It took just two of them to subdue me, and I was kicking and screaming, biting and hitting, with every bit of energy that I had. It took four for Quinn, but those four succeeded only because they used a stun gun. Otherwise, I’m sure he could have taken six or eight of them out of action, instead of the three he took care of before they got him.
The captors smack them up a bit, and bind up their wrists with duct tape. They also make comments about the ‘smell of sex’ and are generally rather disgusting. The couple are thrown in the back of a van, and are driven off. Luckily, Quinn still has his phone on him, so there’s a bit of wriggling around until they phone up the queen’s palace, and tell them to get Eric to track them. The abductors obviously notice this and stop the van.
This time Quinn was searched very thoroughly, and I was, too, though I had no pockets or anywhere else to conceal anything, unless they wanted to do a body captivity check. I thought Clete – Mr. Pinch-Ass – was going to, just for a second, as his fingers jabbed the spandex into me.
I said no rape, OF ANY KIND
I’M WATCHING YOU HARRIS
They tie them up some more, and there’s a bit of a problem as Quinn is sort of half changed into a tiger. This gives Sookie a clever idea though: his tiger teeth can cut through the duct tape!
Yeah, you can pretty much see the problems with this instantly, as knives and teeth are not the same thing. Sookie’s wrists get severely mangled and it’s pretty gruesome and unpleasant. Her hands are eventually freed, and then she can free Quinn’s hands and feet from their restraints. She finds a screwdriver, sits up and yells out ‘Clete!’
I drove the screwdriver between the crosshatched metal. It went right into his cheek.
Quinn takes out the other guy, and they jump out the van without it crashing, and run out into the swamps around New Orleans. They wade into the water, which seems to be clever in tracking, stupid considering their open wounds. Quinn bitches about how he wasn’t able to help her, and they decide to walk through the swamp, as clearly they were being taken somewhere in the swamps.
They walk through the swamps and it’s miserable and raining.
Out of the blue, Quinn said, “What’s your relationship with Alcide Herveaux? We saw him in the bar last week with some other girl. But the cop, the one in Shreveport, said you’d been engaged to him.”
Trekking through the Louisiana swamps with a real risk of septicemia is not the time to start asking her about her relationship history.
“Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea,” I said reverently. “That’s who’s doing this.”
wait, what? Who’s been doing this? Alcide?
Then we discussed probabilities.
Then we made a plan.
Who’s done this? What’s going on?