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“Most likely they’ll take us in, ask a few questions, and release us in a few hours for lack of cause.” He wasn’t exactly lying. Usually, in the case of a non-crime, that would be the norm. But Marissa seemed to think her office might not be exactly following the rules.
“And if they don’t?” Daphne countered.
“Then I guess you’ll be justified in using force to escape.”
Let there be carnage!
Baptiste hoped not. He only had one more clean outfit.
Chapter 10
Daphne readied herself to fight only to hesitate at the Earth Mother’s command. Don’t fight the arrest.
While obedient, she did question. What about my mission?
Despite how it might seem, this will actually help you to achieve your goal.
She had to wonder how but trusted the Mother. What if they try to harm me?
Then do what you must to stay alive.
“Ready?” Baptiste asked with his hand on the door.
“Yes. And you’ll be glad to know I won’t hurt them so long as they don’t harm me.” She reluctantly re-sheathed her daggers.
“Fair enough.” He opened the door, but she stepped out first to shouts of, “Hands in the air. Drop your weapons.”
“Which is it? If I do one, I can’t do the other,” was her cheeky reply as she noted the many guns—and glowing hands—aimed her way.
“Just put your hands on your head,” the woman in charge barked. “Any other move and we will use force.”
“Promise?” Daphne dared them to try because then she wouldn’t be bound by the Mother’s demand. She did obey, though, and put her hands atop her head. As if that would slow her down if she had to act.
Amateurs.
Someone approached with heavy-looking manacles of iron. Pure iron. The one thing a dryad detested because it impeded her ability to talk to the Mother.
It’s okay, my champion. Let them think you are cooperating.
Think indeed. These idiots obviously had no idea what she was capable of. Then again, they’d never met a dryad like her.
The Mother’s reassurance didn’t stop her grimace as they clamped the cold metal around her wrists and confiscated her daggers. The instant loss of contact with the Earth jarred, especially so soon after her release. She’d spent four hundred years cut off from the Mother, but it wouldn’t kill her to do it again if it served the mission.
As Ralph—the man she should have slapped when she got a chance—herded her towards the vehicle, Baptiste emerged from the house, hands laced on his head. Offering himself up meekly. Peacefully.
The agents didn’t care.
He bellowed as a net of silver dropped on him from above, encasing his entire body.
So much for not fighting arrest. The big man thrashed and pushed at the webbing, horror and fear twisting his expression. The beast didn’t like being nullified.
“Hold still!” yelled the woman. “Where’s the silver cuffs?”
Someone trotted over and Baptiste held still, but not easily. She could see the trembling in his frame. He winced as the silver cuffs went around his wrists. They also added a set to his legs attached by a long chain that allowed him to do a shuffling walk that jingled because of all the silver.
“This isn’t necessary,” he grumbled.
“We don’t take chances with murderers,” was the woman’s cold reply.
