They walked silently through the woods until they reached a good spot to observe the stream, a small hilltop just above it. Moments passed and a young deer appeared to drink.

Sophia peeked at Alistair.

He shook his head and murmured, “A halfling.”

A few minutes later, his stance changed abruptly, and he mouthed to Leonard that was a few feet away with Alice, “Mine.”

A striking buck had emerged from behind some trees. His antlers were rather opened and straight, with the fourth and fifth tines forming a crown giving him a regal aura. His hide glinted dark red under the last sun rays that peeked through the trees.

Alistair positioned his rifle until his hand curled around the stock. He placed his finger on the trigger and took aim.

Icy prickles danced up Sophia’s spine. She glanced over at the others, tendrils of wariness clinging to her like a vine, sweat running down her back in spite of the cool weather.

The stag lifted his head from the stream, proudly raising it to its full height, and looked directly at her, his black, almond shaped eyes so endearing, so lovely that her heart constricted in her chest and her throat closed.

It was pleading. It was begging her to spare his life.

A male voice shouted loudly in her mind, ‘Don’t lose hope, Sophia...’

Suddenly the sun set and she wasn’t in the woods anymore.

Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Avenida Niemeyer.


Friday, February 29th, 2008.


2.56 a.m.

Light rain was falling.

Streetlights flashed quickly by as Gabriel drove them home from São Conrado to Ipanema in their Porsche Cayenne.

Sophia looked at the clock on the dashboard. Almost three in the morning.

It was late. She was tired but incredible happy. She took off her sandals and sighed.

Gabriel glanced at her and smiled, entwining his fingers with hers.

The bar-mitzvah had been cheerful and lively. They had danced the whole night long.

She put her head on the headrest and looked at the huge waves splashing on the rocks below.

The sky was dark; the waning moon nowhere to be seen.

She closed her eyes.

A very loud sound of brakes and crashing came in through the closed windows and a flash illuminated the night.

Abruptly, Gabriel released her hand.

The car swerved on the wet road and stopped.

Sophia opened her eyes, scared.

In front of them two black cars were blocking the road, six men all dressed in black armed with AR-15 rifles and .45 pistols stood outside.

Gabriel put the car in reverse, but before they could escape, he slammed on the brakes again.

Sophia looked back and her whole body froze. The car driven by their bodyguards had crashed against the rocky wall and was on fire. And two other black cars had appeared behind them, impeding their progress.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped.

More armed men got out of the cars.

Gabriel took both her hands in his and squeezed as he spoke quietly, looking into her eyes, “Don’t panic, Sophia.”

“Oh, Gabriel,” she heaved, her whole body filled with dread. “What are we going to do?”

“Don’t leave the car, Sophia. Don’t leave the car. Everything will be okay.”

The men advanced on the Cayenne, surrounded it and took aim.

Gabriel pressed the speaker and said, “I’ll leave the car in peace. Don’t shoot.”

“Please, don’t go. Please, Gabriel, please,” Sophia begged him in a scared whisper.

“The armor will never hold against that kind of ammunition, Sophia.” He opened the door slowly and got out of the car, arms raised.

The men crowded closer around the car and one of them holstered his gun, yanked her door open and ripped her out of the car, shouting for her to stay quiet. He dragged her behind him in the direction of the cars.

She freaked out and struggled.

The man turned and slapped her hard, splitting her lip.

Without thinking, she flung her knee high and hit the man squarely on the groin, sending him screaming away.

He cursed foul words and shot her.

Once.

Twice.

Three, four times.

The first bullet missed her, but the second hit the center of her left upper arm and she staggered to the side. The third one tore a few inches lower through the outside of the same arm, and she fell.

“Sophia!” Gabriel yelled and ran to her just to be held back by two huge men.

She fell on the pavement, clutching her bloodied arm. Another man pulled her up by the hair. She stood unsteadly and stumbled, dragging behind, but it didn’t stop his firm stroll to the cars.

“Please, don’t, please,” she screamed, pleading with him, but the kidnappers just laughed and sneered.

“Stop. Stop! You are making a mistake,” Gabriel shouted for them. “I’m worth more than she is! My ransom will be bigger.”

The guy dragging Sophia halted and turned slowly.

“She is already shot and will surely die without medical attention. You won’t receive a cent.”

The man looked at Gabriel and back to the others. “He’s right.”

“Take me instead,” Gabriel shouted again. “Release her.”

The criminals started a heated argument, but concluded that Gabriel’s alternative was better.

“No. Gabriel! No.”

Sophia was flung violently on the ground and the man kicked her ribs and middle calling her lewd names. She stayed down on the wet tarmac, crying and hugging her arm. “Gabriel, please! No!”

They started to haul Gabriel toward the two cars at the rear but he managed to free himself and rushed to Sophia’s side, dropping to the ground on his knees.

“I love you, I love you.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “You’re the best thing that happened in my whole life.”

Sophia grabbed his wet shirt, sobbing, imploring to him, “Don’t go with them, please. Let them take me.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” another man laughed and pulled Gabriel from Sophia.

“Help! Someone help us,” Sophia screamed and received another hard kick in the ribs.

“Don’t lose hope, Sophia,” Gabriel shouted as two men hauled him into a car and zoomed away as she struggled to crawl back to the Cayenne.

“Help!”

Sophia collapsed on the ground before she managed to reach the door. The rain increased and she watched as rivulets of her diluted blood ran down the sloping avenue.

Sobbing, Sophia embraced darkness, falling, falling in an endless abyss.

Ells Hall.


Friday, April 2nd, 2010.


7.17 p.m.

When Sophia opened her eyes again, she saw forest green eyes looking worriedly at her.

She heard someone crying and realized it was her. She was wet all over and she shivered in the chilly air.

She was gripping her left arm with so much force her nails were digging into the flesh. A soft delicate hand was drying the tears on her face. She looked around trying to make sense of where she was.

A beautiful red-haired woman with green eyes was kneeling beside her and she was in the arms of a dark-haired handsome man with the same green eyes. She knew she had said something, but couldn’t hear above the ringing sound in her ears.

A wet and cold handkerchief appeared in the hand of another man who crouched beside the woman and pressed it to the side of her head, above her ear.

That hurts. She winced. Gabriel! Where is Gabriel? I need to know.

She asked them, but they didn’t seem to understand what she had said. She tried again in English.

The man with green eyes asked her something, but she couldn’t hear him.

She shook her head and feeling dizzy, closed her eyes, resting her head on his broad, warm chest. Gabriel! I have to find Gabriel.

“Who brought the flashlights?” Leonard answered.

“They are in my backpack, Leonard.” Lachlann answered and Leonard immediately opened it and grabbed two flashlights.

Lachlann illuminated the side of Sophia’s head and examined her blood-matted hair.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I don’t think she’ll need many stitches. Three or four, probably. Let me get this cleaned.” He handed the flashlight to Alice and went to the stream to wash his handkerchief, returning with it soaking wet. He wrung it above the wound, letting the water wash the blood away and lightly wiped her head and then he noticed her shoulder was hurt too. He tried to clean the wound but stopped as Sophia moaned, “Don’t. It hurts.”

“What did she say?” Lachlann looked at Leonard.

“That it hurts. She is talking in Portuguese. It’s similar to Spanish. I can understand some but not everything.”

“Sophia,” Alice called, softly caressing her face. “Please, Sophia, talk to us.”

Sophia opened her eyes, but they were unfocused. She blinked a few times and the focus returned. She stared into Alistair’s eyes. “They took Gabriel.”

“Gabriela? No, Gabriela is safe,” Leonard said to her and looked at Alistair, concerned, “I think she hit her head hard. Talk to her. See if she recognizes you.”

They kept asking her questions, to no avail. She continued to speak in a mix of Portuguese, English and French and it was clear she didn’t recognize them.

“She doesn’t know where she is,” Lachlann pointed out. “She keeps clutching her arm. She must have wounded it too.” He gently tried to pry her fingers, but she shook her head, moaning, the movement making her dizzy.

“How did she fall?” Alice asked. “Did she slip?”

“I don’t know. I was watching the deer. When it ran away and I looked at her, she was falling to the ground and rolling down the hill. I didn’t have time to catch her. She must have fainted.”

Lachlann glanced at Alistair, concern marring his features. “We have to take her to a hospital.”

“No.” There was deep concern in Alistair’s eyes. His voice was firm, though. “Only if it’s strictly necessary. She hates hospitals. Leonard, call Tavish Uilleam. Inform him we’re coming back and we need medical help. I’ll ride with her on my lap.”

From far away, Sophia could hear voices and feel her body being handled and although she tried, she couldn’t reach them.

She was floating in a dark space where flaming pain coursed through her body and a freezing ache prickled her heart.

8.29 p.m.

Alistair strode into his bedroom, with an unconscious Sophia in his arms, Tavish hovering over his shoulder.

“Let me help,” Alice volunteered.

“Okay. Don’t lay her down yet. Alice, take off her shirt, please. I need to suture her wounds as quickly as possible.”

What? “There’s no need to take off her shirt, Alice,” Alistair scolded at his sister. “You can cut around the wound.”

Tavish grunted. “Alistair Connor, her clothes are wet and dirty. I need her clean to treat her wounds. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll have to leave.”

Alistair’s green gaze blazed flames at his brother. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Their stares clashed.

“Stop interfering. She’s in pain and you’re being an ass.” Tavish sighed. “Alistair Connor. I’m a doctor. I do not lust over unconscious, sick women however beautiful or hot they may be. And, fuck, she’s your girlfriend.”

Tavish Uilleam is right. You’re being an idiot, Alistair Connor. Alistair slowly nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Tavish barely acknowledged the apology, looking away from Sophia as Alice took her shirt off. “Does she have any allergies?”

“I don’t know!” Alistair nearly shouted, exasperated with his impotency.

“You’re not helping.” Tavish stared at his brother, irritated too.

Alistair raked a hand in his hair. “I don’t know. This is her scarred arm, though.”

Tavish turned and saw the white jagged scars. “Fucking hell! That must have hurt.” He approached the still sleeping Sophia, putting on gloves. “I called a friend of mine who is a psychiatrist. She has a country house near here, about one and a half hour away.” He prepared the medical supplies he would need beside him on the bedside table. “I’m worried. She shouldn’t sleep after a head injury like this. Have you seen a suture before, Alistair Connor?” Tavish studied him, seriously. “Can you stomach it?”

“I’m not leaving her,” he affirmed. He frowned as he saw what Tavish had in his first aid kit. “Morphine?! Why do you have morphine, Tavish Uilleam?”

“Are you going to question each and every step?” He didn’t raise his eyes from what he was doing. He quickly assessed Sophia and looked up at Alistair. “We have to take her to a hospital.”