awakened and he questioned her, he’d be rid of her for good.
But what to do with her in the interim? He couldn’t stay here and be this close to her. He jabbed at the fire again and scowled at the spitting flames that consumed her purse and blackened the smiley face on her wallet. Abruptly it occurred to him what he could do with her.
Nina awakened, her forehead pounding. Moldy dank air filled her senses and drew her brows together. A pain shot through her forehead. It all came back to her now: being chased by the seniph, bumping into the limb.
She reached up to rub her forehead but found her hands bound with duct tape. Her knees and ankles, too, mummy-style. Then she recalled the seniph chasing her. He must be holding her prisoner. Dread gripped her, and her eyes flew open.
Overhead a hazy dim bulb burned from a bare socket. It hung from a bare rafter in the center of the room, throwing dim golden shadows around her. She was in a dungeon—no, there were shelves and shelves of wine bottles packed around her. A wine cellar?
She raised her head and noticed she was lying on an old army cot. Someone had thrown a bunch of blankets over her—not very clean ones, either. They were moth-eaten and grease-stained and looked as if they had been down here longer than the wine. So her captor had tied her up in this horrible place, but worried about her comfort. How thoughtful.
She guessed she should be grateful she was still alive. That really didn’t make her feel much better—especially now. So much for positive thinking.
Something rustled and chattered near her. The sensations of insatiable hunger and curiosity filtered into her thoughts. She shifted her gaze to the floor as two small creatures scurried beneath the cot, their long tails swishing, their feet making a delicate pitter-patter on the brick floor. Rats. The least of her worries.
The resourceful little rodents tested the legs on the cot to see if it would hold. Rats weren’t so bad. She was always finding them and nursing them back to health. They were intelligent creatures and appreciative and always sad they wouldn’t be able to talk to her anymore when she released them back out into the wild. She’d also helped rat owners when their pets were going through some emotional trauma. Most of the time they were just plain lonely and the installation of another rat into their cage did the trick.
It was the were-rats you had to watch. They marauded through urban areas at night. When they shifted, they turned into city rats as large as labs, but not as friendly. They’d grab humans in a minute and pull them down through a sewer drain and make a tasty meal of them. Lord help anyone who ventured down into their sewer territories uninvited. If she had to go down to discover the source of a shiver, she had to clear it with the local “king” first. And each city had its own monarch. It wasn’t a pleasant experience dealing with were-rats. Regular rats received most of the blame for the damagewere-rats left behind. Didn’t seem fair. Maybe man would one day recognize his ignorance.
The industrious rats found a way to lever their bodies against the wall and the cot legs, then clambered up beside her. They reared up on their hind legs and sniffed the air for her fear. When they found none of the usual human dread that accompanied the sight of them, their eyes gleamed and their whiskers quivered. Their curiosity overcame the last of their reticence, and they crawled cautiously toward her.
“That’s right, come on,” Nina cooed, though she knew they couldn’t understand her yet. If it had been their spirits she was communicating with, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but in their present living state she had to touch them to give them an order they couldn’t refuse.
One of the rats grew bold and edged along her legs and sniffed the blanket covering her legs and thighs. The other followed, its pink nose twitching. Brave One scampered up her leg and
But what to do with her in the interim? He couldn’t stay here and be this close to her. He jabbed at the fire again and scowled at the spitting flames that consumed her purse and blackened the smiley face on her wallet. Abruptly it occurred to him what he could do with her.
Nina awakened, her forehead pounding. Moldy dank air filled her senses and drew her brows together. A pain shot through her forehead. It all came back to her now: being chased by the seniph, bumping into the limb.
She reached up to rub her forehead but found her hands bound with duct tape. Her knees and ankles, too, mummy-style. Then she recalled the seniph chasing her. He must be holding her prisoner. Dread gripped her, and her eyes flew open.
Overhead a hazy dim bulb burned from a bare socket. It hung from a bare rafter in the center of the room, throwing dim golden shadows around her. She was in a dungeon—no, there were shelves and shelves of wine bottles packed around her. A wine cellar?
She raised her head and noticed she was lying on an old army cot. Someone had thrown a bunch of blankets over her—not very clean ones, either. They were moth-eaten and grease-stained and looked as if they had been down here longer than the wine. So her captor had tied her up in this horrible place, but worried about her comfort. How thoughtful.
She guessed she should be grateful she was still alive. That really didn’t make her feel much better—especially now. So much for positive thinking.
Something rustled and chattered near her. The sensations of insatiable hunger and curiosity filtered into her thoughts. She shifted her gaze to the floor as two small creatures scurried beneath the cot, their long tails swishing, their feet making a delicate pitter-patter on the brick floor. Rats. The least of her worries.
The resourceful little rodents tested the legs on the cot to see if it would hold. Rats weren’t so bad. She was always finding them and nursing them back to health. They were intelligent creatures and appreciative and always sad they wouldn’t be able to talk to her anymore when she released them back out into the wild. She’d also helped rat owners when their pets were going through some emotional trauma. Most of the time they were just plain lonely and the installation of another rat into their cage did the trick.
It was the were-rats you had to watch. They marauded through urban areas at night. When they shifted, they turned into city rats as large as labs, but not as friendly. They’d grab humans in a minute and pull them down through a sewer drain and make a tasty meal of them. Lord help anyone who ventured down into their sewer territories uninvited. If she had to go down to discover the source of a shiver, she had to clear it with the local “king” first. And each city had its own monarch. It wasn’t a pleasant experience dealing with were-rats. Regular rats received most of the blame for the damagewere-rats left behind. Didn’t seem fair. Maybe man would one day recognize his ignorance.
The industrious rats found a way to lever their bodies against the wall and the cot legs, then clambered up beside her. They reared up on their hind legs and sniffed the air for her fear. When they found none of the usual human dread that accompanied the sight of them, their eyes gleamed and their whiskers quivered. Their curiosity overcame the last of their reticence, and they crawled cautiously toward her.
“That’s right, come on,” Nina cooed, though she knew they couldn’t understand her yet. If it had been their spirits she was communicating with, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but in their present living state she had to touch them to give them an order they couldn’t refuse.
One of the rats grew bold and edged along her legs and sniffed the blanket covering her legs and thighs. The other followed, its pink nose twitching. Brave One scampered up her leg and
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