Knowledge Quickening

Chapter 2: Deep Trouble

Chapter 2: Deep TroubleTo my utter disgust, the black-haired man stood in the doorway, his gaze lingering suggestively at my chest. “It's about time you woke up.”

He strode across the room and captured my arm, dragging me out into a narrow hallway. He turned to the left, pulling me along beside him and tears welled in my eyes from his painful grip. There was no doubt; it was going to leave a bruise.

He hauled me up a flight of roughly hewn wooden stairs and I stumbled along beside him as he strode down another hallway. This one was lavishly decorated with flocked wallpaper, a claret leaf pattern on cream. The floor beneath my feet was polished and stained oak, the surface gleaming beneath the overhead lights. He stopped in front of a set of double doors, guarded by two heavyset men in dark suits. Neither of them glanced at us, their eyes focused on the opposite wall. The black-haired man rapped sharply on the door.

“Come.”

One of the guards pushed the doors open and I was dragged unceremoniously into the room. It was a study, oval shaped with rows of leather-bound books adorning wooden shelves, flawlessly fitted into the curved walls. A man sat behind an enormous wooden desk in the centre of the room. A large window was open behind him, sunlight streaming into the room and the lace curtains wafted softly in the breeze. Carefully tended gardens were visible outside, planted with a selection of majestic palms and bright, tropical flowers. Vast swathes of lawn were richly green and meticulously mowed. We were nowhere near Montana – that much was obvious. The man who'd dragged me upstairs shoved me down onto a straight-backed chair before letting go of my arm.

“Leave us, Sebastian.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I glared at Sebastian as he strode past and left the room, shutting the doors soundlessly behind him.

“Miss Duncan.”

I turned my attention to the man in the chair. He was tall and slim, with blonde shoulder length hair, which fell around his face in gentle waves. He was bearded, the hair clipped neatly around his jaw. The fine lines around his chocolate brown eyes suggested he was in his mid-forties and he was dressed casually in a white silk shirt, the neckline open to reveal a small 'V' of tanned skin.

“How do you know my name?”

He smiled. “Oh, I know quite a bit about you, Miss Duncan.” He drew himself to his feet and strode around the desk, his movements curiously graceful given he was so lanky. Perching on the edge of the desk, he regarded me with a tight smile. “My name is Laurence Armstrong.” He held out his hand and I shook it warily, not taking my eyes off him. His skin was warm, his hand smooth with long fingers and neatly manicured nails. With his eyes focused on me, I felt a whisper of power travel through his hand and into mine, an increase in warmth and a vibration, which made the hair on my arms stand on end. I pulled my hand away from his, rubbing it on my thigh. I didn't know what it was, or how he'd done it, but there was something strange about him, some sort of power I couldn't recognize.

“You're not a vampire?” I questioned warily.

He laughed dryly. “No, of course not. Tell me, what do you think I am?”

I shook my head. “I don't know.”

“No matter. It's not important.” He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes piercing and unemotional. “What is important is what you can do for me.”

Playing dumb seemed like the best option. In fact, my only option, as I didn't have a clue why I was here. There was no valid reason to suspect this stranger knew about my ability, but it was still the only logical explanation I had for being kidn*pped. Laurence Armstrong was trying to be charming and I didn't want him to know what I suspected. Better to hold the knowledge to my chest and see what I could learn from him. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

His gaze was piercing, as if he instinctively knew I was lying. “Oh, come now, Miss Duncan. We both know what I'm talking about.” He leaned forward, so his face was inches from mine and spoke quietly. “You have a power. A unique power. I want it.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I don't know what you're talking about. I'm an artist. I paint.”

A long silence followed this statement. His brown eyes were calculating as he stared into my own, as if he could read the truth in my irises. I stared back, too frightened to blink, keeping my face as smooth, and relaxed as I could manage. When he spoke, his voice was hard, the polite composure gone. “You will tell me what I want to know. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It doesn't matter to me.”

“What, like getting your cronies to feel me up?” I retorted angrily. “Are you going to let them r**e me next?” The revulsion incited me to anger rapidly and I remembered Sebastian's fingers probing me, and shuddered at the strong memory.

Armstrong looked taken aback and caught more than slightly off-balance at my words. “What are you talking about?”

I glared at him defiantly, drawing myself up straighter in the chair. “That Sebastian. He touched me.”

“Touched you?”

It was apparent I was going to have to spell it out. “He put his fingers… inside me.” I fought against the rush of heat that rose across my cheeks, and failed miserably.

His eyes grew colder and he bellowed, making me jump. “SEBASTIAN!”

The door opened at once, giving the impression Sebastian had been loitering outside. He strode in; closing the doors and standing beside the chair where I sat. I could smell the stench of his potent aftershave and wrinkled my nose in distaste.

“Yes, Sir.”

Armstrong stood up abruptly and he was a good couple of inches taller than Sebastian was. He was irate, tendons visible in his neck as he glowered at the shorter man. “What were your orders regarding Miss Duncan?” he snapped angrily.

“You told me to collect Miss Duncan from Montana and bring her here, Sir.”

My assumption was correct; I was no longer in Montana.

“What were your express orders regarding contact with Miss Duncan?” Armstrong's face had reddened with anger, a vein pumping visibly in his temple.

Sebastian looked confused. “Sir?”

“I told you there was to be no s****l contact. Under any circumstances.”

“But, Sir, the blood sucker told me he was her mate. I had no option but to check—”

I wasn't sure it was my imagination, or my own fear, but Sebastian appeared scared. His dark eyes had rounded owlishly and he was clenching and unclenching his fists.

Armstrong crowded the smaller man, fury clearly visible in his expression. “You were to leave her untouched! I made my orders exceedingly explicit in that regard!”

What happened next took only a split second, but I was subjected to every horrifying detail, as if time had deliberately slowed down so I couldn't miss it. I heard a quiet click; similar to the latch of a door being turned, and then Armstrong raised his left arm and slashed his hand across Sebastian's neck.

Sebastian dropped to his knees, clutching spasmodically at his ruined neck. I could see tendons, veins, muscle – even the glossy white bone of his spine through the shredded skin. Blood poured from the wound in a torrent, rapidly soaking his white shirt before he slumped face-forward onto the carpet.

I shrieked and screamed as Sebastian lay dying before me. Gurgling sounds emitted from his throat as blood pumped endlessly from his neck, a pool of scarlet forming on the carpet around him. I held my hands over my eyes, trying to block out the macabre spectacle. It stopped me from seeing his death throes, but didn't protect me from the mental image of seeing his throat reduced to so much meat and blood.

Now I was certain of what I was dealing with. Werewolves.

A hand gripped my arm, gentler than Sebastian's had been, but still firm. Armstrong hauled me to my feet as I continued to shriek. I struggled ineffectively against his grip as he pulled me from the room.

“Clean up the mess,” he ordered the stunned guards. He drew me further down the hallway, pushing me before him into another room. He lowered me gently onto a leather armchair, crouching before me. “My apologies, Miss Duncan. I'm sorry you had to see that.”

Inhaling deeply, I began to gain a little control, but I couldn't look him in the eye. He terrified me, more than any person I'd ever met before did.

“Would you like something to eat? Or perhaps a drink? Some coffee, perhaps?”

As if I could think about eating or drinking when I'd just witnessed a man getting his throat ripped out. Stupid, Charlotte. Stupid. You need your strength. Accept the offer. I nodded mutely.

Armstrong rang a bell near the doorway and I glanced away from him, concentrating on bringing my ragged breathing back under control. This room was large and luxurious, with couches and armchairs in sleek black leather. The walls were decorated with velvet-flocked wallpaper in pale gold and the floor was covered in plush white carpet. Antique lamps sat on elegantly carved wooden coffee tables. I stole a glance at the window, hoping for some clue to our whereabouts. Bright sunshine was casting shadows on the green lawn and the plants definitely seemed tropical. Where the hell was I?

A middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway, wearing a pale blue uniform with a white apron tied around her waist, sensible white shoes on her feet. She didn't look at me and seemed unperturbed by my presence. “You called, Mr. Armstrong?”

“Bring a plate of sandwiches and some coffee for our guest.”

The woman curtseyed and closed the door quietly when she left the room. Armstrong walked back across to where I sat, lowering himself into an armchair opposite mine and resumed his unabashed study of my face.

“You really are a beautiful young woman.”

I stared at him, waiting uneasily for whatever was coming next.

“Hmmm. The silent treatment. While I can understand your revulsion, I must warn you, I find the silent treatment very tiresome.” He leaned forward, a frown creasing his tanned forehead. “Your blood-sucking friends weren't nearly as quiet when they were executed.”

Startled by this admission, I blinked at him uncertainly. “He— Sebastian— he promised they wouldn't be killed.”

“As you have just discovered, Sebastian isn't good at following orders. After you were removed from the Tine house, my men finished the job I'd ordered. The bloodsuckers, all their human friends. All dead. We couldn't take the risk of any of them trying to locate you.”

For a few long seconds, I was numb – utterly devoid of conscious thought or feeling. Then pain rippled into my chest, as though my heart had been stabbed with a cold, sharp knife and it was all I could do to remain upright in the armchair, not fall to my knees with the pain.

“I don't want to hurt you.” Armstrong's voice was gentler now, less harsh, and more persuasive. “All I want is information. When you have given it to me, you'll be free to leave.”

I kept my gaze lowered, focusing on my hands and Lucas's gold ring on my finger. Could Lucas really be dead? Rowena and Marianne— everyone? Was this a trick, or was he telling the truth? I doubted his honesty and certainly didn't believe he would let me go if I told him what he wanted to know. More likely, he would kill me as soon as I gave up the knowledge.

I inhaled a deep breath and forced myself to look up into his cold eyes, speaking quietly and firmly. “I don't know what you want from me. I don't have a clue about what you're saying. I have nothing I could tell you.”

Armstrong was furious as he launched himself from the armchair. I squeezed my eyes shut, convinced he was going to hit me, but instead he wrenched me up from the chair, his grip unyielding around my wrist.

He dragged me unceremoniously from the room, along the hallway and back down the stairs. He flung open the metal door and pushed me into the concrete cell. I stumbled and fell, hitting my shoulder and hip hard against the unforgiving floor.

“You will tell me everything you know. You can be absolutely sure of it,” he shouted angrily.

The door slammed and I heard the key turn in the lock, the noise echoing throughout the empty room. I dragged myself to the mattress, sobbing with terror as I dropped down onto it. I curled up into a ball, my body trembling so violently I wrapped my arms around my legs to try to control the shakes. Tears flowed freely as I considered whether the only people I truly considered family in this world could possibly be dead.