When Eli came to, he didn’t open his eyes right away. There was too much to sort through first, not the least of which was a massive headache.

He wasn’t at home, that was for sure. Whatever he was lying on rumbled softly, and he heard an engine somewhere in front of him. He was in the back seat of a car, he guessed.

He took stock of his position, and found that his wrists and ankles were bound. Not ideal, but they were zip ties, by the feel of them. He could get out of zip ties, with effort.

He reached out again with his ears, trying to pick up on anything—city sounds, honking horns, a radio station. Nothing. He couldn’t catch any light through his eyelids, either. No sunlight, no passing street lights.

How far outside the city were they driving?

He opened his eyes and found that he wasn’t far off the mark—he was in the back seat of a car, zooming somewhere far away from the city. The view outside the windows was black, the headlights illuminating nothing but darkness and the silhouettes of pine trees.

The car itself looked to be a regular sedan, with fairly pedestrian wear and tear. Empty energy drinks and gas receipts littered the floor, a coffee stain dripped down the center console. The cloth of the seats smelled of gasoline, greasy fries, and pine.

Eli looked up at the driver, and the driver glanced back at him, his blue hair muted in the dashboard light.

“Did Banneker leave it a mess back there?” Beake asked. “I did ask him to clean it up before I left.”

Eli immediately tried to break the restraints.

“You—you asshole—“

Beake sighed. “Please don’t.”

“You kidnapped me!”

“That’s not true, I…” Beake raised a hand, the placed it back on the steering wheel. “Fine. I did. But more accurately, I saved you.”

Eli froze, his fury interrupted. “Saved me?”

“Do you recall anything from earlier this evening?”

This was where the headache got in the way. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to recall what had happened between Dawn’s call and this car. He remembered...the apartment door opening. Masked people barging in with guns, a shield appearing before him. Not a riot shield—a large white dome of a shield, as filmy as a soap bubble. It had given him a second, just a second, to duck through the window to the fire escape, but then hands were grabbing him back, pulling him forward, and he pitched down the ladder—

As the pain in his head flared, his thoughts circled frantically back to the phone call that started it.

“Dawn,” he said, and tried to sit up. “Where have you taken her, you bastard?”

“To my safehouse,” Beake said. “That’s where she called you from.”

Eli did manage to sit up—but his momentum carried him back down the other way, and he fell back on the seat, forehead scraping against the door handle. He cursed and resumed his fight against the restraints.

“So you turned her?” he spat between efforts. “How long? How long as she been working for you-“

“She isn’t working for me.” Beake took a long sip from a cup on the console. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you both since the gala. You weren’t nearly subtle enough in your investigations, neither of you were. The agency started following you a week ago.” He rubbed his forehead. “You’re lucky I was able to reach you in time.”

The masked intruders flashed across Eli’s mind again, and his heart stumbled, as if he was watching them burst in for the first time.

“You’re saying that was the agency?”

Beake gave another long sigh.

“You sound far too surprised, Elias. Yes, that was the agency. Not me.” He shifted his grip on the wheel. “Believe it or not, brutish home invasion and murder isn’t my style.”

“Oh sure,” Eli winced against the two wounds now throbbing on his head, “like I’m gonna believe the criminal who’s tied me up.”

Beake’s jaw tensed. “Tell me, if I hadn’t done so, would you or would you not have attempted to run this car into a ditch the moment you woke up?”

Eli opened his mouth, then closed it.

“If you don’t trust me,” Beake continued, “talk with Dawn at the safehouse. She did tell you she was there, yes?”

Eli let his head rest on the seat. She had told him she was somewhere safe.

“Now, we have an hour left in the drive.” Beake glanced back at him once more. “If you agree to behave, I’ll remove those bindings.”

Eli found himself once more weighing the pros and cons of violence against Beake. If he attacked him now, he wouldn’t know where Dawn was. If he…behaved…he’d find her. Lull Beake into a false sense of trust. Potentially get to punch his lights out later, at a more opportune time.

“Fine,” Eli snapped. “I’ll behave. But let me sit in the front seat, this isn’t a damn rideshare.”

Beake pulled over to the side of the road and grabbed a pair of scissors from the glovebox. As he opened the door next to Eli’s head, something buzzed in his pocket. He pulled out a phone and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Apologies, I have to take this.” He tapped the phone, then wedged it between his cheek and his shoulder. “Hello, Sherry.”

Eli tried to listen in as Beake snipped the bindings, but the voice was too muffled.

“Yes, I’m an hour out,” Beake was mumbling. “I pulled over to untie him, he’s not trying to…yes, I’m aware there’s a tracker on the car.” He turned to Eli. “They want me to tell you there’s a tracker on the car.”

“Um, okay?” Eli said, but Beake was back on the phone.

“Yes, he knows Dawn is there…have I taken the neutralizer?” A grimace flashed across his face, and he dug around in his pocket for a vial of milky liquid. Popping the cork with his thumb, he downed the potion and shivered. “Of course. Took it an hour ago. No, I’m not lying.”

He glanced at Eli and put a finger to his lips. Eli just stared at him.

“Yes, I’ll get back on the road right away,” Beake continued. He summoned Eli to follow, then opened the front passenger door for him. “I know it’s dark, Sherry. Of course I’ll drive safe.” A pause. “I’ll see you soon.”

Beake trudged back to the driver’s side, slumped into the front seat, and tossed the phone into the back. “Shouldn’t have answered. Now, where’s my…”

He fumbled around the console, grabbed the cup again, and chugged it in one go. After another small shudder, he turned the car back onto the road.

“What shit are you taking now?” Eli glared at the cup, leaking as much venom as he could into the question. Beake ran a hand through his hair.

“An addictive plant-derived substance that can cause increased heart rate and insomnia in certain doses,” he said, then looked over at Eli with a ghost of a smile. “It’s coffee, Elias. Bad gas station coffee.”

Eli folded his arms and looked out to the road. “Oh.”

They drove for another ten minutes until Eli squirmed in his seat, the stillness of the air grating on his ears.

“Okay, I get that you’re a psychopath, but do you seriously have to drive in silence?”

“I’m not a-,” Beake pointed to the radio, “there’s nothing to listen to! I promise you, it’s all country, prayer stations, or static!”

Eli groaned and hit his head against the back of the seat, wincing when the motion jarred his headache. “Fine. You got any food?”

Beake rolled his eyes. “Yes, I grabbed you a burger while driving away from the agency—no, I don’t have any food. There’s food at the safehouse.”

Eli shifted to lean against the window. “How long have we been driving?”

“Five hours.”

Damn, they were far from the city. “And how much longer?”

“Just under an hour.” Beake gestured in Eli’s general direction, eyes still on the road. “Listen, why don’t you go back to sleep or something? We’ll be there before you know it.”

“Sleep?” Eli scoffed and folded his arms. “With you in the car? I think the fuck not.”

He set his forehead against the cool glass, and was asleep a minute later.