Imprisoned

Jessica woke to an ache in her back. The ground beneath her was carpeted in leaves. She became vaguely aware that she was in a sitting position, propped against a tree. A thick chain bound her to its rough trunk. She looked around, and realized that there was a figure slumped beside her.
"L-Luna?" she said, her voice hoarse.
The figure woke with a jolt.
"Jessica!" she cried, surprise evident in her voice, "Wha- Where are we?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Jessica admitted, "Only that we are chained to a tree in the middle of the woods."
"Oh, lovely," Luna groaned.
“And joy of joys,” Jessica commented, “These chains are bound.”
“Yes, dears, yes they are,” came a voice from behind them.
Jessica stiffened.
“Who is it,” Luna snapped, her voice betraying none of her fear.
“The man you thought was dead, but the man you know none of. The man you thought was a victim, but was instead an accomplice. I’m Rufus Pemberton.”
Jessica almost laughed, he sounded so ridiculous. He stepped out from behind them, so they saw him in full. Jessica was unused to looking up at people, and she figured this was how short people saw her.
The man in front of them was dressed in a khaki trench coat, that fell just above brown Herman Survivors.
“Where are we?” Luna said, her voice taut.
“You? You’re under our... Custody.”
The way he said it made it seem like an understatement.
“So we’re your prisoners?” Jessica snapped.
“Yes,” he said, “Prisoners. Prisoners to be ransomed when the rest of your Sanctuary friends get here.”
Suddenly, his hand went to his pocket.
“And they’re going to have a big surprise when they do!”
He pulled his hand out of his pocket, and Jessica and Luna gasped. In one deerskin-gloved hand, Rufus Pemberton clutched a black sphere. Then, he placed one hand on the top, and one on the bottom, and opened it. Luna screamed as a sliver of darkness leapt from the opened sphere. It darted toward her.
“No!” Jessica cried, “Luna! NO!”
Luna sealed her lips, and struggled against the chains, but it was too late. The Remnant pried open her mouth, and slid down her throat. Spasms racked her body. Jessica screamed over and over, but slowly, viens of blackness covered her face, ringing her lips. Her eyes became flat black pebbled, her lips darkening to ebony. Her face contorted into a savage smile. Tentatively, Pemberton stepped forward. He unwound the chain from Luna, and she stood up.
“Hide yourself in her form, and guard the other one. When the rest come, bring them to me.”
Luna nodded, and the blackness vanished from her face.
Pemberton turned, and walked away, leaving Jessica with the Remnant.

Kidnapping

Jessica spun in her chair, her fingers flying on the keyboard. She pulled up a web page. No results. Who was this guy? Sighing, she returned to the Sanctuary homepage. Maybe Birdie had found something. If Mars had... She didn't really want to think about it. Fast Lane wouldn’t be too bad, and Lunacy would be great, but Birdie was most likely to turn up results. She had on several occasions, and Jess started to wonder why Mars was Head Detective. Life didn't make sense sometimes. Oh, joy. Birdie had found nothing. Slowly, she rotated the chair again.
Jason Stone, my new arch enemy, she thought bitterly.
She shut down the computer and sighed. Stretching and yawning, she forced herself out of the comfortable computer chair. Her awareness spread to the fine black chain on her wrist. It was ice cold. She was sick and tired, and most of all bored with people trying to kill her. It got quite irritating. And what idiot would want to kill her? She was absolutely perfect. She walked to one of the shelves in her library. Scanning the rows of books, she chose a particularly dusty tome. She then selected a chair, and settled herself comfortably.
Replacing the housemaid will be a bother, she thought airily.
She turned a page. She hadn’t read the book in a few decades, but it was still good. She lowered it at the sound of a gun being cocked. An ear shattering bang. The bullet was halfway across the room when it dissolved in a puff of shadow. Jessica set the book aside.
“Good afternoon,” She said cooly.
She already liked the man. He hadn’t wasted time goading. Just fired.
“I like your approach,” she remarked, “Simple. Straightforward. I don’t think my housemaid would say the same though.” She smiled slightly. “Put the gun away, dear. It’s really no use here.”
The man lowered the gun. He still hadn’t said anything.
“I’d cut out your tongue for trespassing, but I don’t think it would make much difference,” she commented.
Slowly, she rose from the chair, taking him in. Sizing him up.
He was reasonably tall, and muscular with thick black hair and pasty skin. Not particularly handsome, but he looked fast and capable of doing whatever job he needed to do. Well, not this one. Her expensive black dress flowed around her ankles, stirred by a breeze from the open window. It gave the illusion of being alive, like a flowing river of shadow. She stepped forward, and his grip tightened on the gun.
“Careful, Honey. If you pull that trigger, you’ll shoot yourself in the foot. Then how would you get out?” She murmured.
The man raised the gun.
She was on him in a flash. It was over in seconds. The man found himself pinned by shadows against a wall, his gun somewhere on the other side of the room.
“Now, now. No need to be hasty,” she cooed.
He grunted slightly, struggling under the mass of darkness that covered him. Jessica allowed the shadows to press harder, pushing against his chest. He was struggling for air, now. Shadows crept up his neck. Jessica observed, her head tilted slightly like a curious child.
“Now,” she whispered, a whisper that carried more magnitude than a yell could ever hope to, “Why are you here?”
Still no response. She moved forward. His eyes widened, showing genuine fear. She blinked. A shadow treacherously close to his throat sharpened, and pressed. Red spilled across black.
“Wait!” He gasped, “Stop!”
She smiled. “There we go, dear.”
She cocked her head.
“Who are you working for?”
“I don’t know...” The man panted, sweat on his brow.
She arched an eyebrow. “Sure. Was it the Easter Bunny? Santa Clause? Because I can explain why you wouldn’t know it was them.”
He looked rather bemused.
“You know what I think?” Jessica continued, “I think you’re delusional.”
“Freelance,” He said, “The guy pays, I kill. Simple as that.”
“Even if you don’t know who it is?” She tutted. “You’re a sad man.”
He grunted, trying to push the shadows off. Jessica pushed harder, eliciting a little gasp.
“What shall I do with you then, Mr. Freelance?” she mused.
“Let me go?” he almost whimpered.
She glared. “You’re pathetic.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You know what? I think I will let you go. But I want you to do a little something for me.”
He grunted. “What?”
“Tell me something, something simple.”
“What?!”
“What is your name? And no funny business, I will know.”
“Jason Stone.”
Jessica arched an eyebrow.
“Why were you trying to kill me?”
“You were... Too close. Too close... to finding me.”
The shadows fell away abruptly, save for a pair of black, shadowy handcuffs. He fell on his face, and rolled over. She stood over him.
“Well now I’ve found you. Or you’ve found me. So. You’re the serial killer who murdered Ivy Paige, Ingrid Placid, Rufus Pemberton, Glory Shade, Aqua Murdock, and no doubt countless others. Explain. Please.”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Suddenly, he lifted his head and said in a hoarse whisper, “I didn’t kill Pemberton.”
Then Jessica was tackled from behind.