Tara

by Jennifer Bene

  Tara jerked against the cuffs, clearly trying to pull away from him, but he yanked her back against him by her hips, leaning around so he could look at her.

  “Don’t want to talk anymore? That’s fine.” He stroked a hand down her cheek. “At least you’re pretty when you cry.”

  The soft sound of her breath catching tore out Alaric’s heart, and he hated himself, hated Luca, hated every choice he’d ever made in life – because it had led to this. Had led to the woman he loved being tortured to try and punish him.

  “Want to try and hit me again? No? Well, then I guess we’ll just get on with it.” Henrik’s hands slid up to her breasts, and Alaric wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. “Your new master isn’t too happy with what you’ve been up to, especially when he spent all that money to get you out of the Formato house. So he said we could teach you a few lessons.”

  “Do whatever you want,” Tara mumbled, but her voice was empty. It was the mindless, soft, obedient tone he’d first heard from her – and he hated it.

  “Oh, I do like the way you say that.”

  Louis released him then, wiping his hand off on his pants as he stepped around him, and Alaric roared. “Let her go, dammit! Tell him not to touch her. TELL HIM!” Alaric groaned in frustration, panic and rage filling him up, and he wondered briefly if he called out for Kiernan or Neala if they’d show up here.

  Could they do that? Could they hear him?

  What if he prayed to Eltera again? Would she save Tara this time when she’d allowed so many terrible things to happen to her?

  “Louis, you bloody bastard, do whatever you want to me, I’m the one who broke Luca’s rules, not her! She’s innocent in this!”

  “This is what we’re doing to you, Alaric. This is your punishment.” He shook his head slowly. “You shouldn’t have tried to renege on the contract. You should have just done what you were told.”

  “This isn’t her fault!”

  “No, it’s yours.” Louis walked away and opened a small case against the wall, rummaging inside it before he returned and set a large vial full of clear liquid on the table, followed by another smaller one filled with a silvery liquid, and finally a syringe.

  The strange conversation he’d had with Tara in his car rushed back, and he was sure he was about to be sick.

  Dreamland is a sedative. Blue and always injected.

  Oblivion is a clear liquid. Tasteless. Makes it hard to say no.

  Torment looks like silver clouds, injected, and is pure pain.

  “Don’t do this, Louis,” Alaric pleaded. Whatever they did to him would be fine, perfectly fine, as long as they didn’t use those things on her.

  “I’m not doing anything, Alaric. You are. Now choose.” Louis pointed at the vials. “Based on your reaction I think you have an idea of what these are, but let’s be very clear. This one –” He lifted the clear liquid. “ – is Oblivion, and it’s going to be the kinder of the two, because at least she won’t care what’s happening to her. Although, I have a feeling you will care. A lot. Henrik wants you to choose this one for obvious reasons.”

  Louis set the clear vial down and grabbed the one that looked like a silver storm in a bottle. “This is called Torment, and from what I understand it activates the pain centers in the brain and ramps them up, but unlike with a real injury it doesn’t let the brain shut down. No loss of consciousness. She’ll be perfectly aware of all of it, and with every subsequent dose it will get worse.”

  Alaric kept his mouth shut, focusing on Tara on the screen. Henrik still had his arms around her, and he was whispering something against her ear, his hands taking advantage of her position, but she wasn’t reacting at all anymore. A moment later Henrik kissed her shoulder. “I’ll be right back, pretty girl. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Louis sighed as Henrik left the room on the screen. “You should have just picked one.”

  When the door opened to his left Alaric tensed, and then Henrik strode in with a wide grin. “Hey pal, weren’t you supposed to make this more difficult for me? Weren’t you supposed to kill me when I came for her, win in this little hitman versus hitman?”

  “Leave her alone.”

  He laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “That’s not how this is going to go, asshole. You know… Luca always sent you on the easy jobs. His golden boy. His sensitive, damaged, foster kid.” Henrik stepped forward and yanked Alaric’s head back by his hair, making his scalp burn as he met his eyes with the kind of seething hatred that must have been brewing for years. “You privileged little prick, do you know how many times Luca sent me in to finish the jobs you didn’t have the stomach for?”

  “That’s a lie,” Alaric growled.

  “No. I’m not the one lying to you. That’s always been Luca.” Henrik released him and shoved his head back. “He’d always have you go and take out the men, and then have me take care of everyone else – or did you really think that all those contracts just happened to be for single, childless men? Did you really think no one ever wanted anyone else hurt?”

  Louis raised a hand. “He’s not lying, Alaric. I’ve been sent in after you as well.”

  “That’s right, but no one is cleaning up after you anymore.” Henrik reared back and hit him, hard, and his ears rang with it, but he stifled his shout of pain, reducing it to a series of grumbled curses even as he felt his cheek swelling. “I think you’ve finally crossed the line though, trying to renege on this contract. Luca said you have to choose how she suffers, and you have to watch. Guess you’re not the golden boy anymore, are you?”

  “I won’t hurt her.”

  Henrik hit him again, this time in the ribs. Once, twice, three times, and the sharp pain in his side made it difficult to draw a breath as he shouted, his adrenaline flooding him. “You’ll have to fucking kill me, Henrik! I’m not hurting her, and I’m not giving her to you, or Luca, or anyone!”

  This time Henrik leaned forward and landed a punch in his stomach, all of the air leaving him in a rush, which made his ribs scream. Bastard probably cracked one or more. “That’s fine,” he sounded calm, happy, “because in five seconds I’m choosing for you, and we’ll just tell Luca that you picked.”

  “No.”

  “Five, four, three…” Henrik picked up the Oblivion and grinned.

  “Damn you, Henrik!”

  “Two…”

  “TORMENT!” Alaric shouted, ignoring the pain. “I pick the Torment!”

  Henrik slammed the vial back onto the table and then brought his fist into the other side of Alaric’s face, likely evening out the bruises. The groan was covered up by the man’s shouts, “You selfish bastard, you won’t even share her with me when she’s going to her new owner after this?” With a quick movement he had the silver vial and the syringe in his hands, and he walked towards the door. “When she’s screaming, Alaric, I want you to remember she would have been very happy with the Oblivion.”

  The door slammed behind him as he left, and Alaric felt futile tears burning at the edge of his eyes as his useless rage filled every cell of his body. He wrenched his wrists against the cuffs, kicking the table in front of him hard enough to make the television bounce. Louis placed a hand on top of it, and shook his head. “That was a very selfish choice, Alaric. Oblivion would have been kinder.”

  “Not to her,” he growled. His face and his ribs ached, the series of hits that Henrik had delivered had been brutal, but it was nothing. Nothing compared to what he’d just done to Tara.

  ‘Eltera,’ he prayed silently, his fists clenching, ‘Do something. Anything. Help her, take her out of here, leave me behind – I don’t care – just help her. If you’re really out there, if all of this shit hasn’t just been some elaborate magic trick, save her. Save the daughter you created.’

  The door hit the wall as it was thrown open, and she flinched. The man was back. She tried her best to withdraw again, and she was able to maintain a stoic expression when he slammed it shut. He immediately m
oved behind her again, his fist tangling in her hair to yank her head back. “Time for your punishment, bitch, and just so you know? I had very different plans for you.”

  Tara was confused for a moment until he held a syringe up in front of her, filled with silver clouds. Torment. She jerked at the chains, wrapping her hands around them, trying uselessly to avoid what was next. “No, no, please, I’ll do anything. I’ll do whatever -”

  “Too late.” The sharp pinch of the syringe made her wince, and she felt the cool spread of the liquid as he pressed the plunger down. “First dose,” he said out loud, and she knew it wasn’t for her. It was for whoever was on the other side of the camera in the ceiling, which she desperately hoped did not include Alaric, because this was going to be bad.

  At first there was nothing, and then it hit. Torment was like having her bones broken and filled with boiling water, it was like being gutted and covered in salt. She knew she was screaming, on some level she could hear her voice tearing as it echoed off the concrete walls while her entire body torqued to try and avoid the pain. With effort she slammed her teeth back together, tremors taking up residence in her muscles with the effort it took not to scream.

  “How’s that feel? Does it hurt? You stupid bitch. Alaric is already onto his next job, you know…” The asshole was walking around her slowly, his voice a low drone that somehow made it through the ringing pain in her ears. “He told us to just clean up after him, as usual. You’re not the first girl he’s done this with. When he’s done, he just leaves. Leaves us to clean up his mess.”

  “Shut. Up.” She hissed between her teeth, but the man slapped her again and she gasped as the fresh pain seemed to make the Torment spike in her system.

  It couldn’t keep hurting this bad. It couldn’t.

  “You don’t want to hear the truth, pretty girl? Does it make you feel like the whore you are to know he just left you for us?”

  “I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!” Tara screamed, using the flash of rage as an opportunity to try and distract herself from the waves of pain that were cracking her skin and splitting her joints apart. She shook her head hard, her hands gripping the chain above her. “I don’t. I don’t believe any of it. I love him, you miserable, fucking asshole, and I know he’d never leave me. I know he’d fight to the death for me, so do whatever you want. You won’t change my mind no matter what you say, no matter what you do.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes,” she said it as steadily as she could with her entire body shivering.

  “Fine then.” He fumbled in his pocket until he pulled out the vial of Torment, and she watched as he refilled the syringe.

  No, please, Eltera, by all the gods, no.

  The man grabbed her chin and forced her head back, baring her neck. This time the pinch of the syringe wasn’t even a blip on her radar, but with her next agonized breath the pain inconceivably grew. It was impossible not to scream now, and she felt her throat straining with the force of it.

  “Second dose.”

  Those words filtered in and she wished she could think straight, wished she could coalesce enough thoughts together to pray to Eltera for forgiveness, for release – for death – but it was impossible.

  There was only pain, and dawn was so very, very far away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Make it stop,” Alaric bent his head forward, tearing his eyes from the screen again, but her weak screams kept coming from the television. Every time he thought it was over, every time he thought her body would finally give out, a new one would rip from her and tear into his heart.

  “Wouldn’t know how to even if I could.” Louis took a drink from the bottle that he and Henrik had been passing back and forth since he’d returned to the room.

  “You should have chosen the Oblivion. At least then the noises she’d be making wouldn’t be giving me a fucking headache.” Henrik grabbed the bottle and took a swig.

  “What dose was that?” Louis asked.

  “Four.”

  “You’re both going to hell, and the second I’m free I’m going to kill you both. Slowly.” Alaric could almost feel the knife in his palm, could imagine the way it would slice through their skin, and he would make them suffer. He’d make sure they felt at least a fraction of what Tara was going through.

  “Shut up. There’s enough noise in this fucking room without you whining.” Henrik huffed and then stood up, dragging a cell phone from his pocket as he handed the bottle back to Louis. “Hello? Yeah. Yeah, that’s her, let me step outside.”

  “Who the fuck is that? Is that Luca?” Alaric shouted, twisting in the chair as Henrik completely ignored him and left the room, but the pain in his ribs made him hiss and face front again.

  “You’re not helping the situation,” Louis muttered.

  “How can you just sit there?!” He shouted, ignoring the ache. “Look at her! She’s a person! She’s not a thing, she feels pain, she -”

  “Are you really trying to argue morality with me, Alaric? Knowing what we do?” A quiet laugh rolled from him before he took another drink from the bottle. “Everyone is a person, including all the people you’ve killed. They all had family, and friends, and you didn’t seem to have a fucking issue with it before her.”

  Alaric turned away from him, hating the way that Louis had cut straight to the core of the problem. Would he have felt this for anyone else? Would he have stopped? He shook his head, not caring about who he had been before he had met her. “People change.”

  “Didn’t you just threaten to kill me?”

  “I didn’t threaten, that was a promise.” He turned and met Louis’ eyes. “The ones I killed before may not have earned it. Maybe they were innocent, maybe they just pissed off the wrong person – but you? You’ve earned it, and so has Henrik.”

  “And Luca?”

  His jaw tightened at the mention of that name, his stomach twisting into knots as Tara’s quiet screams picked up again. Damn you, Luca.

  “What? No threat for daddy dearest?” Louis took another drink, coughing a little as he set the bottle back on the floor. “Man, he did such a number on you. He’s fed you his bullshit for so many years that you believe it. Totally brainwashed. You do realize he runs Infinity, right? Every death has his rubber stamp on it. That girl? His stamp. Using the Torment? All him. Nothing happens without Luca’s approval.”

  “What about you? You’ve bought the same bullshit,” Alaric growled.

  “I knew what I was getting into.”

  Just as Louis spoke the door opened and Alaric turned to see Luca walking in, followed by three other men in sharp suits, and then Henrik who leaned against the frame.

  Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.

  Tears burned the edges of Alaric’s eyes as he stared at Luca. There was gray at his temples now, but he still had the dark hair, the close-cropped beard, and the warm brown eyes that he’d known so well as he had grown up. It was somehow the same man who had saved him at the lowest point in his life, but now he was the single reason that the woman he loved was in pain. “Luca…”

  “Alaric.”

  “What is wrong with the girl?” The man next to him gestured at the screen where Tara hung limply, her voice breaking as she screamed weakly once more.

  “She’ll be fine in the morning, Mr. Petrovski. We just had to handle a little behavior issue. Will you follow Henrik to the other room? We’ll bring her to you as soon as everything is settled.” Luca’s voice was smooth as silk, and the other man nodded and left with the two he’d brought with him. When Luca turned around his eyes were hard. “You chose the Torment, then?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I want you to look at her on the screen, go on, look.” He pointed, but Alaric had seen plenty and he kept his glare locked on the man he had once thought of like a father. With a sigh Luca snapped his fingers. “Louis, help him out.”

  A choking sob rose out of the television just as Louis stepped up and wrenched Alaric’s head around, one
fist in his hair and the other gripping his chin. He clenched his eyes tight, gritting his teeth as he refused to watch her suffering for Luca’s amusement.

  “Really, Alaric? This is just childish. Open your eyes.”

  “No.” He forced the word out through clenched teeth, and there was nothing but blissful silence for a moment.

  Wait, silence? No sniffling, or quiet crying, or broken screams?

  “What the fuck?” Luca’s surprised voice caused Alaric’s eyes to snap open. On the small television screen Tara was crumpled in a pile on the floor, the chain half across her back, but she was down. She was down, but was she still alive?

  Dolcezza, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. I love you, Tara, I love you.

  For a moment Tara was disoriented, the absence of the mind-numbing pain was making her head spin, but as she opened her eyes she realized she was not where she should be. The concrete walls were gone, or at least she thought they were, everything was dark. An old, ancient kind of dark. No electric lights, not even moonlight to create outlines, but there was something under her.

  She was sitting, on something wooden, and the soft lapping of water hit her ears just as she realized that some of her disorientation came from the rocking of the small boat.

  Where in the hell was she?

  Leaning over the side she could hear water, but couldn’t see it, and just as she reached her hand down a flash of light and a growl of thunder made her jerk back. At the other end of the boat, wreathed in golden light that faded to a pale green at the edges, was Eltera.

  Tara froze, disbelief stunning her into a speechless state that had her mouth hanging open in shock.

  “Hello, Tara.” Eltera’s voice was as beautiful as she remembered, unchanged over two thousand years of absence, just like her face. Still impossibly perfect, her light making the dense fog around them glow, while the golden manacles around her wrists shone with their own light.

  “Eltera?”