Chapter 9: S1 Hidden: Cold Shower

Sophia Mahoney

A sea sponge hangs just inside the door. She seizes it and squeezes some vanilla-scented body wash over the surface. The aroma fills her nose, bringing vivid images of Aden that only stirs her libido.

Slowly, she slides the sponge over her arms, down her legs, and across her abdomen. A renewed warmth spreads between her legs.

Fuck. The shower isn't helping.

Turning off the hot, she blasts herself with a cold spray of water. The shock of the brisk temperature jolts her awake.

Reaching into the alcove, Sophia grabs hold of the shampoo bottle. She pumps out just enough of the creamy fluid to fill a quarter-sized section in the palm of her hand.

Slowly, she lathers her hair into a soapy mass on top of her head. She allows the water jet to spray over her neck and her shoulders to roll forward. The pressure loosens a few knots, making her feel a bit more relaxed.

Head under the warm spray of water, she relishes how good it feels to rinse out the remnants of the park. After conditioning her curly locks, she runs her fingers through her hair.

A thunderous boom in the distance makes her jump.

Did that come from outside?

Freezing in place, she listens - her heart racing.

Quietly and with the water still running, Sophia opens the stall door and steps out onto the bathmat. Tiptoeing to the only way in or out, she locks the bathroom door.

God, get a grip, she scolds herself. Stop being a scaredy-cat afraid of its own shadow.

She reaches for the shower door and steps partially back inside.

Voices and movement reverberate from the other side, then the handle jiggles.

She glances around the room, looking for anything to protect herself with, but other than a few hair products, toilet bowl brush, plunger, and tampons, she comes up empty-handed. Then dread hits her like a sinking ship.

Fuck. Why didn't I bring a change of clothes in with me?

One of her uncle's dress shirts dangles from a hook nearby. She grabs the garment and slips it on. The tails of the shirt hang down to the middle of her thighs.

"We know you're in there, Sophia. We can smell you." His deep voice accentuates his thick Italian accent. "Open the door."

Someone bangs the shit out of the hardwood surface.

Whoever is on the other side of the door knows who she is. The thought unnerves her just as much as the intrusion into her home.

"Open the fucking door," he yells. "Give us what we want, and we'll leave you alone, Strega Bianca."

She picks up her cell phone, then slips it into the front pocket of the shirt she's wearing.

Glancing around, she takes in her options, both of them. There's the door they want open and a window to her right, which she tiptoes to and glances out.

Her uncle was a man of many talents and an exceptional restoration man. Unfortunately, his expertise only extended to books and nothing else. So, the fire escape stairs probably still stick, which would make it next to impossible for her to lower them.

A loud thud echoes in the room, making her jump.

Wood splintering reverberates off the tile walls. From the sound of things, more than one voice speaks, but she's not sure exactly how many people occupy the room on the other side.

Think, dammit, think. She rubs her throbbing temples.

Sophia searches for an alternative escape route.

There must be something I'm missing.

Her eyes fall on the laundry chute, which leads to the washroom on the first level. She swings the door open and peers down.

The opening isn't very large, but then again, neither am I. She takes a deep breath. I can do this. I know I can.

It's a straight shot to the lower level through the chute. Grabbing the vanity chair, she positions it in front of the opening.

She slides her legs, feet first, through the chute door, then balances her body, at waist level, on the lip of the opening.

The door crashes open, and a man wearing a navy-blue ski mask stands in the doorway.

"Don't even think about it." He looks more muscular and thicker than the man from the park. A looming figure appears behind him. Fuck. He's not alone.

"What, was there a two-for-one special on fuckin' masks?"

Oh, yeah, that's it, bait the crazy-ass intruders.

She glances one more time down the chute tunnel.

"You can't get away from us." His hands are gloved, but at least he doesn't have a gun.

What if they're like the one from the park? What if they're not human?

The hair on the back of her neck stands on end. Sophia's fingertips warm and then tingle.

The men charge forward.

Releasing the chute opening, she drops, leaving sparks of light in her wake. She lands with a hard thud. A shooting pain runs up her left ankle.

Fuck. Please don't be broken.

"You can run, but you can't hide for long," the man yells down the chute.

"Well, I'm damn sure gonna try, asshole."

After crawling out of the bin, Sophia pulls herself to a standing position. Her ankle hurts, but at least she can walk on it.

A weight drags on the shirt, and a sense of relief hits her.

Taking hold of her phone, she dials 911, but her finger hovers over the call button. The memory of being placed on hold in the park earlier that day chills her to the bone.

Sophia scrolls through the contacts, and Aden's name appears. She hesitates, then presses the call button, waiting for it to connect and for him to answer.

Slowly, she limps out of the laundry room. The motion detector in the hall picks up her movement, and the lights come on, stinging her eyes.

She enters the restoration room connected to the bookstore.

Ring.

Her uncle's office is less than ten feet away. She hobbles to the entrance. He had a panic button installed under his desk, which seemed senseless at the time. But now, she's glad it's there.

In the distance, she can see the green, glowing hue of the button just inside her uncle's dark office - beckoning her.

Ring.

Sophia wraps her hand around the knob, and the lights in the hall go out, leaving her shivering in total darkness.