What She Doesn't Know (40 page)

Rita couldn’t give up. “What happened to you? Were you molested as a child? Did you create Sira as a way to escape whatever horrors were happening in your life?”

Sira’s voice lowered. “My horror was a missing penis and a big, fat lie.” She pushed Rita ahead of her, not through the doorway but around a curtain in the back of the room. “Now stop talking. Make any more noise, and I’ll cut your voice box out.”

Rita’s pulse was hammering in her throat.
A missing penis?
What did he—she mean? She didn’t ask. Even swallowing made the blade bite into her. Her arms ached from the pressure on them and their awkward positioning.
 

“None of this would have happened if you’d just died in Boston. Or at least kept your nose out of New Orleans. But no, you had to find out more and more.” Her voice was becoming bitter. “It wasn’t enough that you had to steal Alta away from me. Then you came here and tried to destroy my world.”

At the rear of the warehouse, they came upon some metal stairs that were hidden by fabric. A sign that read
Do not enter
had been taken down.
 

They made their way up to a catwalk that led to empty storage space. Rita could see down below in some places, though Brian had tried to cover it as much as possible. The metal grate had been painted green, though it was rusted through in some areas. She was relieved to see they were heading back toward the gathering room and the sound of conversation. She would go along for now. When they were over the room, she’d make enough noise to get Christopher’s attention.

As soon as she saw people through a crack in the fabric, she shoved backward. The knife cut into her, a searing pain that stole away the breath she needed to scream. Sira slapped her so hard, everything went black for a moment. Bells clanged inside her brain. She felt herself sliding down, then arms around her, guiding her quietly to the floor. When the world cleared, Sira was sitting on top of her, looking down with a feral spark in her eyes. She was crushing her chest, and Rita could barely breathe, much less scream.

She heard a ripping sound, and before she could even react, thick tape covered her mouth. Sira cut the duct tape with the knife and ripped off another length. She got up and grabbed Rita’s hands. Rita was too busy sucking in air through her nose to fight the tape Sira wound around her wrists.

“There, my darling Atir.” Sira tapped Rita’s nose. She flinched, terrified that Sira would pinch her nostrils shut. Sira leaned close, so close Rita could smell her sweat. “I have a special plan for Christopher. Would you like to hear it?” Rita’s eyes widened at the thought that he would be hurt. “I’ve planted three devices inside this building. They’re going to start a fire in thirty minutes. I will expose Christopher as an imposter, and he will be banished to the covered cage in back of the gathering room. Everyone will think it’s part of the script.
 

“Once he is locked away, the fires will begin. Sira will save everyone…well, almost everyone. The place will go up in a blaze, and I will tell them to leave so no one gets questioned. They’ll find your bodies, of course, but no one will know what you were up to. Such strangeness that goes on this time of year. Now that I’m in charge, Xanadu will be forever safe.” She tweaked Rita’s nose, cutting off her air supply for four seconds.
 

Helpless! And in pain! No escape now. Anger and fear engulfed her, but it was useless.

Sira slid her finger across Rita’s collarbone and looked at the blood. “Just a surface cut. Won’t even leave a scar.” She chuckled. “I must go now. Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be able to watch everything.”

She rolled Rita over and dragged her across the floor. Rita’s cheek was pressed into the grating, and her arms were crushed beneath her weight. Through a part in the fabric ceiling of the gathering room, she could see the front of the room and several people talking. Off to the side, she saw the shape of a large, draped cage.

As she absorbed that eerie picture, Sira taped Rita’s ankles together and secured her in place by taping her to the railing on either side.

She laughed softly. “You will go down in Xanadu history as the shortest-lived queen: negative one hour’s reign. Goodbye, Atir, foolish woman.”

Then she was gone. Rita heard the footsteps grow softer, and then all she could hear were muffled sounds from below. She tried to move, to make any kind of noise at all, but could only lift her head somewhat. Even banging her forehead on the rusty grate produced barely enough sound to make the pain worth it. Through the crack, she could see Christopher searching for her, a frantic expression on his face.

It was over before it had even begun.

CHAPTER 27

The pounding in Christopher’s head increased exponentially with each passing minute that he couldn’t find Rita. No one had seen her. She’d been standing at the edge of the room; he’d turned away for one second, and she was gone. It happened when everyone had gotten into a frenzy over the rumored demise of Xanadu, helped along by someone named Pearla.

The fear that encompassed him was worse than when he’d fought Damen on that horrible night. Worse, because…he loved Rita. Not as the king of Xanadu, but as Chris LaPorte. He
had
been using his past to protect himself, and he was ready to embrace the future. The thought of losing her, of living without her, crushed his soul as he made his way down the halls to his “house.” She wasn’t there, wasn’t anywhere along the way. He searched the other rooms but encountered no one.

The sounds of the gathering grew more dim, the world of Xanadu more surreal. Far in the back, he found the stereo system. He turned down the sound and listened for anything that might lead him to Rita. That’s when he saw the form lying beneath a pile of fabric. His heart stopped as he stumbled closer and saw a cloaked arm sticking out. A motionless arm.

“Rita,” he managed as he fell to his knees.
 

He tried to breathe, tried to move, but for a moment, he was paralyzed. He pulled the fabric away. It wasn’t Rita. His body sagged in relief as he knelt down beside the man who wore only polka dot boxers and a white T-shirt. Blood flowed from beneath his body and made a puddle on the concrete floor. Christopher pressed a finger to the man’s throat. Nothing.

He felt as cold as the man did. Then he saw his finger, the letter ‘A’ tattooed in black. Sira had killed him. She’d also taken his clothing, which meant…she planned to pose as Vitar. Then why hadn’t she come forth and introduced herself? He went even colder. Because she’d approached Rita first.

He made his way back to the gathering room. He’d get help from his loyal constituents, organize a search team. They’d have the warehouse covered in minutes.
 

A woman’s voice addressed the crowd. Not Rita, he realized, as a spike of pain lanced his brief hope. When he stepped into the room, the woman’s voice said, “Grab him!”

Several men held him by the arms. He was too shocked to even fight them at first. Then he twisted free and grabbed for the sword at his side, swinging it in an arc. People screamed and backed away. His gaze went to the woman dressed in a green sequined body suit and feathered mask standing on the podium.
 

He pointed at her. “Get that woman! She’s a murderer!”

“Look at him.” Sira remained eerily calm. “This is not Alta. Think of the man we know and love. This man has darker hair and eyes. A darker soul. And did he answer your questions fully? No, he did not. But I know who this man is. He is Gerard, Alta’s evil brother. Gerard wants to destroy Xanadu. We cannot let him succeed, can we?”

“Where’s Rita?” Christopher asked, turning around to keep several bulky men at bay.

“See, he uses names of the world.”

The crowd agreed with shouts and whistles, fully involved in the tableau. The noise, along with his dread, made a buzzing sound in his head. Rita was gone. The thought nearly paralyzed him, that Sira had her somewhere. That maybe…maybe she was—

Something hit him in the back of the head. He didn’t have time to even see what it was. He struggled to keep his balance, but the pain ricocheted through his body and made him falter. It was all they needed. Two men grabbed him, and a third took the sword. He struggled to free himself, but two men were stronger than a dazed one. The third man searched his garb and found the tape recorder and handcuffs. The crowd gasped as he held up the items.

“She’s a murderer,” Christopher insisted, nodding toward Sira. “There’s a dead man in the back. Vitar.”

Sira only laughed as she guilelessly met the eyes of the people in the room. “He tells such lies, anything to free himself. We must find out what Gerard has done to his brother, who probably fought to his death to keep Xanadu safe. But now Gerard is among us, with the evil apprentice he tried to sell us as his queen, and he must be stopped.” Sira had all the dramatics of an actress: blazing eyes, animated voice, and wild gestures. His sword in her hand, she walked over and pulled back a drape with a flourish. He saw a black “A” on her finger before he realized what she’d uncovered: a cage.

“We will hold a banishment ceremony, the first one we can witness in person. We cannot free Gerard until the end of the Gathering. He will only try to destroy everything we have so carefully built here.”

The crowd roared in agreement as four men dragged Christopher toward the cage. If they locked him up, he’d never find Rita. These people thought this was part of the game. They would ignore him if he tried to bring them back to reality. They didn’t want to hear about reality, or murder.

So he would have to play along, too. The men had pushed him right up to the cage door, but he wrapped his fingers around the bars and turned to the crowd.

“All right, I am not Alta,” he said in a booming voice. The crowd gasped and whispered among themselves. “But I am not his evil brother, either.” For the first time, those words rang true. He took a deep breath and went forward. “I am his good brother…Prince Caspian.” The first name that had popped into his head. “My brother has been murdered, and that murderer is among us.” Another gasp. “My brother Alta and I parted ways long ago, and I blame myself for that parting. But now I will never be able to make amends, because evil has taken him from me forever.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sira yelled. “Lock him away! Gag him!”

The crowd listened to the exchange like avid tennis spectators, eating up the drama.

Christopher felt the dread that held his chest loosen as he let out feelings locked away for too long. “Someone here is killing every citizen who was ever banished from Xanadu. If you are banished, you should fear for your life, because Sira will not let you live. She has taken her role as protector too far. You are only safe until you anger her.”

He took a step farther from the cage, and Sira made her way through the confused crowd toward him. “He’s lying!” She brandished the sword.

He pushed on, too aware that time was running out for Rita, wherever she was. “Vitar is dead. Look at Sira’s left hand. She wears the same “A” that Vitar has. She killed him and then posed as him to lure away Atir. Sira has done something to her. I need your help if we are to keep Sira from destroying Xanadu, and worse, destroying more human lives. I need your help to find the woman…the woman I love. Help me look for her, and then we can sort out the rest.”

“Is this true?” Citar asked.

“Of course not.” Sira pushed away Citar’s attempt at grabbing her hand. When he became more aggressive, she held him at bay with the sword. “He is a liar! He brought this to kill us all. Listen to me, I am now your leader.”

“If I am lying, then why…” Christopher’s throat closed up, and he swallowed. “Why am I pleading with you to help me find Rita? Atir. She needs your help.” He wouldn’t think about it being too late. “Hold both of us, if you must, but I want all of you to search every inch of this place to find her.”

Rita felt the tears slide down her cheeks at Christopher’s words. She could hear the emotion in his voice. It was real.

And it’s too late.

Those words whispered through her mind, but she refused to believe them. She struggled to loosen the tape binding her hands together. Her hands had grown cold from lack of circulation. She had been working on moistening the tape over her mouth, using her saliva and tongue on the foul-tasting adhesive to loosen its hold. If only she could reach her knife.

The crowd below was a tangle of confusion.

“I am your leader!” Sira screamed. “You must listen to me! Alta was going to abandon Xanadu. I have sacrificed everything for this place, for you people. Put him in the cage!”

Sira was moving closer to Christopher. Rita tried to scream and warn him, but the tape was still too tight to let out any air. Her ineffectualness frustrated her. She writhed and jerked around in a desperate attempt to do something—anything. She leaned on the phone at her hip and heard beeping as buttons pressed. 911 had been activated as the redial number, but even if she did dial it, she couldn’t call out for help.

What about the pepper spray? Not that it had done her any good when she needed it.
 

A whooshing sound behind her made her lift her face as much as she could. She couldn’t see the flame, but she could smell the smoke. One of the devices had gone off.

She looked down to the crowd. She couldn’t imagine that there was an accessible fire exit. Between the folds of the fabric and confusion, it would be mass panic.

Using her numb fingers, she worked the canister free and shifted it until the nozzle was pressed against one of the holes on the grate. If only she could aim the spray at Sira. But she was too high to nail anyone in particular. Everyone would be affected by it.