Captive

By Sarah Williams

Lux Swithin wakes up in a hotel room that she has no memory of falling asleep in. Alone, disorientated and far from home Lux fears the darkness. She fears the man who will inevitably return for her.

Unaware of the dark history that led to her capture, Lux is equally oblivious to the various groups that are desperately trying to track her down. The Luminita have only her best interests at heart and are sworn to protect her but others have a more sinister agenda. As Lux attempts to escape her fate, the Luminita use their own unique skills to try and protect her. But whilst some unsavoury characters are easily dealt with, there is a grotesque evil that seems unstoppable. It stalks Lux with a twisted mind, determined to make her pay for ancient crimes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarah Williams
• Release date: Aug 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465945556

Sarah Williams

Sarah grew up just outside of Warminster in England before moving to Australia in 2008. Sarah now lives in the Illawarra region of New South Wales with her boyfriend and an ever growing collection of plants. Sarah enjoys good food and wine, gardening, reading, music, films, yoga and of course writing.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Saturday Night

Though her eyes were tightly shut and her body lay still, Lux Swithin had long since escaped the arms of slumber and was now awake once more. She welcomed the blindness offered by her closed eyelids and felt her other senses sharpening as a result. For the time being Lux chose not to see but to listen, to smell and to touch. To see would be facing the unknown and unpredictable. To see would be giving away her position of consciousness.

With that in mind, Lux tried to keep her breathing even and steady, hoping to give the impression that she was in a deep and peaceful sleep. The only sound she could hear was the gentle sigh of air as she inhaled and exhaled through her nose. It should have been a calming noise, soft and soothing but tonight the sound seemed to echo around her, tearing through the silence like a jagged knife.

Fighting to control the panic that was beginning to seep through her body, Lux felt dangerously exposed. It was as though a hundred eyes were focused on her, scrutinizing her every move. And those eyes knew she was awake, knew that the deep and steady breathing was fake.

The sound of her own breathing was becoming overwhelming, pounding in her ears so loudly that Lux wanted to grab the pillow her head was resting on and use it to block out the noise. Gripped by fear, terrified at not knowing what she would wake up to, Lux nearly gave in and opened her eyes.

But at the last minute she stopped.

She could face the unknown, she could face the unpredictable but she couldn’t face the darkness.

Not yet.

It was strange, the darkness. It’s one of those things that you can normally only see. Darkness has no texture, it has no scent and it makes no sound, yet with her eyes shut, the only thing Lux was certain of was that there was darkness. There was darkness everywhere.

A chill ran down her spine and forgetting that she was feigning sleep, Lux curled her body up in to a ball in a subconscious attempt to defend herself. As she moved she felt an ache in both of her wrists. A small memory of yesterday flashed through her mind and Lux remembered the bruises.

At least she thought it was yesterday. At the moment the days were blurring into one and Lux was becoming more and more disorientated. She had no idea where she was.

In a large bed where she could feel the softness of the linen and smell the fresh scent of washing powder, Lux guessed they were in another hotel room, but she couldn’t be sure. It was a disconcerting thing, waking up in a place different to where you fell asleep.

Still curled up in a ball and shivering slightly despite the mild night, Lux let her hand drift to the other side of the bed and felt a surge of relief when she realised it was empty. If the bed was empty, then it was likely the room was empty, for now at least. Lying flat on her back once more, Lux did not want to go back to sleep. She needed to find out where she was.

Lux took a few moments to compose herself before slowly and cautiously opening her eyes. She drew a short and shaky breath on the realisation there wasn’t the slightest bit of light in the room. Lux had hoped for a digital clock or the glow from street lamps, but the room was pitch black. It was the kind of darkness where you could hold your own hand inches from your face and not be able to see it. The kind of darkness that offered shadows deep enough to shield anyone who would want to remain hidden.

Lux’s breathing was no longer deep and even but coming in short, fast bursts. She reached out her hand and immediately found a bedside table. Her fingers tiptoed over the surface until they found the base of a lamp. Lux traced her hand up towards the top and flicked the switch, immediately illuminating the room with a soft glow. Normally Lux would have squinted at the sudden change in light, but tonight she embraced it.

She quickly assessed her surroundings, glancing momentarily at the furniture and décor, but focusing on mainly the door and the windows. They were definitely in another hotel room. This would have been the third or fourth in a matter of weeks. It was stylish and expensive, though Lux had expected nothing less, but she didn’t care for the minimalist look of white and chrome. It felt too new aged for her and had no warmth. A white room full of empty bookshelves and artistic furniture wasn’t a home. It was just a room. And that’s all this was – it was just a room. Just another room, in another hotel, somewhere in the country.

Lux pushed aside the sheets and stepped bare foot onto the plush carpet. Tonight she wore a white, silk nightgown, though it wasn’t hers. Hesitating slightly, Lux made steps towards the door that she imagined led out onto the hotel landing. Pausing before reaching for the door handle, Lux paused to listen. She thought she could hear voices in the distance, but it only seemed to be the general buzz of various conversations mingling together from elsewhere in the hotel. Lux wrapped her hand around the handle but didn’t turn it. She hesitated but wasn’t sure why.

Curling and uncurling her toes as she thought, Lux realised she was gripping the handle so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She flexed her hand and twisted the handle.

Locked.

She had expected it to be but still managed to feel a slight pang of disappointment. Turning on her heel, the next place to check was the window. This time, Lux moved more quickly across the room to the tall French doors, which were hidden by a set of heavy curtains. Lux pulled the curtains aside and looked out onto the city. The French doors led out on to a balcony but Lux stayed put. There was an even bigger darkness out there just waiting to swallow her whole.

She pressed her hand up against the cool glass and gazed longingly into the distance. She was a long way from home tonight.

Unblinking, Lux’s vision focused on her reflection in the tall glass doors. Her straight black hair reached just below her shoulders and seemed too neat considering she’d just got out of bed.

He liked her hair; liked to play with it and stroke it.

At 5"4 she wasn’t tall and her petite frame made her seem smaller still. Her reflection in the large glass panes seemed tiny and vulnerable. Lux suddenly felt self conscious in her nightgown alone and turned to see if there was a dressing gown nearby. She noticed a wardrobe by the main door and decided to see if any of her clothes were in there. As she walked back across the room, Lux folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t cold, but felt a need to shield herself.

On pulling open the wardrobe doors, she revealed numerous beautiful gowns and other such glamorous attire. None of these things were hers and none of them interested her in the slightest. She pushed past the designer outfits until she found a little pile of her own items folded neatly at the back.

Just as she was reaching for the gypsy skirt and vest top, Lux became aware of footsteps approaching. She froze by the wardrobe, hoping that they would just walk past. Her blue eyes were wide with anticipation and widened still when she realised that the footsteps had stopped right outside the door.

He was back.

There was a click as she heard the lock disengage and then the handle turned. Lux quickly and silently withdrew from the wardrobe and just as the door opened, she slipped to the side and pushed her body up against the wall. When the door opened further still, she found herself hidden between door and wall.

Lux held her breath.

A large and balding man entered the room. His footsteps were heavy on the floor and his leather jacket creaked as his broad shoulders moved with each stride he took. He didn’t close the door behind him and Lux was able to stay hidden in the shadows. The bald man stopped in the middle of the room.

Lux, he called after apparently realising she was no longer in bed.

Lux waited and listened as the footsteps moved deeper into the room.

Lux? he called slightly louder this time.

Lux strained to look sideways out of her small hiding place to see whereabouts he was. The door was open and if he was far enough away, she would be able to slip out from her hiding place and flee. Admittedly, running down a corridor in her nightgown didn’t overly appeal, but Lux decided it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. She couldn’t see him properly because the wardrobe was in the way.

Lux bit her lip in indecision.

If she delayed any further then she’d risk him coming back and shutting the door and therefore revealing her hiding place.

Lux? this time he sounded alarmed and Lux was sure he’d realise his error in leaving the door open.

With bare feet and wearing just her nightgown, Lux made her move.

She had to push the door back away from her body in order to make a big enough gap to get away from the wall.

As soon as she did this he heard her.

For a brief and frightening moment their eyes locked – his cold and threatening, hers wide and nervous. Lux moved as fast as she could but he was faster. For such a large and heavy man he had the speed and grace of a gymnast. He launched his body towards her like a man possessed.

Lux knew she wouldn’t be able to make it and so decided her best option was to get as far away as possible from the rhino sized man charging towards her. She darted back towards the bed and he slammed into the door with such force that Lux thought the door should have splintered to pieces. He quickly locked it before turning to face her.

Lux stood against the bed, her fingers gripping nervously at the edge of the sheets. She noticed he’d dropped his cigarette in his attempts to keep her from leaving. It now smoked away on the floor between them, gradually burning a small black hole into the white carpet.

A nasty little smile pulled at his thin lips and gradually turned into a grin that showed his yellow teeth. He said nothing and instead pulled a piece of rope from the pocket of his jacket. Lux remembered the bruises.

As he walked towards her, Lux contemplated making a break for the bathroom, but realised that he was now blocking all possible exits. Striding towards her with an arrogant swagger, he dropped to pick up his fallen cigarette and took a drag before blowing long billows of smoke in her direction. He menacingly pulled at the rope in his hand and before she knew it he had his huge fists around her arms.

She could feel his nails digging in to her skin but did not flinch. Instead she stared back at him, unblinking and calm. The next few moments were a complete blur to her.

Lux was fairly sure she’d heard the gunfire, but couldn’t work out where it had come from.

For a second it felt as though they were frozen in time.

Lux stared into his eyes as he continued to maintain his heavy grip on her arms. Things started moving again when she saw the shock register on his face. For some reason she couldn’t break her gaze.

It was strange, she thought, that as his eyes rolled and the trickle of blood escaped his lips that he managed to continue grinning at her.

The colour drained from his leathery skin and he sunk to his knees like a man begging forgiveness. His ham like fists were still hanging on to her, but now all he was trying to do was stop his heavy body from crumpling further into the ground. His teeth were stained with blood but his lips were pale. Head lolling and grip loosening, the great rhino of a man before her let go of his grip way before he let go of his smile. When he finally folded into a heap by her feet, he fell in slow motion.

Lux couldn’t move a muscle. Her arms were still slightly outstretched where he’d been holding her and her eyes locked in a distant stare.

The tall man at the door didn’t appear to be holding a gun, but Lux was sure it had been him that had fired. He crossed the room without taking his eyes off of her once. Stepping over the body as though it weren’t there he reached for her slightly outstretched arms as though she’d been reaching to him and cupped her small wrists in his hands.

It was the touch of his lips on her skin that brought Lux back to reality.

She stared at him as he gently and tenderly kissed at her bruises.

The pain was worse than ever.

CHAPTER ONE

Sunday Morning

One of life’s great mysteries is how the consumption of such vast quantities of alcohol could possibly leave a person dehydrated. With that much fluid, it would seem the last thing the human body should want or need is more.

Not really one of life’s great mysteries. More like one of life’s great annoyances. Or that’s what Roxy thought when she woke up with a Sunday morning hangover.

She could still taste the Margarita – a slightly bitter taste with a vague hint of lime, beautifully mixed with morning breath and a furry tongue. Her mouth was dry and she was so thirsty, but the need to stay still and keep the room from spinning was outweighing the need to get up and find some water. At some point the inevitable would happen and all else would pale in significance to the need to wee.

However none of these things were what woke Roxy that morning.

At first she thought the banging was just a really bad headache, but then she realised the banging was not inside her head but on her front door.

This was not how Roxy liked to be woken.

On a perfect day, Johnny Depp would turn up with a cup of tea, doughnut and an insatiable need to be cuddled. In the real world, minus Johnny, doughnut and tea, just waking up after lunchtime would have kept Roxy happy. Persistent door knockers were not welcome. Ever.

Roxy peered out from under her duvet in an attempt to get a glimpse at her bedside clock. It seemed to be missing from her bedside table and was probably laying on the carpet. This was not down to being inebriated but a general clumsiness Roxy had about her when she was asleep. Most mornings, Roxy found various bedside objects on the floor and under her bed after she’d unwittingly knocked them over in the night with flailing arms and feet.

It still felt early but the sun was already shining. Not that this meant anything for the time of year. In the height of summer, even if it did decide to rain all day, the sun would guarantee to make an appearance if just to wake you up at four o’clock in the morning.

Wriggling to the middle of her bed and wedging the pillow up around her ears, Roxy noted that the banging continued. It was the type of sound where if you listened to it for long enough you started to doubt if it was what you originally imagined. Roxy started to think it might be builders but thought better of it when the banging started to pick up more of a beat. Someone was tapping a tune on her door. Damn tune tapping door knocking bastards.

Roxy fought to block out the sound. There was no way she was getting out of bed for a double-glazing salesman or a Jehovah’s Witness. She wasn’t sure if double-glazing salesmen worked on a Sunday but was fairly sure they must do. They were persistent little buggers so why should the fact of it being a Sunday keep them from dragging people out of bed. Jehovah’s witnesses were a different story – surely Sunday was their specific time to work. Throwing her duvet back from her face, Roxy was suddenly intrigued by the idea of a double-glazing selling Jehovah’s Witness.

Squinting in the light and grabbing a trainer, Roxy had already decided that unless the person on the other side of her door was Johnny Depp they were getting a whack with a shoe. Even Johnny Depp would have to at least have a cup of tea and a doughnut, if he was to avoid the trainer.

A mass of blonde hair, last night’s make-up, oversized t-shirt and fluffy bunny slippers, Roxy stalked across her flat to the front door. She was gripping her trainer menacingly and wished she had bigger feet. Without bothering to engage the chain, Roxy yanked the door open with narrowed eyes and trainer raised high.

Roxy you’re a vision, two men stood at her door, You’re like a cross between the Statue of Liberty and a mad cat lady.

Roxy lowered her trainer and pointed it at her visitors.

It is very early, she said.

The two men exchanged glances.

It’s practically lunchtime, said the man with thick grey hair, and we’ve come prepared. Rabbit has coffee and doughnuts.

The man referred to as Rabbit, stood slightly behind his taller friend, nodded and smiled. Roxy raised an eyebrow.

Alas, we do not bring Johnny Depp, said the grey haired man.

I think it’s disturbing that you would know that, said Roxy, tossing her trainer to one side and shuffling towards the sofa.

The two men followed her in.

Roxy didn’t care in the slightest that she looked like a crazy cat lady because the two people in her flat were like family. They were her best friends, her brothers in soul if not by blood and she loved them with all her heart.

The grey haired man was known simply as Grey, for obvious reasons. He was only twenty-eight but in the four years Roxy had known him, he’d always had thick silvery locks.

Grey followed her to the sofa and immediately made himself comfortable, while Rabbit pottered about in the kitchenette. Roxy couldn’t see what he was doing but knew that he was pouring her coffee from the paper cup into a proper mug. Rabbit didn’t like paper cups.

Shortly after Grey had sat down on her right hand side, Rabbit soon joined on her left, with a mug in one hand and a plate with doughnut in the other. He gently placed them on the coffee table and then sat down without a word.

Thank you, Rabbit, said Roxy gratefully.

Rabbit smiled.

He didn’t speak much. Roxy thought it was strange for a young man to be so quiet and had always just assumed it was because he was shy. He normally only spoke when necessary and even then it was the absolute minimum. It was like he was saving his energy by using words economically.

Roxy yawned loudly and rested her head back against the sofa.

You know that we have no sympathy, said Grey, not when it’s self inflicted.

Roxy pouted, How do you know that I wasn’t force fed Margaritas?

I’d like to see someone try and force feed you, replied Grey.

I’m not sure whether I should be offended by that.

Rabbit shook his head.

Well it’s about time someone force fed me some doughnut, said Roxy as she stretched out her body so that her head was resting on Rabbit’s chest and her feet were in Grey’s lap.

I always get the feet, Grey shook his head, what are these things you’ve got on?

They are fluffy bunny slippers thank you very much, said Roxy proudly, and they rock.

Have a doughnut, Grey passed her the plate and Roxy smiled with glee.

So, Roxy said through bites of doughnut, what brings you gentlemen here at this hour?

This hour of twelve o’clock, said Grey.

Roxy nodded and there was a brief pause as Grey and Rabbit exchanged glances.

"I