Page 1 of Songbird
Chapter 1 – Izzy
“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
Safe.
I knew that word, like an old friend whose face was no longer clear in my memory. A concept I should recognize but had long since forgotten.
The relief of a cool, wet cloth touched my forehead, and I tried to open my eyes, but couldn’t find the strength.
“It’s okay, just lie still.”
The female voice was soothing, and the feel of her hands on my skin felt sure and caring. A doctor perhaps?
“We’re going to get you out of here, I promise.” Another female voice, belonging to the one holding the cloth that wiped over my face.
I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to say anything. I opened my mouth to try but the sound was lost to the razor blades lining my throat.
“Hakkar, what does the medi-unit show?” The first female, definitely a doctor.
“It is not good.” A male voice this time, deepened with concern. “There is much scar tissue in her throat. I don’t see how she’s been getting any nutrition.”
I hadn’t been, only water and broth, every swallow choking and painful, so much that I hadn’t made the effort at all in the last few days.
The touch of the cloth on my face stilled, and I felt the hand that held it tremble.
“Holy shit. Agnes, do you know who this is?”
“No. Why? Do you recognize her Clara?” Agnes—the doctor—ran her hands along the side of my throat, palpating. I wanted to scream at the agony of her touch, but the only sound issuing from my ravaged throat was a croak, like that of a sickly frog.
“I think….” The second female—Clara—began, her voice careful. “I think this is Isabella Rayne.”
I knew those words too. A name. Once my name. Flashes of memory screamed through my head. My name blinking in lights on the marquee at Madison Square Garden. The sound of it falling from Taylor Swift’s lips as she handed me a gold-plated gramophone. The deafening chant from fans as I took the stage at Wembley Stadium.
“Shit.” Agnes breathed, growing still. “I remember reading about her disappearance.”
“About a year before we were abducted.” Clara added, the sadness in her tone laying over me like a blanket.
Abducted.
I knew that word too. I knew that it referred to the moment I’d walked into the small private garden at the rear of the Gorge Amphitheatre. My ritual—a moment alone to gather my thoughts and courage before little Izzy Rayne from Natchitoches, Louisiana took the stage and becameIsabella Rayne. Except this time the ritual was interrupted by large men in black overcoats and hats. Men who took me aboard a small spaceship and through the stars. To a place where a cruel being named Kayzon, who looked like Big Foot, made me sing until my throat bled, then whipped me and made me sing some more. When my voice was too destroyed to make anything more than a garble, he’d thrown me in the cold, stone dungeon beneathhis residence. Thankfully, according to Kayzon, I’d become too skinny to eat.
“Do you think they put her through the Garoot Healer?” Clara asked, her soft fingertips smoothing the hair from my forehead. Her touch reminded me of my mother. My mother, who’d devoted her life to prodding me toward stardom. How had she handled my disappearance?
“No.” Hakkar answered, concern edging his deep tone. “But we will have to. There is no saving her otherwise.”
I wanted to tell them not to bother, but didn’t possess the energy to speak.
“It’s okay.” Agnes again, as her cool touch circled my wrist, fingertips settling just above my pulse. “We’re going to get you back to theBardagaand fix you right up.”
Fix me. I knew those words too. But I could never be fixed, not really. My voice was gone.
Something boomed from outside, and the sounds of ruckus floated into this dark, cold place.
Hakkar made a sound that resembled amusement. “We need to get out of here before Daicon blows this building up too.”
I felt him shift beside me and large hands slid beneath my knees and shoulders. My skin and bones screamed with agony as he lifted me and a low, garbled moan escaped my lips.
“Wait.” Agnes’ voice was firm as her hand came to rest on my shoulder. “She’s in too much pain.”
