hopped onto her stomach.
She opened her fingers as wide as her bound wrists would allow and grabbed the rat by his neck. Gotcha, my friend!
He struggled in fear for a second; then her thoughts worked through him and he became pliant. She gave him a mental order. His free will balked for a nanosecond; then he relaxed and began gnawing on the duct tape between her wrists.
The second rat, a female, very pregnant, couldn’t stay away. Mrs. Rat crawled up Nina’s hip and perched in the hollow of her stomach. Hello to you, too. Nina strokedthe rat with her index finger, and it looked content and a little dreamy-eyed. Join your partner, thank you . She felt the rodent’s will become her own, then released it.
The female scrambled down her legs and paused near her ankles. She felt a light tugging as the rodent chewed on the duct tape.
You’re good little soldiers.
They seemed content with the praise.
She decided to take advantage of them once more and asked, Where am I?
Van Cleave mansion, Brave One answered.
Good eating in the winery. Lots of grapes. Tasty, not like this nasty tape.
Sorry. Is the owner a seniph? She prayed the answer would be no, but she had a gut feeling her prayers were futile.
Yah-uh. Kane Van Cleave. We don’t go near him. Seniphs aren’t good. Make us afraid. We stay down here.
We don’t want to die. Can’t, can’t, can’t. Mrs. Rat’s thoughts broke into the conversation.
Her captor’s name was Kane Van Cleave. Her stomach clenched at the thought of him. She grew impatient waiting for her liberators to finish their job and asked, Are there windows down here?
No, no, no. Only one way in and out for humans—the stairs.
In a few minutes, the rats freed her. Nina jerked off the rest of the tape, stretched her wrists and her ankles, then rolled off the cot and pulled down her sweater.
She watched the rats scamper off into the shadows.
Now to escape without detection, hopefully. She found the staircase, eased up the stairs and reached the door. Gently, she tested the knob.
Locked.
She headed back down, hating that she was losing precious seconds. After a frantic search, she came up empty-handed. She had to elicit the rats’ help again. They pointed her to a cabinet that held a bucket with old tools. She grabbed the flat-head screwdriver and sneaked back up the stairs.
After some careful twisting and jamming, she paused and listened at the door.
Nothing.
She eased the door open only wide enough to peer through.
Four gas sconces burned in a long hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. The ceilings had to be twenty feet in height. Dark mahogany wainscoting covered the walls. Beautifully carved rosettes and lions in different poses decorated the paneling. Gilded laurels and vines of flowers outlined the ceiling tiles. She could see a window at the end of the hall. Not just any window, but a massive arched thing at least fifteen feet high. It would have looked at home in a castle. Elaborate stained glass covered every inch. A huge letter V slashed across the middle, cleaving the glass into thirds. Ivy crept along the V and formed weird hieroglyphic-looking symbols. The darkness behind the window didn’t do the work of art justice. She wondered how late it was and how long she’d been down in the basement.
The opulence and size of the mansion lent it a hollow,uninviting feel that consumed everything, that seemed to say, “Enter at your own risk.” Nina much preferred her grandmother’s tiny rancher, where she had grown up. This place was too formal and austere, and, what was even worse, Kane Van Cleave could be lurking somewhere in this place.
She gulped, then made sure the coast was clear and quickly opened the door, hoping the hinges wouldn’t creak. They moaned, but softly. Her shoes hissed on the Persian hall runner. Gritting her teeth, she tiptoed down the hall.
She could only turn left into another hall. This mansion felt like a giant labyrinth with no escape. A
She opened her fingers as wide as her bound wrists would allow and grabbed the rat by his neck. Gotcha, my friend!
He struggled in fear for a second; then her thoughts worked through him and he became pliant. She gave him a mental order. His free will balked for a nanosecond; then he relaxed and began gnawing on the duct tape between her wrists.
The second rat, a female, very pregnant, couldn’t stay away. Mrs. Rat crawled up Nina’s hip and perched in the hollow of her stomach. Hello to you, too. Nina strokedthe rat with her index finger, and it looked content and a little dreamy-eyed. Join your partner, thank you . She felt the rodent’s will become her own, then released it.
The female scrambled down her legs and paused near her ankles. She felt a light tugging as the rodent chewed on the duct tape.
You’re good little soldiers.
They seemed content with the praise.
She decided to take advantage of them once more and asked, Where am I?
Van Cleave mansion, Brave One answered.
Good eating in the winery. Lots of grapes. Tasty, not like this nasty tape.
Sorry. Is the owner a seniph? She prayed the answer would be no, but she had a gut feeling her prayers were futile.
Yah-uh. Kane Van Cleave. We don’t go near him. Seniphs aren’t good. Make us afraid. We stay down here.
We don’t want to die. Can’t, can’t, can’t. Mrs. Rat’s thoughts broke into the conversation.
Her captor’s name was Kane Van Cleave. Her stomach clenched at the thought of him. She grew impatient waiting for her liberators to finish their job and asked, Are there windows down here?
No, no, no. Only one way in and out for humans—the stairs.
In a few minutes, the rats freed her. Nina jerked off the rest of the tape, stretched her wrists and her ankles, then rolled off the cot and pulled down her sweater.
She watched the rats scamper off into the shadows.
Now to escape without detection, hopefully. She found the staircase, eased up the stairs and reached the door. Gently, she tested the knob.
Locked.
She headed back down, hating that she was losing precious seconds. After a frantic search, she came up empty-handed. She had to elicit the rats’ help again. They pointed her to a cabinet that held a bucket with old tools. She grabbed the flat-head screwdriver and sneaked back up the stairs.
After some careful twisting and jamming, she paused and listened at the door.
Nothing.
She eased the door open only wide enough to peer through.
Four gas sconces burned in a long hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. The ceilings had to be twenty feet in height. Dark mahogany wainscoting covered the walls. Beautifully carved rosettes and lions in different poses decorated the paneling. Gilded laurels and vines of flowers outlined the ceiling tiles. She could see a window at the end of the hall. Not just any window, but a massive arched thing at least fifteen feet high. It would have looked at home in a castle. Elaborate stained glass covered every inch. A huge letter V slashed across the middle, cleaving the glass into thirds. Ivy crept along the V and formed weird hieroglyphic-looking symbols. The darkness behind the window didn’t do the work of art justice. She wondered how late it was and how long she’d been down in the basement.
The opulence and size of the mansion lent it a hollow,uninviting feel that consumed everything, that seemed to say, “Enter at your own risk.” Nina much preferred her grandmother’s tiny rancher, where she had grown up. This place was too formal and austere, and, what was even worse, Kane Van Cleave could be lurking somewhere in this place.
She gulped, then made sure the coast was clear and quickly opened the door, hoping the hinges wouldn’t creak. They moaned, but softly. Her shoes hissed on the Persian hall runner. Gritting her teeth, she tiptoed down the hall.
She could only turn left into another hall. This mansion felt like a giant labyrinth with no escape. A
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