Discarded by M. Hunter (fantasy books to read .txt) 📗

air, something familiar that her broken brain just couldn’t quite get at. Continuing across the strip of linoleum, she felt the rough graze of the carpet tiles again, and beyond it the door to freedom.

‘It’s locked,’ a voice called to her from somewhere to her right.

She froze, not having considered the prospect that they wouldn’t leave her alone in the caravan.

The voice was gruff, and lacked the Celtic lilt of Chez. ‘There’s no point in trying to leave. Your parents know you’re with us, and they aren’t out there looking for you. You’re ours now, and the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be.’

She didn’t move, willing her body to wake up so that she could throw herself at the door, in case Grey was lying about it being locked. There was no sign of a key in the lock, so it was possible he was tricking her. After the collapse in the bedroom, she had to be sure the messages would pass to every muscle and nerve of her body.

She could barely get the words out of her mouth without slurring. ‘I want to go home.’

She heard Grey’s movement, but before she could steel herself for an attack, his hands were clasped around her middle and he lifted her effortlessly into the air, her legs and arms unable to hold their fixed position. She was powerless to prevent him carrying her over to the cushioned bench where he now laid her down, flat on her back, but facing him as he retook his place on the stool.

‘That’s better,’ he said, reaching into a small tin and extracting a pinch of tobacco, which he proceeded to sprinkle onto a square of white paper folded between the fingers of his left hand. She could now see just how rough and yellow his fingertips were, though she couldn’t recall seeing them that way when they’d met in the newsagents, and now she remembered he’d been wearing driving gloves.

‘What do you want?’ she tried, closing her eyes to allow her lips to focus on pronouncing the words.

‘That’s entirely up to you,’ he said, as the crinkle of paper confirmed he was now rolling his cigarette. ‘What did Chez tell you about this place?’

She couldn’t exactly recall his words, but he’d spoken about modelling and acting. She shrugged instead.

‘We do very important work here. Chez told me you want to help people, is that right?’

She couldn’t remember telling him that, but as she nodded she felt something warm and wet on her cheek, but couldn’t understand what had sparked the tear.

‘Well, we try to help people here. You have a very unique gift, Joanna – or is it Kylie now? Maybe it’s better if you think of yourself as Kylie instead; it’ll make things easier in the long run.’

He paused, and she heard the flick of a cigarette lighter, followed by a sudden violation of tobacco smoke.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, inhaling deeply, ‘I have a special job for you, if you want it, that is. It pays well. Here, take a look.’

Prying her eyes open, she saw he was holding out a fan of crisp notes. ‘This is what Chez earned for his work last night. Not bad, right? Do you like money?’

She was nine years old, did he really think a flash of cash would entice her? Realising the error, he quickly lowered the money and reached into his pocket, withdrawing something small she couldn’t immediately focus on.

He thrust his hand towards her. ‘Go on, take it. Call it an advance on your wages.’

She focused her stare on his scabbed fingertips, and saw the glint of a gem attached to the metal band he was holding out. Reaching her own hand out, it took several swings until she finally took hold of the gem, and brought it closer to her eyes. It really was a pretty ring, even though the band was too large for her fingers.

‘There’s plenty more of those where that came from. If you want to keep it, all I need from you is a few photographs. You’ve had your picture taken before, right?’

She briefly thought about all the silly poses she’d pulled whenever Mum and Dad were trying to take a ‘nice’ family picture. She nodded.

‘And it didn’t hurt having your picture taken, did it?’

She looked at the sparkling gem as the ache behind her eyes slowly diminished. It was so pretty, and she could see the colours of the rainbow reflected in it when it caught the small glimmers of light coming through the shuttered windows.

‘You keep hold of that for now,’ he said, pushing himself off the stool, the caravan shaking as he suddenly straightened. ‘I have a few bits and pieces to sort out. I’ll send Chez over in a bit, and you can ask him anything you like, and then I’ll return for your decision later.’

He moved towards the door, inserted a key and unlocked it, thrusting it open. She expected to hear the cows groaning in the neighbouring field, but was shocked to see the field gone, now replaced by crashing waves, and the salt in the air assaulted her nostrils again. They weren’t at the campsite anymore, and now she had no clue where they were.

‘What happens if I don’t want my picture taken?’ she called after him, and he stopped, half in the door and half out.

He didn’t meet her gaze. ‘I’ve been kind to you so far, Kylie, but it won’t take much for my patience to wear thin.’ That was the moment he chose to meet her stare, and it was her turn to look away. ‘You’ll do what we want whether you’re willing or not.’

‘And if I want to leave, and go home?’

She felt his hand on her jaw before she’d even heard his movement. ‘There’s only one way out of here, and you wouldn’t be the first to suffer from big ideas.’

She tried to break free of his grasp, but he pulled her so close that she