Trapped (Caged #2) by Shay Savage
Chapter 1—Observe the Mayhem
I traveled to the sacred spot for the sacred ceremony in the back of a rusty old pickup truck. I was pretty sure it was the same one parked outside the apartment building when Keith paid a little visit to Tria a couple of months ago. Brandon and Keith were in the front, and two other guys were in the back with me. The one named Devin did nothing but glare at me, and I was pretty sure I caught him actually baring his teeth. The guy named Conner just kept staring at me, which made my skin crawl.
No one said a word.
That was probably for the best because I was really in the mood to bash someone’s skull in—not hold polite conversation. The only thing that kept me from insisting on riding with Tria was the fact that Keith was with me, and this way I could keep my eye on him. I didn’t trust him, not the least little bit. He hadn’t been expecting me to be here with Tria—that was clear—and the news obviously upset him more than my actual presence.
Though there was no conversation in the bed of the truck, I could hear Brandon and Keith talking in the cab. I couldn’t make out all of the conversation—just bits and pieces. Phrases like “for the community,” “duty to your people,” and “going against tradition” kept coming up. They were obviously disagreeing, and I assumed it had something to do with what was about to transpire. No matter how much I angled my ear toward the partially opened window, I still couldn’t hear clearly.
We drove through Beals, which was pretty dead on a Tuesday evening, just a few folks around the little diner and a handful of teenagers huddled in jackets against the cold wind. At least the rain had tapered off into a fine mist that stung my face if I moved away from the protection of the back of the cab.
We went through town and out onto a mostly deserted highway, then up a long road through the trees. Again, I had the feeling of claustrophobia as the trees on either side of the narrow gravel road hovered over us. Though there was a bit of light still left in the sky, beyond the trees it was dark and foreboding.
I didn’t like it.
At all.
We pulled off to the edge of the road where there were several other vehicles—all old, rusty, and barely drivable—parked in and around the trees. I couldn’t figure out how some of them had even gotten where they were, let alone how they were going to get out again. I practically had to climb halfway around a tree just to get out of the back of the truck.
I turned my head toward the sound of the cab door slamming shut, and Brandon stomped off past me. The others seemed to be hovering around Keith, so without knowing what else to do, I followed Brandon through the trees on what I guessed was supposed to be a path. Another guy crawled out of an old hatchback and introduced himself as Nikki’s brother, Steven, before we continued on. It was only a hundred yards or so until we reached a clearing in the middle of a bunch of pine trees with branches creating a canopy, reaching out to cover us.
I could immediately see the advantage to holding rituals in this rainy climate here—the tree cover was so thick even the mist didn’t seem to make it through. It was still bitterly cold, and I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, trying to find a little warmth.
“Hey, Steven,” Brandon called over his shoulder. The younger man passed me and went to his side. “Can you check to see if Nikki has anything else she wants to say before this…um…starts?”
“Sure,” Steven said, and he took off around the edge of the trees to the far side of the clearing.
I followed him with my gaze and felt immediate relief at the sight of Tria standing near her friend in the unusual dress and Nikki’s mother, Patricia. I still couldn’t believe all these family members were going to watch this shit. At least Tria had assured me Nikki’s own brother wasn’t participating. I wasn’t sure if that was because he was only sixteen or because he was her brother, and I decided I didn’t really want to know. I had been told her father died of a heart attack a few years ago, but fathers weren’t a part of the ritual either.
Except for watching. The whole f*cking community watched, apparently.
Okay, maybe not everybody, but there had to be about fifty people milling around the trees. Some of them were setting up some kind of structure—the f*cking altar, I guessed—in the center of the trees. It looked like it could have doubled as an OBGYN’s examination table. Others were walking near the tree line and placing flat stones around the perimeter of the clearing or lighting small fires around the area. As soon as all the rocks were placed, people were ushered to certain stones by two older women wearing dresses similar to the one Nikki had been wearing but with a lot less beadwork. There were only a few colorful lines down the sleeves. One of them with dark, narrow eyes came close and peered up at me.
“You the one with Demetria?” Her sour face made it clear she didn’t want me here. Her dry lips smashed together repeatedly as she spoke, making me wonder if you could actually grind wheat into flour between them. She had long gray hair in a braid that touched the back of her waist and skin that was wrinkled into layers around her face and neck.
I nodded, and she grabbed hold of my elbow tightly enough for me to feel it through my jacket. She hauled me over to the far side of the clearing and pointed to one of the rocks on the ground.
“Stand behind it,” she said.
When I had my feet in the exact position she wanted, she nodded once and started toward the next person.