GRAVITY | Chapter 11: "Flight (Type A)"

I woke up in a dark room, every muscle aching, but the pressure that had been building inside me for so long had disappeared. Only a light whisper of golden hate echoed through my body, and with very little effort on my part I could ignore the power's siren call. The absence of pain felt ambrosial, and I tried to drift back off to sleep once again.

A cool hand on my forehead startled me into wakefulness. I tried my hardest not to flinch as they took my pulse and felt my temperature. After a few moments, they spoke to me.

"I hope you will be alright," she said in a voice of softness and velvet. "I am going to go get some water and a cloth to wash your face with." I felt her smooth the hair from my forehead in a way I could only interpret as loving. "Please wake up soon, Miss Miranda. I don't know if you can hear me, but I hope you know I'm wishing the best for you."

What a weird thing for a kidnapper to say, I thought.

She left me, then, and when I heard a door shut behind her and the sound of footsteps fading down a hallway, I opened my eyes and threw off the quilt covering me. My kidnappers had stored me in a small bedroom with a single window, a bed, a nightstand, and a rocking chair. A watercolor painting hung on the wall across from the bed, adding a spot of color to the otherwise drab space. After taking a good look around, I swung my legs out of bed and stood up, only to wobble on limbs of jelly for a few moments. The weakness annoyed me; I liked being in shape.

Why was I so weak, anyway?

I remembered... very little. Those Tweedle-Dum idiots had cornered me at school, Hiei had flashed me with that weird eye of his, that Koenma guy had explained to me that there were demons (I shuddered at the thought; my conception of reality had been torn to rags) and then Hiei had attacked me (again) on the porch. But what came after that? Golden light and pain, and then darkness...

But there was something else there, too: something beautiful and strange and warm and comforting...

Straining for the memory I knew lurked just beyond my waking consciousness, I kneaded my temples with my knuckles and thought—hard!—about my experience. Nothing came as I contemplated the golden light of my power, so I started mulling over the cool, soothing darkness, and—

I dropped my hands to my sides.

There, now, the voice in the darkness had whispered. Jus' rest. Yer gonna be alright.

What a wonderful voice! I thought. It wasn't the voice's beauty that snared me. It wasn't striking or musical or anything like that. The voice radiated reassurance and warmth, caring and compassion, like they were speaking only for me and no one else in the entire world… or, worlds, if you wanted to get technical. If tried to recall how the voice particularly sounded, I drew a blank. The only thing that remained with me was the voice's loving tone and emotional resonance, a vibration I felt I could recognize after hearing just one more syllable. I longed to hear the voice again—craved to hear it again.

But as much as I wanted to hear it, I wanted to get away from this place more. And besides, it wasn't like I was going to find the owner of that brilliant voice by sitting in that small, dark room, anyway, right?

I tried standing again, and this time my legs supported me. However, when I looked down at my feet to make sure they weren't going to trip over a badly placed rug, I realized someone had changed my clothes. My face burned as I wondered who had done it. Surely a girl, right? I mean, I wasn't wearing all that much—a white t-shirt soaked in sweat and a pair of men's athletic shorts. Sniffing my arm, I made a face at the odor wafting from my skin.

First thing's first, I needed a bath. They'd be able to track me by stink alone me if I escaped.

I went to the door and pressed my ear against it, listening for my caretaker's approach. All was silent. I opened the door and stuck my head out into a long, dark, wood-paneled hallway. No one was there, so I slipped out of the room and shut the door behind me. There were more doors in the corridor; I went to the one directly across from my room and pressed my ear against it. Nothing. I looked inside to find another bedroom like mine, but it was more lived-in-looking. The bed had been slept in by a rowdy sleeper, for one thing, and there was a small brown box on the bedside table. A wrapped package that appeared to be a little longer than a baseball bat sat propped against the bed's headboard, and the closet door was slightly ajar. Other than those small details, though, it was a Spartan set-up.

I left that room alone and chose the door on its left. Bingo! I thought when I heard the sound of running water. Bathroom! I opened the door wide enough to admit my head inside just in time to see the outline of a body slip into the large bathing pool at the far side of the room.

Holy crap, I thought, jerking my head back out so fast I thought I gave myself whiplash. Holy crap! What if they saw me!?

Peering around the door frame, I realized that the fog was so thick it was almost impossible to see the person sitting in the bath. I could only just make out the person's shock of flaming red hair. Odds are, if I was quiet, I would go unnoticed.

So, that must be Kurama in there, I thought as I crept inside and over to the showers. Stupid red-headed demon. Taking a bath in the middle of the day, are we? I hate you, pretty-boy. You probably smell better than I do.

I stripped next to the showers as quietly as I could, then picked up a showerhead connected to a long metal hose and turned it on. Hot water gushed out, but the sound of it was so loud I almost screamed. So much for secrecy. I shot Kurama a glance, and for a second my heart leapt into my throat because it seemed as if he had vanished. Then I noticed a mound of wild red hair protruding over the top of the bath; Kurama was peering over it and into the fog like a little kid spying on the neighbors. I almost laughed at him right then and there, but I kept my head down and washed up as quickly as I could instead, snagging a towel from a shelf above the shower.

Shit, I thought as I dried off. What do I do about clothes? Mine are too gross to put back on.

That's when I saw Kurama's change of clothes lying by one of the other showers. My face split into an evil grin. I snagged his shirt and pulled it on like a dress. It came down to my knees.

"Eat that, pretty-boy," I whispered, shooting him one last look as I left the bathroom.

I went back to the room I started in to look for my old clothes. They turned out to be in a basket beneath the bed, but the shirt and bra were nothing but tatters so I could not use them. I wondered, as I looked at them, how they had become so torn. I had no memory of it.

My uniform skirt's waistband had been shredded. It fell to my ankles after I put it on, so I decided to only wear the huge shirt. My underwear, socks, and shoes had survived, however, so I put on all of them.

Now for escape, I thought as I appraised the room's small window. It opened easily enough, although it was so small I had trouble fitting my hips through, and the drop to the flowerbed below was well over five feet. Still, I somehow made it unscathed, and as I used the natural friction of my moist palms to brace against the window pane and shut it from the outside, the door to the bedroom opened. I dropped to my knees, catching a hasty flash of blue and green as the person entered. The sound of a ceramic bowl breaking on the floor let me know that my flight had been discovered, so I did not waste any time in running away from the temple in a low crouch, kicking up well-tended flowerbeds as I went.

A forest bordered the clearing the temple had been built in. I followed the edge of the woods at a run until I found myself at the top of a massive staircase. Red Shinto arches overhung the path every fifty feet or so, seemingly guiding me to a new better place, and with elation I started down the steps at a run.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

My heart leapt into my throat as I thought: That voice! I know it! I wheeled around at the sound of the familiar accent—but then I realized that it wasn't the voice I wanted. I wanted the voice that had echoed in the dark, not Hiei's scratchy tones. He stood about ten feet behind me on the top step, hands shoved in the pockets of his black pants. He had shed the cloak for a black muscle shirt and three white belts he wore high on his hips, but his scowl and wild hair remained the same, as did his burning red eyes. I noticed, for the first time, that he was handsome, in his own way, but the fact that I knew he was a demon and the vivid memory of his hidden third eye dampened the effect somewhat.

I said nothing, only stared at him boldly for a moment before turning around and taking off at a run down the stairs. Hiei appeared before me just in time for me to smack straight into his chest. He caught my wrists in his hands and pulled me toward him; I tripped and fell against his chest, then struggled.

"Let me go, you creep!" I screamed, pushing against him as I took in the reality of his incredible speed. How was I supposed to outrun someone so damn fast? "Let me go right now! I swear to God, I WILL KILL YOU!"

"You honestly think you're a match for me?" he asked in his harsh voice, but something in his voice spoke of weary patience. "You can't survive by yourself. You'll be safe here."

I kicked him in the shin. He let go of me, more surprised than pained, and I darted around him down the stairs. I felt arms encircle my waist from behind, pulling me backward as my feet flew out from under me, but I wrenched myself free and away from his clinging grasp.

But I had not regained my feet. I began to fall down the stairs.

Hiei caught me, of course, zooming around to a stair below mine and wrapping one arm around my waist and slipping the other around my thighs so that his shoulder pressed into my stomach and supported my weight. I stared down at him in amazement as he lowered me to the ground, but he did not release me—he transferred his grip to my shoulders and met my gaze with unfathomable crimson eyes.

My head was a blur as I looked at him. I wanted so badly to get away I could hardly bear it, but he was keeping me here—he was trying, despite what I wanted, to keep me here. He told me I would be safe here. He put up with my struggling and treated me gently.

What was going on? Was this how kidnappers were supposed to act?

"You will be safe here," he said in a quiet voice, a voice that radiated promise almost the same way as the voice in the darkness had. Almost, but not quite. Hiei's was not so selfless. "No one is going to hurt you, you stupid girl."

I said the only thing I could, the thing my mind was playing on repeat in a blind loop of fear and confusion. I said: "Please let me go. Please. Please, let me go!"

And so he did. He dropped his hands to his sides, holding my eyes with his own, and said: "You have nothing to fear, idiot."

But I was already running at that point, and I barely heard him.