The two men came close, peering down at me, Trent’s expression of domination sending a chill through me. Terrified, I raced up the ramp to the second level, then downstairs. The light hurt my eyes. My mouth was numb. I staggered, losing my balance. He’d drugged me!

A realization clawed through my panic. The door was going to open. This might be my only chance. I froze in the center of my cage, panting. Slowly, I tipped over. Please, I thought desperately. Please open the door before I really do pass out. My lungs heaved and my heart raced. Whether it was from my efforts or the drugs, I couldn’t tell.

The two men were silent. Jonathan poked me with a pencil. I allowed my leg to quiver as if I was unable to move it. “I think she’s down,” he said. Excitement tinged his voice.

“Give it some time.” The light hit my eyes as Trent moved away, and I slit them.

Jonathan, though, was blessedly impatient. “I’ll get the carrying case.”

The cage trembled as he unlatched the door. My pulse raced as Jonathan’s long fingers closed about my body. I wiggled to life, my teeth bearing down on his finger.

“You little canicula!” Jonathan swore, yanking his hand out and pulling me with him. I loosened my hold, hitting the floor with a bone-shaking thump. Nothing hurt. Everything was numb. I leapt for the door, sprawling as my legs wouldn’t work.

“Jon!” Trent exclaimed. “Get the door!”

The floor trembled, quickly followed by the slamming of the door. I hesitated, unable to think. I had to run. Where the hell was the door?

The shadow of Jonathan came close. I bared my teeth, and he hesitated, cowed by my tiny incisors. The sharp stink of fear was on him. He was afraid, the bully. Darting forward, he grasped the scruff of my neck. I twisted, sinking my teeth in the fatty part of his thumb.

He grunted in pain and let go. I hit the floor. “Damn witch!” he shouted. I staggered, unable to run. Jonathan’s blood was thick on my tongue, tasting of cinnamon and wine.

“Touch me again,” I panted, “and I’ll take off your entire thumb.”

Jonathan drew back, afraid. It was Trent who scooped me up. Deep under the drug, I could do nothing. His fingers were blessedly cold as he cradled me in his hands. He set me gently into the carrier and latched the door. It clicked shut, shaking the entire cage.

My mouth was fuzzy and my stomach was twisting. The carrier was lifted, swinging in a smooth arc until it landed on the desk. “We have a few minutes until we have to leave. Let’s see if Sara Jane has any antibiotic cream in her desk for those bites of yours.”

Trent’s mellow voice grew as fuzzy as my thoughts. The darkness became overwhelming, and I lost my grip on consciousness, cursing myself for my stupidity.

Twenty-Two

Someone was talking. I understood that. Actually, there were two voices, and now that I was regaining the ability to think, I realized they’d been alternating with each other for some time. One was Trent, and his wonderfully liquid voice lured me back to consciousness. Beyond him was the high-pitched squeaking of rats.