The big bearded guy marched stolidly over and picked up the gun, tucking it into his coat. He moved around behind Eric, who never took his eyes off her, and started removing things from his pockets. Otis’s camera, the one that they had found in the clock. The big camera that hung around Eric’s neck. The magazines for the gun. Binoculars.
“You killed Otis,” Eric said. “Because he saw your operation?”
“Shut up. You’re wasting my time. Take off your coat. Throw it on the ground.”
Eric did so. No weapons. He was as helpless as she was, but he didn’t look even remotely afraid.
“Take the memory card out of the cameras,” her captor ordered. “Destroy them. Throw both cameras into the pit.”
The bearded behemoth swiftly, mechanically did as he was told, and hurled the two cameras, one after the other, into the excavated pit.
They hit the bottom with a splash.
“What do you want with this place?” Eric asked. “There’s nothing here for anyone.”
“Not your business, punk.”
“Why kill Otis?” Eric asked.
“Kill who? I never hurt anybody. Otis was an old man. He didn’t have a mark on him. Natural causes, fuck-face. I build the narrative. And that’s what the narrative says.”
“My father, too,” Demi croaked it out, against the choking pressure of the man’s arm against her throat. “You killed him, too.”
“Your father was a dumb fuck. He got what was coming to him. Years late, but he got it.”
“But why?” she demanded.
“Why do you care? Selfish prick tried to have you kidnapped to get the money to blow us off. Not happening. The boss would never allow that.”
“But how did—”
“Natural causes, bitch.” He chuckled, his foul breath making her gag. “No muss, no fuss. Just like your mom. Big shame. Nice lady. Cute, too, for an old broad.”
Demi flinched as he jerked her chin up, running a latex-covered finger along her lower lip. “Mom?” she faltered, fresh horror yawning inside her. “You killed Mom?”
“Heart attack,” he taunted. “No foul play. So sad. And now it’s your turn, thanks to dear old Daddy. You know way too much now. Even if you hadn’t fucked a Trask.” He leaned down, and licked the side of her face. She shuddered in revulsion. “But it won’t be natural causes for you, sweet cheeks. Your narrative is different.”
“What…what do you mean, narrative?”
“The story. The one where he kills you.” He gestured at Eric. “That filthy animal. He’s going to cut you into fucking pieces with his own razor, the sick sonofabitch. Then he’ll have a crisis of conscience, too late, and kill himself. Murder-suicide. Not surprising after all the childhood trauma. But what the fuck do you expect from trash like that?”
He tilted Demi’s chin up again. “You deserve to be punished, just for being such a dumb slut. Fucking the Prophet’s spawn, eh? Not smart, beautiful. That boy is damaged goods. I hope he was a good lay, at least. Did he make you scream?”
“Let go of me!” Demi struggled madly in his grip.
The dark man let out an oily laugh. “I’m gonna make you scream, bitch. Until your throat cracks.”
“What do you want with this place?” Eric asked.
“You’re not here to get questions answered. Your time’s up.”
He looked down at Demi. “You know what? I was going to kill you clean. Something boring and generic, like snapping your neck or shooting you in the face. I was going to pack your body into his Porsche and shove the two of you off a cliff in it. But you turned out to be such an annoying little cunt, I changed my mind. I’m going to make it interesting. Blood and guts. And your boyfriend gets a front row seat. He’ll be soaked in your blood. And when we’re done, he gets all the credit for my artistry. Lucky boy.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Eric said.
Demi bit down on the man’s hand. Tasted the powdery, perfumed bitterness of his latex glove, his sweat, his blood.
Crack, he smacked her again. The world disappeared in a hot red flash.
“Be good,” he snarled. “Bitch.”
Pain made it hard to see or hear for a moment, but his taunting tone came slowly back into focus in her mind. “…bad thing about the natural-causes-scenario is the same as the good thing, see? It’s too easy. The death pen is clean and quick, but it’s no fun. Not if you like to see blood squirt and bones break and hear them squeal and beg. I kind of miss that. But today, I get to have my fun.”
“Death pen?” Demi gasped out. “What the hell is a—”
He yanked her hair brutally back. “Shut up. You lived in this town thirteen years ago, right?”
“I—I, ah…” She was baffled by the question. “Uh, yeah, I—”
“Did you check her in the database?” he rapped out to someone over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I looked her up. She was in ninth grade, at the high school,” one of the men answered. “She was in the database. She was definitely exposed.”
“Exposed?” Eric’s voice sharpened. “To what?”
Crack. The dark guy rapped at her head with his knuckles. “One more question, and I cut her face right down to the bone. Rocco, bring him over here and hold his arms behind his back. I can’t have rope burns on him. Randall!” He jerked his chin at another guy. “Hold her up while I get her arms out of the bag. Move!”
Demi started fighting as soon as he pried her arms loose of the strangling fabric, flopping and flailing. He caught her wrists, twisting until she shrieked. “Save it for him, bitch. You’re going to scratch his face now. I need skin and blood under your nails for the evidence techs.”
Demi looked at Eric’s grim face, horrified. “No!”
The dark-haired guy punched her in the stomach, knocking out her air. Light fading out. Sound distorting. The blade pressed against her throat.
“…try anything, you sneaky bastard, and I’ll slice her throat right now. That works for my narrative, too. It’s up to you.”
“Demi,” Eric said softly. “Demi? Baby? Do it. Just do whatever he says.”
“Sensible advice, bitch.” Her tormentor gave her another head-ringing slap. “I suggest you take it.”
“Don’t hit her,” Eric said softly.
“Oh, I’m gonna do so much more than hit her,” the dark man crooned. “I’m going to fuck her up so hard, when I’m done with her, you might just want to kill yourself without any help from me. Come on. Let’s get those fingernails bloody!”
Two big guys muscled Eric forward. The one called Randall hoisted her up. His huge arms squeezed agonizingly tight around her ribs, making her gasp.
Eric winced. “Don’t hurt her!”
“She’s paying for her smart mouth. Closer. Let’s get on with it.”
Demi’s eyes met Eric’s gaze. That piercing intensity, charged with emotion.
It electrified her. That sadistic piece of shit was not going to cut her to pieces to hurt Eric. Having her throat slit was a much better death. They could all go fuck themselves.
Randall lifted her. The blade against her throat shifted. Now.
Demi jerked her legs up, using Randall’s crushing grip as ballast. She shot her feet out explosively, kicking Eric in the chest.
Knocking him away from herself.
21
Eric wrenched his arm free and rammed his elbow into a guy’s throat. He was airborne, kicking Felix in the face.
Felix stumbled backwards. Randall struggled with Demi. He’d clamped his arm around her neck, choking off her screaming, but her throat wasn’t cut. She was fighting for breath, mouth open, gasping and mute. Scratching at Randall’s face.
He aimed a flying side kick to Randall’s face. Crack, dead on the nose.
Randall reeled backward, taking Demi with him. Careening right down to the edge of that fucking crater. Eric dodged a club swinging at his head, and the other guy aimed a gun—
“Don’t shoot! Asshole!” Felix bellowe
d. “That fucks up everything! Just take him down!”
The gunman faltered, casting a panicked eye at his boss.
Yes. That was all he needed. Eric leaped, jerked the guy’s gun arm down—
Boom. The gunman screamed, and clutched his thigh. Blood squirted between his fingers. He hit the ground. Eric landed on top of him, scrabbling for the gun—
Whump, something huge hit him in the back, knocking him forward.
He scrambled around, and blocked Rocco’s club, this time with his forearm. Pain blazed up into him, but he still snagged Rocco’s arm, yanked and twisted it, making the man stumble and howl.
He used Rocco’s own momentum to hurl him headfirst off the edge of the pit. Scrambled back himself just in time as the wet ground began to give way, then spun to face the attacker behind him, blocking a knife slash. He took the knife, wrenching the attacker’s arm around until the bone popped from its socket, then stabbed his fingers into the man’s eyes.
The guy screamed, stumbling to his knees. Eric aimed a flying kick to the side of the guy’s head, then left him and ran toward Demi, still struggling to wiggle out of that sack. Her arms were free, but her legs were bound.
“Stay down!” he yelled, groping for a weapon. Rocks, sticks. His fingers closed around a largish, bolt-shaped stone.
“Fuck you.” Felix howled. “You pain in the ass. I’ll just kill you now and stage it later.” He pulled out a silver cylinder. Bigger and blunter than a pen, seen at closer range. “Ladies first, eh?” he snarled at Demi. “Die, you dumb bitch.”
Eric hurled his rock as the guy pointed the silver rod at Demi. It struck Felix in the face and he stumbled back with a grunt. “Fuck!”
Eric dove for Demi, who lay right the edge of the crater, and pushed her over the edge. At this point, the edge of the crater had collapsed, and had a gentler slope of muddy earth, so instead of falling, she bounced and rolled.
He had to block that thing Felix was pointing at her. Instant death. It had killed Otis, Ben, Elaine, Terry and God knows who else. He couldn’t let them point it at Demi.
“Die first, then, if you want it so fucking bad!” Felix yelled. “Go to hell, shithead.” He brandished it at Eric. Two bright, colored lights glowed intensely at the end of it.
Eric froze, braced for anything. Pain, burning, paralysis, convulsions.
Nothing happened. He looked down at himself, then looked at Felix. The guy looked shocked and betrayed. He rattled a button on the side of the pen, and brandished it again. Once again, the lights at the end of it blazed. Pale yellow. Poisonous green.
“Forget to change the batteries?” Eric asked. “Whoops. Asshole.”
He charged Felix like a bull. They crashed together and hit the mud rolling. Eric rolled up into guard, blocking a kick, a punch. Felix was fast and strong. He got in a punch to the other man’s jaw—
Crack, the death pen smacked him hard in the head. Eric scrambled back, cursing. Felix tried for another whack, but Eric ducked, seized his arm, and ran them both straight toward the crater, swinging the guy over the edge—
Felix flew out into free-fall. Eric went over the side along with him. He landed almost on his feet on the muddy slope, sliding to the bottom with an avalanche of rocks and mud. Finishing with a dramatic belly-splash into the slimy mud.
He dragged himself up, looked frantically around until he saw the back of his opponent’s body poking out of the wind-ruffled, rippling brown water.
Eric trudged through the knee-deep water and feet-sucking mud. He used his foot to roll the man over onto his back.
Felix shrieked. His leg was broken, his knee bent at a grotesque angle. He didn’t have his death pen. It could be fucking anywhere, buried in this slop.
He was neutralized.
“Demi!” Eric looked around frantically. “Where are you?”
He caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Demi appeared, among some tumbled rocks at the side of the pit. She was so completely slimed with mud, she’d disappeared from view. She rose from a huddled crouch, and staggered his way.
Alive.
He dragged in a grateful breath, jerked his feet up out of the mud and launched himself toward her, slogging as fast as he could. “Are you okay?”
“Ah…yes,” she said through chattering teeth. “I think so. You?”
“I’m good.” He grabbed her, holding her shivering body tight. “I’m great. Now.”
“Thank God,” she said, through lips that shook. “What about him?” She jerked her hand toward Felix.
“He’s done. Leg broken. Want me to kill him?”
Demi’s eyes widened. In her mask of smeared mud, they seemed weirdly brilliant.
“Jesus, Eric,” she murmured. “Are you serious?”
“He was going to hurt you. Kill you. He’s killed others before.” He looked around until he saw Rocco, who had tumbled into the pit earlier. He was face down in the water, and his back did not rise or fall. “I think that guy’s already dead. Don’t know about the others.”
“It’s one thing if he dies while we’re fighting for our lives,” Demi said doubtfully. “It’s another thing entirely if you finish him off in cold blood. When he’s helpless.”
“Helpless, my ass. He’ll be a threat to us, and to others, as long as he breathes. He’s like a rabid dog.” Eric looked down at the shivering injured man lying in the mud and contemplated the rage that still burned in him. “And my blood is not cold.”
But Demi shook her head.
Aw, hell. Whatever. He wanted this woman. If she didn’t want to watch him execute an injured man, he’d grit his teeth and back down. The things he did for love.
With luck, the cold night and the icy mud would finish the job. Felix was probably in shock already. A cold, lonely death, in the dark, in pain…it would do the job.
It was a better death than that bastard deserved.
He turned his attention to the side of the pit, searching for the best route back up. “I’m sorry I threw you down,” he told her. “I was scared of the death pen. I figured if it killed Otis and Terry and your folks, it might kill you, too, and your chances were better down here. Even if you got knocked around some.”
“So you ran straight at the pen yourself. Your usual stellar reasoning, Eric.”
“What can I say.” He shrugged. “I panicked.”
“That’s not panic, Trask, that’s heroism. Get your fucking labels straight.”
“Whatever,” he said absently, scanning the walls. “Let’s climb out of here while there’s still some light.” His teeth were rattling in his head now. Adrenaline aftermath.
“What about those other guys?” Demi asked.
“I think I took them all down. I’ll check on them before you climb out.”
“There you go again, Eric,” she said. “Watch out. Your heroism is showing.”
“It’s not a matter of being heroic.” Eric sounded impatient. “He pointed that pen right at me, and it didn’t hurt me, which surprised the shit out of him. They might have more of those death pens, but it looks like I’m not subject to whatever damage they inflict. So that means that until further notice, I’m always up first. Are we clear on that?”
“Fine, Eric,” she said soothingly. “We’re clear on that. Calm down.”
It was a long and frustrating slog up the sloppy, rain-soaked, and constantly collapsing side of the crater. Several times they both slipped and slid almost back down to the bottom. When they reached a relatively solid perch not far from the edge of the pit, he gestured emphatically for her to wait, and climbed over the top alone.
The light was almost gone, but he still could make out the still forms of the other three men sprawled on the muddy ground. The one who had shot himself in the thigh was dead. His femoral artery had emptied out all over the ground. Another, the one he’d elbowed, had a shattered trachea. He was gasping for air around a throat that appeared to be swelling shut. His face was blue.
That would do fine.
Choke away, shithead. See you in hell.
The guy who’d disarmed him was face down, still unconscious, his head a sticky mess of mud and blood and hair. He found Otis’s gun in the man’s pockets, the magazines and his own cell phone, which amazingly was not shattered. He dug around in the other men’s pockets for clues. He found nothing. He found some burner phones and pocketed them, not that they would be much use. Whoever financed this was watching on the cameras that Felix had taunted him about. These guys weren’t in the same league as the feckless kidnapping crew at the island. No one was ever going to call those phones again.
He retrieved his own coat, which was slimed with mud but relatively dry on the inside, and went over to the pit. He reached down to Demi to help her the rest of the way out. Rain pattered down, beginning to rinse some of the film of mud from her face.
Demi looked around at the carnage. “Wow. Should we, uh…”
“Let them lie,” he said. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”
“But they’re still alive. The police could interrogate them, right?”
“And get slammed by the Prophet’s Curse while they’re at it? Shall we start another big death cluster? How many more funerals do you want to go to?”
Demi bit her shaking lip. “What, so we just let those murdering, torturing assholes walk on back to whoever hired them?”
“They won’t be walking anytime soon.” He nudged the choking guy with his muddy boot. “I could just take care of them right now. Say the word.”
“Me?” Her voice cracked. “I’m the one who has to say the word?”
“They’d already be dead if it was up to me,” he said. “So yeah. You.”
They stared at each other. The man’s face was empurpled. Blood vessels had broken around his eyes. His gasps were getting shorter. His eyes were going dim.
Another asshole almost down. That left two still breathing. Barely.
She shook her head. “No. No more killing.” Her voice rang out, suddenly strong. “Except in self-defense. Let’s be better than them.”
Fuck. Eric let out a sigh of resignation. He wrapped Otis’s heavy coat around her shoulders and nudged her along. “We’re done. Let’s get out of here.”
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