Tainted: Book Three - Enslaved

6. Kicked in the Teeth

Mira

I woke up to hear myself whistling and my lungs laboring in short gasps. I'd had a fair few beatings in my life, but this was bad.

This was agony.

After I broke through the chains, my captors kicked me with steel-toed boots. Then they'd been smart enough to truss me up like a pig with zip ties and rope. The pressure it put on my battered ribs incapacitated me more effectively than the yellow hood they used to cut off my power.

Lucky for them, too. If I'da had my power, I woulda shown them what steel could do to toes.

Because Mira Kuznetsova was way too tough to ever do anything so weak as whimper, I gritted my teeth and laid my bruised face against the floor. Even through the hood, the cold concrete was bliss on my swollen cheek.

Exhausted and heartsick, I had to force myself to keep breathing. It'd be too easy to just stop.

Kicked in the teeth again, my girl.

Life had failed me all around. Born to an unstable addict and raised in a chaotic environment, I hardly understood the concept of family. Or care. Or love. My mother had so many men in her life, she couldn't have told me who my father was if she'd wanted to. After she found out he hadn't even been human, she'd had no trouble reminding me that I was the devil's child. It made no difference that she'd been the one who slept with a Fallen angel.

Most of my school years had been spent in survival mode. My mother alternated between whaling on me and disappearing for days at a time, leaving neither money nor food in the house. Thank goodness the old nans in our Irish-American neighborhood took pity on me and kept me fed. At school, I'd kept to myself because I knew what happened when adults learned that a kid had a mom like mine.

Fixing things had always come naturally to me, but it wasn't until I was in my early teens that I realized my talent was supernatural. Mother's incessant reminders of who my daddy was made more sense then. As I got older, I started earning money fixing car engines for a few neighbors and, at sixteen, knew I could make enough to support myself. I'd packed my bags and never looked back.

Things had been looking up - until a little devil came along and sank its claws into me. For two years, I was a slave, and that's all I'll say about those days, other than to thank God that I'd been rescued by Kerry and Rome.

Rome.

His name sighed through my mind a hundred times a day. How had he become so important to me so quickly? Closing my eyes, I let myself imagine what it would be like to be held in his strong arms.

My head doesn't quite reach his shoulder, so I'd hafta lay it on his chest. Mmm. Lucky me.

It was a comfort I'd never know, pure fantasy, an escapist daydream, but what did it matter? It did no harm to anyone if I fooled myself for a little bit. I was aware that I was no fit match for him. Soiled by a devil, uneducated, poor, a scrambler and scrounger, too big and strong to be anything close to graceful... Yeah, I knew I had little to offer any guy, least of all a decent one like Sir Serious.

A small corner of my brain fought against the taint and the pain to give me hope.

He said you were beautiful, it reminded me. He said you were utterly beautiful.

I drowned in the memory until Gigi's sleepy voice came to my ears.

"Mira? Are you here?"

"Yeah. You okay?"

"Yes. Are you? You're breathing funny."

Well, that's because my ribs are broken. I've lost all feeling in my hands and feet. Gonna hurt like crazy if they ever cut me loose. And my cheek is throbbing like a bad tooth.

But "Yeah," was all I said.

Why scare her anymore than she already is?

Plus, talking hurt.

"My power's gone," she said. "I think it's these hoods. They're the same color and fabric as the blankets the demons used when they ambushed us."

She had told me a while ago about how their enemies had wrapped her friends up in blankets before tossing them through a portal. She'd realized why when Kerry had found one in the field. She'd picked it up and her power had been suppressed. She still had it, and I'd been meaning to have a look at it, but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

How do all the bad people have this fabric and we don't?

"Does it feel the same?"

"Yes." She sniffled a little. "During the car ride, I overheard them talking about selling us. Do you think the others will get here before they do?"

"Of course. Kerry'll know how to find us."

I was pretty sure we were in New York City, or close enough. We'd traveled in their vehicle for about two hours, and I'd heard a lot of traffic noise on the way in."

"I hope they get here soon. If we're sold, they may never find us!" Her voice choked up into a sob.

"I'm here. You're not alone." I fought to stay positive for her, but talking hurt really bad now. I kept my sentences short. "Brainstorm ideas. Don't panic."

"But— Wait! We still have our phones! Well, I do. I can feel it in my back pocket."

"Good. Call them. Simple."

I musta sounded more reassuring than I thought because she instantly sounded more cheerful.

"And Sanctuary phones have a tracker app. As long as mine stays on, they can find us. Assuming one of them thinks to use it, that is. We can also call or text them if one of us can get our hands free."

"Right. Scooch over. I'll work your hood off."

"Then I can blink out of my restraints and untie you and 'port us out of here. We can rescue ourselves."

Never, I thought as I heard her chains rattle. I'll never be able to take off her hood. My hands are so numb, I can't even feel my fingers. I could use my teeth, I guess.

Then a man's voice murmured in the distance and a deeper one rumbled in reply. I couldn't make out the words, but they were drawing closer.

"Shh!" I hissed. "Someone's coming!

She stopped moving and we both fell silent, listening.