t get enough and then the drugs kicked in and altered my mind and I changed inside. I would do anything to please her. It became increasingly difficult to do that and, combined with the drugs affecting my mind, the things she asked of me started to feel ordinary. There would be no consequences, just more of a high, and I was chasing that harder than a forbidden fuck with an older woman.”

His breathing is labored, and I put in the call and as he passes out, I will get nothing more from him. Jesse is a victim just as much as Imogen, and I will not let anything happen to him, not on my watch. Despite everything he came through in the end and my anger turns toward one man.

Christian Duprey. He will not survive the night. Not if I have anything to do with it, because when the Grim Reaper comes calling, the only place you’re going is straight to hell.

FORTY-THREE

IMOGEN

I must be dreaming. My eyes are heavy and I’m obviously in bed because I’m lying down, but I can’t open my eyes. They are so heavy and impossible to move.

I attempt to move and my hands are like lead weights. I can’t even lift them. It’s the same with my feet. Am I paralyzed?

The fog in my brain begins to clear and as the memories come rushing back, they bring fear with them as an unwelcome passenger.

That man wasn’t Jesse. He was dressed like Jesse, but his voice was cold, unfeeling and brutal.

He is going to kill you.

Even my inner voice sounds panicked and yet I’m not relaxing at all. Just lying in state, almost. Waiting for death. Waiting for him to end it.

“She’s waking up.”

It’s a familiar voice. One I can’t place and yet my eyes remain tightly closed. They don’t want to cooperate at all.

“Good.” The rough voice of my captor grates on my nerve endings and yet I still can’t react or move.

“Are they ready?”

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