Chapter 4 : Kidnapped
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“Fuck,” he muttered. He glanced around the place. It looked oddly familiar. The ceilings were eaten by the darkness and he wasn’t sure how high it was. Shadows bounced off the pillars, distorting the ivory color to one of murky brownish-gray. He was surrounded by depictions of ancient Egypt painted in basic Egyptian colors. He realized it was the tomb he was touring earlier. Someone gave a grunt and he jerked in fright, his stomach freezing to ice. He heaved a sigh of relief, seeing James besides him. James’ head was rolled back, leaning against the wall with his mouth agape. Drool seeped down from the side of his mouth to his chin, leaving a trail like a tear.
“James,” hissed Albus. “James!”
Another grunt, he jerked awake. He grumbled something incoherent, his eyes studying the tomb. Finally, James looked at Albus and jumped back from terror. “FUCK!”
“SHHHH!!!” hissed Albus. “Shut it, you git.”
“What the—” He circled his wrists tied in rope. “What the fuck happened?”
“Yeah, James because I’m not in the same situation as you!”
“Fuck,” he moaned, hitting the back of his head softly against the wall. “Mum is going to kill us.”
“If we don’t get killed by our kidnappers first,” snapped Albus.
“I think I rather have the kidnappers. Mum is going to torture us first then make us slaves like house elves.”
Albus rolled his eyes then promptly searched for an exit, but all the tomb doors were sealed shut, but… Persia had gone through that secret door. He rummaged his head on how she did it, but it couldn’t seem to come to his head. The perfect curves, playful smirk and twinkling eyes popped up in his mind every time he think he came close to discovering how she did it. It also didn’t help James was grumbling endless about pretty much nonsense—
“I’m going to have to wear a pillowcase. One stained with Fred’s boogies and Hugo’s drool. I’m going to have to trick Mum to give me a sock or something. Then I’ll tell her ‘James has no master! He is a free elf!’ Although technically, I’m not an elf. Sarah Benson said I looked like a goblin after I dumped her last year. Is that the same thing to an elf—?”
“Shut it, James,” Albus whispered furiously. “I hear someone.”
Footsteps echoed in the darkness. There sounds like a pair of heavy feet and the others were light. Albus strained his ears, assuming it was more than one person by the incoherent tapping and shuffling of the feet. In the darkness, a short creature with pinkish skin had bared its , yellow-stained and ragged sharp teeth. Another one, the same expect with a grayish complexion. His ear pointed straight, one of them looked slightly bitten off. The other had a nose long and curved. Their black beady eyes narrowed at them. They were obviously goblins.
“Boys, boys, boys,” scolded a voice. The man appeared in the low light as Albus squinted at him. He whispered inaudibly and the torches of the hall scorched up with fire, draping its light on the three. Albus immediately recognized the man. He was Amar, their tour guide from earlier today.
“Hey—aren’t you—” James was going to ask.
“Yes, I was your tour guide earlier today,” he smirked, slapping his wand in his palm. “Now, we are going to question you. You can easily comply or we can…” At this, the goblins pulled out beater bats from their side, with evil grin that showed their fangs. “beat it out of you.”
“Hey, Persia, where you going?” Ramsey asked.
She looked at her best friend with a “you-know-what-I’m-about-to-do” look with her bottom lip slightly pouting, a small smirk playing on her lips and her eyes glistening playfully.
He grinned spiritedly, “Oh, I’m about to go with you.”
Persia shut the door to her wagon. Her body was now draped in the bonfire’s potent light and she leaned against the wagon with her arms crossed. A smirk was now fully etched on her lips. “What are you looking for?”
“I want a new gold chain,” he beamed.
“For that, we are going to have to Akh Dunes. And that’s going to stir trouble, they have more power and money than they deserve.”
“Oh,” he grinned mischievously. He leaned his arm on the wagon, facing her and his body blocking her view to the right. “I didn’t know Persia was afraid of a little challenge than the usual.” He leaned down to her face, considering she was much shorter and she looked into his brown eyes surrounded by the smoke of dark eyeliner. “Persia, why don’t you loosen up? I could help with that you know,” he whispered in her ear huskily.
She grabbed his face by his jaw line and chin and stroked his jawline with her oval nail. She smirked, “I’m the type of girl that’s the downfall to guys like you.”
He sniggered, “So is that white boy the type you want to be with?”
“No,” she quickly said. “Anyway, let’s stop with the chit-chatting and go.” Persia turned to leave, but Ramsey pulled her back, pushing her against the wall of the wagon.
“Persia, don’t mess with him. He’s only trouble.”
“How is he trouble and not you?” She tugged herself away from him roughly. “You are so much of a better man than him? Who are you to judge, Ramsey?” she demanded.
Her chest was heaving up and down from the bubbling lava of anger, ready to explode. Ramsey was her best friend, her support and her everything, but she hated when he always intervened in her love life. Last love interest she had, it was really only a small crush, the bloke ended up being locked in a tomb by Ramsey. She never found out which tomb, but she could assume he’s still locked in there, probably dead by now. She was pretty indifferent about it, maybe because she came to a conclusion that life’s a bitch and it might have frozen her heart over.
“You’re thinking about Raed?” asked Ramsey with a smirk.
“How can I not? I bet you anything he’s dead because of you.”
“Like you give a shit Persia,” he smirked. “Listen, he was a city boy anyway. What can he do for you?”
“Who knows!” She threw her arms in the air. “He maybe could have gotten me out of this life I live!”
“Persia, let me remind you, your father was city folk. And where is he now?” Ramsey demanded. “He abandoned you and your mother. They cannot be trusted.”
“Are you implying I should be wed off to a gypsy man?”
Ramsey’s dark eyes twinkled, flickering slightly lighter for a second. “Yes. I won’t abandon you. I’ve been here this entire time, through it all. For Ra’s sake!”
Persia’s face immediately softened and she caressed his face in affectionate, reminiscing about all their memories. “Yes, you are right, you’ve been there for me and always have.”
“So, go out with me.”
“No,” she said without any hesitation, turning away from him and marching toward the camels.
“Persia!” he begged with a grin. “Why you must be like this?”
They passed a wagon with a bright yellow and the roof a lime green. The old lady sitting in front of it on the stool was old Lady Asma Adli. Her snowy white hair was twisted in a bun and her wrinkles and sagginess of her face showed the wisdom of a long life she lived.
“Ms. Adli, I’m borrowing your camel.”
“Yes, dear,” she beamed.
“Wait up, Persia!” Ramsey called after her.
Persia attempted to climb the camel from the ground, her hands gripping the first hump of the camel. It’s soft skin was matte, but the hump was full and hard. It looked at her lazily, chewing exaggeratedly. She jumped, but still she couldn’t bring herself up on the camel. She was too short.
“Here, I got you, love.” Ramsey hoisted Persia on the camel with one strong arm, his muscles tightened in ripples.
She snatched the reins of the camel and shot Ramsey a deadly glare. “I could have done it,” she mumbled annoyed.
“Yeah by tomorrow morning,” he grinned, swinging his leg over the camel. He held out his hand to her. “Give me the reins.”
“Ramsey, I can do it myself,” she growled, lifting the rein out of his reach. “YAH!”
She slapped the reins and the camel immediately broke into a clumsy jog. Ramsey tilted off by the harsh bounce of the camel, but with one hand, Persia grabbed his loose shirt and heaved him to sit straight. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist as they rode to the city gates. Persia looked up at the sky and wanted nothing more to reach up to the sky to run her hands through the sea of star glistening like golden gems. She wished she could scoop up those gems into her hands and give them to those who needed it most. It didn’t depressed her that she was practically poor, but it bothered her to see others struggling. The elderly were trying to make an honest living through their creations or their blessed seer skills. This is not to say if an opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t snatch it to escape from this life. As much as she pretended to be a proud gypsy, she was exhausted from the lifestyle. But one thing was for sure, she didn’t want a man to help her escape.
At the entrance of the city gates, the camel slowed, it’s flat, round hoof patting on the sandy ground and Persia and Ramsey swaying on it. The streets were practically empty as usual expect for—
“Excuse me! Excuse me!”
Persia looked down at a woman with flaming red hair in a bob and a few freckles scattered adorably across her cheeks and ridge of her nose. Her bright blue eyes looked somehow dulled. “Listen, have you seen this boy.” She held up a picture of a teenager, sulking with untidy raven hair and blue eyes like his mother.
“Why would you need to beat us?” croaked James.
Amar gave them a crooked smirk, slapping his wand in palm on endless replay. “Well, I think we all know why. Right, boys?” He and the goblins laughed, although the golbins sounded wheezier like a dying cat.
“No, we don’t,” replied Albus, irked.
Amar cocked his eyebrow, his smirk faltering. With this, he looked at the goblins on either side of him. When he looked back at the brothers, the smirk formed again with more potency. “The gold?”
“What gold?” asked James, wriggling his tied wrists.
“Stop that,” growled the goblin. “Or we might have to beat you now.”
“I’d like that,” smirked the other goblin, baring his teeth.
“The gold?” smirked Amar. “I know that gypsy girl. Always stirring up trouble in tombs and taking what’s not hers. All we want is to get back what’s rightfully ours.”
Albus tilted his head to look at James whose eyes was twinkling excitedly now. “Well, technically the gold belongs to the person who died. You know, that king bloke.”
Amar’s smirk fell and his eyes burned with a deadly glare. “Where is the gold?” he asked through gritted teeth. “It isn’t hers and we know you know her.” His dagger stare now went through Albus. “Where’s the bitch? I’m pretty sure, you were with her. Got a bit of gold for yourself?”
“No,” growled Albus.
“Fine if you won’t speak, we’re going to do what we have to do. Go get ‘em.”
“His name is Albus Severus Potter. Have you seen him? Or this boy?” She now held up a photo with dark hair, tamable, but with round green eyes. In the photo, he had round glasses and couldn’t stay still. “He might be wearing contacts. His name is James Sirius Potter. They both gone missing, I haven’t seen them in a couple of hours. Have you seen them?”
Persia shook her slightly.
“Oh.” Tears swam in her bright blue eyes as her bottom lip trembled. “Thanks,” she mumbled, turning away. Persia looked behind her, watching the mother shove the photos in another person’s face.
“YAH!” Persia slapped the reins and the camel galloped awkwardly.
“The fuck?” spat Ramsey, losing his balance and he grasped Persia’s waist with one arm and the other, leaning against the camel’s upper hind leg.
“We’re going to Sand Storm Bar!” she called behind her.
Ramsey looked behind him at the mother and a man next to her, growing smaller with the distance. They weaved through streets and sandy clay buildings, until chattering and booming laughter buzzed nearer and nearer. At the corner, indented in the sandy building was “Sand Storm Bar” with gold paint poured into it, it slowly fading at the corner. A curtain fell right above door entrance and fan plants in earthy vases sat in the front. She hopped off the camel and looked up at Ramsey, her skirt blowing in the chilly breeze.
“Fine. I don’t want to help you find the idiots. I hope he’s been traffic out of the country by now,” he mumbled irritability.
Persia rolled her eyes and with swaying hips she entered the bar. Music vibrated the walls and the boom echo in her ears. The forlorn, lonely voice in the song filled her ear as she squinted at the shadows of the bar. It was modern, hip and almost club-like. Persia slipped to the bar counter, laying her forearm on the polish wood. From the peripheral vision, she noticed two goblins chatted sneakily with firewhiskey in their hands. With a smirk, Persia lowered her bra top to expose more of her upper curves. She turned slightly to the goblins.
“Can I get you two drinks?” she purred.
One looked up at her from his stool, his legs nowhere near the ground. “Gypsy girl?” asked the one, grinning with bared fangs. “Heard you girls are easy.”
She leaned forward and whispered in his pointed ear, “If you get enough alcohol into our systems, we are.” She leaned back, looking at the dance floor with people stumbling and a smirk on her face with her back facing the bar.
“I supposed you’ll be needing the drinks rather than us,” he smirked. The goblin called the barman, “Lotus flower juice for the lady.”
“That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?” she purred.
“Exactly.” His beady eye winked at her and she tried so hard not to gag.
The barman slid the drink to her as she titled her head to the forward to hide her face. She felt his eyes bore into the back of her head, but eventually relief came and from the corner of her eye, she watched him walk away. She snatched the drink from the counter, guzzling it all in one shot. It slipped down her through, sweet and delicate, but she knew better. It will creep up on her. It always had when she and Ramsey lounged around the bonfire at night, challenging each other who can drink more. She tucked her hair behind her ear, winking at the goblin.
“You’re a bit young,” he smirked.
“So are you, aren’t you?” she purred. “Let me guess. Hmmm…” She stroked his wrinkly jawline. “You’re seventeen and recently just got a job at Gringotts? Am I right?”
“Yes,” he replied croakily. “Gypsies are seers too.”
“Oh, yes, we are,” she purred. “And you know what I see?” She leaned into his ear. “Me…and you… in bed.” She pulled back, smirking.
“No, but I need be sober to feel all the pleasure you’re going to give me.”
“Let’s go, gypsy.” He fell from the stool bar and it was slightly embarrassing. He only came up to her knee. His long fingers, curled around hers and he gave his goblin friend one last fleeting look with the black eyes twinkling. She narrowed her eyes at his balding head. He led her through the crowd. His voice echoed up to her, through the music, “I have a friend I want you to meet. He’s better suited for you, I think.”
He pulled her forward into the corridor in the back with a small staircase, leading up and a small door to left.
A man towered over her on the third step of the staircase. His hazel eyes were smoked with liner and his face with new whiskers against his tan skin. His jawline was as chiseled, but his exposed arms were ripped with bulging muscles. A bandana was tied to the side on top of his head. An Arabian sword laid lazily at side. A bandit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Why, hello there,” he said huskily, smiling his almost-perfect teeth. He seized her by her jaw, squeezing and pushed her roughly against the wall.
Her insides froze over and her heart almost stopped beating. She was ready to drop dead from fear.
A/N: Please let me know how it is so far. It would be greatly appreciated ! XOXO
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