Chapter 9

Adriana POV

I huff.

We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.

Becca, the smartass and I are sat perched on the narrow doorstep, waiting.

I would kill to have someone say something. Even if it's him. Even if I feel like hitting him after.

What is taking Alec so long?

My prayers are answered when he pulls open the door, phone in hand and bag on back. Staring at the phone screen with a slight grimace, he locks the door. Turning to us, he smiles, the expression forced and unnatural. "Ready?"

I can almost taste the dripping sarcasm fighting to come out.

We've been ready for an unnecessarily lengthy amount of time now, thank you very much.

Instead of responding aloud to the stupid question, I turn to Becca and attempt for the nine hundredth time today to gain some kind of information. "Where exactly are we going?"

Turning to me, she smiles gently, though this does nothing to hide her irritation. "The forest."

My brow raises. "I already know that. I mean where in the forest. Are there some houses somewhere?"

She glances at Alec briefly with tight lips. He shrugs his shoulders, gesturing to smartass who seems to be ignoring our presence. "Um... In a way..."

My nose scrunches as I lift myself from the doorstep. "What does that even mean?"

As I trail alongside her, smartass decides to speak up. "There are homes out there. We'll be heading to one of them to find a friend of mine."

At this, my heart palpitates. It has become increasingly clearer to me that I am basically going to go running about with some random kidnapping mystery guy who I know nothing about. I'll be honest, I didn't think much of it when I decided that I would be going with them. Getting Emily back was and is my top priority. However, common sense kicked in this morning, and to put it bluntly, I'm shitting myself. I don't even know the guy's real name. He mentioned the name 'Prince' when I met him, yet Alec and Becca have not once referred to him as this, and to me it didn't sound genuine in the first place. Half of what he says sounds rehearsed, and the rest seems like he's trying to cover his arse when he's told me to much. And now I find out that we'll be meeting his friend... I hadn't considered the fact that anyone else might be involved in whatever is happening. Not to mention that this person apparently lives somewhere in the forest. I suppose I can only hope that this person isn't a complete mental case.

Glancing to the side, I notice the two siblings. They both wear tight expressions, as if their faces are attempting to mask all emotion. Becca gnaws on her lip, looking straight ahead, while Alec messes with the zip of his jacket, watching his fingers toying pointlessly with it. Seeing them acting this way, my stomach drops. This 'friend' lives in the forest, probably alone and is involved in a kidnapping. I don't think I'm the only one expecting a mental case.

Shivering, I imagine the possibilities of what we're about to face. Will it be some bald guy with a meat cleaver? Or maybe they could be one of those sweet old ladies that are actually secretly badass.

What if they're a cannible?

My stomach churns at the thought. I'm too young to be someone's main course.

Stop it. I'm just overthinking.

It would seem that I've been overthinking so much that we have arrived near the edge of the forest without me even realising. My insides do a somersault. It should be a pleasant, natural sight, but instead it is surrounded in something I can't quite identify, but I know it's not natural.

The others, however, aren't affected by this feeling at all. Their steps don't falter; though the siblings lack the confidence that they usually hold, they still carry themselves with ease.

Wringing my hands together, I try to steady my breathing. "How deep into the forest does this person live?"

Smartass groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not far. We need to head to the cabin first though," he points. My eyes follow the direction, and sure enough, the deserted hut sits in the same place.

"Isn't that place deserted? Why do we need to go there?"

"Nobody lives there. That doesn't mean it's deserted."

Coming up beside him, I glance at him. "What does that even mean? The place is crumbling."

He scowls. "If you can wait patiently thirty seconds, we will be there and you will see."

I roll my eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"I do it all the time," my brow lifts.

"If you knew what's good for you, you would refrain," his speed quickens angrily, leaving me behind.

What crawled up his arse?

Abruptly, he stops, clenching his fists at his sides and causing me to nearly knock into him. I glare at him, only to receive a glare back before he stalks off again, reaching the hut.

He tosses the uneven wooden door open, stomping in without waiting for the rest of us. We each jog to it, and Alec holds open the door for Becca and I to pass through.

Once inside, I take in the scene. As I had anticipated, the place has a distinct empty feel to it, having not been dusted for what looks to be a number of years. The only source of light is a murky, almost opaque window and a few candles decorated with dusty cobwebs, all of which Becca is lighting gradually. There is a woven fabric rug lying before an unused stone fireplace, both speckled with dirt. Other than this however, the only furniture present is a rickety bookshelf on the far left wall. All of the books on it appear extremely aged, as if they would disintegrate if one were to breathe heavily on them. A few have writing on the spines, but the words are incomprehensible, either since they are in another language, potentially gibberish. One of them is particularly hefty, with a chunky brown leather binding. Intricate handwriting on the binding read "βρυκόλακας". As I said. Gibberish.

From across the room, a feminine chuckle sounds. "I don't think you'll find anything interesting there. It's all old and foreign," she comes up beside me, following my line of sight to the book. "Ah. Greek."

I turn to her, shock evident. "You know Greek then?"

She giggles. "Only a bit."

"Do you know what it says?"

"Uh... Vrykólakas."

"And that would mean...?"

She sighs, shivering slightly and twiddling her thumbs. "Dunno."

I roll my eyes, glancing back at the book. "Sure."

"Hey, I know how to read it, not what it means," she throws her hands up.

"Alright, I get it," I suppose I understand. After having to study french in highschool, I know the struggle. Although, if Becca can speak a bit of Greek, maybe Alec can translate it.

My gaze sweeps the room in search of Alec, only to find that Becca and I are the only people in the room. I swear these people all have some sort of evaporation power with the amount of times they become thin air.

"Where are the others?"

"In there," she points towards a door, likely that of an old pantry. "Why?"

"Just wanted to see if Alec knew what that word means."

"Oh, probably not. He knows about as much as I do."

"Fair enough."

"Why do you want to know anyway?"

"Just curious. I'm gonna go find the other two, see if we can encourage them to hurry up. All this dust is itching my throat," I touch the base of my neck, as if that will actually help shift the itchy feeling.

As I start in the direction Becca had said, she hurries to my side, still playing with her thumbnail. "Are you sure we need to do that? They'll be out in a minute."

"They'll be out in a second with the right encouragement."

I should have waited.

I mean, I have always been a firm believer that violence in the form of self defence is perfectly acceptable as long as nobody ends up severely hurt or dead. But this, this is ridiculous.

Alec, in a choke hold, attempting to take a swing at the menace himself with a metal fucking frisbee.

Beside me, Becca facepalms, grumbling something about not having to babysit for once. So, I take it upon myself to break them up. "GUYS!"

Alec stops swinging and gives me a sheepish grin as he stumbles, having been released.

I shake my head. "Why are you attacking him with a frisbee? Not exactly the weapon I'd choose."

Smartass chuckles behind him. "It's not a frisbee. It's a chakram."

I study it for a few seconds. "What's the difference?"

"It's sharp," he raises an eyebrow, as if baffled that I had to ask.

"So it's a killer frisbee then?"

"No."

"What do you do with it?" Feigning curiosity, I touch my chin.

"You throw it."

"Like a frisbee."

"It's not a frisbee!"

"How'd you get a killer frisbee?"

Smartass rests his head on the wall with a small thud, making exasperated arm gestures. "For fucks sake, shut up about frisbees before I throw the damn thing at you."

Smirking, I make my way further into the room. And that's when it hit me.

No, not the frisbee.

More like, where the frisbee came from.

On the wall, numerous hooks and shelves support countless varieties of lethal looking objects, most of which I don't even recognize. There are some that I do know of however, which causes tingling sensations to pass through my body. The most identifiable are swords, battle-axes and spears. "What is this?"

"Pet shop."

Turning, I give the smartass the nastiest scowl I could muster. "What's with the stupid answer, smart guy?"

"What's with the stupid question?" He smirks. "Also might want to stop scowling before the wind changes. Wouldn't want you looking uglier than normal."

"Piss off."

That deep chuckle sounds again as he walks over to a rack, examining some of the more 'brute force's weapons. There is a range of maces and war hammers, from the simple versions to those much more complex. He sets his eyes on a bulky variation of a war hammer; on one side, it has something similar to a meat tenderiser, and on the other, there is a stick but lethal spike. It also has a spike on the top, as well as the bottom of the staff. Lifting it, he brings it closer and blows off the dust from the metal head. "Right then," he lowers the weapon. "Ready?"

He has got to be joking if he thinks I'm going anywhere when he has that thing.

Seeing my hesitation, the corners of his lips lift up in that ever irritating way. "What's wrong?" He asks, mocking.

"Why do you need that thing?" My voice wavers slightly. Everything inside me screams that this is all wrong. We are in a deserted cabin that happens to hold a bunch of weapons and he acts like there is no problem whatsoever. If I didn't think going with them was a bad idea before, I most definitely do now.

Lifting the weapon, he tosses it up slightly, twirling in horizontally and catching it again with ease. "The maul? Well we don't know what we're going to need down the line."

Of course it's called a maul. How imaginative.

"We are looking for my sister's kidnapper not fighting off ogres."

"Would you rather we went unarmed?"

For some reason, the question catches me off guard. Would I? My first reaction is that he could just bring a gun and not have to bludgeon anybody, but my blood boils at the fact that I considered another weapon. As uncomfortable as the idea makes me, I do think we should have some sort of advantage. Although, I have never been a particularly violent person. The first time I hit anyone was only hours ago in the heat of the moment. My stomach churns at the thought, and I realise that there may be no peaceful way of getting Emily back. I may have to hurt someone. And I'm not convinced that I'm prepared for that.

As I face my inner turmoil, smartass begins to take other weapons down from racks, placing them on a wooden table further into the room. Coming back, he grabs my arm, taking me to the table. "I'm not saying any of these are easy, but they are the least difficult. If it would make you feel safer you can take whichever one you want."

Most of the equipment on the table is short handled, lacking in chains or heavy metal parts, meaning it is a combination of fancy daggers with a few lighter hammers or maces. Even though they look less daunting that the 'maul', I still don't enjoy the idea of using any of them. I'm torn between claiming pacifism and taking something for protection.

Nobody would ever believe I'd become a pacifist within a day.

Sighing, I internally admit defeat. Even if I don't use it against the kidnapper, it would be there for protection incase of did need it. Making my final decision, I turn to the smartass, a determined look finding my face.

"I want the frisbee."