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Penelope
ABLACK CAR COMES OUTof nowhere like a monster that's about to swallow me up, and my suspicions unfortunately prove true when I hear the old lady behind me speak.
"Get in, please."
Just like that, our roles have been reversed, and I realize all too late that everything about her was a sham.Weak and feeble, my butt.
It was all an act obviously, since the woman I almost mugged now looks more like someone's richbadassgranny with her witchy near-black eyes ablaze with cunning, and her shoulders set firmly back without the slightest hint of a droop.
More cars roll into view, and in a blink of an eye I find myself surrounded by an army of remarkably well-dressed...bodyguards. Or extras for the next Matrix sequel, but presently moonlighting as hitmen.
Either way, the sheer number of them is a not-so-subtle warning about the pointlessness of fighting back or running away, and since I didn't survive living off the streets this long by being stupid—-
I get in, she gets in, and my back immediately knocks against the door as her driver slams his foot on the gas, and the car blazes off like we're practicing for the nextFormula Onerace.
My heart leaps into my throat as we overtake three vehicles in the pastfiveseconds.What the heck?Why bother abducting me when her driver clearly means to kill us before the next stoplight?
My almost-victim-turned-captor raises a brow when she sees my white-knuckled grip on the roof handle. "You have no reason to worry,bambina—-"
I mentally beg to differ, with the traffic lights having just turned red, which her driver then interprets as an encouragement to 'go faster' instead of 'stop'.
"Francisco is a very good driver."
We barely escape crashing into a ten-freaking-wheeler truck from an intersecting lane, and all eighteen years of my life flash before my eyes.
"And anyway, it won't be long before we reach the airport—-"
I think I must've misheard her or something. Did she just say—-
"Sì,bambina.You did not hear incorrectly, and we are indeed heading to the airport."
It's bad enough that I've been abducted, but why does my abductor have to be clairvoyant as well...just like the witch I fear her to be?
"If it makes you feel more comfortable, we're not leaving the country. We just need to get out of New York, and the sooner, the better, too."
I know there's a good chance she won't care to answer, but I ask it anyway. "Why?"
"Because I'm not in charge here."
She looks at me meaningfully when she says this, and I guess that only means one thing, doesn't it?
Wherever she's taking me, it's a place where the old lady's in charge—-and I might as well kiss my chances of escaping goodbye.
"You have a very expressive face,bambina."
The crafty sound of the other woman's voice reminds me of witches with an appetite for the tender hearts of virgins...like yours truly (the virgin part, I mean, since I've always been more the thorny than tender type).
"I know you have no reason to trust me, but surely there's no harm if you listen to what I have to say first?"
––––––––
IWARN MYSELF AGAINSTbelieving anything she says, but by the time she's done talking, I end up questioning her sanity instead. Is she really saying what I think she's saying? Does she really expect me to believe that everything that happened today...is nothing but an elaborate scheme to determine if I'm a 'decent' human being?
"You obviously don't believe me," she observes, "but maybe you'll change your mind if you see this..."
Holy shit.
I panic the moment I see the old lady reach into her purse.
