Free Death Thieves by Julie Wright Page A

good shake for the insanity of such thoughts, I yanked off my clothes and stepped into the tub. I turned the shower to hot and scooted back from the spray so the cold water in the lines could warm up. I waved my hand in the water, but the water remained icy cold. Muttering curses about water heaters, I stepped back out, wrapped the blanket sized towel around me, and poked my head out from the bathroom door.
    The empty dark hallway reminded me of the horror films I’d seen, the one where the evil guy’s blade glimmers at the end of the hallway as he walks toward the terrified teenager wrapped in a towel. “Tag?” My shaky voice made my face flush. What a baby I’d turned out to be.
    He called out from the kitchen. “What?”
    “There isn’t hot water. Do I have to do something to make hot water come on?”
    “The heating unit must be broken. I don’t know anything about flash heaters. Sorry. My training was history, politics, and soldiering, with a slight emphasis in physics.” His voice moved closer and his faint form moved at the end of the hallway. “I’ll heat some on the stove.” With that, his shadow moved away again. I shut the door, trying to shake the respect I had for the space he seemed so willing to give me. A slight emphasis on physics? He helped invent a time-travel watch and considered his abilities to be slight?
    After a fairly long wait, he tapped at the door. “I’ll leave the pot here. You can get it when you feel comfortable. I’ve already started several smaller pots so you’ll have enough.”
    I held my breath and listened as his footsteps whispered away on the hall carpet. I edged the door open and found a large pan of water. I felt vulnerable standing there in a towel, but Tag had thus far been a perfect gentleman.
    I hefted the pan into the bathroom and up onto the counter, hoping it didn’t burn the countertop for the owner. “A perfect gentleman?” I looked in the mirror. “Perfect gentlemen don’t steal girls from their time zones.”
    “But you’d be dead if he hadn’t,” I argued with my image, green in the glow-stick light.
    It comforted me to argue with my mirror image, almost like arguing with Winter. Except Winter had never been so dirty and travel worn.
    If I tried getting into the tub while covered in volcano droppings, I’d be bathing in a swamp of black, sooty water. I sighed and glared at the bathtub. The warmth could be enjoyed after a quick rinse cycle.
    I jumped into the shower and clenched my teeth against the shock of cold against my skin. The soap and shampoo came from two smaller curvy looking faucets that released a small squirt in my hand once placed under the nozzles. I soaped up outside of the spray then stepped back in for the final rinse. A small cry against the cold erupted.
    Tag knocked on the door again. “Is something wrong?”
    “Just c-cold.” I stuttered.
    “There are three more pans of water ready for you. I can bring them in . . . if you trust me. Just close the curtain. I can pour the water through the curtain. I won’t look.”
    I hesitated. Even the most altruistic boy would have trouble keeping that promise. A kidnapper? But I hadn’t relocked the door, and he hadn’t tried to enter. “Leave them by the door.”
    “How about I leave them on the counter. Then you won’t have to leave the bathroom at all.”
    When I didn’t argue the idea, he said, “Okay. I’m coming in.”
    Standing outside the cold shower spray, almost without feeling the backsplash of the cold droplets, I waited.
    The door clicked open. I held my breath and listened to him heft pans in and place them on the counter, one by one. The oddity and danger of the situation did not escape me. Only a thin sheet of cloth stood between me and the person who’d ripped me from my life. If he wasn’t to be trusted, now would surely be the time he would attack. His shadow moved against the shower curtain, causing me to cast a quick glance around for a weapon I could