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them.’
    He didn’t go for it.
    ‘Get in the car,’ he said.
    Groobelaar was asleep upstairs—too far to run to—and she certainly couldn’t cry out and be heard with all that dance music pounding through the house. And this man was blocking the door to the garage. He was much bigger than her, and certainly far stronger. There was no way she would make it past him.
    With reluctance, Meaghan did as the stranger said and got in, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. I should never have let him get me in the car. This is bad. This is really bad. She was strapped in and the door closed. A flurry of scenarios buzzed through her mind: What if I leap out as we leave the drive, and flee into the neighbouring yards? Would he come after me if I did?
    The man adjusted the seat back on his side and leaned over to the glove box to get the keys, brushing briefly against her bare legs.
    ‘Okay, where am I taking you?’
    The statement had been so without malice that she wasn’t sure what she should say. ‘Um, near the Cross,’ she managed, as if acting like everything was fine would make it so. She would get him to drop her a few blocks away from her apartment, she decided, and sprint the rest of the way home. She wanted to get as far away from that house and that dead girl as possible, and she would tell Groobelaar all about it tomorrow, and he would see to it that things were taken care of.He had such a mad crush on her that he would do anything she said, she was sure of it.
    The man pressed a remote-control unit that sat in the centre console, and the broad garage door lifted, exposing darkness and a light rain, which must only have just started. It was very early in the morning. Soon the sun would peek over the horizon and this horrible night would be through. She wished it would end soon. She wished she had never accepted Groobelaar’s invitation to come as his guest.
    In silence, the man drove them out of the garage and into the wet streets while Meaghan fretted, wondering where he would take her and what would become of the poor dead girl. They had driven for perhaps ten minutes before he spoke.
    ‘Are you thirsty?’
    Meaghan nodded, puzzled by his unexpected thoughtfulness. Her lips were so dry. She’d drunk too much champagne and it always made her feel like this. She desperately craved a glass of water.
    ‘Have a sip. You look parched,’ he said, and passed her a plain bottle of water from beside him. The seal was already broken. ‘Go ahead,’ he said, urging her to drink. ‘See, I’m not going to hurt you. Drink it. You’ll feel much better.’
    She unscrewed the cap, which opened easily, and took a small swig from the bottle. The water was flat. It tasted a bit salty.
    ‘Go on,’ he urged her.
    She took another sip.
    ‘Good girl. Now, that’s better, isn’t it?’
    Meaghan did feel a touch better for a moment. Her parched lips were grateful for the liquid, and at least this stranger was no longer jumping down her throat like he had been in the hallway. She wanted him to stay calm. Maybe he really would let her get home. Maybe.
    And then the spike hit.
    Oh fuck…oh my God…oh fuck…
    A pure, beautiful euphoria overwhelmed
    Meaghan’s senses. She took a deep breath and let
    her head fall against the seat, chin tilted skywards.
    She let out a shocked moan, the pleasure taking
    her by surprise.
    ‘Good girl. Now, where am I taking you?’
    She straightened her head and looked at him. There was something in the water…something in the water. Whatever it was, it had worked fast. Her head was not just in the car but up and up and going, floating, floating everywhere. She felt extremely tipsy, or like she had taken ecstasy, and yet neither: this was something else. Everything felt wonderful: her bare feet on the carpet of the car; the seat under her hands. She fell into a state of profound relaxation. Any alarm or distress she had experienced was so remote now that it no longer mattered. It