But another part of her was desperate. She needed water, food—she didn’t know what. Something was happening to her body, and she could hardly think straight.
Scarlet rushed to the bar, breathing hard, and flagged down the bartender.
“Water,” she gasped. “I need water. Please.”
He warily filled a glass with tap water and handed it to her.
“You got ID to be in here?” he asked.
Without pausing, Scarlet chugged the entire 16 ounce glass of water. It felt so good going down her throat. She was parched, and didn’t know why.
“More,” she gasped.
The bartended filled up her glass, and she chugged it again.
She took a deep breath, and felt a little better. But she still didn’t feel sated. Her veins were still screaming for something else. Something more.
Blood.
Scarlet turned and scanned the faces of the men at the bar, who all leered back at her as if she were a thing of prey. They licked their lips, as if waiting to pounce.
Suddenly there was the distinct sound of a bolt sliding shut; Scarlet turned and saw a huge man standing at the door. He had just finished locking it, and he blocked the exit with his massive frame. He stared at Scarlet as if manna from heaven had just fallen into his lap.
Scarlet willed herself to breathe, to stay calm. She didn’t want to hurt these men. She didn’t want to kill them. She didn’t want to feed on anyone. All she wanted was to be left alone. To get out of here. To let this nightmare end.
The huge man, his face covered in scars and with a shining, bald head, walked right up to her. He sneered down at her. He was the biggest cretin she had ever seen.
“My name is Kyle,” he said to her, as he approached. “What’s yours, little girl?”
“Go to hell,” Scarlet said.
A chorus of oohs arose from the bar, as the other men roared in amusement.
Kyle’s, humiliated, turned beet-red.
He reached down with both hands and grabbed her wrists and yanked her to him. In the same motion, he reached around and picked her up off the floor and carried her off, as if she were a ragdoll.
Scarlet struggled and kicked and elbowed, but it did no good. This man was huge, as strong as a rock, and she couldn’t wiggle free. She summoned her rage, her supernatural strength, to come—but for some reason it would not.
“Get your hands off of me!” she screamed.
“Honey,” he said, as he dragged her behind the bar, through a hidden door, into a secluded back room, “that’s the last thing I am going to do to you tonight.”
The final thing Scarlet saw was the door slamming behind her, as the man held her tighter and carried her deeper, and deeper, into the blackness.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Caitlin sat in the passenger seat while Caleb floored their car, Sam and Polly in the back. They had picked them up on the way and Polly was tracking Scarlet’s movements on her iphone. They all sped down Route 99, each on edge, Caleb doing 100 miles an hour as he raced for Pete’s.
“I see her blue dot!” Polly yelled out, glued to her phone. “She’s still there. We’re getting closer. I see it!”
“I hope it’s really her, not just her phone,” Caitlin said, with a sinking feeling.
For the millionth time, she agonized over what her daughter could be doing at Pete’s. She wondered again if she’d made a mistake to leave for so long, to go to Paris, if she should’ve stayed here, at home, and done whatever she could to protect her. She felt overwhelmed with waves of guilt and anxiety.
But she at least took comfort in being here with Caleb and Polly and Sam. It would be a rough crowd at Pete’s, and if there were any altercations, there was no one she’d rather have there than Caleb and Sam. Between the two of them, they’d have the muscle they needed to get Scarlet out of anything.
“THERE!” Caitlin screamed, pointing. “Up there, on the right!”
Caleb dramatically slowed the car, bringing it down to 40, and made a hard turn off the road, onto the gravel parking lot of Pete’s. A truck’s air-horn, behind him, blared at him as he did, but he didn’t care.
They screeched to a stop right in front of the bar.
“She’s in here!” Polly screamed. “For sure!”
The second they pulled up, the four of them jumped out of the car, the engine barely off, and raced as one for the door. Caleb reached it first, Sam right behind them, and Caleb tried the knob.
“It’s locked,” he said, confused.
“That makes no sense,” Caitlin said. “The lights are on. I see people in there. I hear music.”
“I’m telling you, they locked it,” he said.
“Why would they do that?” Polly asked.
And then, suddenly, with a pit in her stomach, Caitlin realized. They wanted to keep somebody locked in. Her stomach dropped further, as she thought of Scarlet. Was she being held captive in there?
“Stand back,” Caleb said. He must have been thinking the same thing.
He took a running start, and put a shoulder to the door. It shook, but didn’t give.
“I’ll help,” Sam said, stepping up. “On three, we ram this thing. ONE…TWO…THREE!”
The two of them took a few steps and rammed their shoulders into the door, which went flying open in a splintering of wood.
The two of them went flying inside, Caitlin and Polly on their heels. As they did, it was immediate mayhem.
A crowd of about a dozen locals, big, burly men, scowled back. There was an excited energy in the air, as if they were all up to something—or hiding something.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing to our door?” one of them screamed.
“Who the hell you think you are?” another yelled.
“Where is she?” Caleb screamed back, walking towards them. “My daughter. WHERE IS SHE?”
The locals grinned to each other, and as they did, Caitlin knew immediately that she was here.
“You mean that sweet little thing?” one of them mocked. “I’d say she’s rounding second base right about now!”
There followed a chorus of laughter from the other locals.
Caleb’s face turned a shade of purple, as he took on a darker expression than Caitlin had ever seen in her life.
He charged the local who spoke, grabbed him with both hands, heaved him high above his head, and threw him into his friend. The two of them collapsed onto the floor.