***NOTE: to anybody following the story, the aunt's name was changed from Lina to Emily. Yeah, too many "L" names with the unexpected character addition.
Chapter Nine
Jordan
This whole thing, what we knew and what we didn’t, was insanity. Potentially-kidnapped children? An abducted person? And Arie…who knew what really happened to Arie…
I was about to go off the edge. This whole town, my little corner of the world, was unraveling into what it really was. As beautiful and calm as this place seemed to be, I was being plunged under to see what was bubbling beneath. Home wasn’t such a comfort anymore. When was the last time I’d talked to my parents? It must’ve been this morning, but it felt like an eternity with all of the questions I needed answered. And really, I couldn’t even ask them.
Lane’s hand reached to grip my shoulder gently, and I edged him off, annoyed. Drinking was such a peeve of mine. He stared at me with drooping eyes that now looked liquidized, like they could just pool out as easy as a pair of puddles on a sidewalk. I wasn’t in the forgiving mood, not when one friend was gone and Lane was the only other person I could even consider trusting.
We all jumped when the doorbell rang, but I rushed to answer it. The person standing there surprised us all. “Lauren?”
In stepped Lauren Payne, a sophomore I didn’t know all that well. She was a lot more popular than I was, even being a year younger than me, I knew that, but she was also one of the nicer in her social class. That still didn’t mean she was exactly friends with any of us. I passed a quick glance inside, but then turned back and said, “Um, do you need something?”
“I was told that Lane was here,” she explained. By the remote slur in her voice, I could tell Lane hadn’t been the only person drinking. Not to mention her breath reeked.
“How did you know--?”
I was cut off when Lane bumped me to the side. “Hey, Lauren,” he said, a little hesitantly. “Did you need something?”
I bumped back, pushing my way through part of the doorway. “How’d you know Lane came here?”
“What do you mean?” she asked blankly.
“I mean, this isn’t even his house. How’d you know he’d be here at--” I looked at my wristwatch, “—11 at night?”
She opened her mouth to reply, when a sleek black car pulled to the curb. Uncle Noah got up, staring out the window. “Oh, boy.”
“What?” Lane and I said simultaneously.
“Get in the house,” he urged, pushing past us. He stopped to lean over and whisper in my ear, “and head to the basement.”
I didn’t know what was going on, but I motioned Lane and Aunt Emily towards the kitchen. Turning to Lauren, I said, “Sorry, but we really have to--”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, taking the large barrette clipping her hair back, letting it fall over her shoulders. “I completely understand.”
My heart thudded; turning her clip over, Lauren revealed the hidden bladed side. With a simple flick of her finger it shot outward into a hand-knife. “You’re on their side?!” I knew there was no time or reason for me to stand around for an answer, and backed towards the open arch into the kitchen where Emily and Lane were waiting. I didn’t know where Uncle Noah was, but I had a feeling there were still important blanks that needed filling. In the meantime, I wasn’t all that prepared to face the fiery blonde that stood intensely at the doorway. I pressed against the wall as she slunk towards me in a single glide, her movements quick even with the lingering effects of alcohol that made her sway a little like a tree on a windy day. The knife was cold on the edge of my jaw. For a second I thought, for whatever dumb reason, Well, this sucks. Why was that the only thing to enter my mind? No heroic plan or courageous last words. No witty remark or deep, virtuous thought. All I could think was Damn, I’m going to die. My subconscious clearly had some psychological issues.
The one good thing about lacking all ability to panic, the way I always have, is that I can keep my head. I bit hard on my lower lip to avoid giving any tell with a smile. I didn’t exactly have an entire arsenal, but I did have one thing. My right foot shifted slowly to the right, onto the welcome mat, and what was beneath it scraped along the floor towards my feet.
I’d taken the knife from Lane as soon as he wasn’t paying attention. Everybody knows the never-give-a-knife-to-a-Sinclair law, but letting a drunken Lane Sumlin pocket it is an even worse move. Darting fast enough that she couldn’t hack me to pieces, I ducked around and clutched it in my hand. Lauren’s knife breezed my side; if it had released a thin stream of fire across my hip, it would’ve felt no different. Before I could yelp, I raised a hand to keep my mouth shut; of course, it hurt too much to scream anyway. My teeth were so tight together I almost doubted that I’d ever be able to unclamp my jaw again. Still, I lifted the knife to Lauren’s throat, and hers returned to mine. “Listen, Blondie,” I growled, my voice trembling painfully, “kill me if you want, I don’t think you have it in you anyway. Not completely. But I think we both know that I do. I could slit your throat without batting an eye.” Lies. “So drop the knife and let’s haul ass.”
“I--” Her hand shook all the way through to the tips of her manicured fingers. The deep turquoise barrette glinted on one side, every silver flowing gleaming; the bright sheen of the knife glowed on the other.
“Come on,” I said earnestly. “You’re safe with us.”
She didn’t look sure, but the knife was sheathed and I personally felt a whole lot better when it was being used as a hairclip. I didn’t have any better place to put my own than my belt loop, so that was where it stayed. I grabbed Lauren’s arm, leading her into the kitchen and opening the wooden door. Lane was waiting outside of it impatiently, arms crossed and thoughts distant. We entered and shut the door behind us, following the old steps led the three of us downward, fogged by the darkness where we could just barely see Aunt Emily make her way around the corner. “Wait,” I whispered to Lauren and Lane. There were footsteps inside the house, and I heard Noah’s voice, along with others.
“You sure they went this way--?”
“I-I honestly don’t know, Stella,” Noah’s voice replied.
“And where are you goin’ without your glasses, pal?” I knew that voice, too. Parson.
“They got a little banged up.”
Parson’s broad laughter spanned the room beyond the door. “Typical Noah. Not to sound rude, No, but your house is a bit of a mess today, isn’t it? What happened to the plant out there?”
“I think we have more important things to discuss,” interrupted a third voice, male’s. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
There was a low buzz of intermingled words, and it seemed like they reached a verdict. The man’s voice said, “Sinclair, if you won’t tell us we can get it ourselves. We’ve been tracking you. How do you think we found out that you snitched?”
Noah’s response was too low to hear, but the indignant tone said enough.
“It’s only been on you for about eight hours, No. See, there’s been a breach--”
“Shut up, Parson!” the man intervened. “Stella, what do you suggest?”
I couldn’t see her, but I imagined that beyond the door stood a strict-looking woman in a business suit, with a pair of pursed disapproving lips that were the only sign of emotion on her face. “Unless he sides with us, we have to kill him.”
“Get Aunt Emily out, now,” I whispered to Lane. I released Lauren’s wrist. “Take your girlfriend too.”
His face turned red. “She’s not my--”
“Just go,” I ordered impatiently. “There’s a window that’ll lead you to the backyard. It’s kind of a squeeze though.”
“We’ll manage,” he decided. “Come on, Lauren.”
She gave me one last glance, a little untrusting, and I wondered how much she knew. Honestly, I couldn’t have killed her, but she didn’t seem so sure. Her place in the operation, whatever was going on, seemed to make her wary. Maybe if we were lucky, she’d lead us to Arie. It would just take time to win her over.
I wanted to slap myself in the face. I hadn’t been listening to anything going on beyond the door, and now I pressed my ear against it.
My heart fluttered as broken as a dinged-winged moth, because between voices was a sound that anybody could’ve identified.
A gunshot cracked, scuffling rubbed against the tile floor, and a second shot brought silence.
There might be a few typos, but those generally are just honest mistakes. :p
I just thought I'd bring up that it sticks out as a little off.
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