by A D Seeley
Inac bored his eyes into the kid’s, not blinking until well after the kid flinched. “No. She called me and I picked her up.”
Even from here, he could see the professor swallow thickly out of the corner of his eye.
“And what became of the men?” he asked, his voice wavering with fear.
Inac let his most vicious smile make an appearance. Most people didn’t have the honor of seeing this particular smile and live to tell about it. “Let’s just say that they got what was coming to them,” he said, still grinning like a mad man.
“Meaning what, exactly?” the professor asked.
“Meaning that they are being tortured in the Old Manner.”
The professor’s face paled even further, taking on a sallow tint just before he turned and vomited into the garbage can.
“The Old Manner?” Tracker asked in a surprisingly steady voice, looking between the two men. “What’s the Old Manner?”
“He means that they’ve been impaled alive,” the professor answered once he’d gotten his bearings. “He’ll keep them alive for days that way.”
“But…but how?”
Inac looked Tracker straight in the eye, narrowing his for a moment as he read the kid. Just as he’d thought, the insignificant child didn’t have much of a brain. With another slow smile, Inac said, “You go through the anus and straight up. The stake then goes between the organs and comes out the mouth. It’s quite an art, really.”
His eyes wide, the kid asked, “Wouldn’t they suffocate?”
“Oh no,” Inac said, slowly circling the two men. “I’ve perfected it by tapering the point to the extreme. It can take days to die so long as it’s inserted correctly and doesn’t accidentally nick anything. And that’s when we don’t keep them alive by giving them fluids. If we do, we can keep them alive indefinitely,” he said, flashing another feral grin.
“But why?! Nobody deserves that!”
He had to admit, the kid had spunk.
“Because they were going to hurt Hara. Don’t you think someone wanting to do the despicable things they were going to do to her deserve despicable things done to them?”
Tracker didn’t answer that, instead asking in a voice almost edging on threatening—which, of course, was as scary as a kitten baring its fangs, “Why would you punish someone who was gonna hurt her? You don’t care about her.”
Inac shrugged, taking the gravity out of his voice and making it light and cheerful for a moment. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy her. Besides, she’s mine.” Now was the time to gloat. “Don’t you see that? She heard you two talking about saving her from me, who planned to kill her, and who did she run to? Me. She trusts me, loves me even. I’ve known her for a month and she’s picked me over you, Tracker, someone who has been in her life for ten years, as well as you, Professor, who has been in it for three. Don’t you see? She likes the lustful and rebellious way I make her feel. She likes the taste of my skin and the feel of my body, and I like the taste and feel of hers. You really should taste her sometime, Tracker. She’s like a juicy peach ripe for the picking.”
Tracker’s face flushed a deep red and he began running at Inac again, but the professor held him back by grabbing his arms.
“He’s manipulating you, Tracker!” the professor yelled.
Inac threw back his head and let his laughter roll uninhibited; he was thoroughly enjoying himself now. “I always knew you were in love with her. I think she’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”
“What she sees in you, I’ll never know!” Tracker spat.
“She sees a man, Tracker. With you, you’re just a boy,” he said, letting his disdain slice the boy as much as his words most assuredly would.
“You might be a man,” Tracker said, lifting his chin like a child pretending to be a brave little soldier while peeing their pants, “but I’m better than you any day of the week!”
“Apparently, Hara doesn’t think so.”
Before Tracker could retort, the professor waved him off saying, “Tracker, hold on!” He then turned his boyish eyes on Inac. “Why haven’t you killed her yet? I thought that’s been your plan all along?”
Looking at his nails as though wanting to make sure they were clean, he said, “I want all of her first.”
“So what are you doing here? If she’s vulnerable right now then you could take advantage of her. If it’s sex you want, right now is prime timing to try.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Inac stopped pretending indifference and moved to sit on the desk to rustle through the papers they’d tried to hide from him. Neither boy had the guts to stop him. “I came to make a deal,” he finally declared, setting their childish plans aside.
“What kind of deal?” the professor asked, suspicion in his hooded eyes.
“I’ll make Hara forget everything she heard tonight. She’ll trust you again.”
“How?” The professor seemed intrigued with the idea.
“You think a guy like me, with the secrets I have, wouldn’t have access to drugs to make people forget? Sometimes I have someone I need for something who finds out a little too much. A small dose, and they no longer remember what I don’t want them to know and they’re useful again.”
“So, you make her forget…and then what?”
He leaned forward, a bestial grin on his face. “And then we play a game. The winner gets Hara. I win; she dies. You win; she fulfills the prophecy. What do you say?”
“We’ll never make a deal with you!” Tracker yelled.
“And why not? Really, this is a question of faith. And I thought The Order’s faith is not in short supply. Isn’t that what it’s based on? Your faith in Hara fulfilling her mission?” Inac knew this approach would work. It had definitely worked before.
“And how is this a question of faith?” the professor asked.
Inac felt like he was explaining this to a small-minded child. “Think of it this way. Do you really know Hara?”
“Yes. And she’ll never give in to you!” Tracker vociferated.
Tracker was annoying him, but he went on as though he didn’t want to break his scrawny little neck. “And does God know Hara? You don’t need to answer that. As a person of faith, you should trust that He would know that I would come into her life to tempt her. Going along the same direction of thought, He would know the outcome, so nothing I could do or say would make a difference.”
“If you believe that, then why don’t you give up?” Little, naïve Tracker. He really wasn’t all that bright.
“Because I don’t have faith in Him.”
“But…?”
“But if you two do, then you have nothing to worry about. You’ll win, and I’ll lose.” As they thought about that, Inac hopped up and walked over to the raised desks to collect Hara’s phone—it was just like her to sit in one of the first two rows—before sitting himself on one of the student’s long, lecture-hall desks that could seat approximately three of the young, inquiring minds.
“What’s to keep us from just hiding her from you?” Tracker asked. He sure was vocal, but it was probably due to the fact that the professor seemed deep in thought.
“Me. If that’s how you want to play it, I’ll convince her to run away with me tonight to protect her from you. How long do you think she would remain chaste and pure in that situation? I would brainwash her within hours….”
“Okay,” the professor said, finally speaking up. “You have a deal.”
“What?!” Tracker was so angry that his eyes were bugging out of his head.
Sad, the professor turned to the kid. “It’s the only way, Tracker. Besides, he’s right. God will have planned for this.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“And you need to learn to have faith.” The professor turned back to Inac. “What are the rules?”
“No belittling the other team.”
“Like you’d stick to that!” Tracker accused.
Inac turned his eyes to th
e kid, narrowing them in anger. “I’ve never spoken down on you to make Hara not trust you. You’ve turned her against you without my help by your attitude,” Inac hissed.
“Okay. Tracker, enough,” the professor said like a referee at a hockey match. “No belittling. What else?”
The menace was all gone, as though it had never been present, when Inac spoke again. “No taking her out of town without someone from the other team present. Unless, of course, the other team gives their unsolicited permission otherwise,” he said with another smile.
“Okay,” the professor said, nodding his sandy brown head. “Anything else?”
“No sabotage. We play this fair.”
Tracker scoffed, but silenced it with one gesture from the professor.
“How about, we can inform her of what the other team is involved in?” the professor suggested.
Inac looked him over, determining whether the professor had a loophole in mind. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“I can teach her about people you’ve been, but not tell her that they were you.”
He sat up straight, saying, “Fine by me.”
“And can Tracker go on double dates with you two?”
“Tracker can tag along as long as he plays by the rules. But, if one team doesn’t play along, there will be repercussions.”
“Such as?”
“You can tell her everything if I don’t play nice.”
“And what will you do if we don’t?”
“Easy,” he said with a carefree smile to show them that he put no importance on his next words; that he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. “I’ll burn down the Vatican with the pope inside. I daresay he’s more important than Hara.” And, since the Vatican was the head of The Order, he was pretty sure that was pretty much the worst he could do to Them.
“So what do you plan to do if you lose?” The professor seemed wary of Inac’s games.
“I don’t plan to lose,” Inac answered as he stood up and walked out the door, leaving them to think about what they’d gotten themselves into.
As soon as he got home, he gave Hara a small injection, just enough that she wouldn’t remember a couple of hours.
At first he’d been angry that those morons had ruined his game but, now that he had a direct opposition, it only became more enticing. Tomorrow, the game would begin…and Inac couldn’t wait.
***
“Are you crazy?!” Tracker yelled once he knew Inac was gone. “How can you make a deal with him? He’s the enemy!”
“I don’t think he is,” Sampson answered.
“How can you say that? You know his life story better than I do. You know what he’s done and what he’s capable of. And still you basically just gave him permission to kill Hara!”
“I have faith in Hara, Tracker. God put her on this planet for a purpose. And to achieve this purpose, He gave her whatever tools were necessary.”
“Hara’s a good girl at heart, but she’s too trusting. She trusts Inac completely.”
“And maybe that’s part of God’s plan for her.”
“To willingly walk herself into the arms of her executioner?”
Shaking his head, Sampson said, “I don’t think he’ll do it.”
Tracker thought that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. Of course Inac would kill Hara! He wouldn’t even hesitate.
“Um, I think he’s shown us that he’s willing to do much worse than just kill one woman,” Tracker finally said.
“No, he won’t.”
“And what makes you so sure? Because of your faith that ‘God’ will make sure Hara fulfills the prophecy?” he said, sarcasm dripping in his words. Tracker didn’t have the same faith. He knew that Hara was a good person, but to have a prophecy about her? He may have lived six years in an orphanage surrounded by priests and nuns—he’d stayed after becoming an adult working as a groundskeeper so he could stay with Hara—but he wasn’t sure he even believed in God. At least he hadn’t until he’d met Cain. You couldn’t meet somebody cursed by God and not believe in God Himself.
“No,” the professor said. “Because he’s in love with her.”
Tracker snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He doesn’t love anybody. I don’t even think he loves himself.”
“Did you not notice how protective he is of her? Those two guys didn’t even hurt her and he’s having them tortured.” The professor was off his rocker.
“You heard him bragging about her. Talking crudely about her. He doesn’t love her.”
“I think he does. I also think that he doesn’t realize it himself.”
“And I know he’s just playing another game. You need to call and let Them know. You’re right in that I should’ve told you. And you should tell Them.” By “Them,” he meant those actually important in The Order. Those who called the shots.
Shaking his head, Sampson picked up their plans to kidnap Hara and locked them in the bottom drawer of his desk. Once the lock clicked tight, he said, “Not yet. They’ll just take her away, and I think this is an integral part of her journey.”
“You really are crazy, aren’t you?”
Sampson looked him straight in the eye. “Do you even know what the prophecy says?”
Tracker shifted his feet. “Well, no. Not exactly.” The truth was that he didn’t even have an inkling as to what it contained.
“I do. I’ve read some of it. And I’m telling you, it’s all beginning to make sense. You’ll see it, too. Soon you’ll see that he’s in love with her. Soon you’ll understand why I’m not telling Them.”
“For the record, I’m against this.”
“Duly noted.”
Tracker was so peeved, he pivoted and stormed out without another word.
Chapter Thirteen
***
Hara awoke feeling completely disoriented. She felt odd, like she’d had a horrible nightmare or something, and yet she couldn’t quite recall it. She opened her eyes, only to immediately squeeze them shut again the moment the light hit them. She had the worst headache she’d ever had. When she could finally suffer through a little of it, she sat up and looked at her surroundings.
She was in a corner room filled with natural light shining through floor-to-ceiling windows that covered two whole walls of the room without any curtains or blinds to hide what was beyond them. Despite how much her head hurt, she could see that the view was beautiful. With how high up she was, she could see the entire city.
The bed frame was odd. It was a rectangular piece of metal in the darkest gray she’d ever seen. It was so shiny that it reflected everything in the room to the point that she almost hadn’t noticed it was there. On each side of the bed was an end table with drawers made out of the same mirror-like substance.
The comforter on the low bed was solid black. The floor was concrete, though it was fancy looking instead of the usual stuff. In here it was a really dark gray and glossy. Under the bed was a slightly shaggy, light gray rectangular rug. She rubbed her feet across the thick threads in a soothing motion as she looked around. The only color in the room came from some contemporary paintings full of shapes and splatters on the two real walls; nothing really recognizable.
She had never been here before, but she instantly knew exactly where she was; the scent of Inac’s forest, ocean, spices, and musk was strong. Especially in the bed she was sitting in. She didn’t know how she had gotten here, or what had happened, but she found that she was wearing only a black T-shirt of Inac’s as well as her underwear. She just prayed that they hadn’t slept together. She would have asked him if they had, but he wasn’t in here.
After a couple more minutes of taking in the room until she could no longer feel her heart beating in her head as intensely as it had been, she got up and tiptoed to the oversized, cold metal door. It was heavy, but she managed to open it. Then, following the scent of eggs cooking, she walked down a short hall, finding Inac in a kitchen made of metal.
Was this whole house metal? The flo
or in here was a black, shiny concrete, and all the cupboards were stainless steel. The fridge, though, was glass. She could see all the produce in it without even having to open it. It was accompanied by a glass freezer and a large wine chiller full of bottles.
The large island in the middle of the kitchen was made of stainless steel with a slate top the color of Inac’s eyes. So were the counters around the perimeter of the room. Their sides were made of stainless steel with the same shiny black slate tops.
She found Inac at the metal stove, cooking the eggs. He was as bare as his house, only wearing a pair of black cotton pants that were low-riding to the point that she could see the large dimples in his muscular lower back as well as the continuation of his tribal-lined tattoo along his entire right side.
“Morning,” she croaked, announcing her entrance.
He turned to her and smiled. “Morning yourself. Do you like omelets?”
“Yeah.” Wincing from the pain speaking brought on, she added, “But first, do you have any headache medicine?”
“I went out and bought some last night. I knew you’d be hurting once you finally woke up,” he said, moving away from the stove to hand her some pills along with a glass of milk.
When she was done washing down the pills and was busy nibbling on the piece of coarse bread he’d handed her, she walked over by him and hopped up onto the frigid counter to ask, “What happened last night?”
He threw her an odd look before looking back to the sizzling pan held over the flame. “You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “Please just tell me we didn’t sleep together?”
“Nope,” he said as he masterfully flipped the omelet. “I slept on the couch.”
Reflecting in a piece of furniture on the far wall, she could see what seemed to be a family room that was situated next to the kitchen on the other side of another small wall. In it she could see the couch. It looked okay to sit on, but extremely uncomfortable to sleep on.
Taking in the enormity of all the open rooms, she asked, “Don’t you have a guest room in this huge place?”