Seven, eight ... gonna stay up late (Rebekka Franck #4)

by Willow Rose

  "So what do you want to do tonight?" Sebastian asked.

  Allan froze. He opened his eyes. Sebastian was close to him, sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. Too close, Allan thought. All he could think of was how to get him out of the house today so he could get to work with all the fun he had planned for himself for this day.

  "What do you mean?" Allan asked.

  Sebastian shrugged. "We should celebrate, shouldn't we? Have a fabulous party, invite anyone who is somebody."

  At first Allan didn't care much for the idea, but after a few seconds he changed his mind. It did sound kind of fun. Plus he would never be able to eat all the food he was going to prepare on his own. There was going to be enough for an entire army.

  He smiled. "You know what? That sounds like a wonderful idea."

  Sebastian clapped his hands eagerly.

  "But on one condition," he said.

  "And that is?"

  "You let me cook the food."

  Sebastian gesticulated widely. "Sounds perfect to me."

  "And make sure you invite Prince Christopher and his beautiful wife. He is a close personal friend of yours, right?"

  Sebastian looked at Allan. "He is. But you do know that their daughter has disappeared and that they think she has been kidnapped, right? I hardly think they'll have the time. Or would want to go to a party."

  "Call him and tell him who the party is for. Tell him Allan 'the Greenlander' wants to see him. Tell him it's vital that he comes. He'll be here. He wouldn't dare not to."

  "What do you mean? You make it sound almost like a threat?"

  Allan burst into laughter. "Well I believe it is. He couldn't possibly afford to miss out on the social event of the year, now could he?"

  Chapter 43

  "Caaaiila?" The sound coming out of Amalie's mouth wasn't anything like she intended it to be. It was muffled and didn't sound much like "Camilla." She tried to call out her name again. Maybe she would react to the sound of her voice even if it wasn't understandable. But nothing. No reaction, no movement from the box next to her.

  Amalie narrowed her eyes while trying to see better. She could see the shape of her body, but she didn't seem to be moving. She called out again, sobbing from the pain in her throat.

  She had almost given up hope, thinking she had imagined it the first time, when she heard the groaning again. She felt relief go through her body. Camilla was alive. She had to be. Amalie tried to move in her box. Her legs and arms were hurting. The smell in the box was becoming unbearable. Amalie's pants were wet and disgusting, since the man never let her go to the bathroom. The stench was horrible and made it even harder for Amalie to breathe. She gasped for air while looking at Camilla's box, wishing she had been honest with her from the beginning, from the first kiss.

  I love you, Camilla, she thought to herself. Those were the words she should have uttered a long time ago. I love you so much it hurts.

  Then there was a groaning again, and what was that? Amalie tried to see clearer through the darkness, to better get a picture. Light came from under the door now and she heard voices from upstairs. Voices and loud music. The light made it easier for her to see. What was it? Could it be? Was it ... another box? Another box next to Camilla's?

  Amalie fought hard to breathe. Had he caught another girl? Was it someone that she knew? Someone she loved? The agony was unbearable. Who was this bastard doing all this to her? And why? Why had he picked her of all people?

  She tried again to speak, but with no luck. Still nothing but strange noises. Amalie whimpered again. The groaning must have come from the new person, she thought. Not Camilla. That meant Camilla could still be dead. Amalie didn't dare to finish the thought. There was no way she could live on without Camilla. But maybe that was the point of it all? To make her give up, to have her cave in? Was that the pleasure he enjoyed so much, this man, this beast, this monster?

  Oh for the love of god, why can't he just end this now? Why did she have to suffer so badly before he killed her? Hadn't he had enough by now? Wasn't it sufficient to see her like this? Broken, defeated, destroyed? If he planned on killing all of them anyway, why not do it right away?

  Someone was moving and moaning. Amalie guessed it was the newcomer since Camilla's body still didn't move. The waiting was the hard part, Amalie thought. Waiting for him to be back, waiting for him to torture her, anticipating the door opening at any moment and the lights turning on, knowing the anguish it would fill her with once she saw his face again. After that there was nothing but pain. No thoughts, no anxiety of what will come next. Eight times had he force-fed her the day before. Eight unbearable times had her stomach overflowed and she had almost choked on the disgusting mush that tasted like fat. It overwhelmed her with repulsion just thinking about it. The taste and his face. She loathed his face and especially his eyes. She tried hard to not think about him when he was gone, but every time she closed her eyes, he was there. He was looking at her with those strange eyes and a grin that scared her more than anything in this world. She was beginning to think he wasn't human. How could anyone be and do this to other people? And the way he moved, he was so incredibly fast. It was almost inhuman, she thought. It helped a little to think of him as some sort of extraterrestrial or paranormal being. If he wasn't human, then his actions somehow didn't seem quite so gruesome.

  There was more groaning and now a mumbling that caused Amalie to raise her head even if it was almost impossible with the pipe holding her down. The reason for her reaction was simple. She recognized the sound of the mumbling voice.

  It was Camilla's.

  Chapter 44

  "The Prince is coming."

  Sebastian looked at Allan with a wide smile. He was still holding the cell phone in his hand. Allan looked at the happy face next to him in the kitchen where they were trying to make a plan for the party. Then he smiled as well.

  "You can thank me later," Sebastian said. "But apparently what you told me to say, worked. At first he declined, but as soon as I said those words ... well he growled slightly before he finally caved. I guess I had a little something to do with it as well."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I have known the Prince a little more than 'just' personally. I have known him very, very privately for many years. Before I met you of course. He swings both ways, as we like to put it."

  Allan stared at Sebastian. Not that he was surprised, he was more disgusted. With the both of them.

  "Well you never asked me how I got to know him," Sebastian said. "He picked me up in a bar many years ago, when I was nothing but a young boy doing tricks for money. He does that from time to time, he does it secretively and disguised, at least he thinks so, but I recognized him right away and immediately thought I had struck gold. I was right. That's how I made my way up in this world. He helped me get to the right connections in the fashion industry. He even financed my education."

  "Well you never told me that story," Allan said and stared at the shopping list on the kitchen table in front of him. He had to make it long to get Sebastian out of the house most of the day. He had to send him to different stores for specialties that were hard to find. That would buy him the time he needed to complete his work.

  The music was playing loudly from the built-in speakers. Sebastian picked up Allan's keys from the table and walked towards the door leading to the basement. He went through the keys trying to find the right one.

  "I'll get some bottles up from the basement."

  Allan froze at the jangling sound of his keys and raised his head. He watched as Sebastian put one in the lock and his heart almost stopped as he realized it was the right one. Sebastian turned the key and the lock clicked.

  "No!" Allan yelled.

  Sebastian froze. He looked at him with surprise.

  Allan moved fast. Like a whirlwind he was at the door and his hand on the handle. "No one goes into the basement," he said. "It's private. You know I like my privacy."

  Sebastian stared into hi
s eyes, then his face turned hurtful. He let go of the keys still in the lock and raised his hands. "Okay, then. If you insist on keeping me out of your life forever, then go ahead."

  Allan sighed. A hurt Sebastian giving him a hard time wasn't exactly what he needed right now. He closed his eyes and locked the door again. So close, he thought. He had to be more careful. He really didn't want to have to hurt Sebastian. Even if he did annoy him immensely.

  Allan put the keys in his pocket, then turned and looked at Sebastian. He turned his head away in a hurtful manner. Allan exhaled. Then he walked with fast steps towards Sebastian. He leaned over and tried to kiss him. Sebastian turned his head away again. Allan grabbed his hand.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I really am."

  "What is down there that is so important that I'm not allowed to see it? Why do you keep me out of everything?"

  Allan sighed. He knew he had to play his cards right. "I have a hard time committing to others, okay? I had a troubled childhood and I have trust issues."

  "Is that why you never tell me anything about your past? ’Cause I know literally nothing about you, do you realize that? I’ve told you so much, but you never tell me anything."

  "That is why I haven't let you in. It's still too hurtful. Give me time, okay?"

  Sebastian sighed, then looked at Allan. "Okay, you silly buffoon," he said and mussed his hair.

  Allan leaned over and kissed him as passionately as he knew how to. He placed the shopping list in Sebastian's hand. "Now would you help me get all this ready for tonight? We have a very busy day ahead of us."

  Sebastian took the note and put neatly folded it in his wallet. "Okay. I guess we are in a kind of a hurry. Typical of us to be so spontaneous, huh? Doesn't it feel good? I love not conforming to the rules. You want to have a party? Throw a party!"

  Allan smiled. "It sure does feel great."

  Sebastian found his leather jacket and put it on. Then he kissed Allan again. As he walked past the door to the basement he stopped once again.

  "So what do you hide down there anyway, bad boy?"

  Allan shrugged. "Ah just the Princess that I'm about to kill soon and serve for the guests."

  Sebastian burst into huge a laughter. "Ah you naughty boy. Always joking around, huh? Well if you won't tell me, then I'll just have to wait till you're ready, right?"

  Allan nodded. "Right."

  Chapter 45

  I woke when the light was turned on. I felt the worst I had in ages. My head was hurting badly and as I slowly regained consciousness I realized this wasn't just from bad wine, nor was it due to what I had done with Peter. My head was actually hurting.

  Peter! I thought and opened my eyes. What did we do?

  Then the strangest sight met me. It looked like a window in front of me. I reached out and touched it. Then I tried to sit up, but realized I couldn't. I touched the ceiling and then the sides again. My heart rate went skyrocketing as I felt the plastic surrounding me. What was this?

  The panic rose in me as I felt the entire box surrounding me. Was I trapped somehow? What was this ... this thing? I grunted and tried to hit the plastic as hard as I could. Then I heard voices and turned my head. I gasped. Two boxes just like mine next to me. In them were two girls. I recognized both of them.

  "Camilla?" I said and put my palm on the side. "Princess Amalie?"

  "Rebekka Franck," Camilla replied. She looked terrible. She had become really thin and her eyes were so anxious.

  "What's going on here?" I asked still feeling the sides, pressing them to see if I could get them to become loose or push them somehow. I stared at the princess. She seemed to be attached to something, a pipe of some sort. It went straight into her throat. She looked anxiously at me; she could make only muffled sounds.

  Camilla was crying. "How?" she asked. "When did you get here?"

  "I don't know," I said. "I remember being in the yard of my father's house when I saw someone ... a face behind the bush. I went to see who it could be. I stood face to face with him ... wait. I knew his face. He was looking at me. I had seen him before. I knew I had. In the parking lot at the festival, when I was looking for you, Camilla. When I thought I could still get to you before he did." I sighed and rubbed my head. "I was so close. I just didn't know it. He must have had you in the car. That's how he knew my name. He knew who I was when I spoke to him and asked if he had seen you. Oh, my god," I said. "I could have stopped him ... and then he was in the neighbor's yard looking at me. When I approached he hit me with something. The last thing I remember is the pain. Is he the one who put me inside of this thing? And you two? Have you been here all this time? What has he done to you? Amalie are you okay?"

  Amalie looked at me, while tears rolled down her cheeks.

  "Well at least you're both still alive," I said. "Now, how the hell do we get out of this thing?"

  "You don't," Camilla said. "We've tried everything."

  I began examining the sides. "If there's a way in, there's a way out."

  "No," Camilla said. "There isn't. Plus he will be back in a matter of seconds. He was just down here and turned on the light, then he went back upstairs. Don't upset him, don't make him angry. We never know what he'll do next."

  Camilla was shivering as she spoke. My heart was pounding in my chest as I looked at Amalie and the things he had her attached to. What was it? Some kind of torture instrument? My heart dropped as I began imagining what he was up to, as I realized that soon it would be my turn. What kind of sick game did he have planned for me? Why had he even taken me? I had no relation to Camilla or Amalie. Was it merely to shut me up? To hide his tracks? Was he afraid I might have told the police about him, that I would be able to lead them to him? Well it was a little too late for that, since I already had talked to them. He couldn't prevent me from doing that. Could it be the article? It had to be. Maybe he wanted to prevent me from writing more about it, maybe he was afraid I knew too much and once I dove into the story properly, he would be exposed.

  I heard steps approaching and a face appeared on top of the stairs. The man was smiling at us while grinning eerily. He wore a white apron and a chef's hat. In his hand he held a butcher's knife. Camilla and Amalie were both whimpering at the sight of him on the stairs. Camilla was shaking, her jaws trembling visibly. His voice cut through the room and evoked shrieks of fear from Amalie's throat.

  "Good morning ladies."

  Chapter 46

  "There has been a slight change of plans," Allan said while opening a bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass.

  Yes it was still morning, but it was after all his birthday and a day to celebrate. A good chef needed a glass of wine on his side. That was just the way it was. He drank from the glass with his eyes closed. He sloshed it in his mouth for a while to really taste it. Just like the French did it. Just like he had studied the prince do it through his childhood at the castle.

  "Don't worry. The changes are only for the better," he continued once the wine was swallowed. "But it does mean that we are in a hurry now."

  He picked up the cookbook on his table and began flipping the pages. "We're having a party tonight," he said while finding the right pages. "And I was thinking about treating our guests to some real delicacies."

  Allan rose and went to open another can of food for the Princess. He poured a big portion into the funnel and started the pump. Then he watched as the food was slowly forced into Amalie's stomach. She was whimpering and gagging, but down it went. It was a little premature to take her now. He had been planning to wait at least a week. He would have to keep it on all day to make the most of it. It didn't matter if it killed her, since she was going to die today anyway. Then he would cut out her liver and prepare it for the guests. He was thinking about serving her gastric entrails as well, since it would be stuffed by the time she died.

  "You just hang in there, my Princess," he said and tapped at the side of the box. "It'll be over soon."

  Then he went to look in his cookbook and
sip the wine while feeling excitement spread in his entire body. This was perfect. He couldn't have imagined a better plan. Forcing the prince to eat the foie gras made from the liver of his own daughter. It was the completion of his masterpiece that he had been looking for. This was perfect. Finally Allan was happy. Happier than ever. For the first time since the day they had told him they couldn't have him at the castle anymore, he was actually happy again. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of satisfaction, but was disturbed by the constant banging on the box from the journalist woman. She hadn't been quiet ever since he walked in, but he wasn't going to let her ruin his moment with her screaming.

  "Let me out! Let us out of here!" She went on and on, but Allan had become immune to the plead of his victims. On the contrary it had become his fix, it had become the thing he enjoyed the most. He walked towards the box with the woman in it, holding his book in his hand and the wine in the other. The pump force feeding Princess Amalie was humming quietly across the room, a humming that to him sounded like the sweetest music.

  The woman was grunting and kicking the ceiling of the box, while screaming at him to let her out, to let them go. Allan put the book and the wine down and listened to every word she said and like a conductor he put up his fingers and pretended to be directing an orchestra. The other girl Camilla was now joining the choir with her crying while the sounds coming from Princess Amalie was like an extra addition to the music, like drums or a violin joining in every now and then. It was beautiful, he thought. So perfect.

  "You crazy lunatic!" the woman cried. "What do you want from us? Why are we being kept in here?"

  Allan stopped conducting and opened his eyes. He stared at the woman then picked up the cook book and leaned over her box to better show her the pictures.

  "See these pictures?" he asked. "Now let me explain. We all enjoy a great meal, don't we? Do you enjoy a good meal, Rebekka Franck? Are you une gourmante?"