Read Online Long Live the Queen by Ellen Emerson White - Free Book Online

result. Maybe, if she pulled really hard, she could—she tried it, using both hands on the chain. The bed scraped over a foot and she stopped instantly, afraid that someone might have heard the noise.
    She waited, holding her breath, but the hall was quiet. Would it be safe to risk lifting the bed? And if she could get over to the light, and turn it on for a second, she would feel a lot safer. Less scared. She reached out as far as she could, letting her arm swing in the darkness.
    Oh, Christ, what if there were spiders, and rats, and—she would have seen them before, when the light was on. This was just a room. A small, empty room. A room in God-only-knew-what, God-only-knew-where, that she would be in until these people decided that it was time to—she yanked on the bed to distract herself, dragging it over another foot or two, towards the middle of the room. She swung her arm again, and the light pull brushed over her wrist. She felt around, the darkness seeming more dense than normal air, until she was holding it tightly in her hand. Even doing that much made her feel better and she gripped the little chain, deciding whether or not to risk turning the light on.
    The hall was still very, very quiet.
    Okay. She turned the light on. It was just a room. Maybe ten-by-ten, no windows, the walls closer to grey than white. There was no furniture, except for an old wooden chair near the door, and the bed frame—black cast iron—was even more solid than she’d been afraid it was. The mattress was covered by a white sheet, and she elected
not to look underneath it. The sheet looked brand-new and was perfectly clean, except for the blood-stains where her face had been.
    Her clothes smelled new, too, and it was strange to think of him, or someone, going out to shop for all of this unisex stuff. Strangely civilized. Smart, too, since a cashier would be likely to remember a man buying woman’s clothes. Not that this guy struck her as someone who would slip up on a detail like that. Not, apparently, a guy who had screwed up anywhere. So far. When he got in touch with her parents, though, that’s when they’d trace him. He had to have demands, or a motive, or something. And that was how they would get him.
    Should she turn the light off? Not take chances? Or take a minute and check out the damned handcuffs a little more closely? That was an easy choice, and she crouched next to the bed, studying the shiny metal. Nothing she could break, nothing she could bend, nothing she could do. Where, for Christ’s sakes, had he gotten handcuffs? They didn’t sell them in stores, did they?
    Jesus, was she tired.
    Slowly, she straightened up, not sure what to do next. The smart thing, would be to turn the light off, move the bed back, and wait. If he didn’t know that she could turn the light on, that was an advantage. Of some kind, anyway.
    Okay. Even if the darkness was scary, she’d do it. As she reached out for the light chain, the door smashed open and he stood there, looking at her.
    Part of her wanted to burst into tears, wet her pants, cringe; the other part of her just looked right back at him. The same part was also, out of nowhere, mad as hell. “Got a prob lem?” she asked, and consciously turned her back, giving the bed an awkward kick towards the wall.
    He came over behind her, so close that they were almost touching. “Maybe you ought to think about being a little more scared,” he said quietly.

    She pushed the bed to get further away from him. “Maybe you ought to go to hell.”
    She saw his fist go back, then found herself crumpled on the floor, handcuffed arm twisted awkwardly, blood gushing from her nose and over her upper lip. She stayed there for a minute or two, disoriented, then lifted her free hand towards her nose, touching the blood. Then, she tried to get up, but was so dizzy that she had to sink back down.
    He smiled. “Need a