“Kuvi,” he said, glad to see someone close to Alice. “Where’s Alice? Is she still at the party?”
“I think so. I haven’t seen her for a bit, though. Have you, Dave?”
The tall man shook his head. “No, she’s not at the party. She’s up at the castle.”
“What?” Dylan asked, descending the three steps.
“Yeah, she got a note with a message,” Dave said, eyeing him uneasily. “From you, right? I overheard Mira on the phone taking part of the message while I was getting supplies in the kitchen earlier.”
“Tell me everything. What did the note say? Quickly,” Dylan emphasized when Dave just looked perplexed by his request.
“I didn’t read the note myself, but I gave it to Alice maybe twenty minutes ago, just before sunset. I heard enough of Mira’s phone conversation to know it was from you, and that Alice was supposed to go to the castle because there was a family emergency or something like that.”
“Is Sal Rigo still at the party?” Dylan asked, barely restraining his feet from taking off down the path.
Kuvi and Dave exchanged a dubious glance. “I don’t know, to be honest. It’s kind of a madhouse down there.”
“Go back to the beach and look for him.” Kuvi nodded. “If you find him, tell him I never called Mira and that the note was a trick. Tell him to get up to the castle. I’ll call Jim Sheridan on the way up.”
“But—”
“Just do it,” Dylan interrupted Dave.
“Mr. Fall? Is Alice all right?” Kuvi asked, her eyes wide with alarm as he moved past the couple.
“She’d better be. Just do what I asked, Kuvi. Now,” he insisted before he took off down the path to the castle.
SOMEONE was dragging her, his hands beneath her armpits hurting her. No, it wasn’t dragging. Her feet were moving—weren’t they? Her legs felt loose and heavy as rocks at once, as if they were attached to her body inexpertly and malfunctioning at their task. Just as she thought it, they failed. She felt herself drop several inches.
“Stand up, you stupid bitch.”
“Leave me . . . alone,” she mumbled between gritted teeth. The sharp tugging on her arms and a knifing pain in her head had to stop. It was unbearable. Opening her eyelids took a monumental effort. Darkness and dizziness assailed her.
She retched.
“Don’t you dare throw up on me,” someone snarled in disgust.
She was shoved. Instinctively, she put out her hands to break a fall, but she was too late to do much good. Her palms collided against hard stone, and almost immediately her jaw and then her cheekbone struck the unforgiving surface. She fell to the ground on her knees, whimpering as white-hot pain raged and ruled over her entire body and brain. For a moment, she couldn’t tell up from down or left from right. She couldn’t draw breath.
Then someone was grasping her shoulders and lifting her once more, and her lungs unfroze. She inhaled raggedly. The new, fresh wave of pain had sliced through her vertigo some. As it remitted, she found the wherewithal to think.
This isn’t a nightmare. The pain is way too real. I’m being attacked.
It was the first clear thought she’d had since being struck earlier. It came back to her in a split second, walking through the hallway of the castle, looking forward to seeing Dylan . . . a flash of pain and then nothingness.
Adrenaline shot through her at the incomplete memory, making her veins seem to burn. She elbowed her attacker in the belly as hard as she could.
He grunted and shoved her again. This time, she caught herself better, but the skin on her hands had been torn on her previous fall. She cried out at the impact of striking the stone with open flesh.
“Go on, hold yourself up if you want to. You always did imagine yourself strong and feisty. It certainly didn’t help matters, the way Lynn treated you. By the time you were three, you expected all of us to fall on our knees in worship in front of you. But you weren’t strong. You were just a spoiled little brat.”
Alice gasped. Only star shine provided any light, and it’d been too dark to see her attacker clearly. Her dizziness wasn’t helping matters. He was just a swooshing tall shadow to the right of her. Sometimes there were two of him. But she’d recognized the thick disdain in his tone just now. Tonight, it had grown exponentially from what she was used to at the camp.
“Kehoe,” she muttered.
“That’s right. Let’s make everything crystal clear tonight, of all nights. And you’re Addie Durand. Forgive me if I don’t drop to my knee in worship tonight, Addie.”
She closed her eyes, panting, trying desperately to still her vertigo and gather her wits. Kehoe had disabled her pretty badly. She just needed to steady herself sufficiently to fight. Run, if need be. Rigo had told her she was fast, hadn’t he?