“You can stop him, Ryan,” I said, dipping my head to catch his eyes. I tried to project confidence in my voice, rather than desperation. “Cal Mom. You can stop him and save your own life.” I already knew he didn’t give a damn about mine.

“No.” He shook his head like a toddler denying he’d made the puddle on the floor. “He’l kil me.”

I wasn’t sure whether he was talking about Miguel or Daddy, since either could have been true, so I went with what I hoped was a safe answer. “No, he won’t. I won’t let him. Just cal Mom and tel her you saw something, or smel ed something.

Tel her you think we’re here, and have her send someone to check it out. That’s al it would take, and you’d be a hero.” Another positive spin. I was on a roll!

Ryan shook his head again, as if denying the existence of voices in his head.

Or maybe his conscience. He shuffled backward toward the stairs. “I’m sorry, Faythe. I can’t do it. Miguel said they’d go after Mom if I help you.”

Mom? They’d take Mom just to get back at Ryan? Boy, they knew where his loyalties lay. But surely it was an empty threat. Going after Sean’s sister was horrible, but it made sense. Snatching Mom didn’t. What would they want with a tabby who was past childbearing age?

“Ryan, they won’t take Mom. They’re not going to waste that much time and energy on revenge. Besides, they’d never be able to get near her.”

Ryan bumped into the hand rail and glanced around as if surprised to see the stairs behind him. “They got you,” he said, backing onto the first step. “Do you real y want me to take that chance on Mom?”

How the hel was I supposed to answer that? I knew deep down that they’d never get close enough to snatch her, but Ryan had thought the same about me, and we all knew how that theory had panned out.

He read my answer on my face, and turned his back on both me and Abby, taking the steps two at a time.

Frantic now, I appealed to his sense of self-preservation. “So you’re just going to let Miguel kil you, and leave your corpse for the jungle cats to snack on?”

He stiffened, and his hand shook on the doorknob. Without turning, Ryan squared his shoulders, then opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, leaving us alone again.

He’ll change his mind, I thought. He has to.

The door closed with a final-sounding click, and I dropped onto the edge of the mattress, glancing in disinterest at the remains of my meal. I looked over at Abby, barely registering the raw terror on her face. But I did notice that I could stil see her pretty wel . Overhead, a single seventy-five-watt bulb il uminated our basement cel s with depressing clarity, in spite of the darkness outside.

At least this time he left the light on, I thought. Sometimes, you thank God for the smal things, especial y when they’re all you have.

Twenty-Four

After Ryan left, I hit a new low, lying on my back on the mattress because that was the only comfortable position I could find. My stomach was threatening to return my latest meal, largely unused. I was sticky with sweat and I ached all over.

Two days. I had two days to break out of a welded aluminum cage before Miguel sold me as a combination sex toy/baby factory to a Brazilian jungle cat. And the only member of my family who knew about it was helping my captors instead of me. It was enough to make me wonder what kind of monster I’d been in my previous life. Real y, it had to be karma. There was no other explanation for my horrible luck.

But if I was dispirited, Abby was truly despondent. She lay on the edge of her mattress, staring at nothing, her sweat-damp curls spread out behind her. She’d been like that ever since Ryan left, taking any hope of a rescue with him.

I felt as if I should comfort her, but I had no idea what to say. I wanted to believe my brother would change his mind. I was desperate to believe it. Surely even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to hand over his life to Miguel without a fight. Or maybe he would. Ryan had never been much of a fighter.

After I’d indulged in at least an hour of bitter self-pity, brought on by fantasies of grape Popsicles and air-conditioning, Abby’s gentle snoring interrupted my reverie. I envied her the oblivion of sleep, but found it impossible to achieve for myself. I was too busy thinking. About everything. I thought about Marc, and about Jace. I thought about how worried and angry my father must be. I thought about my mother, wondering if she’d decided to reclaim her seat on the council now that their decisions once again directly affected her life and the future of her Pride. And I thought about Eric and Miguel, wondering which of my friends’ lives they were about to ruin.

Eventual y, I fel asleep, with visions of Miguel’s mutilated face dancing in my head like Tchaikovsky’s sugarplum fairies. But even after such sweet dreams, I woke to the same dismal basement I’d first seen nearly twenty-four hours earlier. Outside, the first rays of sunlight struggled to penetrate the filthy windows, but their efforts were as futile as my own quest for a key. If not for the overhead bulb, I’d have woken up to daylight too weak and murky to do anything more than outline vague shapes in the dark.

Thank goodness for that lightbulb, I thought, determined to start off the new day with a dose of optimism. Without it, I’d have to Shift just to be able to see.

Wait, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Surely the sedative had cleared from my system.

Excited now, I sat up and turned to face Abby, who was just waking. “Hey, Ab, you want to hear my bril iant new plan?” It wouldn’t get us out of our cages, but it just might throw a wrench in Miguel’s plans. If he couldn’t get close to us, he couldn’t sedate us. And they’d have to be crazy to try to load two fully conscious, pissed-off tabbies into the back of a van.