Blood 4 Blood

by Willie Slaughter

  “Nicole, is there something you wanted to say?” asked Thaddeus.

  She tossed another grape the same way. “When will I be receiving my private jet?”

  “Arrangements have been made, Nicole,” he replied.

  “Good,” she said, getting up from the table. “Now, let's get this interrogation over with. I'm starving to try the technique I've thought of.”

  Demetri stared into his niece's eyes from across the table. “Out of curiosity, Nicole, when did you think of this interrogation technique?”

  “Oh, just a couple minutes ago. You can never have enough ways to extract information from an unwilling source,” she replied before exiting the dining room, heading for the basement.

  Demetri, Thaddeus, Mark, and Damien fell in step behind her. Her brother was anxious to see what his sister had in mind. Whatever it was, he knew Nicole enough to know it would be effective. She would get the information needed and wanted from the Turk.

  Nicole flipped the light switch on in the basement. Tools of all sorts lined the walls on racks. The man struggled against his restraints upon seeing her. She smiled at him.

  “We're about to become best friends whether you know it or not,” she said assuredly. She looked around the room for the tools she had in mind. She pushed an empty cart around the room, collecting what she considered to be her interrogation kit.

  Demetri and the others looked on in silence. Even her captive had become curious of his fate in the hands of such a beautiful and well-composed killer. They watched her place a blowtorch, metal scraps, a flathead screwdriver, and a welder on the cart and rolled it over next to the Turk. She took out the L.L. Bean Outdoors Hybrid Hunter Knife and cut the man's shirt off of him and his pants legs up to just above the knees.

  “This is going to be interesting.” Damien thought out loud while watching his sister grab a power surge extension cord and plug in all of her gadgets that needed electrical power.

  With everything set in place, she turned to her audience and asked, “Who's asking the questions?”

  Thaddeus, being the levelheaded one of the twins, stepped forward. “I'll ask the questions. Just tell me when.”

  Nicole switched on the welder machine. “Whenever you're ready, Uncle Thaddeus.”

  Thaddeus crouched down to be at eye level with the Turk. “What's your name?”

  The man responded by spitting on the basement floor, which was a nonverbal way of saying he wasn't talking. Thaddeus sighed. “Listen, my man, I'm trying to spare you a lot of pain. You can answer my questions in between screams from being tortured, or you can respond in a peacefully manner. Last chance. What's your name?”

  The prisoner mean mugged him and spat on the floor again.

  “Very well.” Thaddeus stood up straight. “He's all yours, Nicole.”

  “With pleasure.” Nicole put on the heavy duty welder’s gloves. She picked up a piece of scrap metal and surveyed the size of it and set it back on the cart. “This should do the trick. Somebody hold him still please. I got to make sure I get a good weld here. Damien?”

  Damien bore down on the man's shoulders with a firm grip. Nicole picked up the piece of scrap metal again and grabbed the welding gun. Without warning, she placed the scrap metal on the Turk's bare arm and began welding it in place. He screamed at the top of his lungs in pain.

  “My name is Oman Jharez! Ahhhhh!” he yelled.

  Nicole stop welding, but the smell of scorched flesh was undeniable in the closed-in area. Thankfully, no one was a stranger to its stench.

  Thaddeus nodded approvingly. “Hmm. Nice tactic.” He stood, towering over the man. “Okay, Oman Jharez. Who are you working for? And let's try to skip the spitting and screaming parts of this conversation, because I don't like being disrespected or screamed at. As you can see, my niece doesn't either.”

  The prisoner spoke in a harsh manner in his native tongue. What he said caused Damien to laugh. Thaddeus sighed. “I'm glad we have bilingual family members. What did he say Damien?”

  “In American terminology, he just told you to go fuck yourself,” Damien replied.

  Thaddeus nodded to his niece and stepped back. She put down the welding gun and picked up the blowtorch and ignited the flame. Nicole grabbed the handle of the flathead screwdriver and held the head of it inside of the flame until it was red hot. She cut off the blowtorch and placed it back on the cart with the rest of the tools before turning towards the Turk, holding the flathead screwdriver where he could see how hot it was.

  “This is going to be a very painful experience, Oman Jharez.” She slowly pried off the piece of scrap metal she'd welded onto his arm, causing him to scream louder than he did the first time.

  “I work for Dominica Citur! Get this crazy woman away from me!” Oman yelled.

  Thaddeus frowned. “Never heard of a Dominica Citur. Have you, Demetri?”

  Demetri sighed. It was like the past had come to haunt him after all. “Yes, I know who Dominica Citur is.”

  All eyes went to Demetri, who massaged his temples with his forefingers. The Turk laughed. It was a painful laugh, but he laughed. “Are you going to enlighten your comrades, Demetri Ci-”

  Demetri slapped Oman across the face before he could complete the question.

  “Nicole, make sure Oman Jharez here suffer dearly before he dies. I want to be able to hear his screams and cries for mercy from the wine bar, where I and the rest of the fine gentlemen will be waiting on you once you're done,” Demetri said. He turned and started up the stairs. Damien, Thaddeus, and Mark were hot on his heels. They'd seen enough torture for the day, was their thoughts.

  Once Nicole heard the door of the basement slam shut, she turned to Oman and smiled. “Now, where were we, Mr. Jharez?” She picked up a large piece of scrap metal, large enough to cover over half of his back. “Let's see if I can make my own version of an ironman without you dying on me.” She slid the piece of scrap metal in between the back of the chair and his back before picking up the welding gun and turning it on.

  Oman flinched as the fire got close to his back. Since he knew death was inevitable for him, he decided to tell his torturer what information he did know if she was willing to listen. “Hold on! Wait! Nicole, isn't it?”

  Nicole walked around to face him. “Yes, that's my name. You have a last breath request?”

  “I know you're going to kill me anyway, but at least allow me to tell you what your uncle won't. He's keeping dangerous secrets,” Oman said.

  Nicole sat the welding gun down and pulled up a chair and sat before him. “I'm sold. Talk to me, Oman Jharez.”

  “Before I do, promise me two things. One, you'll kill me quickly. And two, you'll do your own research on what I'm about to tell you,” he demanded.

  Nicole's curiosity got the best of her. For some reason, she believed the Turk was being genuine. “You have my word on both, Oman. Now, what's the big secret?”

  “Dominica Citur is a woman. Born half Turk and Italian right here in this estate before the Turk and Italian wars. Her maiden name is Dominica Sylvan, the daughter of Charles and Havenna Sylvan,” Oman said before Nicole cut him off.

  “Okay Oman, this is getting to be a long drawn out history lesson. I hated history in school,” she said.

  “Dominica Citur is the wife of Demetri Citur, who you know as Demetri Citural.” Oman stated with confidence.

  Nicole frowned. “Hold on a minute. So, you're telling me that my Uncle Demetri's last name is Citur instead of Citural?”

  Oman laughed, but maintained a serious expression. “What I'm telling you is, your uncle, Demetri, spawned a web of lies to cover-up generations of an identity. His wife's father, Charles Sylvan, was the true Head of the Table. Back then, it wasn't even called The Head. It was Valaire Perfecto.”

  “I'm following you, Oman. So, Dominica Citur is actually my auntie? Where would I be able to find her?” Nicole said.

  “Reach into my front right pocket. You'll find my phone. In it, there's a
contact by the name of Valaire Perfecto. That's Dominica's number,” Oman replied.

  Nicole reached inside of his pocket, and sure enough, there was a miniature size touchscreen cell phone inside. She pulled it out. “What's - “

  “Code 2712,” he said before she could ask.

  “Thanks.” She typed in the code. The home screen popped up instantly. Nicole didn't waste time scrolling through the list of contacts. She typed in the contact name he'd given her, and it popped up on the screen.

  “I'm about to call this number, Oman. For the sake of your word, let's hope you're being informative.” She pressed the call sign on the phone. After the third ring, someone answered. It was a woman.

  “Hello. Is this Oman?” the woman said, sounding cautious.

  “Unfortunately, no. Is this Dominica Citur speaking?” Nicole said in a casual tone of voice.

  The woman didn't answer right away. “Yes, I'm Dominica Citur. May I ask, who's this I'm speaking with?”

  “Of course, where's my manners? Aunty Dominica Citur, I'm Nicole Citural - well, Nicole Carter now that I'm married,” Nicole replied.

  Dominica laughed. “You're the niece of my husband, Demetri Citur, who changed the family name to Citural after he betrayed my father.”

  “Huh?” asked Nicole.

  “Silly child, you're caught up in something you haven't a clue about. Let me guess. Demetri told you the bullshit story about the Turks invading, killing off some of your ancestors, and taking over the estate. Does that sound about right, Nicole?” Dominica said.

  “Either you're a great guesser, or you know what you know. I have Oman Jharez right here. He's still alive at the moment,” Nicole said.

  “Expendable,” she replied coldly.

  “Is there some way we could meet? I have a lot of questions for you, Aunty Dominica,” Nicole said.

  “There's a GPS tracking device within the phone you're on. Keep it. I'll upload the exact location an hour from now.” Dominica hung up.

  Nicole put the miniature size touchscreen cellphone inside of her front left pants pocket. “You know, Oman Jharez, I really would like to let you go.”

  “I'm no stranger to death, Nicole. Do what you must, but don't forget to find out the truth before you continue down the path you're traveling.” Oman said.

  Nicole went to the corner of the basement, where a wood chipper sat attached to a duct that led outside. She turned it on. “Scream as loud as you can, begging for mercy,” she commanded him while untying him.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked Oman.

  Nicole cut the belts from around his ankles and wrists. “Consider it an act of good faith. Besides, I know I won't be seeing you again unless it's when I meet Dominica Citur.”

  Oman stood to his feet and bowed gracefully. “I owe you my life, young lady.”

  Nicole laughed. “Who told you to stop screaming? I'm about to let you out through the tunnel. Once inside, it's a straight shot to the main road. I'm pretty sure you have a vehicle somewhere.”

  Still screaming, Oman nodded his head to indicate that she was correct. She located the trap door and opened it. She beckoned for him to hurry. Screaming, Oman ran through the tunnel.

  Nicole locked the door back and turned off the chipper. She grabbed the sprayer and started spraying water into the chipper like it needed to be rinsed. After twenty minutes passed and she felt like Oman had made it to his checkpoint, she went upstairs to join the others. When she sat down beside her brother at the wine bar, the conversation the men were having ceased.

  “A glass of sherry, please,” Nicole said politely to the bartender.

  After the bartender poured her drink and left, she downed the sherry and swerved around on the stool and rested her back against the bar. “Oh. I'm not privy to your conversation?”

  “It's not that, Nicole,” Thaddeus said.

  Nicole asked for another glass of sherry, which the bartender obliged her with. Without hesitation, she downed it and sat the wineglass down on the bar top. “Then what is it, Uncle Thaddeus?” she asked.

  Not wanting to be the bearer of the news of a collective decision, Thaddeus nudged Damien in the side. He cut his eye at his uncle and shook his head in disbelief.

  “Sis, you need to reevaluate your psych. Your intentions are great and greatly appreciated, however, your methods are kinda unnerving,” Damien said.

  Nicole burst into laughter. She slapped her brother on the shoulder playfully. “Don't worry, bro. I know this wasn't your idea. It couldn't have been. Anyway, I'm perfectly fine. But, for the sake of everyone else's conscience,” she said, looking at Mark and her uncles. “I won't be the interrogator anymore. Matter of fact, I'm taking a vacation within my home.” She got up. “Uncles Demetri and Thaddeus, I'll be waiting on my private jet too.”

  Nicole stormed out of the room without waiting on a response or asking Mark to join her.

  “I told you we should have left well enough alone,” Damien said, frustrated.

  “Damien, did you not hear the way that Turk was screaming? She literally tortured the poor man to death and probably fed him through the chipper while still alive,” Thaddeus said.

  “So what? Didn't he try to kill you?” asked Damien.

  Thaddeus was about to open his mouth to respond, but the reality of what his nephew said hit him hard. The four men sat quietly, enjoying their choice of wine.

  Mark was the first to bail, saying he'd best be turning it in for the evening before he be the next person they hear screaming and begging for mercy. Although they all laughed, everybody knew what Mark said could very well become true at any moment.

  Chapter Seven

  Renika was sound asleep when her phone kept ringing. Tired of hearing it ring, she rolled over and answered it. Hello? And who the fuck is this calling my phone at 2:26 in the morning?” she said, looking at the time on the phone.

  “Damn, Ne-Ne, don't be so uptight. It's me, Cedric,” the caller replied.

  “Hi hon,” she said, softening her tone of voice.

  “Much better. How's everything going?” Cedric said.

  Renika stretched and yawned. “I have no complaints other than missing you, baby. Whose phone are you on?”

  “Mines.”

  “Well, try calling me at a more suitable time,” Renika said and then hung up. She turned her phone off, put it on the night lamp stand, and rolled back over. She was sound asleep within seconds.

  ***

  Cedric tossed the phone on the bed and pressed the intercom button inside of his cell.

  “Yes, Mr. Livingston?” Tiffany answered.

  “Is the coast clear?” asked Cedric.

  “Uh huh. Come on to mommy, daddy,” she said seductively and popped his cell door.

  Barefooted and wearing nothing other than his boxers, Cedric crept out of the dorm and into the booth. Tiffany was already out of the bottom half of her clothes when he got there. She looked him up and down, biting on her lower lip.

  “I see you came prepared, baby,” she said as she walked around to stand behind the chair. “Have a seat, boo,” she said while patting the backrest of the leather padded chair.

  Cedric sat down and relaxed. He watched Tiffany's juicy booty bounce and tremble as she walked around to face him. She unbutton her shirt and unfastened her bra, revealing a perfect set of medium-sized breasts with the prettiest nipples he'd ever laid eyes on. She dropped down on her knees and massaged his manhood through the opening of the boxer shorts.

  “Enjoy yourself, my king.” Tiffany said before wrapping her lips around his exposed sex. She bobbed up and down the length of him while jerking him off in a twisting motion. Her hot and wet mouth felt so good his toes started curling up.

  “Dammit, Tiffany,” he moaned. “Baby, you know how to please your king. Suck this dick, baby. Suck this dick.”

  Tiffany obliged him. She came all the way up to the head of his penis and playfully licked the top where the opening is, causing him to bear down
on the arms of the chair and moan her name sexually. Feeling his sex grow stiffer, she stop and stood up straight.

  “Are you ready for the ride of your life, baby boy?” she said seductively.

  “Tiffany, I'm ready for everything you have to offer me,” he replied.

  Tiffany mounted him, setting her legs up on the arms of the chair. She slow grinded on top of him while they kissed. But as she became wetter, she started bouncing up and down on him hard and fast.

  “Ooh, baby,” she moaned softly into his ear. She came quickly, and the heat and wetness was more than Cedric could take.

  He grabbed hold of her shoulders and started thrusting up inside of her hard and fast. “Tiffany. Tiffany. Oh shit.” He moaned and groaned as he felt his release coming.

  “Yes, daddy, fuck me. Harder! Harder!” Tiffany yelled.

  Cedric's thrusts became harder and faster. The feel of her soft flesh bouncing up and down on top of him and the sound of her sloppy wet pussy was all the motivation he needed to cum.

  “Mmm…” His body trembled as he came inside of her.

  Tiffany placed lustful and longing kisses upon his lips while grinding slowly to milk him of his release. “Baby, I love you,” she said in between moans and kisses.

  “I love you too, Tiffany,” he responded without hesitation.

  With that, Tiffany worked and pumped her hips, slapping her ass against his thighs hard and fast until they both came again. They kissed and cuddled for a while before she got up off his lap. “Alright, bae, you got to get back in before one of my coworkers comes asking me if I need a break,” she said and kissed him softly on the lips.

  Cedric sat and watched Tiffany wipe off and get dressed. She was a perfect match to him. He got up, and on his way out, he kissed her and told her he would call her when her shift was over. He eased on back into the dorm and into his cell, and laid it down, too tired to take a bird bath in the sink.

  ***

  Morning came and breakfast was being served. Dee, Ruby, and the children were on their way out to church. They'd skipped breakfast on account of Ruby reminding them they shouldn't think about living on bread and water alone, but to be filled with the word of God. Besides that speech, she told them they would be serving a meal at the church.