Vrenna led Marce out of the room, which was, as suspected, a repurposed cargo container, located inside a tumbledown warehouse. Marce’s container was not the only one; two more, presumably currently unoccupied, were lined up next to his. One of them had a long streak of blood curving away from it, as if a body had been dragged away. Outside Marce’s container two men lay on the floor of the warehouse, the same two who had grabbed him and pulled him into the van. They were breathing, which was more than Marce really wanted for them at the moment.

“What is this place?”

“It looks like an extracurricular detention center,” Vrenna said.

“For the duke?”

“Maybe. Come on.” Vrenna led her brother out of the warehouse, and pushed him toward a nondescript groundcar. Marce got in and buckled up while Vrenna put the thing into manual drive.

“Where are the others?” Marce asked, looking around.

“What others?” Vrenna asked.

“You came to get me alone?”

“I didn’t have a lot of time to make a project out of it.” Vrenna checked her surroundings and began driving off.

“What if I had been injured? What if I hadn’t been able to walk? What if there had been more than two of them?”

“I would have figured something out.”

“I have notes on this rescue.”

“I can put you back if you like.”

Marce giggled and clutched his stuffed pig tighter. “Don’t mind me, sis,” he said. “I’m just having a little post-kidnapping freakout.”

Vrenna reached over and took her brother’s hand. “I know,” she said. “Go ahead and freak out a little. I don’t mind.”

After a couple of minutes of relatively restrained freakout, Marce held up Giggy and looked at him. “You brought Giggy with you.”

“I did. I thought it might distract you from thinking too much while I got you out of there.”

“It worked, but I’m wondering how you got him in the first place.”

“He was given to me. Along with the rest of the stuff you had in a rucksack when you were kidnapped.”

“Okay, but how did you get any of that?”

“It was given to me by the people who were watching you.”

“People were watching me?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

Chapter 8

The call from Ghreni Nohamapetan after he lost Marce Claremont had to be one of the most satisfying calls Kiva had ever gotten in her life.

“Marce Claremont is gone,” he said.

“Who?” Kiva replied.

“Don’t fuck with me, Kiva. I want to know where he is.”