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"Hon? I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I can. Look after your sister, okay? Love you."
She disconnected, then, without a word to me, cast a spell. An energy bolt slammed into me, and I dropped into darkness again.
CAPTIVE AUDIENCE
I WOKE TO MOLLY SLAPPING MY FACE.
At first, I could only moan. Everything hurt, as if I'd been dragged over rocky ground. As I inhaled, that's what I smelled: damp earth. Trees too, that crisp odor of autumn. And another scent, fainter and not nearly so pleasant--rotting vegetation and brackish water.
Quiet. Very quiet. The sigh of rustling leaves yet to fall. The soft, almost tentative call of a bird. The creak of a broken branch in the wind.
Lying on the ground. Damp earth, the ripe smell of it surrounding me. Something digging into my spine--a rock or a twig.
Another smack, harder.
I opened my eyes to see trees, and more trees. No sign of the SUV. Or the road. Or people. Just Molly, crouched in front of me.
She grabbed my hair and wrenched my head to the side, calling my attention to the source of that rotting smell--a swamp visible through the trees. "Who sent you?"
The threat was clear: if I didn't talk, there was a convenient body-disposal site nearby. She ripped the duct tape off my mouth, taking a layer of skin with it. When I gasped and paused to catch my breath, she cuffed me again and I glared at her.
"I don't know what this is about, but--"
She slapped the tape back on, then laid her hands on my forearm and recited a spell. It was like I'd spilled boiling water on my arm--a moment of confusion followed by blinding pain. I screamed behind my gag, more outrage than fear.
When I turned a fresh glare on her, she only smiled. "Didn't like that much, did you? Maybe I should come up with an inducement better suited to the lovely Jaime Vegas."
She backed up on her haunches, looked around and found a twig. Another spell, then she lifted it and put her finger to the end, making it glow like a lit cigarette. She brought the burning end so close to my cheek I could feel the heat.
My heart hammered but I resisted the urge to shut my eyes.
"I'll bet you wouldn't find it so easy to make a living with scars on your pretty face."
She moved the twig even closer. An ember dropped onto my cheek and I jumped, then held firm. Molly wielded the twig like a pen, pretending to write.
"Perhaps a nice big W. Let the world know what the rest of us think of you--a whore who uses her gifts to make a quick buck."
The tip touched my skin. I gritted my teeth and steeled myself. I wouldn't think about what she could do--to me and my career.
"Or maybe that's still not incentive enough..." Molly said.
She lifted the stick until it was level with my right eye. I instinctively tried to close it, but found myself caught in a binding spell, my eyes glued open, that brand coming closer, the end glowing red hot.
My brain went wild with panic.
Molly laughed. "That's better. Now, let's get this over with or you're going to have a hell of a time fumbling your way from this forest blind." She said it as casually as if she were threatening to break my fingernails.
She stood, stretching her legs, and circled me. "The person who sent you here. It was Mike, wasn't it?"
For a second, my brain just whirred. Who was Mike? Then I remembered. Her dead common-law husband.
She made no move to remove my gag, just kept circling me, brandishing the burning twig. For one moment, I felt the almost irresistible urge to giggle, thinking I've seen this scene. Only this wasn't a B movie and, no matter how ridiculous it looked--this suburban mom playing evil interrogator--there was nothing funny about it. She could do exactly what she was threatening, and from the look in her eye, she would. She'd put out my eyes to get the information she wanted, kill me and dispose of my body in the swamp, then call her kids to remind them to finish their homework before she brought dinner.
"Mike contacted you," she continued, "then you decided to come to me with this silly story about needing help with trapped spirits in return for 'contacting' him. What I want to know is why. Did the council send you? Or are you acting on your own, hoping to collect a bribe for not going to the council?"
With a jolt, the pieces fit together in the only way that made sense. What could her dead lover tell me that the council would investigate? Or that I could blackmail her with to avoid an investigation? Proof that the grieving widow wasn't so heartbroken after all.
"Ready to talk?" Molly said, crouching in front of me.
