*    *    *    *

The ache just behind my eyes almost consumed me.  Only the rhythmic stroke of a hand gently running over my head provided any relief.  My cheek rested on a leg, and my shoulder and side rested on a soft cushion.  I couldn’t lift my head.  Words refused to form as the thump in my skull echoed my heartbeat.  I groaned.

A feminine voice shushed me.

“We’re in the back of a van.  You have a huge lump on your head.”

I recognized the voice but struggled to recall the face associated with it.  Definitely one of the girls.  Abby?  No, Gabby.  When I tried to ask what happened, it emerged as another groan.

“You’ve been out for a bit.  One of them carried you, another me.  They ran through the trees and tossed us in here.  We started moving right away.  Maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago.  I don’t know.  It’s hard to tell.”

She kept running her hand over my hair.  Anxiety poured from her, contributing to my headache.  I took several slow breaths and closed myself off as best I could.  After a few more slow breaths, I tried speaking again.

“The others?”  I wanted to vomit at the effort it took to speak.

There was a moment of silence before she answered in a hushed voice.

“I’m watching.  They’ve fought free and are following.”

“Huh?”  I finally tried opening my eyes, but there was nothing to see. My stomach lurched, and I knew I needed to sit up soon.

“I can see the locations of people in my mind.  Little sparks.  Humans, werewolves, and Urbat have differently colored sparks to designate their species.  We’re unique.  I’m Hope, according to Bethi, and you’re Peace.”

Peace?  That was laughable.  I only felt peaceful when beating on someone.  Everyone around me, though, loved me.  I brought them peace.  So, maybe she was right.

I struggled to sit up and barely made it upright before vomiting on the floor.  It splattered on our shoes.

“Sorry.”  The throbbing in my head increased.

“It’s okay.”  It sounded anything but okay.  “I really wish there was a window to open.”  She gagged.

“Have you moved around?  Is there a door?”

Her silence answered me.  When I tried standing, I almost slipped.  Had I fallen in my own vomit, I would not have been responsible for whatever happened next.  Thankfully, I caught my balance on the cold metal side of the van.  Crouched over, I felt my way along the seat, which was mounted to the wall, toward the back.  Only a seam between two sheets of metal marked the doors.  No latch or handle.

“No handles.”  My head would definitely explode soon.  “I’m going to try something.  If I pass out, please get me off the floor.”

I pulled in her anxiety and fear and nearly threw up again.  Breathing through my mouth, I channeled my energy and kicked the doors.  The metal bowed, and I caught a paper-thin glimpse of daylight along the floor.

The van’s speed increased.

“You okay?” I asked her.  Thump, thump, thump; my stomach roiled with each dull beat in my skull.

“Yes.”  Her relaxed answer reassured me, and I pulled again.

My next kick saw more daylight, but I also fell on my hip.  When I picked myself up, I was still dry.

“Can you stand it one more time?”

“Sure.”

As long as she kept talking, she’d be fine.

I pulled and kicked, again and again and again.  The fifth time something creaked, and the light didn’t flash back out of sight.

“One more time Gabby.  Okay?”

She didn’t answer, but I couldn’t stop to check.  They were trying to get us somewhere before I broke free or they would have stopped to check out the racket I was making by now.

I closed my eyes, pulled deep, and kicked again.  There was a snap, and then the doors flew open.  The driver must have heard it or seen the doors in his mirror because he swerved a little.  I turned and fell onto the seat, almost landing on Gabby’s head.  She’d fallen over onto the cushion at some point.

The van braked hard, and the door slammed shut.  The latch was broken, though, so I knew it wouldn’t stay shut.

I braced us as gravel crunched under the tires, and the van moved to the shoulder of the road.

“Hold on, Gabby.  Just a little more.”  I pet her head as she had mine.  “It’ll be over soon.”

The van came to a stop seconds before the back doors flew open.  Two angry men glared at me.

I gently set Gabby on the seat so I wasn’t touching her. Please let her live through this, I thought.

“Hello, boys.”  I pulled hard, trying to focus just on them.

When they fell to their knees, I stopped pulling and stumbled out of the van.  Then, I started getting me some peace.

I kicked one in the face and had the satisfaction of hearing a dry crunch.  I kicked the other between the legs.  There was no crunch there, just a raspy, broken exhale.

“You can’t steal people!”

Yelling hurt my head just as much as kicking.  I doubled over and heaved again but very little came up.  Heaving just made me angrier.  One of the men on the ground, the one with the crushed pecans, started moving.  I kicked him again.

Satisfied they would stay down for a while, I tried to climb back into the van to get Gabby out.  However, my arms and legs weren’t working together.  The world started to fuzz around the edges.  Crapballs.

“Gabby.”  I wasn’t sure if I was asking her for help again or checking to see if she was still alive.

She lay on the seat, her pale hand dangling over the edge, close to my puddle.  Had I killed her?  Shadow replaced fuzz, and it started to close in, choking out the light.  I was losing this one.  Too much damage to the head and too much bottled up emotion.  I thought of Ethan as I started to slide to the ground.  What would they do to him?

Hands grabbed my arms, stopping my downward slide.  My head lolled back.  Carlos’ brown eyes met mine.

“I threw up,” I whispered.

“You’re alive.”

For the first time ever, I felt something from him.  Relief.  It flooded me and made everything worse.

I gagged and closed my eyes.

“Stop.  Please.”

A cry of denial preceded a burst of anguish so profound, I almost wept.

“Gabby,” a smooth voice said.

I opened my eyes again as Carlos helped me stand.  The shadows at the edge of my vision hovered, waiting.

Inside the van, one of the men from the group scooped Gabby into his arms.  He cradled her tenderly, trying to keep her head from moving as he stepped from the van.

“What happened to her?”  He looked to me for answers, the pain in his eyes too clear.  I hated myself just then.

“Is she breathing?”

He nodded.

“I happened to her.  We couldn’t go with them.”

My eyes fell to the men on the ground.  The nose of the one I’d kicked in the face had straightened.  His open eyes met mine.  I didn’t even have time to gasp.  Carlos set me against the van and turned to meet the attack.  After the two in the hotel, the madness on the road, and the kidnapping, the man’s swipe seemed a slow, pathetic attempt at a fight.  Still, my head spun as I watched.

Carlos’ large hands closed around the man’s head, and he gave a quick twist.  When he turned to the other one, I closed my eyes.  I couldn’t watch any more.  My stomach’s earlier rebellion wanted an encore performance.  So, I listened to the scrape of dirt and a soft grunt, knowing what was happening.  I swallowed with difficulty.

A moment later, something brushed against my cheek.  I opened my eyes.  Carlos stood before me, blocking out the world.

“Can we leave, yet?”

He nodded.  I tried pushing away from the van but gagged at a wave of vertigo.

“May I help you?”  He held out his arms.

I leaned around him enough to glance at Gabby up in the other man’s arms.  I didn’t think he’d looked away from her yet.  Her head rested against his chest, and she looked completely comfortable cradled there.