I’m awakened by a strange sound. For a long time, I lie still, my eyes closed, the sound coming and going.

What is it?

Though I try to focus on it, I can’t. My head hurts, more especially when the noise is louder. It kind of feels like I’m lying somewhere in a world of white cotton batting. At some point, light starts to come in through my eyelids.

There is a sense of movement, of motion. I’m not moving my own arms and legs, which are made of lead. But I’m being moved, somehow. I get a fleeting impression of strong hands on my waist.

Waist.

I sound out the W a few times, my lips moving.

“She’ll be awake soon,” a strange man says. I flinch away from his voice, sinking back down into the white cotton for just a bit longer.

When I come back up, I’m able to open my eyes. It’s still light out, though the sun is clearly in descent. The sound comes again, the sound I kept hearing. Ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk.

It’s the sound of a train, crossing some particularly loud section of track. I wince as I realize that the world is rocking; I am inside a train car. My eyes focus enough to realize I’m staring at the ceiling of the train car.

Letting my head loll, I see that I am slumped across a whole train seat. My arms and legs are still too heavy to move at all, my neck too weak to turn my head back.

A dark shape across the train becomes clearer. It’s a man. The man that chased me in the woods. He’s got short dark hair, neatly raked back. He’s wearing the same dark dress pants and white shirt as I saw him in earlier, minus the suit jacket.

I narrow my eyes, taking in his easy slouch across both seats across the aisle from me. He’s staring out the window, his legs loosely crossed, his hand rubbing his chin, scratching over a few days of stubble. His body language is that of someone who is used to being too big for most spaces. Certainly, he was not made for this train, with its cramped seats.

I look at him, at his high cheekbones and dark eyebrows and green-yellow eyes. They’re almost otherworldly set against his olive-complected skin, decidedly cat-like in color.

He’s insanely handsome, I realize. With his looks and his big frame, he looks like he could be on his way to walk the runways in Paris. Or at least, that’s what I’ve gathered from looking at a few fashion magazines in the dentist’s waiting room.

Paris must be full of sin like Sister Marguerite says. All those men and women, stalking the streets, looking gorgeous. How I would love to see that…

I swallow a little, my tongue feeling strange in my mouth. Is it too big to even fit in the cavern my mouth provides? I try to think about that, but the thought slips away like sand through your fingers.

It is hard to hold onto any one thought.

He shifts a little, then turns those chartreuse eyes to me.

His expression tightens, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. He shifts his big body to lean towards me, like a lion scenting his prey.

“You’re awake,” he says idly. “I was wondering when you would join the world of the living.”

I have to focus on his words because they’re in English. How long has it been since I’ve heard someone speak in fluent English?

He has an accent, a thick one. It’s Italian maybe, or Greek? But also, there is a strange edge to his words, a British cant to his English.

He stands, the movement fluid, drawing himself up to his full height. His head brushes the top of the train car for a moment, then he leans over me.

His expression is curious as he reaches down to touch my hair, gently moving a strand out of my face. He murmurs, “What does Derrik see in you, I wonder?”

I wince at his casual use of F’s name, trying to avoid his caress. Cursing my inability to move, my powerlessness to speak, I close my eyes, shutting this stranger out. He grabs my chin hard, jerking my face toward him.

“Don’t do that,” he growls. “You won’t dismiss me so easily, Rue.”

My eyes fly open with surprise. He chuckles at my reaction.

“I know, I know. You probably have so many questions. Who am I? Where are we going? Why do I feel out of sorts?”

He releases my chin, trailing his fingers down to my chest, fingering the silky fabric of my dress just above my breasts. My breathing picks up, which seems to please him. I make a soft noise and he shapes my breast with one hand.

His voice is low and smooth as silk. “You are quite a reactive little thing, aren’t you?”

I can’t help but breathe even harder at that. This man is clearly insane, but he’s also quite intelligent. The combination of the two qualities raises gooseflesh on my arms.

Grabbing me by the armpits, he sits me upright. My head rolls to the side and I get an eyeful out the window. The train is on the way downhill, descending rapidly as trees pass by the window at a dizzying pace. In the distance, I can see a hint of blue.

The ocean? My brows knit as I struggle to put it all together. I desperately wish I could talk, could ask what in the world is going on.

“Look at me,” he says, turning my head. I look at him because I can control nothing else. He frowns. “You were going to be a queen someday, you know that? I mean, before you ran. Is that why you agreed to the marriage? Or did you really love Prince Henrick?”

No, I want to say. But all I can do is grunt.

He cants his head, his hair moving a little. He sighs and runs his fingers through his locks, raking them back into place. “I don’t think it really matters, at any rate. I have a plan for you, and it doesn’t involve you marrying Henrick.”

A plan? What plan? All that I’ve seen happen before this moment has been madness. If this tall man isn’t the devil himself, he is at least a demon. I have a vague memory about a fairy story of a girl who was abducted by a demon. He was tall and wickedly good-looking, just like this man. He whispered sweet things in the girl’s ear with his forked tongue, things about how they would both live forever.

I don’t remember the ending exactly, but I have the distinct impression that she ended up roasting in Hell.

Is that what this demon has in store for me?

A loud noise comes from the end of the train car. I close my eyes and focus on it, realizing it is the sound of the train door being opened. I shiver as I feel a soft rush of air blow against my skin.

“Put her across from Rue,” the demon orders.

I open my eyes to see the shorter man dragging Amabel’s body.

Is she dead? It certainly seems that way, from the way that he heaves her onto the seat across from me. But when he moves out of the way, I see her eyes move a little underneath her eyelids, like watching someone in the middle of a very active dream.

I look at her neck and I see a bright red welt there, matching my own. She’s been drugged in the same way I have, with some sort of injection to the neck that paralyzes the body.

I feel a rush of relief, for knowing that my sister is alive and well. Perhaps she could be doing better, seeing as how we are both unable to move and, on a train, rushing away from the convent. Still, I know that she’s safe enough, for the moment.

I roll my eyes up to look at the men who abducted us. The demon looks between us both with glittering eyes. The shorter man just looks away, out the window opposite us.

The demon looks at me, his yellow-green eyes flashing. “I bet you’re wondering why I brought sweet Amabel along with us.”

Actually, that hadn’t occurred to my drug-addled mind. I frown, which makes me realize that the paralytic agent is wearing off.

The demon bends down over Ama’s form, never taking his eyes off of me. He turns Ama’s face toward him, kissing her lips in the most tender way.

Stop! I want to say. But it comes out as a grunt, lacking any sort of articulation.

“She is sweet, don’t you think?” he murmurs, running his nose along her neck.

I grunt again, the force of it coming up from my stomach. A wave of nausea hits me as the demon touches my sister. He smiles at me, showing off two rows of perfect teeth.

“Your sister is here as a pawn,” he says, dropping her face. Her head rolls away to press against the seat. He stands up again, regarding me. “That is to say, I control you now. You will do what I ask, when I ask, how I ask you to do it. Stray from whatever I tell you to do, and you will see her suffer.”

My eyes widen. It’s not often that the devil’s plan is written in such bold terms. And that’s what the man before me is. He is the devil, working through a man. He leans close to me, looking directly into my eyes.

I look right back, seeing endless pools of chartreuse flecked here and there with just a bit of darkness. I swallow thickly, my mouth going dry.

Because it’s all in his eyes, there for the world to see. His madness, his depravity. His willingness to do anything to get what he wants.

I have no doubt that I ought to be very, very afraid of him.

He straightens, looking pleased with himself. “Good. I think you’ll be very easy to control, with little Amabel in the offing. Enjoy the rest of this trip together, Rue. Because it’s the last time you two will see each other for a while.”

He taps the shorter man on the shoulder and gestures to the door. I stare at him as they leave, wondering what I did to deserve this.

I’ve been abducted and spirited away from my own wedding by a man who is nothing less than a lunatic. It leaves me wondering whether my own actions earlier had anything to do with his choosing me.

Why is this man preying on me? Do I just have victim written all over me in bold red marker?

Or is it something more sinister? Did he look at me and see how sinful I’ve been my entire life? Would he still have tried to grab us if I hadn’t run away from the wedding?

Oh, God.

Oh…

Is my abduction my own fault?