A/N - The exalted cliffhanger. Thank you all for your support on this story! I'm so glad that you're all enjoying it, even if some of you aren't fans of my element choices. Thanks for being awesome!

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Chapter 32: Run, Run, as Fast as You Can

Hiccup bent over the book again, trying to wrap his head around the one page paper. His computer screen glared up at him as a blank word document, the cursor blinking, as if it knew he was procrastinating. Sighing, he leaned back against the couch. What kind of class was Environment Science anyway?

According to his phone, it was seven. Seven o'clock on a Saturday evening and here he sat, homework spread over the table. He sat here, and Astrid was off doing who-knows-what, with god-knows-who. No, Hiccup told himself. He shouldn't think like that. She said she would stop that.

Head in his hands, he almost ignored the buzzing of his phone. He reached for it without looking at it too closely.

What's up?

Nothing.

Have dinner plans?

Hiccup blinked at the screen. Subconsciously, he assumed the text to be from Astrid. But the name across the top of the screen said Cara. A bump echoed through his chest, either from the misassumption or the lack of a meal since noon, which hadn't been much of one.

No. Hiccup felt a plunge as the word popped up in the dialogue. Cara knew about Astrid, didn't she? He told her at some point, surely, that he lived with another girl, the girl he called his girlfriend. A girl wouldn't openly ask out a boy with a girlfriend, right? That had to be some kind of relationship taboo. On the other hand, Hiccup knew relatively little about relationships.

You want to come hang out? A bunch of us are going out.

Where about?

There's this café place downtown. They've got great French Onion soup. It's slam poetry night.

Hiccup looked down at the text, and then glanced around the apartment. In reality, this decision should have made itself without hesitation. He didn't know what slam poetry was, but someone wanted his company. Totally.

Cool! Want us to come pick you up?

Sure.

In half an hour, Hiccup was climbing into the backseat of a white sedan with a dent in the back bumper. Cara's friends were all older, one of them sported a lengthy beard and looked like one of the television wild-men. They were speeding back onto the highway when Hiccup reached for his phone, only to discover his pocket empty.

"Is something wrong?" Cara asked from the front seat. She bent around, stretching the seat belt dangerously.

"I left my phone on the table," Hiccup confessed.

"We can go back and get it," the driver piped up without judgment.

"No, it's okay," Hiccup shook his head. "No one really calls me anyway."

X

"Honey, I'm hooome," Dagur the Deranged sing-songed in a deadly, playful whisper as he stepped over the threshold of the hotel room, kicking the door closed behind him. It clapped into the frame heavily, a sound that Astrid prayed would carry suspiciously into the hallway.

Astrid scooted away from him as fast as she could, an awkward act in her dress and heels. She needed something, a weapon, anything. She scanned the room quickly, but there was nothing within easy access. She hit her back on the desk and scrambled to stand. Dagur grabbed her by the arms, lifting her as a doll, and held her out.

"I know you," he said, his tone nothing more than utterly, menacing fascination. He spoke quietly, but it would not have mattered if he shouted. "I know that face!"

"I don't know you," Astrid said quickly. Her feet barely touched the floor. His hands gripped her arms tightly, biting into her.

"You're the Hofferson girl," Dagur said without a doubt. He grinned madly, his teeth no so crooked as to be immediately off-setting. Physically, he was normal, but the strangeness, the insanity, was embedded into his skin, into his wide merciless eyes, into his bones, into the small lines that formed with the gesture. "I remember her face, your mother, was she? They told me they had a kid, but that she wasn't there. But you were, weren't you?"

In an instant, his grin vanished. In the dim light of the room, shadows crossed his face and elongated his frown, and the internal monster matched the outside, even if in illusion. Dagur raised her higher into the air and threw her, like an angry child might throw a rag doll, and she landed ungracefully on the bed. Unfortunately, it made little sound. For the first time, the sound muffling fixtures of the hotel room angered her.

Help. She needed help. Dagur stood at the foot of the bed, something glinting in his hand. Astrid rolled to the bedside as he lunged for her. She crashed onto the floor as something sharp bit into her back. A hand grabbed her arm and she opened her mouth to scream, and for a short second, her bloodcurdling shriek filled the room, but Dagur's hand swiftly struck her mouth, covering it as he yanked her closer to him.

Something sent searing pain up her side. She yanked on his hand, but it firmly held onto her. Fear pumped through her, and she put all of her strength into her foot, and stomped her heel into his shoe.

"Fuck!" Dagur shouted.

His grip loosened and she yanked herself away from him, stumbling to the dresser. The small mirror shifted with her sudden weight, but she paid it no mind. She barely made it to her feet before Dagur had her in his grip again, this time his face held no fascination, only seething rage.

"You bitch!" Dagur picked her up and slammed her against the mirror. It shattered, sending sparkling shards falling to the dresser top, where they crashed and careened into one another, before water-falling to the floor. Pain speckled her back and shoulders. Several broken shards on the dresser top and floor glinted with bright red.

Astrid struggled against his grip, a fruitless effort. In his hand he held a knife, long and sharp, more dagger than knife. A non-intentional pun, surely. He watched her with mad eyes, holding the tip of the knife to her stomach, his hand holding her mouth, fingers crushing her jaw, holding her into the broken mirror. Pieces of glass tangled in her hair and dug into her scalp.

She kicked at him, but only managed to scrap his clothing with her heel. Her struggle widened his grin, brightened his eyes. He pushed the blade slowly, tearing through the dress fiber by fiber, denting her skin. Hot blood soaked into the dark material. She pulled against his hand and tried to push away from the pain, but there was nowhere to go. He held her firm.

"The job was to kill the Hoffersons, that was the contract," Dagur whispered, his eyes on her despite the blade he slowly teased into her abdomen. "Everyone inside the house, dead. The maid, the woman, the man. That was everyone, I thought. But you were there? You had to be there. You knew me. I saw the look on your face, 'that's the guy,' so you saw me. You had to."

Her heart raced and every part of her body was writhing, either from pain or fear. No one could hear her. No one would come. She would die here, in this room, just like her mother died in her bedroom while her daughter crouched, frozen, just inside the closet, where she'd been told to hide, and like a coward that's where she stayed until the police arrived. This time, Astrid's body would be the one they stood over, debating and theorizing, poking and prodding.

Hiccup. Who would tell him? Eret? What would happen to him? She never told him… He'd miss her, wouldn't he? The pain threatened to take her into the darkness, and she willing let it spoon into her vision.

Thump. Something heavy and solid hit the door from the other side. Hope swelled in Astrid's throat as the thump repeated. Dagur tore his eyes from her as the wood of the frame buckled, splintering audibly. With one last thump the door pushed clean off it's hinges. Two massive men charged in and Dagur released her, throwing her at them.

One of the men caught her while the other tackled Dagur. Hands picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. The struggle in the bedroom ended quickly with a few swishes and stomps, grunts and groans, and then someone ran passed the bathroom door. Astrid didn't see who it was, but she heard Alvin shout from the hallway.

"Don't let him out! I want this place on lockdown." Alvin had shouted before, but she had never heard his so furious and deadly. "I don't care how you do it! But don't make a scene. The press is the last thing I need."

The bodyguard kept Astrid in the bathroom, two massive hands on her shoulders, as Alvin stomped into the room. The commotion outside faded as Alvin's broad frame filled the doorway.

"Are you alright?" Alvin asked Astrid, his tone softer but still fierce.

She nodded. She tried to answer, but her voice seemed to be broken.

Alvin shook his head. He walked around her with a grim set face. "You'll need medical attention. You're beat up pretty bad. Joe, take her down to my room. I'll put in a call to Markus. Don't open the door for anyone."

Joe the bodyguard nodded and with gently assertiveness, he ushered Astrid out of the room. Her feet swayed and if it hadn't been for Joe, she wouldn't have made it to Alvin's room. She would have collapsed in the hallway and been there when housekeeping came in the morning. In a blur, she was pushed through a door and sat down. Everything spun. She covered her face with her hands but the spinning continued.

For an prolonged eternity she sat there, waiting to pass out or throw up, when finally Alvin returned. Astrid peeked through her fingers at him. He didn't look happy. With him was a short man who'd thrown a long brown coat over sweatpants and a stained t-shirt.

"This the girl?" the man asked in a pretentious, intelligent tone that didn't match his clothes. Alvin nodded and the man stepped closer to Astrid with careful, precise steps. He stood in front of her and made a slow circle around her, tsking under his breath. "My, my, this will take a bit of time."

"Astrid, this is Dr. Jason Markus." Alvin stood by the door, arms crossed. "He's going to fix you up."

"If I didn't owe you a favor I would have made you wait until morning, but I am glad that you didn't. She's already bled quite a bit by the looks of it. She'll survive without a transplant, but she'll be woozy for a while."

"The room's a mess. It'll take a week to clean it up." Alvin grimaced. He hated spending money, or rather, replacing things. "I've got the girls already on it. The sooner this is straightened up the better."

"Yes, yes, those pesky reporters. Always asking things. Always wanting to know things." Dr. Markus's tone mimicked an afterthought as he dropped a bag onto a nearby coffee table. From it he pulled two blue gloves and squeezed his boney hands into them. Astrid covered her face again when he reached inside for something silver. She didn't need to wonder about their purpose. She soon felt something plucked from her shoulder, and then dropped onto something else. She peeked. A plastic bowl set beside her, and a piece of bloodied glass still spun on the bottom, rocking the reflected light back and forth. Another joined it, and then another. She shut her eyes.

"Can we remove this?" Dr. Markus voice interrupted.

"It's trashed anyway," Alvin muttered.

Astrid opened her eyes. Dr. Markus was pinching the sleeve of her dress. Alvin handed him a pair of common kitchen scissors, and without hesitation he sliced into the fine fabric. Pieces of it fluttered to the floor. Astrid sat on the stool, passed embarrassment, in the tattered remains of the lovely dress, watching the doctor remove tiny diamonds from her peppered arm.

Blood. There was so much blood, on her, the dress, the floor, the stool, dried dark stains and bright red ooze. She hadn't noticed the smell at first, not with so many other things to worry about. But now, with only it and the glass, it was nauseating.

In the other room, Alvin spoke in low tones. When Astrid caught glimpses of him, he either paced or spoke angrily into his phone. After an excruciating long time, the doctor deemed her glass-free. Astrid blinked at the frightening amount of shards in the bowl. The doctor, as if sensing, pushed it out of her view.

"This is no good," Dr. Markus said, hand on her back. He pulled a curved needle from his bag. Astrid cringed.

"He tried to stab me, but I moved." Astrid explained in a hoarse voice.

"It appears that way," the doctor mumbled indifferently. "The glass did not make it better."

Astrid winced, squeezing her fits, as he stitched her up. He put a few into the wound on her stomach, as well. The doctor cut away the remainder of her cloths and after a safe dose of antibiotic ointment, he banged her up and deemed her finished.

"That should do it," the doctor sighed. "I'd take it easy if I were you."

She felt like a mummy. Her arms were both covered passed the elbow, and her torso was completely covered. The doctor dug through his bag and then set a little unlabeled bottle of pills on the coffee table.

"Take one pill by mouth, as per the pain, every six to eight hours. Do not exceed three pills in a day. It may cause drowsiness, increase your risk for heart attack, and do not take if you are pregnant." Dr. Markus snapped his bag closed. "And most of the other over-the-counter health warnings."

"Thank you," Astrid said.

"There is no need to thank me, however, you are welcome." The doctor nodded, and left.

Astrid stood up on wobbly legs. She limped to the window and looked out over the dark city. She could see the glistening river in the distance, the icy waters reflected the bridge's lights. Snow covered rooftops and streets, and still sparsely fell.

She could have died tonight. She almost did. If it hadn't been for Alvin.

"You'll stay here tonight," Alvin said from the doorway to his office. "There's an extra bedroom." Astrid opened her mouth, but he interrupted. "No, I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'll have one of the girls bring up something for you to wear."

"Okay," Astrid nodded, catching her reflection in the window. She wore only her patterned underwear and the bandages. In any other situation, she'd have been mortified of Alvin seeing her like this, but right now she was glad to be alive. After a pause, she asked, "Did you get him?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't know how that slimy bastard got out, but he did. If he didn't, then he's still in here. I've got my guys searching every inch of his hotel and parked at every possible exit."

Astrid shook, thinking that Dagur might still be in the hotel.

"Don't worry, Astrid." Alvin's tone changed. He hadn't used her real name in years, and it felt strange on the air. "Bastard was bleeding last time I saw him. I've got people watching the ERs and local clinics. But he's a master at vanishing. I doubt he'll make a mistake like that."

"What do I do?" Astrid asked.

"Don't think about it," Alvin said. "Don't let him get to you. I won't let him touch you. I promise."

"My phone," Astrid said, looking around as if it might be there. "I needed to call Hiccup."

"I'll send someone down to your room to get it," Alvin said. "There's food in the fridge. Get something to eat and get some sleep, if you can. If not, there's a TV in the room."

"Thank you," Astrid said to his retreating back. A wave was his only response.

Astrid poured a glass of organic milk and tore of a chunk of bakery bread. A knock at the door startled her, and she stood at the counter, staring at the door, thinking which drawer held the knives, when Alvin appeared in the doorway. He crossed the room and looked through the peephole before unlocking it, and opened it enough for a familiar bag to be handed through, along with a folded stack of clothing.

"I'll put your things in the room," Alvin said as he locked the door. He double checked the locks.

Astrid took a mystery pill left by the doctor. She felt pain, but it served as a distraction from the anxiety that shook her sore limbs. Taking the little bottle with her, she retreating with her late night snack into the spare bedroom. Her luggage was sitting on the perfectly made bed. She locked the door and double checked the deadbolt.

She sat on the bed and tore off a piece of bread with her teeth. How secure was that window? She got up to inspect it, but then she sat back down. What if Dagur was watching the window? She would be giving her location away. Instead, she dug for her phone. Because of the time, she didn't call. Just a text would do.

Astrid's hand paused, her fingers shaking over the glowing letter. What should she say? Should she tell him what happened? No, he'd only worry. She needed to talk to him about it. She couldn't keep putting it off. He was already mad at her. What else could she do?

Hey, tomorrow when I get back I need to tell you something.

Astrid set the phone down, and ate the last of the bread and drained the milk. She hadn't known how hungry she'd been. She crawled to the top of the bed and worked the covers down and scooted underneath them just as her phone dinged. Her heart raced as she threw her hand out to the lit-up screen, ignoring the pain she caused in her shoulder and back.

Ok

That was it? Astrid stared at the two letter response, waiting to see if there was more. Nothing else appeared and the screen darkened. She set the phone aside. This way, she had to tell him. No more excuses, no more runaround. Truth time.

In the dark of the room, sleep refused to be kind. Curled up underneath the cover, half listening for her phone's chime, she fought the pain to find comfort. There was no comfortable position. Everything hurt. Her back, her arms, her stomach. Somehow, she found the least painful position, and fell into an uneasy, drug-aided sleep.

X

Hiccup yawned as he set on the edge of the bed. He hand automatically reached out for his lit-up phone. He belched, the taste of the onion soup flooded back into his mouth. He blew it out as he opened the text. This time, he read the name first.

Hey, tomorrow when I get back I need to tell you something.

He blinked at it, confused. Why couldn't she just tell him tomorrow instead of warning him in advance? That made it feel like bad news. Whatever, the bed was calling him back to sleep. He'd find out tomorrow, it seemed.

Ok

Hiccup clicked off the screen and collapsed back into the bed.

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