He reached her and pulled her close for a quick hug. “Do you have any idea how scared Deborah and I have been?”
As usual, he implied that his wife had been equally concerned, and as usual, Lucy did not bother to correct him. They both knew the truth. If Deborah Bell cared that her stepdaughter had disappeared, it was only because she was furious about the publicity. Having a member of the Bell family go into the weather channeling business, a career that was only a couple of steps up from the ghost hunter profession, was bad enough. Having that same family member get drunk and lost in the tunnels was downright embarrassing. It certainly did not reflect well on the Bell dynasty.
Theoretically, the inheritance laws protected children born out of wedlock financially, but they could not erase the social stigma of illegitimacy. Lucy knew she had been lucky. When her mother had died, her father had insisted on bringing his thirteen-year-old daughter into his home. A lot of kids in her situation ended up in orphanages or foster care.
In fairness, Deborah had not been a wicked fairy-tale stepmother, but it had been obvious from the start that she would never get past the humiliation of being forced to allow her husband’s illegitimate daughter to live under the same roof as her own legitimate sons.
The solution had turned out to be boarding school. It had worked for both of them, Lucy thought. She had been dreadfully lonely at the fancy academy she had attended, but she and Deborah did not have to sit across from each other at breakfast and dinner and pretend to have a relationship. Deborah did not have to attend school functions or help her stepdaughter deal with the problems involved in surviving the teens and learning to be a woman.
“I’m okay, Dad,” Lucy said.
“What a relief.” Heywood released her and immediately turned to Gabriel. “We can’t thank you enough, Mr. Jones.”
“She was holding her own down there,” Gabriel said.
A journalist thrust a microphone at Gabriel. “I’m with the Curtain, Mr. Jones. Tell us about the rescue operation.”
“It was pretty straightforward,” Gabriel said.
A couple of medics with a gurney made their way through the crowd.
Lucy panicked. “I don’t need an ambulance. Really. I just want to rest.”
“The doctors and your mother insist,” Heywood said. “I agree that it would be best for you to go to a para-psych clinic for observation. You’ve been through a lot. After all, you were down there for three days without food or water.”
“The water wasn’t so hot, but the pizza delivery was great,” Lucy said. “I’m okay. I just want to go home.”
One of the medics came up on her left side. She ignored him.
“I refuse to go to a clinic,” she said. “I know my rights.”
She felt a sharp sting and realized that someone had given her an injection. She turned quickly and saw the medic slipping away into the crowd.
Another medic took his place. “It’s all right, Ms. Bell. We’ll take good care of you.”
“No, damn it,” she said.
She started to struggle, but her words were slurring and she was fading into a dark place. The last thing she saw was Gabriel Jones. He leaned down and touched her hand.
“It’s all right,” he said. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got another assignment. High priority. But I’ll see you when I finish. Good-bye, Lucy.”
Things were definitely not okay.
She woke up and found herself in a nightmare of hallucinations that were as bad as those she had endured in the Underworld.
A man in a white coat and a surgical mask leaned over her bed.
Demon, she thought.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Bell,” he said. “A couple more injections and you’ll forget everything.”
Another demon in a white coat and a surgical mask entered the room. This one had a gravelly voice.
“Hurry the fuck up,” he said. “We don’t have all night.”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute,” the first demon said.
He leaned over the bed. His white coat fell open. Lucy caught a glimpse of glowing blue amber. The stone dangled from a chain around his neck.
She tried to raise a hand to ward off the needle. That was when she discovered she was tied to the bed. She screamed, but there was no sound.
The needle bit into her flesh. Another wave of hallucinations hit hard and fast. She was once again in hell, and this time she was pretty sure the Lord of the Underworld wasn’t going to show up with a pizza. She was on her own.
CHAPTER THREE