"Hello?"
Big surprise, no one answered. Oh, how she didn't like this.
Okay, girl. Don't panic. Not that she was particularly prone to panic, but...She wasn't used to being locked in rooms that looked like they'd been taken off a Hammer movie set either.
Great. I've been captured by Boris Karloff.
A low sinister laugh whispered in her ears. "I'm not exactly Boris and he's not the actor you're thinking about anyway. That would be Peter Cushing. Never dawned on me before that they favored, but I'll give you that. However I do have one thing in common with both--"
"You abduct women?"
"Not as a rule, but I do tend to creep people out. At least those who have common sense."
She turned around trying to locate a source for the voice. It seemed to be all around her and again, she picked up nothing from him. How could this keep happening?
Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.
Because right now, she wanted that power back in the worst sort of way. It was only now that she understood just what a blessing it'd always been. She always knew where she stood with other people. Always knew what they were thinking and what kind of person they were.
Now...nada.
Yeah, bring me back my weirdness.
"Who are you?" she tried again.
He tsked at her in that deep, provocative tone that sent a shiver over her. "You don't really care about my name, sugar. You want to know why you're here."
"Yes, yes I do." She moved around the room and his voice followed her. Was he a ghost?
Or a figment of her imagination?
"I'm here to keep you safe."
Why didn't she believe that? Oh wait, because she was a prisoner being held by a man who didn't even have the guts to show his face. She pulled a finial off the bed--that should serve to put a pack in her punch if she had to fight her way out of here. And yet again, nothing came to her from the cold metal.
"Then let me go."
He laughed. "Are we really going to have this conversation. If I were going to let you go, you wouldn't be here. That would suck for both of us. So just make yourself comfortable, Dark-Hunter. You're going to be here for a while."
She felt the presence leave. Oh, this is great. She was trapped in a fluffy, frothy hell and there was no exit in sight. At least you're not pulling images or emotions from the stuff in here.
Yeah, but for once, she needed to. She had to know what she was dealing with.
Closing her eyes, she summoned her powers from deep within and tried to find out who and what held her hostage.
At first there was nothing. Not even a trace. Then a thick fog swirled until she began to see images through it.
In the back of her mind, she saw a gorgeous man with dark blond hair and perfect features. Dressed in medieval armor, he led an army that appeared to have been forged from hell itself. At full speed, with his bloodred pennant rippling in the wind, he raced down a hill and straight into the heart of his enemy to battle them.
Only his enemy wasn't human. It was a legion of demons who were bent on his total annihilation. They tore at him and pulled him off his demon horse, which reared, slashing at them with its black hooves that sent their blood spurting like in a Quentin Tarantino film. Still, even wounded and on foot, he fought them with a rage that would have made him a Dog of War had he been a Dark-Hunter.
He let loose a fierce battle cry as he cut his way through their number, slashing and hacking with his sword. He was a warrior without rival....
Sam pulled back. Why was she seeing that demon knight? Was he the voice she'd heard?
If he was her captor, she was thoroughly screwed. Defeating a man like that would not be easy. If even possible.
Then suddenly the image was gone. She tried to call it back to further understand who and what she'd seen, but it didn't work.
Instead her vision turned to another blond....
Dev. She saw him as a young man with two older men who could have almost passed for his twins. By their clothes, she knew it had to be the late Georgian period. There were the three men and one bear cub hunkered down in the stall of some barn. It was pitch-black and the horses around them were going wild as they tried to escape.
Dev's long hair had begun to come loose from his queue and hung in unruly curls around his teenaged face. His black vest was missing two buttons and there was red blood smeared on his white shirt. "I can fight the Arcadians."
The older bear shook his head. "You're too young, Devereaux. We need you to get Aimee to Papa and Maman. She is our only female. You know she has to survive. We can't let anything happen to her."
"But--"
Gilbert grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shook him hard. "Don't argue with me. We're depending on you, mon frere. Don't let us down."