Kelly Armstrong - Escape.pdf - Kelley Armstrong - margozap

Escape

Kelley Armstrong

I concentrated on the mirrored wall. One-way glass—the good stuff, not the kind they have in cop

shops, where you can press your face against it and see through. Seeing through this type required a

special talent.A demonic talent.I slitted my eyes. The mirror blurred,then the other side came into focus,

wobbly and distorted, like looking at it from underwater.

Straight across from me was another cell. Inside, a man watched television, his back to me.

Dark-skinned and dread-locked.A supernatural of some kind. What kind didn’t concernme. Not yet.

I peered down the hall. More cells. More people inside. At the end of the corridor was the exit door,

complete with a flashing red light and some fancy fingerprint reading machine. Damn. Well, what did I

expect? A wide-open door with a neon "escape here" sign?

"See anything, mom?"Savannahwhispered behind me.

"Not yet. But don’t you worry. I have a plan."

And I would.As soon as I thought of one.Savannahsat on the bed, legs crossed, reading a teen magazine

given to her by the bitch whose flunkies had tossed us in here. What was her name?Baker? No, Bauer.

Sondra Bauer.Perfect suit, perfect hair, perfectly phony smile. Oh dear, I’m so sorry we had to kidnap

you, little girl, here’s a nice magazine to make it better. When I got hold of her, that smile wouldn’t be

nearly so perfect.

Savannahreturned to her reading, as carefree as if she’d been sitting on her bed at home. She knew I’d

get her out. She trusted me.

If only I’d madeSavannahgo to school today . . .

She hadn’t been sick. Any normal mom would have made her go. But I wasn’t normal, never pretended

to be. As a kid, I’d hated school—used to fake sick at least once a week to avoid it. The first time

Savannahdid this, I’d made a decision. I could do what my mother had done—draw up a list of sick day

requirements: temperature over 101, vomiting, rash, broken bones, blah, blah,blah . Or I could toss the

parenting books out the window and do things my way. So I made a deal withSavannah. She got three

"home" days a year, and could use them whenever she wanted, without needing a reason. Today she’d

decided to use her one. And atten o’clock, a team of armed commandos posing as cops busted down

our front door.

They’d come for me, and only me. If I’d madeSavannahgo to school today, she wouldn’t be here. Hell,

if I’d made her go to school,I wouldn’t be here. First bastard that had come through that door caught an

energy bolt in his gut.And the second one? He’d been smarter. He’d ducked past his dying partner,

grabbedSavannahand stuck a gun to her head. End of fight.

As for blamingSavannah’s home day for our being here, that was bullshit. Me and my life choices were

the reason my twelve-year-old daughter was in an underground cell, held captive by psychos who

wanted to conduct god-knows what kind of experiments on her.

IfSavannahhad a normal mother, she wouldn’t have even been in school in August. But two unexpected

relocations that spring had nearly made her fail seventh grade, so I’d enrolled her in a four-week

"academic summer camp" to catch up. As for why we’d relocated, that was my fault.The fault of my life

choices.

I’d always known my life wasn’t kid-friendly.Never planned to have any. But plans and reality don’t

always mix. When I found out I was pregnant, I’d never considered ending it. Never thought of giving her

away either. Adoption wasn’t an option for a kid with witch, sorcerer and demon blood. She was mine,

and from the moment I felt that first kick, I knew she was mine for good.

I’d known too that I’d needed a serious life-makeover. So I’d stopped making my living using the dark

arts, and turned to teaching them. I’d keptSavannahout of that part of my life, and kept everyone in that

part of my life out of hers. I thought that’d be good enough. Bullshit. I’dtold myself that’d be good

enough; I’d known it wasn’t.

Everyone who knew me said my life revolved around my daughter, that I was the best damned parent

they’d ever seen. I knew better. A real mother would have changed, really changed, become someone, if

not good, then good enough. Instead of ducking into the shadows with my little girl, I’d marched onto the

supernatural world center stage, building an unparalleled reputation as a teacher of the dark arts. I’d

always thought that reputation would protectSavannah. And it had. Until someone decided they wanted

to capture the best witch they could find. And whose name topped the list? Eve Levine, black witch and

Aspicio half-demon.

So this was my fault, and all my learning and all my power hadn’t been able to protect my daughter. But

I’d fix that now.

"Savannah? You were awake when they brought us in, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Can you tell me what you saw?"

She tossed the magazine aside. "Sure."

Savannahtold me everything she remembered, right down to descriptions of the guards. That’s my girl.

Always watching, always learning. I’d been drugged, but no one had even bothered to blindfoldSavannah

. She was only a child.Defenseless and harmless.

Once she’d given me a layout from our cell to the front door, I came up with a plan. I toldSavannahher

part, but left out my own. Parent-child honesty is all very well in its place, but there are some things no

kid needs to hear.

"So I run?"Savannahsaid. "That’s it?"

"That’s all you need to do, baby. When I give the sign, you run like hell."

"I’m not a little kid, mom. I can help. What about that confusionspell ?"

"Any time you spend casting it is time you don’t spend running. If something goes really wrong, use it.

But if you’re only stopped by one person, use the binding spell. Then keep running. Now, if you get out

of this place and I’m not there—"

"But you will be there."

"Savannah. . ."

"Fine.If I get in trouble, I call Melissa, and she takes me to the Coven."

"And who do you contact in the Coven?"

"Mom, we’ve been through this a zillion times.Ever since I was in preschool. Nothing’s ever going to

happen to you, so I don’t know why—"

"Humor me, baby. Please."

"I call Ruth Winterbourne, leader of the Coven. I don’t know why you’d want me going to them

anyway. Youhate the Coven."

"Yes, but I trust Ruth. You call Ruth and only Ruth. Don’t speak to anyone else until you’ve talked to

Ruth. Not evenyour Aunt Margaret."

"I don’t know my Aunt Margaret."

"Which is why you’re not going to speak to her.She’s not a bad person, just stupid, so forget her, and

go straight to Ruth. If Ruth’s not there . . ." I hesitated. "Paige. Yes, you could talk to Paige. She must be

at least eighteen now. Shit, no, she’d be older than that. Perfect. If Ruth isn’t there or you can’t find her,

then talk to her daughter, Paige."

Savannahshrugged and picked up her magazine.

"Savannah. .. "

"I got it," she muttered. "If Ruth isn’t there, talk to Paige.Doesn’t matter anyway. You’re not going

anywhere."

"It’s just a precaution. I want—"

"Fine.I know what to do, okay?"

She paused, and looked away, shoulders tense.

"It’s going to be okay, baby," I said softly.

She nodded, then after another moment, her shoulders relaxed and she turned back to me.

"Do you think we’ll be out of here before tomorrow? I’ve got a math test tomorrow, and I haven’t

studied."

I laughed and rumpled her hair."Can’t imagine why not. Now there’s a note for your teachers. ‘Please

excuseSavannahfrom today’s test. She was kidnapped at gunpoint yesterday and was unable to study.’"

Savannahgrinned. "Mr. Parks always says he’s heard every excuse in the book, but I bet he hasn’t

heard that one."

"I bet you’re right. Weare getting out of here today, but I promise you don’t need to go to school

tomorrow. We’ll go home and spend the day studying in our jammies, okay?"

"And order pizza?"

I smiled. "We’ll order whatever you want."

I did need to getSavannahout that day, and it had nothing to do with math tests. I had no idea what these

bastards had in mind for us. Some kind of science experiments, that’s all I knew, and only because I’d

overheard something like that before they’d knocked me out. I couldn’t wait until a good escape

opportunity jumped up and bit me in the ass. By then, they might have movedSavannahout of my cell . . .

or worse.

I wanted to put my plan into action when the guard came with our dinner, but he was too short. Stupid

excuse, huh? Not for this plan. When he mentioned something about the night shift guard bringing our

bedtime snack, I decided to wait. Ateight o’clock, the door lock clicked. I scootedSavannahinto bed

and tossed a blanket over her. She closed her eyes and faked sleep.

The guard stepped in.An inch or so over six feet tall. Yep, that’d do. When you’re just a hair under six

feet yourself, you need to consider these things more than any five-foot-five woman could ever imagine. I

also lounged back against the table, which made me shorter. Hate doing that, but sometimes it helps.

As the guard laid the snack tray beside me, his gaze traveled up the length of my jeans, paused at my

chest, then continued up to my face and met my eyes with a barely concealed grin of admiration. I

considered a coy smile and soft blush.Might have worked . . . if I had the faintest idea how to do either.

Instead, I met his gaze full on, then gave him an equally thorough once-over, and smiled. His grin burst

through.

"Settling in okay?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Well enough."

I let my gaze slide toSavannah. His followed.

"Cute kid," he said."Seems to be doing pretty good herself, sleeping soundly and all."

Another shrug."Scared, but holding up."

I walked toSavannah, bent over and tucked her in better. The guard’s gaze planted itself on my ass and

stayed there until I straightened. When I turned, I looked around the cell.

"Is this place bugged?" I whispered.

"Nah.Sometimes they’ll sit in the hall and listen through the intercom, but that’s it." He glanced out the

open door, into the empty hall. "Look, I know this is tough and all, but you’ll be okay. No one wants to

hurt you. Just don’t give them any reason to."

I crossed half the distance between us. "It’s not me I’m worried about."

"The girl?Oh, I’m sure they’ll treat her okay."

I took another two steps toward him then veered and circled behind him. "But how can I be sure? I

want to be sure"

He turned and nearly bumped into me. I stood my ground, close enough to feel his clothes brushing

mine. He didn’t step back.

"We could . . . arrange something," he said.

I met his gaze. "I was hoping you’d say that."

His hand reached behind me and slid over my ass. I glanced atSavannah.

"Right," he said. "Maybe we should . . ." He looked toward the hall.

"Any video cameras out there?"I asked.

"Nah.Nothing like that."

"So where do you hang out when you’re on duty?"

"Guard station, right outside the door."

"Got a partner?"

"Not on night shift."

"Let’s go then."

He grinned and led me from the cell.

On the other side of the main exit, I peeked back. AsSavannahhad said, the door locked from the inside

only. Beside the door was the skeleton of some kind of security panel, as if they’d thought about putting

one in, and changed their minds, or hadn’t got around to hooking it up yet. The guard station was on my

right. To my left the hallway circled around. According toSavannah, the elevator—and the only way

out—wasdown that hall.

I hooked my fingers through the guard’s belt loops, swiveled around and backed into the guard station,

tugging him in after me. He started to shut the door,then stopped.

"Better leave itopen ," he said. "You hear the elevator, you let me know."

"I will." I pressed myself against him, lips a quarter-inch from his. "Now, how do you want to do this?

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