Ice Blue (Ice 3)

Jilly slept. Dressed in her white pajamas, she floated above the narrow cot, into the starry sky over-head. The walls melted away, the floors and the furniture, and she was free, floating.

She knew she shouldn’t feel so peaceful. It was all thanks to the needle from the gorgeous neo-Nazi doctor. She’d tried to fight her, but the woman had been much too strong, much too determined. She’d said something to her in her thick German accent, but Jilly had already been floating, and she was only dimly aware of the reassuring stroking of the woman’s hand on hers.

If she was going to be trapped, she’d be happy enough not to wake up, not until she stood some chance of escape. The woman sat and watched her, making notes in a leather-clad notebook, and every now and then some of the undead would wander in, ask questions and wander out again. Jilly was beginning to emerge from her safe cloud. The doctor was busy with her notes. She hadn’t realized her patient was beginning to come out of her drugged state, and Jilly wasn’t about to give her that advantage. The only thing that could possibly help her was the element of surprise. If the woman knew she was waking up she’d just come at her with another needle.

It took all her concentration not to react when the door to her cell opened. She willed her muscles to relax, her eyelids to keep from fluttering. Particularly when she recognized the soft voice of his holiness, the Shirosama.

“She still sleeps?”

Jilly remained motionless, listening to what was happening. The good doctor had risen, setting her notebook down, and Jilly thought there was tension in the room. Though it was probably only her own.

&nbs

p; “She still sleeps,” the woman said in her accented English. “You need to trust me, your holiness. This particular girl is very hard to break, and I’m an expert at what I do. By the time I release her from her sedation she’ll be totally free of her past perceptions. She will be open and willing to embrace your guidance, and she will tell you everything you want to know. But the process takes time.”

“I’m not sure how much time we have,” the Shirosama said in the low, mellow voice that her mother likened to the voice of God and Jilly found creepy. “We haven’t been able to rescue her sister from the hands of the Yakuza, and countless members of the Fellowship have given their lives in the attempt. Blessings upon them.”

Unmoving, Jilly let his words sink in. Japanese gangsters had her sister, the revolting Shirosama had her, some B-movie Nazi femme fatale was drugging her into submission and even if Jilly was conscious she was being watched too closely to get the hell out of there.

“Blessings upon them,” the woman echoed. “I will speed the process as much as I can. One thing that would help would be total darkness, to increase her isolation.”

There was a long silence. “Would that not be difficult for you?”

“Not at all. I’m used to working in the dark. But it must be absolute. No lights from security cameras or coming from under the door. Give me twelve hours of complete darkness and she’ll be ready for your ministry.”

More silence. Jilly wanted to cry out, protest. She didn’t want to be trapped in the dark with this crazy woman, she’d rather take her chances with her mother’s guru. But she was still too drugged to say a word, trapped in a wall of silence.

“As you wish,” he said after a moment. “I have heard great praise for your methods. I put my trust, and this poor lost child, in your hands.”

“You do me honor.”

Jilly wanted to throw up. She couldn’t move, couldn’t open her eyes—it would serve the woman right if she choked to death on her own vomit. She’d try to do it quietly, just to spite the bitch.

She heard the heavy door close behind the departing Shirosama, heard the locks engage. The woman was rustling in her bag again, and Jilly knew another needle was coming, knew there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she weren’t already drugged, the German woman was stronger than she was. Jilly hadn’t been able to stop her the first time, when she’d had all her strength.

And then the lights went out. Odd how she knew it, since she couldn’t open her eyes. But as she felt the woman lean over her, the darkness intensified, becoming a thick, black cocoon, and she waited for the pinprick in her arm, the return of night.

Instead she felt the weight of the woman as she knelt on the cot beside her, smelled her perfume as she leaned close. If the harridan was going to molest her, Jilly only hoped she was totally out before she put her hands on her. She could withstand anything, and this was no time to be squeamish, but she really wasn’t in the mood to have her first sexual experience be at the hands of a torturer…

She felt the woman’s lips against her ear. “They won’t be able to see anything now, but they can still hear. Do everything I tell you and don’t say a word.”

Yeah, right, Jilly thought. I’m going to lie here and let you mess with me, you disgusting…And then she realized the woman’s German accent had disappeared.

She managed to open her eyes, but the darkness was absolute. There was no pinprick in her skin, no unpleasant touches. Just the woman’s cool hand on hers.

“Can you sit up yet? Squeeze my fingers if you can.”

Jilly tried, but her muscles were still useless.

“Then we’ll wait,” the woman said. She had a faint British accent, and Jilly wondered if that was just as fake as the German one. Maybe she’d live long enough to find out.

The Nazi bitch was gone, and this woman, whoever she was, seemed determined to help her. And Jilly had no choice but to trust her.

Taka had told her nothing but the truth this time. He wasn’t going to kill her. He wasn’t sure when he’d finally realized that simple fact—maybe the first time he’d set eyes on her. He’d come close, too many times, but had rescued her more times than that. When he’d sensed the threat in the summer cottage, his first instinct had been to protect her, save her.

He counted on his instincts to keep him alive. He couldn’t start ignoring them now and hope to survive. Every intuition kept him protecting Summer Hawthorne, and every time he tried to talk himself into killing her his instincts would take over.

He had enough battles to fight right now without fighting one with himself.