The Missing

looked out of place in the old storm cellar, clean, extremely modern, and very locked. Leaning against the door, she strained to hear something, but there was nothing. Either nobody was making any noise on the other side, or that door was damn good at muffling sound.

    She had her lock picks on her this time, and she pulled them out and went to work, cursing the dim light that fell through the sole open door. Cullen had a flashlight, but she’d told him not to turn it on unless she said so, and she didn’t want to use it now and risk alerting Leon to their presence.

    Sweat dripped down her face as she worked. She’d done this in darker, worse conditions than this, and she could do it again.

    There: a faint clicking sound. She turned the doorknob, and it moved, but still, the door wouldn’t open. Damn it. Obviously somebody really wanted the door to stay closed. She stood and gave Cullen a look. He didn’t even have to ask. She stood by as he kicked the door. Wood groaned, but it didn’t give. He swore and then struck again, harder this time.

    Wood splintered, and the door flew open with a crash. Light spilled into the stairwell and they both stood, frozen with shock, for a brief second.

    Leon was in there, all right, his face wet with sweat, his eyes bright and mad—with a whip in his hand that came screaming through the air to land on the slender, naked back of a girl who looked to be all of thirteen or fourteen.

    Her uncle wasn’t aware of them. It was like nothing in the world existed, save for the helpless girl lying facedown in front of him. Blood streaked down her back and sides in rivulets, pooling on the table where she lay restrained. Thick leather straps held her in place at her waist, her thighs, each of her hands, each of her feet. Her head was turned so that she faced them, but there was no sense in her eyes. Nothing but terror and pain. As the whip landed, she made no sound.

    It would have been hard to, because Leon had effectively gagged her with a piece of silvery gray duct tape. Above the strip of tape, her face was bruised and battered. Taige could see the imprint of a hand on her cheek, and the telltale bruising around her throat where somebody had wrapped their hands around her neck and squeezed. Both of her eyes were bruised and so swollen, it was amazing she could even open them.

    It took less than a few seconds to take all of that in, but it seemed forever. Like a movie trapped in slow motion, Taige could see herself turn to look at Leon, each movement painstakingly slow. She was aware of each breath, each heartbeat. Fury knotted her muscles.

    Still unaware of Taige, Leon lifted the whip, screaming out, “Will you repent?”

    His own fury had blinded and deafened him, because he remained unaware of them until Taige pounced. Time sped back up as she leaped for him, using her weight to ride him to the floor, and there, she started to hit him.

    Over and over. Pain shot up her arm, hands grabbed her and tried to pull her away, and still, she pummeled Leon. He screamed and swore, words that no decent preacher would ever speak. He struggled underneath her, and without thinking twice, Taige used her mind, blasting through his shields to hold him immobile with her gift. “You sick son of a bitch. You bastard,” she screamed at him, seeking some outlet for the fury inside her.

    But nothing helped. The anger grew, threatened to overwhelm her. Hands once more grabbed her arms, and Taige struggled against Cullen as he pulled her off and hauled her away from Leon, kicking and screaming.

    Part of him wanted to turn around and finish the job as Cullen struggled to control Taige. She fought against him with the strength and fury of a tiger, snarling, practically growling. “Taige.” He called her name over and over, but there was no response. Finally, he dragged her over to the table where the girl was still lying, breathing shallowly and staring into space with the blank gaze of a doll. “Taige, damn it, she needs your help. She needs us.”

    Leon lay in a pummeled, bloodied mess behind them. Taige fought a little more, squirming, but Cullen used his body to block Taige’s view of her uncle, and that seemed to break through the rage, reaching the woman inside. Her breath wheezed in and out of her lungs. Slowly, cautiously, he reached up and cupped her face, forced her to look at the girl. “She needs us, Taige.”

    The girl. Taige blinked and stared at the girl. Yeah, focus on