Stolen (Otherworld 2)

"You're not here to write a story, Elena. You're a journalist, but not this kind."

"Ah," I said. "So, tell me, why am I here?"

"To protect your Pack."

I blinked. Words jammed in my throat. As the silence dragged past three seconds, I struggled to fill it. "My--my what?"

"Your Pack. The others. Other werewolves."

"Ah, so I'm a"--I forced a patronizing smile--"a werewolf."

My heart thudded so loudly I could hear it. This had never happened to me before. I'd run into suspicions, but only general questions about my behavior--like "What are you doing in the forest after dark?"--never anything that tied me to being a werewolf. In the normal world, normal people didn't go around accusing other people of being werewolves. One person, someone I was close to, actually saw me Change forms and convinced himself he'd been hallucinating.

"Elena Antonov Michaels," Paige said, "Antonov being your mother's maiden name. Born September 22, 1969. Both parents killed in an auto accident in 1974. Raised in numerous foster homes in southern Ontario. Attended the University of Toronto. Dropped out in her third year. Returned several years later to complete a bachelor's degree in journalism. Reason for the hiatus? A bite. From a lover. Clayton Danvers. No middle name. Born January 15, 1962--"

I didn't hear the rest. Blood pounded in my ears. The floor swayed beneath me. I gripped the table edge to steady myself and struggled to my feet. Paige's lips moved. I didn't hear what she said. I didn't care.

Something snapped me back into my chair. Pressure wound around my legs as if someone were tying them down. I jerked up but couldn't stand. Looking down, I saw nothing restraining me.

Paige stood. I bucked against the chair. My legs wouldn't budge. Panic seeped into my chest. I pushed it back. This was a trick. A simple trick.

"Whatever you're doing," I said. "I'd suggest you stop it. I'm going to count to three."

"Don't threaten--"

"One."

"--me, Elena. I can do--"

"Two."

"--a lot more than bind--"

"Three."

"--you to that chair."

I crashed both fists up into the bottom of the table and sent it jetting into the air. As the pressure on my legs vanished, I vaulted across the now-empty space between us and slammed Paige against the wall. She started saying something. I grabbed her by the neck, stopping the words in her throat.

"Well, it would seem I arrived just in time," a voice said behind us.

I looked over my shoulder to see a woman walking into the room. She was at least seventy, short and plump, with white hair, a flowered dress, and a matching pearl necklace and earring set, the perfect image of a TV grandmother circa 1950.

"I'm Ruth, Paige's great-aunt," she said, as serenely as if I were enjoying tea with her niece instead of throttling her. "Trying to handle matters on your own again, Paige? Now look what you've done. Those bruises will take weeks to fade and we didn't bring any turtlenecks."

I loosened my grip around Paige's neck and struggled for a suitable reply. None came. What could I say? Demand an explanation? Too dangerous, implying I had something to hide. Better to act as if Paige's accusation was crazy and I was getting the hell out of here. Once away from the situation, I could figure out my next move. I shot Paige the wary look people use when dealing with someone of limited sanity and sidestepped toward the door.

"Please don't." Ruth laid a hand on my arm, firm but not restraining. "We must speak with you, Elena. Perhaps I can handle this better."

At that, Paige reddened and looked away. I eased my arm out of Ruth's grip and took another step toward the door.

"Please don't, Elena. I can restrain you, but I'd rather not resort to that."

I lunged at the door and grabbed the handle with both hands. Ruth said something. My hands froze. I jerked them back from the door handle, but they wouldn't come loose. I tried to turn the handle. My fingers wouldn't respond.

"This is the way the spell should work," Ruth said, her voice and face radiating the calm of a seasoned teacher handling a recalcitrant child. "It won't break until I give the command."

She said a few words. My hands flew free, throwing me off-balance. As I stumbled back, Ruth put out a hand to steady me. I recovered and stepped away fast.