Blood of the Devil

Chapter 29 - Silence of the Chairs

Letha plopped sullenly into the chair, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap. She and Mickey had been tugged out of the car and herded across a gravel driveway towards an old shed. They seemed to be in the middle of the bush, and as Letha flung a look over her shoulder she could only make out a worn dirt road that petered out amongst the trees. Inside the building, the pair had been escorted down a corridor and propelled into a room. The agitated woman and the biker had left almost immediately, leaving Min with them.

Now, Letha tried to catch her eye. With her gaze fixed adamantly on her hands, Min drew Letha's arms around to the back of the seat, pulling out a zip cord and attaching it so that it wound through the back of the chair.

Letha snapped. "Fancy seeing you again, Min." It wasn't the cutting remark she had hoped for, but the shocked and silent Mickey seated across from her was knocking her off her game. Since they had seen Min leaning over them in the boot of the car, he hadn't said a word, preferring instead to keep his eyes firmly trained on the Muslim's face. At Letha's comment, he swallowed.

Min didn't reply.

"Seriously," she pressed, her eyes squinted into a sharp glare as Min rounded her perch once more and shuffled towards Mickey. "However will we thank you for this five-star treatment; I have never been kidnapped with such grace."

Mutely, Mickey thrust both arms behind him and waited for Min to circle him. He flinched when her cold fingers pressed against his wrist, but not when she drew the bindings tight and stepped away. 

"And this bruise will be a truly amazing colour when it comes out, I can tell."

At that, her head whipped up, and she met Letha's eyes over his hair. "I am sorry about that. No one was supposed to get hurt."

Letha's brow lifted into an unimpressed arch. "Nobody was going to get hurt? In a kidnapping? Who are you kidding?" she snorted and looked away, grinding her teeth together.

"We didn't kidnap you," Min insisted, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. She looked truly distraught, but Letha wasn't in the mood for pity; she was never in the mood for pity. "We staged an intervention. Brad just got carried away and..."

"Brad? The biker bloke? Yeah, I guess you could say that," she paused to smile, though it was more of a stretched wince, "And could you please tell him that I hope his arm gets infected, he contracts a virus and ends up dying of syphilis? Thanks so much."

Giving up on Letha, the woman took a quick step towards the door, backing away from both of them. She finally met Mickey's eyes, read the betrayal there, and bit down on a sob.

He sighed, looking away. "What's going on, Min?"

Shaking her head, the woman bumped into the door, blindly running her hand across the surface in search of the handle. "I am so sorry. I can't say just yet... Please," she pleaded, a tear spilling over onto her cheek. "Please.... This goes way beyond just the three of us, and it's not my place to say. I am so sorry."

Her palm found the knob and with a whimper that was almost of relief, she turned and fled.

"Nice girl," Letha growled, glaring at Mickey as a wisp of red hair curled into her eye. "A little bit.... What's the word? I just can't quite put my finger on it... evasive." His eyes slowly rose to hers. "Pun in-freaking-tended."

He didn't seem to hear her, just stared into her eyes until Letha began to feel uncomfortable. Refusing to back down, she held his gaze with a glower. Her fingers curled into fists, causing the bindings to dig further into her skin, and she let out a grunt. The movement also pulled the skin across her palms and she winced as she remembered the injury; that couldn't possibly have occurred only two days ago?