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Chapter 2: Captivity

The last time I had seen Kurtis Trent, I had given up the last Obscura painting in exchange for his life. I was tired, breathless and soaking wet from my journey into the flooded Lux Veritatis vault under the Strahov, and I emerged to find Eckhardt waiting for me. After applauding my performance, he had left Kurtis and I to be eaten alive by one of his freakish creations, but Kurtis had helped me to escape so I could hunt Eckhardt down. I hadn't seen Kurtis again since that day, although I had reason to suspect he had survived the fight. When I returned to the arena after destroying the Sleeper, I found the monstrous corpse of Eckhardt's creature heaped close to the wall, but no sign of Kurtis. The mysterious weapon he used was lying on the ground, sticky with spilt blood, and when I picked it up it jumped briefly to life in my hand. As I made my way out of the Strahov, the building started to shake and crumble, the explosion in Eckhardt's lab causing the whole complex to slowly collapse. I got out relatively unscathed, only to be promptly arrested and carted back to Paris. Kurtis' weapon had been seized along with my other possessions, but to the surprise of myself and the police officers, it had disappeared by the time I was released without charge. I had wondered on several occasions whether Kurtis had come back for it himself, as impossible as it may seem.

Now I was facing him once again, and this time I was his captive. I stared at him in disbelief, heart pounding and mind racing. Nothing made sense. He was behind this? After what we had been through together in Prague?

"You," I said. My mind was too confounded to manage anything more intelligent.

"Surprised to see me?" he replied, putting the gun away into a holster under his coat. "You'd better get used to it. We're going on a long journey together."

"What's going on?" I demanded, voice growing more urgent. "What the hell do you want with me?"

"Me personally? Nothing. I was just sent to pick you up. My employer will be able to explain more when we get to him. I'm sorry we had to bring you in by force, but I don't think you would have come if we'd just asked nicely. As for what happens next, well, we're going to Egypt, I guess I can tell you that much." He spoke casually, as though he were almost bored, and it was that as much as the fact he had kidnapped me that ignited my rage. The mention of Egypt was an extra blow.

"I'm not going anywhere, with you or anyone else," I shot back at him. "Especially not Egypt. So you can tell your employer to go fuck himself. I'm retired."

He looked at me wearily. "As I said, I didn't think you'd come if I just asked. We'll be working together for a couple of weeks, nothing more, and as soon as we're done you can go back home and carry on your nice new life with your nice new boyfriend and forget it ever happened."

I couldn't tell if he was trying to infuriate me deliberately or not, but I became more livid with every word. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and I realised that my body was back under my control again. I threw myself at Kurtis, catching him off guard fast enough to knock him off balance. As he staggered back I threw a punch into his face, striking him just below the left cheekbone before the Russian heavies managed to intervene and drag me away again. I was shoved against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from me, and I struggled desperately in their grip.

Kurtis snapped at the guards in Russian, and reluctantly they let me go. He had straightened himself up again and stepped closer to me now, every movement as smooth and tightly controlled as a panther's. His expression remained disinterested as he slowly turned his head to the side and spat blood onto the filthy floorboards.

"Don't do that again," he said, a cold edge showing in his voice now. He said a few more words to the guards, who shuffled out of the room without replying, but kept his gaze firmly on me the whole time. "Okay," he continued when the door had been closed behind the henchmen. "Now, you're going to sit over here, and keep quiet. We won't be travelling for a few more hours so you may as well try to get some sleep. I'm going to sit over there in that chair and read my paper." He crossed the room towards the small table and, facing away from me, proceeded to take off his coat. He wore a black long sleeved t-shirt underneath, the familiar holster strapped across his back. The circular weapon I had carried from the Strahov was back in place, hanging from a loop on his belt. His body looked stronger and harder than the last time I had seen him, and it had been an impressive sight then. If I had opted for an easier life since leaving Prague, then he had clearly done the opposite, and I wondered whether I would really stand much of a chance against him if I tried to fight. The telekinetic abilities I had seen him use in the Louvre and the Strahov only did more to stack the odds against me, as did the new attitude he had adopted. I had seen the danger in his eyes when we had met before, including that night in the Louvre when he had snatched my guns and the Obscura painting away from me, but there had been warmth there, too; a spark of mischief that had intrigued me and invited me closer. I had found myself liking and trusting him. But there was no trace of that warmth now. The man before me was dark, closed, detached. He looked like a killer.

"I brought some of your things from the house," he went on, draping his coat over the back of the chair. He crouched down and unzipped the sports bag, which I now realised was one of my own. He pulled out a newspaper and, to my horror, a bottle of vintage red wine from my cellar. "Good year," he said dryly, looking at the label. "That should help me pass the time." He placed it on the table and carried on looking through the bag.

"You pathetic little thief," I hissed, but he ignored me.

"I brought you some more clothes, and if you need any more we can pick them up for you in Egypt." He got to his feet again and took a few steps towards me. "This doesn't have to be hard if we just treat each other with respect. I'm willing to do that. You?"

"Is that supposed to be funny?" I replied. "What kind of a game do you think you're playing? I don't know what it is that you've got planned for me, but if you actually believe for a second that I'm going to cooperate when you've drugged me, abducted me from my home, stolen from me, locked me up in God knows where – then you're very much mistaken."

He shook his head. "Okay. You want to do it the hard way. I can't say I'm surprised. But I'm not giving you a choice. Just sit your ass down over there and shut up, and I'll keep out of your way. I just want to do my job." I watched him walk back towards the table, hating him more with every passing second.

"You disgust me," I spat.

He turned on his heel and strode towards me, one hand pulling the gun from his holster and the other reaching for me. He grabbed me roughly by the shoulder and kept moving, pushing me back against the wall. Cold gunmetal pressed at my throat, stopping my breath. He leaned his face in close to mine, a look of bloodless fury in his narrowed eyes.

"I told you to shut up," he said through gritted teeth.

"Fuck you," I gasped, not caring, nothing left in me but rage. The gun pressed harder and I started to choke. I kicked out wildly with one booted foot, making contact with one of his knees so he stumbled slightly, grip slipping from my neck. I pushed both hands hard against his chest hoping he would fall, but he kept his balance, although he had to swing the arm holding the gun away to do so. I gulped in air through my burning throat, and raised a fist to strike him.

Too late. He brought his free hand around and slapped me with great force around the face, sending me spilling to my knees. He moved behind me quickly, and while I was still stunned from the blow he shoved a boot against my back, forcing me down onto my belly on the bare floorboards. I let out a snarl like a trapped animal as he knelt down, one knee pressed painfully into my spine, and wrestled my arms behind my back.

"I didn't want to have to do this," he said, and I felt him shift as he reached into the sports bag for something to tie me. I struggled against him but only succeeded in grazing my face and shoulder on the rough ground.

"I'm going to kill you for this, you piece of shit," I swore as he wrapped thick cord around my wrists. He tied my hands tight, not enough to cut off the circulation, but tight enough that no amount of wriggling would free them.

"Sure you are," he replied. He removed his knee from my back and rolled me over with one wide palm. I glared up into his face as he knelt over me, wishing more than ever before that I had his telekinetic powers so I could fling something into his arrogant, hateful head. He reached to pick up his gun from where he had laid it on the floor moments before, and trained it lazily on me. The murder in his eyes had faded now, and he regarded me now with quiet annoyance. He reached out his free hand to brush my cheek free of dust from my cosy contact with the floor, but I yanked my head away in disgust.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he said, sounding almost tired.

"And you're dead, Trent," I snapped back, pulling my knees up so I could maneuvre myself into a sitting position. He stood up.

"Well, sweetheart, you sit there and think over all the terrible things you're gonna do to me when we get to Egypt, and I'll go read my paper." He slid his gun back into the holster at his side, and returned to his seat.

I sat up and rested my weight against the nearby wall, watching him. He uncorked the wine and took a swig directly from the bottle, then sat back with his paper and lit a cigarette. He was clearly ignoring me on purpose, faking indifference to get me even more riled. It was working. All I could think about was hurting him, pounding my fists and feet into his stupid body until he stopped moving. Spurred on once more by the thought, I clambered to my feet and ran at him.

I certainly achieved the element of surprise, Kurtis only looking up just in time to see my foot fly towards his chest. The spinning kick sent him sprawling to the floor, wine bottle smashing beside him. I relished the shock in his eyes as he gaped up at me, and made to kick him in the side of the head. But before my foot make contact I felt the ground shift beneath me, and I was thrown back across the room by an invisible force. I collided with the wall, bound hands flaring with pain as they were crushed behind me.

Kurtis was on his feet again. "Fucking bitch," he cursed, brushing himself off. He picked up the toppled chair and walked towards me with it held out in front of him like a lion tamer. I was winded, and stunned at the speed of his reflexes. He slammed the chair down next to me and yanked me to my feet.

"Don't you dare fucking move," he said, and went over to the table. In spite of all my instincts to attack again while his back was turned, I stood still, body aching, not wanting to suffer any more damage. He grabbed a roll of duct tape from the bag that lay by the table, and came back towards me.

"Take a seat," he said.

I wasn't going to be ordered around, no matter how grim my chances were. "Go to hell."

He grabbed me by my upper arms and forced me down into the chair, then crouched down to wrap the tape around both of my ankles in turn, binding them tightly to the chair legs. He straightened up and placed his hands on the back of the chair, to either side of me, tipping the chair back slightly as he did so. I could smell the red wine and cigarette smoke on his breath as he leaned in close, his warm scent heavy on my senses.

"Have you decided how you're going to kill me yet?" he said, voice barely above a whisper.

I stared coldly into his dark blue eyes, wondering whether I would gouge them out before or after I removed his entrails. "Very slowly," I replied.

He actually smiled then. "I can hardly wait," he murmured close to my ear, and stood up. The chair shifted forwards again as he let go. He looked me over thoughtfully for a moment, like a painter at his easel, and then grabbed the chair and turned it around so I was facing the wall. I heard him move away, and a moment later, the rustle of his newspaper.

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:o Well… there we have it, chapters 1 and 2. Feedback would be much appreciated as always, especially about NASTY Kurtis. I have some more of this written, so there should be an update quite soon… if anyone wants to read it that is! Later, bunnies J