Miscreants: Next Generation (Badlands 8)

The woman glanced at an old cuckoo-clock that was hanging on the back wall.

“I s’pose I can work a miracle.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Knox released his iron-clad grip on my arm and stepped forward. He placed a kiss on the old woman’s cheek and then turned back to me.

“You try anything, you even look at her wrong, and that pretty lil friend of yours will get a bullet to the head.”

“Got it.”

“Good girl.”

He turned to leave and then suddenly stopped. Before I could shove him away, he grabbed hold of my face and gave me a sloppy kiss, dragging his tobacco scented tongue across my clamped lips.

I recoiled, shoving him away from me and jerking backward as my stomach pitched to my toes. “Keep your fucking hands off me!” I wiped my mouth with my forearm, swallowing repeatedly to suppress the overwhelming urge to gag.

“I knew I was right about you.” He walked out the room, laughing to himself.

The moment he was gone, I looked over at his mother, finding that her suspicious expression was gone and in its place was a creepily warm smile.

“Won’t you come sit down? I promise I don’t bite.” She moved aside and patted the red velvet stool in front of the vanity.

I stared at her for a minute, wondering what I should do. Even in my current condition, I was confident I could take out an elderly woman. The problem was what I would do after. I’d need to find Poet, get the padlock keys to free Takara, and then find a way to get us off the property. I wasn’t confident that I could manage all three, and I wasn’t picking and choosing between my friends.

I slowly made my way over to the vanity and sat down gingerly. I was so sore that even this hurt. My body’s condition was partially my fault. I should have never gotten lax or too comfortable when it came to making sure I remained at the top of my game.

The older woman stepped up behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders, meeting my gaze in the oval shaped mirror.

“You have lovely hair and very pretty skin.”

Were we looking at the same reflection right now? I resembled something that had been sucked into a hurricane and then spat back out.

“Yes,” she continued, speaking to herself. “I’ve got the perfect look for you. Wait right here.”

I watched in the mirror as she moved across the room to retrieve a doll from one of the upper shelves. She returned to my side carrying a pink, cherub-faced replica of me. The creepy mini-me was propped against a portion of the mirror, and then she got to work.

For the hundredth time in less than twenty-four hours, I deeply regretted this hairbrained escape plan.

Kneeling by the edge of the bed, I tried once again to test Hannah’s lucidity. She’d been in this balled up position for well over two hours. I didn’t understand where she was hurt, or how badly.

Tammy, the older woman responsible for raising the three assholes that kidnapped us, had cleaned Hannah too. When she removed the torn slip someone had made her wear, I was able to see the black bruising and dried blood between her legs and on her ass. I’m sure some of her issues right now were entirely psychological.

I sighed and turned to rest with my back against the mattress. I was too exhausted and sore to keep pacing and too on edge to dare sleep. Up until an hour or so ago, I’d had torturous hunger pains.

After Tammy did a shitty job scrubbing my body and dressing me like a doll, complete with blush and low pigtails, I was left locked in the room. I couldn’t tell what was happening outside, because the old house seemed to amplify every little noise.

I wondered where Samael was, and what he was doing right then. Some part of me expected him to show up and save us from this nightmare. But did I really deserve for him to do that? This was all my fault to begin with. I felt rather pathetic to be trapped like this. I’d tried the only window in this room, and the door was locked from the other side.

Tired of sitting still, I stood just as the door swung open. Knox appeared, wearing a pair of navy suspenders complete with a bowtie, his hair damp and swept backward.

“You clean up nice, little lady.”

Yeah right. I looked like a clown.

The thin dress I’d been given to wear matched this room’s gaudy wallpaper.

I never would have put it on if not for needing to avoid his mother seeing my Savage insignia. My hair had childish bows wrapped around the ends. Bows. I looked more like a little girl than a woman.