"Hey!" I shouted, struggling furiously. "Let me go!"
"Shut up, kid." They tossed me onto the deck of the white panel van, Goon #2 going around to the front passenger seat while Goon #3 climbed in behind me and slammed the rear doors. The sound of metal on metal had not faded before the van was in motion.
Remember, whispered the memory of my teacher. Remember your breathing. Stay calm. Assess your situation and your captors. Play for time. Your father will come for you. He will come for you with the power of God at his back. Nothing will keep him from you. You will be safe, I promise. Now, breathe with me and let's try it again.
I took a moment to wriggle around so that I was sitting mostly upright against the side of the van. They had gotten the zip ties on me before they put me in so my hands were cuffed behind me and my ankles were cuffed together, making it hard to brace myself. "So, who do you guys work for?" I asked. "Nicodemus, maybe? No, wait, he cuts his people's tongues out."
Goon #2, the one in the front passenger seat, turned around and looked at me in complete befuddlement. "The hell are you talking about, kid?" He was in his late thirties, muscular but with a belly. That doesn't mean he's stupid, the memory whispered. Be polite. Be confident. They are predators, the creatures of the darkness. Do not show weakness, but also do not challenge their dominance. If you can play them against one another, do so, but be careful.
"So, not Nicodemus. Phew!" I made myself smile at him. "That thing with the tongues always seemed dumb, don't you think? Personally, I would want my flunkies to be able to interrogate people, bring me information without having to write it down -- oh, wait, maybe he gives them shorthand lessons! Still seems inefficient though."
"Seriously, kid, what is wrong with you?" Goon #3 asked. "Cuttin' people's tongues out?"
"Let see, not the Nickelbacks -- I know, I know, that's not the correct name but I think they should be properly called out for their evil." I lowered my voice to make sure I was sharing a confidence. "Dad doesn't get that joke."
Goon #2 chuckled.
"So you're not Nickelbacks. Fomori? Black Court maybe? You don't look like Renfields..."
"Who's Renfield?" Goon #3 demanded. He sounded like a very confused basset hound, which was a good fit for his long, sad, droopy face.
"Not Black Court. Oh! Duh. I'm such a dummy. You're with the Fae, right? Human hires to work in the world of iron? Which court, Summer or Winter?" Summer would probably be better, but it was very much a coin flip and neither option was that good if we were being honest.
"Ms Hansen, please be quiet," the driver said, not looking back. "You're not in immediate danger as long as you don't cause us trouble. We're taking you to a discreet location. You will be held for the next twenty-four hours until your father delivers the ransom, at which point you will be released. If you remain quiet and compliant then you won't be harmed in any way. If you attempt to escape, injure any of us, or otherwise interfere with our plans then we will cut your tendons so that you can't walk. A second attempt will result in your death."
Well that made no sense. "How are you going to get the ransom if I'm...wait, hang on. Did you call me 'Ms Hansen'?"
The driver sighed. "Yes. Please do not play games with us."
I started laughing. I couldn't help it. "You think I'm Michelle Hansen, don't you? The daughter of Senator Hansen? She's my classmate. You grabbed the wrong girl."
"Shut up, brat!" Goon #3 snapped, slapping me in the back of the head. "Don't try talkin' your way out of this!"
"Jack." That was all the driver said, just the name.
Goon #2 unbuckled and climbed into the back of the van. He had his phone in one hand, a photo showing on the screen; he grabbed me by the chin so he could turn my face up to the weak dome light and hold the picture up for comparison.
He cursed. "It's not her, boss. Same hair, not the same girl."
"We went to the salon together and decided to get the same look," I said, craning my eyes to the side to get a look at the picture. Michelle in the salon chair, her styling newly finished with a huge smile on her face and two thumbs up. "That's the one the stylist took. How did you get it? Oh, wait. You bribed him. He said he was taking it for the wall but he texted it to you, right?"
Goon #2 smacked Goon #3 upside the head. "Dumbass! How did you get the wrong girl?!"
"I followed her from the second she got outta the chair," he said defensively. "She went to the bathroom, she came out, I snatched her."
"Ew," I said. "You followed us to the bathroom? We're thirteen, you perv."
"Jesus, Vinny! You didn't notice that there were two teenage girls with platinum-blonde hair and green tips going into the bathroom?!"
"I didn't see this one! There was only the one!"
"Hey, guys," I said. "Since we're all agreed that I'm not Michelle, any chance you could let me out? I'm fine to walk home, really."
"I'm afraid it's a bit late for that," the driver said. "However, I have no interest in killing children--"
"When you're not being paid," I said. The words slipped out. A genetic failing, my mouth snarking off faster than my brain could tell it to be quiet.
"Indeed. I have no interest in killing children when I'm not being paid. This mission is now a bust. We will take you to the destination and leave you there while we make our escape."
"Boss!" Goon #3 whined. "We can't just let her go!"
"Don't worry, he's not going to," I said, giggles bubbling up. "He's just trying to keep me calm so that I don't raise a fuss. We'll get to the warehouse or wherever and he'll shoot me, dump my body in a hole, and you'll be off to your next exciting adventure."
"You seem very calm about this, young miss," the driver said. He still hadn't turned around to see me.
"Not my first kidnapping," I said. "Just out of curiosity, do you know who I am?"
"Why? Is your daddy rich?" Goon #3 asked hopefully.
I laughed louder. I probably shouldn't have, but my ankle bracelet was warm and the situation was hilarious. "My dad lived in a basement for most of my life, drove a beater, and had trouble making rent on his teeny little office."
"I believe it's been established that we do not know who you are, young miss," the driver said. "Your name is...?"
My ankle bracelet was starting to tighten against my skin. Five short pulses.
"You really should pull the van over," I said quickly. "Oh, and don't shoot at him. It might make him mad. Madder."
"Huh?" Goon #3 demanded. "What are you--"
There was a roar of fire and the van was suddenly skidding and spinning. The driver cursed and tried to steer into the turn but the rubber had been vaporized off the rims by a Soulfire-infused lance of elemental energy that had simultaneously melted the wheel assemblies into a fixed position.
I heard running footsteps outside, someone chasing the skidding van down with the superhuman speed invested by a Faerie Queen into her Knight. A blast of force shot up at an angle, peeling the side of the van away, and a scarecrow of a man, all angles and height, leapt into the still-moving van with his black leather longcoat flaring behind him. Two quick punches hit Goons #2 and #3 in the face, slamming them into the wall with power greater than the strongest boxer to ever live. And then he was there, my father, wrapping himself around me and invoking a shield of shimmering blue magic that completely surrounded us both. He was just in time; the blast he had used to can-opener the van had knocked it over and it was skidding and rolling, bouncing us around like a pinball.
Somehow, I couldn't find it in me to be afraid. All I could smell was him and his coat, and that meant the world was fine.
Eventually we came to a halt. Instead of letting go, Dad squeezed me tighter, clinging to me like a sinner to salvation. My face was mooshed up against his chest and I could feel his heart pounding against my cheek, beating like a terrified bird.
"'m okay, dad," I said, the words muffled. "I'm okay."
The words seemed to jolt him out of it. He lowered the shield and unwrapped himself. A brief surge of his will snapped the zip ties holding me, and he helped me out of the ruined collection of scrap metal that had been a van until a minute or so ago. I looked back over my shoulder at the three almost-certainly-dead bodies of my erstwhile kidnappers.
"I'm Maggie Dresden, you idiots."
