King for a Day

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Now, do you see? Aren’t they beautiful?” Vaughn pointed to a dozen more black-and-white photos hanging on the wall. They were portraits of the same woman, who looked to be in her twenties. She had an exotic look to her, like she might be a mixture of Asian, black, and something else. Her hair hung in tight ringlets past her shoulders and she smiled at the camera as if she loved whoever took the photos.

  “Did you take these?” I asked.

  Vaughn stared appreciatively at the pictures. “Yes. Isn’t she beautiful? My lovely Simone. My jewel.”

  Simone? I’d never heard that name before. And wasn’t his wife Miranda? I was about to ask, but then remembered Justin mentioning he’d met Vaughn’s “significant other” at a 10 Club party.

  Did Vaughn have a wife and a special someone?

  “Is Simone the one you branded?” I asked.

  “Jamie could never be Simone!” Vaughn’s sickly eyes sparked with indignation. “Never!”

  Jamie? Who the hell was Jamie? And Vaughn had not one, but three women who were, or had been, in a willing relationship with him? His wife, Miranda, I completely understood; she was just as insane and warped as he was. But the woman in the picture, Simone, looked happy.

  I held out my hands. “Okay. Sorry. She’s just so…” What could I say to calm him? “Simone is so beautiful. I thought maybe you made her your special someone.”

  “Simone died before I had the chance,” he said quietly.

  I wondered if he killed her. “How awful. I’m sorry,” I lied. But I wasn’t really. The woman was lucky to not end up being Vaughn’s love slave.

  “She died of skin cancer ten years ago.” He shook his head. “She had such lovely skin. It still makes my dick hard.”

  I wanted to gasp. Instead, I closed my eyes. Was that why he was so obsessed with removing women’s skin? Oh my dear Lord.

  “That’s tragic,” I said, referring to his comment.

  “Yes. One never recovers from such a loss. I keep her sister, Jamie, as my pet, but alas,” he sighed deeply, “it is not the same. She doesn’t enjoy my games.”

  Jamie? “Jamie Henshaw?”

  “Ah, you met her at the party, then?”

  Oh my God. Oh my God. Jamie was the woman who worked at the U.S. Embassy—or at least had pretended to when she’d call to tell me that Justin had gone missing. She’d also been the one who told me not to come looking for him.

  Crap. Justin knew her? Because he’d clearly told me that he’d met Vaughn’s significant other. He said he’d seen the “V” tattoo on her wrist while at some party and that she’d told him all about its meaning. That’s how I found out that King’s mark on my wrist meant more than merely being his property.

  More lies, Justin. What the fuck?

  My mind leaped over to another thought. Justin. I’d been so wrapped up in all this, I’d forgotten about my brother. I wanted to ask Vaughn if Justin had come to see him, but then realized that calling any attention to my brother might just drag him into this somehow.

  No. Wherever Justin was—in Mexico helping those families like he’d told my mother, or trying to make a deal with this sicko—I would only make things worse by bringing him up.

  “Yeah. I met Jamie at your party,” I lied, afraid to connect Jamie to Justin.

  “Then you know she is not as beautiful as Simone. Or as faithful.” He scratched his scabby head and mumbled something about Jamie leaving. “No one will ever be as beautiful as my Simone. No one. They are all so undeserving of their healthy skins. Don’t you think?”

  I cringed on the inside. The man was sick. Horribly, irrevocably sick.

  I nodded slowly and tried to casually sweep away the sweat building on my brow.

  “But I make sure that Simone still gets to play,” he said.

  Oh no. I wondered if his obsession with flaying women wasn’t something more. Something more heinous than I could ever imagine. But I had to know as much as I could. Because his obsession was his weakness, and a person’s weakness could be exploited. 10 Club had taught me that.

  “I, uhhh…know this is personal, but do you do something with the skins? Y’know, when you remove them?” I tried to project a nonjudgmental tone.

  Vaughn dug his nails into his unshaven jaw and raked the skin aggressively like a dog with fleas. “How did you know?”

  “I guessed.”

  “Simone likes it when I dress her up.”

  Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. It seemed that every time I dug a little deeper, the truth just got more perturbing. Unfortunately, this was my only chance.

  I shook my head. “Such a shame you let the Artifact go.”

  Vaughn’s expression turned to anger. “You won’t trick me, Miss Turner!” He grabbed me and threw me down. For a scraggly-looking, older man, he had the strength of ten men. He must’ve acquired the same “ability” as Talia. I really, really needed to ask King about how to get some of whatever that was.

  Keep calm, Mia. Don’t provoke him. “You haven’t even asked me what the Artifact can do,” I croaked as he pinned me by the neck onto the floor.

  “Maybe I’ll skin you tonight, Miss Turner.”

  “It can raise the dead!” I blurted out.

  Vaughn’s grip loosened. I could tell he wanted to believe me. Simone was his weakness, the one thing in this world he wanted most.

  “I’m not lying. Why do you think King wanted it so badly?”

  He blinked.

  “It’s real,” I said. “I saw its power with my own eyes.”

  Vaughn jumped off of me and pointed to a doorway. “Go take a shower. Your dress and shoes are in the closet. You have five minutes.”

  He marched out and locked the door behind him.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” King? Can you hear me? King?

  There was no reply, not that I really expected one.

  My eyes floated to the balcony, and I rushed outside to see if there was an escape route. Dammit. The drop was about three stories to the rocky shore below. Nowhere to go. Of course. Vaughn is crazy, not stupid. He wouldn’t leave me in a room I could escape from.

  So what next? I had to convince him that he needed the Artifact more than he needed me or King or anything else. That would buy us time, perhaps lots of it. If he knew where it was, he’d need King to tell him how to use it. That could be a bargaining chip for our freedom. If Vaughn didn’t have it, he’d hopefully drop everything to go find it. More time for King and me.

  I just had to convince Vaughn that I wasn’t lying, that I was the real deal and so was this rock.

  I went over to the closet and opened it. Inside were a sleeveless black leather dress and a pair of red patent leather shoes in my size. Manolos.

  It severely disturbed me that he knew what sort of shoes I liked and my size.

  I grabbed them and rushed into the bathroom. I quickly stripped off my clothes and took the quickest shower of my life. I didn’t want to be nude when Vaughn came back, so I dressed just as fast. The leather dress was tight and way too short. With the red heels, I looked like I was either a high-class hooker or ready for an S&M soiree.

  I did my best to dry my hair with the towel, then combed my blonde locks back with my fingers. When Vaughn appeared in the doorway, I put on a confident smile, the sort a Club member might carry. I wanted him to see that I wasn’t one of his cowering victims, but an asset to his depraved endeavors. After all, if he liked to collect people, I was a damned unicorn. Possibly the last one in existence.

  Thanks to King.

  Oh Lord. Don’t think about that, Mia.

  “Miss Turner. Don’t you look like a vision?” Vaughn held out his arm for me to take.

  “Nice of you to get my favorite shoes.” I took his arm and tried not to react to the sea of red that washed over my vision. It was like looking through red-tinted glasses.

  “I like my special ladies to look their best for their special events.”

  Psycho. “How thoughtful. So who are your guests tonight?” />
  “Ah. They are some of my best clients. Members of the Sinaloa drug cartel. They like to come to Isla de Vaughn for a little relaxation and fun.”

  Vaughn escorted me down a wide staircase that led to the foyer, then to the formal living room. Like I’d seen during the 10 Club party at his home in Bel Air, this one had a similar look—mostly bright whites and modern furniture.

  Around the long, rectangular dining table sat five men with dark hair. They didn’t look like the typical drug lords you’d see in movies. These men wore nice suits and ties. They were handsome, poised, and elegant, except for the teenaged Asian girls sitting on their laps. The girls looked to be having the time of their lives, sipping martinis and speaking to each other in Pilipino.

  “Vaughn, they’re babies,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I bothered to say anything. It wasn’t like he’d care or let them go.

  “Yes. They are.” He smiled proudly and sighed. “Gentlemen! I have a special treat for you this evening.” All heads turned toward me. “May I introduce Mia Turner. She is going to play a little game with us.”

  Oh crap. Stay calm.

  The men’s eyes washed over my entire body and stuck on me. I guess they liked the hooker look.

  “Miss Turner says she is a living mood ring. She can see your souls. She can sense how you’re feeling.”

  The men exchanged glances.

  “Yes, I am completely serious,” Vaughn said. “In fact, she swears by her gift. So what do you think if we make a little wager, to make it interesting, huh?”

  Why did everything always have to get worse instead of better?

  “Mia will look at you and tell you what she sees. At the end, I will ask each of you if she guessed correctly. If she does, you get to keep your lovely date, free of charge. If Mia guesses incorrectly, your date will be escorted upstairs.” He winked. “To be mine for the evening.”

  Oh Lord. “Mine.” That meant that Vaughn would kill the unlucky girl.

  The men smiled hesitantly and exchanged nervous glances. Even they seemed to fear Vaughn’s insanity.

  Vaughn looked at me. “What do you think, Miss Turner? The wager sets the odds in your favor since these men are all looking forward to their treats tonight.”

  “You’re saying they’ll die if I don’t guess correctly?” I asked.

  Obviously, the women didn’t speak English because their smiles didn’t even flicker.

  Vaughn nodded. “That is correct. So, are you still certain you are a Seer?”

  “Yes. But I might see something your guests won’t like. How do I know if they’ll tell the truth?” I asked.

  “Do not!” Vaughn slapped me across the cheek, and it stung like hell. “Insult my guests, Miss Turner!”

  I almost lost it right then and there, but I hung on by the skin of my teeth. If I wanted Vaughn to see me as something other than his next victim, he needed to see I was like him.

  I pasted on a sick little smile and rubbed my cheek appreciatively. “Mmmm…Thank you. Wager accepted.”

  Trying to hide my revulsion and terror, I strutted over to the first man closest to me. He wore a dark gray suit and looked to be the youngest. His thick, wavy, brown hair was combed back, and I noticed a giant gold pinkie ring.

  I smiled appreciatively at him, hoping to win points. “Just relax, sweetie. This won’t hurt.” The girl on his lap, who wore a tight, red Spandex dress, eyed me with curiosity. She had no clue her life was in danger.

  It didn’t take long for the colors to begin sprouting. The man I stared at was yellow. I couldn’t remember all of the colors. Hell, I’d only discovered my gift a month and a half ago. I knew black, red, purple, green, and blue. Yellow and orange? Were they hate or love? Were they jealousy? I had no clue. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I pointed to the man’s hand. “May I?” He held it out for me. His palms were black. Solid black. “You killed someone today.”

  The men around the table burst out in laughter and began clapping. My victim pulled his hand away and whispered, “Santa Maria.”

  What was wrong with these people? He kills someone and then prays to the Virgin Mary? Nice.

  “Very good, Miss Turner,” said Vaughn. “Please proceed to the next guest.”

  Okay. One down. Four to go. I felt the sweat trickle down the small of my back. I wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and the leather trapped in all of my body heat. I felt like a baked potato wrapped in foil.

  I moved down the table to the next man. The girl in his lap scurried off as he turned his chair. He offered his hand immediately. His body color was red, but his hands were green. Pain and life? I didn’t know what to make of it, so I took the more general route. “You are in a lot of distress, but you like to do things that create. You see it as making new life.”

  Again, the men applauded wildly. “He likes to garden!” They laughed, and my second victim shot them an ugly look. I don’t think he would want to admit he had a creative “life-giving” side to address whatever pain he hid inside.

  Oh God. King, if you can hear me, I’m upstairs. I need your help! I’d made it through two, but there were still three, and the guy on the end looked nasty.

  The next two were easy, blue and blue. Sorrow. That meant something bad had happened to them that they’d yet to overcome. I politely phrased it as “their jobs were filled with some nasty shit, but they were going to be fine because they were tough dudes.”

  Vaughn, who stood in the corner of the room, watching with wide eyes, clapped enthusiastically each time I guessed.

  When I got to the last man at the other side of the table from where I’d begun, I immediately knew he’d be trouble. He wore a dark blue suit and had a wide belly and receding hairline. The blackness—death—appeared in dark splotches all over his torso. The rest of him was red. Was the man sick? Perhaps dying? Oh, Lord. What was I going to say?

  “Ummm…you’ve had some serious health issues recently. They’ve been worrying you, but it’s going to be okay.” Of course, I had no idea if he’d be okay. All I knew was that I needed him to give me a thumbs-up so that the young woman on his lap wouldn’t die tonight.

  He looked at me and smiled.

  I let out a mental phew.

  Vaughn applauded once again and even made a little jump. “Now, you must do me, Miss Turner.”

  I smiled my best fake smile. “Maybe later, Vaughn.” I winked and tried not to wretch. “I’m sure your guests are dying to get to their fun for the evening?”

  He laughed. “Right you are, Miss Turner. Right you are.” He looked around the table. “So, let us see a show of hands. Who here agreed with Miss Turner’s interpretation?” All of the men raised their hands except for mister green palms.

  “Oh no,” said Vaughn with a superficial pout. “It looks like we have one unsatisfied customer.”

  Shit. “Let me try again. Sometimes the reads are a little off.”

  Vaughn shook his finger. “Uh-uh-uh. No do-overs.” He bowed his head. “Gentlemen. I will return shortly.”

  Vaughn took me by the arm and whisked me back toward the kitchen.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We are done with our fun. You are going back to your cell.”

  “What about the girl?” I asked.

  “She is no concern of yours.”

  “But he was lying. He lied to you. You can’t punish her for that.”

  “Oh. I can do anything I like. Even to you. And I plan to.”

  “But don’t you believe me about the Artifact? King is the only one who knows how to use it. He won’t help you if you hurt me.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that.” He opened the door to the basement and gestured for me to go inside the stairwell. To the naked eye, it was simply dark, but to my eyes, the blackness looked like the mouth of a demon opening wide to swallow me whole, the walls dripping with red blood. I didn’t want to go back down there.

  “But you do have the Artifact, right?” I said, still hopeful that he
’d say no and might see value in keeping me alive. “I don’t know what it looks like, but I can recognize its light pattern.”

  His thin lips turned down in the corners. “I don’t have it, but I know exactly where it is.”

  I’m such a useless fuckup. Who was I to believe I could go up against people like Vaughn and win? My mind wasn’t warped enough to see the angles that create leverage in this sick game. I was far too trusting and eager to see the good in people—not that I saw any in Vaughn. But I’d walked a mile in King’s shoes, tripped and fell. I couldn’t be King. I couldn’t even be his assistant. I was so damned useless. I was so damned…

  Dead.

  Vaughn escorted me down to the bowels of his home, unlocked the last gate, and pushed me inside the caged corridor leading to the three rooms. “Don’t ruin your outfit, Miss Turner. We want you looking pretty for the event tomorrow night.” Vaughn disappeared, whistling some creepy tune.

  Gripped by sorrow for that poor girl upstairs and for ourselves, I pressed the heels of my palms over my eyes. My vision lit up with color.

  I gasped and held out my hand. It swirled with vivid purple. My gaze crawled up my arm and shoulder. Crap. My entire body swirled with the damned color. Was this who I’d become? Pain and sorrow mixed inseparably together? Just like King.

  King!

  I rushed into the room and found him still out cold on the floor. “Wake up!” I gave him a hard shake, but it was useless.

  I sank on the bed and gnawed on my thumbnail. I hoped he’d wake up soon, because it was looking more and more like we’d have to go through with his plans, but sooner rather than later. Vaughn wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow night to hurt me. He’d be back well before then. I was certain of it.

  Yes, King would have to kill me now. But the only problem was that I still didn’t trust him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  After a few hours, King began to groan a little and rolled onto his back on the floor. I was partially relieved. Only partially. I knew what needed to be done now, and it wouldn’t be much fun for me.