Captive by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

lashes lowered, his hand slipped away from hers. He turned to his father and spoke harshly—the two men argued briefly. Joseph faced Alex. “He’ll sell it to you for fifty dollars.”
    “Thank you.” She dug into her backpack. Her pulse was slamming. Both men watched her sign the traveler’s check. Alex’s hand was shaking.
    And Blackwell said, “We can leave now, Alexandra.”

4
    A BOVE ALEX’S HEAD there came a sudden, strange wailing.
    Alex stood on the steps of the store beside Joseph. She was both frightened and exhilarated; she was also, oddly, reluctant to leave. Joseph stared at her. Alex managed a smile. “I plan to visit the museum tomorrow,” she said.
    He brightened. “I know this museum like the back of my hand.” His gaze flickered. “Can I give you a tour? I promise you that you will not be disappointed.” He hesitated. “I’ll even show you a secret tunnel.”
    Alex nodded, pleased. “Good night, Joseph. It was great meeting you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    He watched her as she hefted her backpack, still carrying the lamp in her hand, and walked away. Alex felt his eyes upon her until she had turned the corner. How strange. She was still trying to figure out when and where they had first met. She was positive that they were not strangers.
    The sun was setting. A strange Arabic cry came from loudspeakers somewhere above. Alex paused. She realized now that the wailing was the Moslem call to prayer from a nearby mosque.
    Several Arabs who had been strolling ahead of her on the narrow street flung themselves onto the ground, facing the east. Alex held the lamp more tightly. It seemed somewhatwarm. She was suddenly aware of being exhausted. An image of Joseph still danced in her head. She was also aware of the fact that Blackwell had left her. But she knew now that he had been present in the shop. He had spoken to her very personally, and he had also spoken out loud. Both Joseph and his father had been startled, both of them had heard a man’s voice. Though neither had mentioned it.
    Blackwell’s spirit was here in Tripoli. She had been right to come. But they were still separated by time. Did hearing his voice mean he was somehow trying to break though whatever barriers existed between them, in order to reach her? Alex trembled at the very notion. But why? What did he want?
    It was growing dark now, and she did not move, watching the praying men, afraid to disturb them. Alex was a little bit dizzy. If she felt faint again, though, it was her own fault; she had pushed herself far too hard after such a long and arduous trip. She realized now that she had been so overwhelmed with all that had transpired that she had left the small shop on foot when she should have been looking for a taxi.
    The men had finished praying and were continuing down the silent and dark, nearly deserted street. Alex started after them. The lamp had become even warmer in her hands.
    Almost burning her palms.
    Alex was perplexed, confused. She stared at the lamp, which had taken on a dull, slightly metallic glow. It
was
burning her palms. Yet that made no sense. She wanted to drop it. Her hands hurt. Yet she could not relax her grip.
    What was happening?
    And Alex was very dizzy now; it was hard to focus on the street ahead of her, or was that because it was nightfall? She blinked. And realized that her legs were becoming numb. A surge of panic filled Alex.
    She was an idiot! Why had she pushed herself this way? If she fainted now, out here on a public street, who would help her?
    Her hands were on fire. Alex cried out, but could not move. She could no more drop the lamp than move her legs forward; somehow her body had stopped obeying her mind. In fact, she had lost all feeling in her feet and ankles and calves!
    Alex was frightened. The lamp seared her palms. The night swirled about her, and her vision began to ebb and flow. Darknessand more darkness. Her thighs were growing numb, too. And her fingertips, her