Trickery (Curse of the Gods #1)

I backed up and out of the room. No way in hell was I walking in there. Even though Yael was hard-core as all hell, he could not take on a thousand sols if they decided to tear me limb from limb. I liked my limbs right where they were.

The double doors closed in front of my face and the pace of my breathing began to speed up: in and out, in and out; the air shuddering past my lips. I couldn’t do this. The gods were going to mess everything up and there was a high possibility that someone was going to get hurt. What if it wasn’t just me? What if Emmy or one of the Abcurses were caught in the crossfire?

The ache in my chest was present again. Yael wasn’t close enough to me now and my stupid broken soul was letting me know. Plus, I was still backing up. Fear had my feet moving before the reasonable side of my brain could catch up. Of course, there was one problem … backing up meant that I wasn’t looking where I was going. Thin, graceful arms wrapped around my middle and before I could call for help, a ball of material was shoved in my mouth and a heavy cloth dropped over my eyes. Darkness shrouded most of my senses as I fought against whoever held me.

They were far too strong for my struggling, and more than one set of hands grabbed me as they moved away. I heard shouts, more than a few actually, but a stern and familiar voice shut them down quickly.

Elowin.

Holy crap. The dweller-relations committee had just kidnapped me. No need to worry about the rest of Blesswood. This was the moment I was turned into bullsen fodder.

Yael! I screamed for him through our mental link. He was the closest, with the best chance of reaching me. My concentration felt a little shaky though, probably because the pain in my chest was threatening to tear me apart. After a few more hurried steps, the fine tendrils of light which had been seeping through the woven material of the bag over my head lessened, and we were now descending. The air was cooler, the light almost non-existent.

I’d stopped struggling a little, hoping that they would ease up on their tight grip. So far, though, Elowin and her hench-dudes were staying diligent. If anything, their grips were getting tighter, which was more discomfort to add to my pain.

“Hurry,” Elowin’s cold voice echoed around, sounding creepy as hell. From the muted echo of their footsteps, I guessed that they were leading me down into an area of stone. “The distraction will only work for so long before they realise it isn’t actually the dweller.”

What distraction? I tried to scream out again, but the gag was wedged in my mouth crazy good, and my chest was also trying to splinter into a million pieces, which made doing anything difficult. Tears ran down my cheeks, soaking into the fabric surrounding my head. I knew that I needed to stop crying before my mouth filled with liquid and I suffocated, but the pain was so intense that my tears continued to fall without any hope of stopping them.

The descent levelled out after a few more steps, and whoever held me let go, flinging me easily across the room. All of the air was knocked out of me when I hit the floor, skidding a few feet across the stones, pain now screaming up my back and sides. It fit in well with the chest pain. They were all friends coming together for a little pain-party. It had been hard enough to breathe through my gag, but the blow to my body had me gasping and wriggling around like a dying dweller. Probably something I was about to become.

Forcing myself to calm, trying my best to ignore the pain, I focused on the simple task of getting air into my lungs. Simple and easy. In and out. Except of course my attackers were still in the room, and they were so not done with me yet.

The bag was ripped off my head, and since I hadn’t been expecting it, I ended up smashing my skull into the stone floor with the sudden motion. Stars danced before my eyes and I fought through whatever darkness was trying to claim me. If I blacked out, I was definitely going to end up dead.

Rome! Coen! Abcurses … come on assholes. Hear me!

The screaming for the sols continued in my head, even though I had already resigned myself to having to get out of this mess without any help. That was the way of Willa Knight. Lone Soldier. Professional Escaper of Death. Once the ringing cleared in my head, I was able to scramble up to my feet and back away from the three sols across from me. When there was a little distance between us, I tore the material from my mouth, licking out with my tongue in an attempt to moisten my lips. They tasted salty, my tears still trailing along my cheeks.

I didn’t have to wonder why Elowin was letting me back up, from what I could see, the room was small, circular, and made of thick stone. She stood with her muscle-sols in front of the only entrance: a heavy stone door with metal bars for reinforcement.