The Thriller Collection

by S W Vaughn

  Her breath caught and held. He steeled himself for her touch. She gripped his forearm, hesitated, and sawed through a rope. At least she knew enough to do it fast. His freed arm dropped instantly. Lillith lowered the one she held with a shuddering sigh.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, aware she needed to hear it. To know he didn’t blame her. He never had, no matter how bad things got.

  Slade closed in on them. “I’ll have my knife back now, before either of you try something you’ll regret.”

  Lillith stood and surrendered the weapon. Above Gabriel’s blood-streaked hands, the frayed ropes dangled loose around his wrists. He slid them off and tried to decide the least painful way to stand.

  As though she sensed his intentions, Lillith came to his side, crouched and put an arm around his waist. He gave her an apologetic smile. She nodded and helped him to his feet.

  Slade motioned to the scowling giant. “Apollo, take Lillith upstairs.”

  “Wait!” Gabriel moved in front of her. “I said I’d do what you want. Let her go.”

  Slade’s eyes narrowed. “Really, Mr. Morgan. Do you think I’m stupid? If she leaves, you have no incentive to work. She stays.”

  “What do you mean, work?” A shrill note entered Lillith’s voice. “Slade, what are you going to do to him?”

  Slade loosed a mocking laugh. “Not a thing, dear girl. Your brother is going to fight for me. And win, of course. Every time.”

  “No.” Lillith put a protective hand on his arm. “You can’t do that. Those fights … I’ve seen them. Seen the fighters. Jesus, Slade, they’ll kill him out there!” Her fingers tightened. “Gabriel, don’t let him do this. Just leave me here. I’ll be fine.”

  “The decision has already been made, Lillith.” Slade’s icy tone brooked no argument. “He stays. You stay. He fights, or you die. Understand?”

  She stiffened, about to intervene again. Gabriel couldn’t let her. Shifting, he put an arm around her shoulders, held her to him. Tried not to think about his blood smearing on her shirt.

  She collapsed against him with a wail.

  “It’s all right, Lilly,” he whispered near her ear. “Don’t try to fight him, okay? I can do this. I’ll get us both out of here.”

  She looked up at him and sniffled. “I never meant for this to happen. I’m so sorry.”

  Before he could assure her that it wasn’t her fault, the thug jerked her away and dragged her toward the door. She resisted, screaming tearful obscenities, until he called after her, “Everything is okay, Lilly. Don’t cry. I’ll see you again soon.”

  “Gabe.” Lillith slumped. Head bowed, she allowed Apollo to lead her out.

  The door closed. He met Slade’s bemused expression with a grimace. “If you even touch her…”

  “Yes, yes. You’ll kill me. Forgive me if I don’t exactly fear for my life, Mr. Morgan.” Slade pulled a cell phone from an inside pocket and tapped out a text. “You have nothing to worry about at the moment. As long as you do what you’re told, your sister will be safe.”

  Rage shook him to the core. “Fine. Tell me to do something, then.”

  “Patience, young one. We’ll get to that. You need training first, and that takes time.” Slade replaced the phone and crossed his arms. “For now, you have an appointment with Jenner. A welcome of sorts, so you can get to know your place here.”

  “Jenner?”

  “My lieutenant. He’ll be down shortly.” The sanguine smile that crossed Slade’s face seemed to have crawled from the sewers. “I highly recommend that you cooperate with him completely and without question. Unless you want to discover depths of suffering you’ve never imagined possible.”

  Gabriel looked away. Nothing could be worse than the anguish he felt now, for having failed Lillith already. And hell, he could imagine plenty of suffering. He’d endured it all his life to protect his sister from their father’s unending brutality. No one could be crueler than Victor Morgan.

  Even if this Jenner was the devil himself.

  Chapter 6

  Gabriel waited in silence, plagued by questions that he didn’t dare ask Slade, who was currently looming somewhere to his left. He couldn’t even look at the bastard long enough. Would he be forced to stay in this dungeon? He had no idea what else was in this place. How much would he have to fight to earn Lillith’s freedom — once, ten times, a hundred? For all he knew, Slade might expect him to keep going until he was old and broken, or permanently crippled in a fight. A lifetime.

  He would not allow this monster to keep his sister prisoner forever. He’d play along for now, but when the opportunity came, he would rescue Lillith and leave.

  The door opened. He expected another hulking brute, a man who could break his arms like toothpicks or snap his neck with a single twist. Instead, a shadow slipped through and glided inside.

  The slim figure cleaved to the darkness that edged the borders of the room, and he could only make out the suggestion of a shape, a silhouette that appeared to be wearing a knee-length dress with long, flared sleeves and loose pants beneath. If Slade hadn’t used a male pronoun in reference to Jenner, he would have thought this was a woman.

  Jenner stopped just outside the edges of the light.

  Although Gabriel still couldn’t see more than a hint of the lieutenant, the man’s presence commanded his attention. Repulsion, dread, and a hint of fascination frightened him more than Slade’s threats. A bulky object dangled from Jenner’s hand at his side. In shadowed relief, it appeared to be an oversized purse with a handle instead of a shoulder strap.

  “Don’t hurt him too badly.” Slade spoke to his lieutenant without looking away from Gabriel, and the cesspool smile resurfaced. “I want him to start training as soon as possible.”

  Jenner’s head turned toward Slade, a slow, oiled glide. His silhouette stood in sharp relief. Something slender and snakelike hung from the back of his head. His hair. A single thick braid fell to his waist and became lost in darkness.

  “Of course.” Two words, whispers of silk and smoke, dripping with venom.

  Terror stirred in Gabriel’s soul. The man was a snake. Just what Slade said he was — the devil himself.

  He shook his head and forced the idea away. Ridiculous. The top of Jenner’s head barely cleared Slade’s shoulder. The man was so slender, a strong gust of wind could carry him away. He refused the fear, snuffed it beneath a slow burn of hatred.

  Slade glanced in Jenner’s direction. The distaste stamped on his features seemed a visceral reaction. “I’m leaving.” He passed the lieutenant, coming nowhere close enough for even the suggestion of physical contact, stopped at the door and spoke without turning. “Don’t disappoint me, Mr. Morgan. Your sister’s life depends on my satisfaction.”

  The door closed with the finality of a tomb. And after a long moment, Jenner spoke into the silence.

  “It looks like just the two of us, does it not, angel?”

  A hard shudder shook him as the bizarre tag — angel — rolled from Jenner’s tongue with a lover’s intimacy.

  Jesus fucking Christ. The man was going to chain him to the wall and rape him.

  “Don’t touch me.” The demand emerged a moan. He backed away and searched the room in desperation, seeking escape.

  “Do not flatter yourself, boy,” Jenner said in a brittle tone capable of crushing diamonds. “I have no such intentions.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I have not yet decided.”

  Jenner moved into the light, and what had seemed like a dress in shadow proved to be an Asian outfit — Chinese or Japanese, he wasn’t sure which. Simple clasps held together a long jacket of pale gray silk. Black piping trimmed the sleeves, the straight collar, and the garment edges. Flowing pants matched the jacket. Yet Jenner’s aquiline nose and swarthy complexion marked him as East Indian, not Asian.

  His hair was gray, the color of brushed steel — an old man, then, but with no other typical signs of age. Sinewy rather than
gaunt. Not wizened or wrinkled, but grizzled and hard. And his eyes were pale circles of smoked glass. Glittering gray, like the rest of him.

  The cold glint in those eyes bound him more effectively than any rope. He couldn’t move.

  “Your determination is admirable,” Jenner said. “Few would expend such effort to locate a mere sibling. Do you truly love your sister that much?”

  “None of your business.” Anger broke the spell of Jenner’s gaze. In this snake’s mouth, Lillith’s name was blasphemy.

  “A shame.” Jenner placed the object he held on the floor. A black satchel, a doctor’s bag. “What did you intend to do when you found her, little guardian angel? Help her find a job, perhaps an apartment? It is far too late for that.”

  “I … she needs me.”

  “Did you ever consider that she might not want your help?”

  Disgust twisted his stomach. “Lillith isn’t like you people. She wouldn’t have become a … prostitute on her own.” He could barely get the word out. “She has a good heart.”

  Jenner sneered. “While your sister’s clients do appreciate her many attributes, I am not certain her heart is high on their lists.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I thought you were not interested in such activities, angel. You requested not to be touched.” Jenner’s hand slid inside his robe and reappeared gripping what looked like a collapsible radio antenna. He extended it with a flick of his wrist, and waved it at him in an almost dismissive gesture.

  Pain flared across his face. He flinched back with a strangled oath.

  “Your language is appalling.” Jenner collapsed the antenna. “Apologize.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Jenner arched an eyebrow and leveled an unwavering look, then bent and reached for his bag.

  Gabriel flew at him.

  The lieutenant’s slim body weighed more than it had appeared. Still, the lunge knocked Jenner to the floor. Gabriel’s torn wrists screamed a protest, but he ignored the pain and wrapped his hands around the sallow throat. “Don’t touch me, and don’t talk about Lillith,” he snarled. “I’ll kill you.”

  “Go ahead, angel.”

  “Stop calling me that!” He squeezed harder. Jenner’s skin darkened, and his breath rattled beneath his hands.

  Jenner managed a whispering wheeze. He almost seemed to be smiling. “Do it. You will be … a murderer. Even … worse … than me.”

  “Nothing is worse than you, or the scum you work for.”

  “You are forgetting … the camera.”

  “Damn it!” He released the lieutenant and scrambled back, shot a panicked glance at the spot above the door. “You’re crazy. All of you. Shit!” He sat hard on the floor, drained as quickly as the rage had taken him. “Please. Don’t hurt Lillith. I’m sorry.”

  Jenner righted himself. Dark maroon blotches smudged his neck and the collar of his shirt — blood from Gabriel’s wrists. Jenner glanced down, and his mouth firmed in distaste. “It is difficult to remove bloodstains from silk. I quite liked this jacket.”

  Gabriel could only stare at him.

  As Jenner rose and smoothed a few wrinkles in the fabric, the door behind him opened. Apollo strode through and headed straight for Gabriel.

  “Stop,” Jenner said.

  The giant froze.

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  Confusion furrowed Apollo’s brow. “Slade said the little bastard was acting up. He told me to teach him a lesson.”

  “Do not touch him.” A cell phone appeared in Jenner’s hand. He dialed, his features completely blank, and held the device to his ear. “Marcus. I told you I did not want any interruptions.” He paused. “No. Stop interfering with my work.”

  Another pause. Jenner’s clear gray gaze shifted and withered him. “Of course I let him. His limits must be tested.” Silence again. “Not yet. He will pay for this transgression himself. Save the girl for … special occasions.”

  Gabriel bit down hard against a rising scream. His fists clenched and his nails dug his palms. The pressure forced new blood from his wrists.

  “Fine. Do not interrupt us again. In fact, turn the blasted camera off.” Jenner tapped the call off and returned the phone to his robe. He glanced at Apollo. “Your services are not needed. You may go.”

  Apollo hesitated. “But Slade said—”

  “Get out. Now.”

  The look in Jenner’s eyes seemed to make the giant reconsider. Apollo left.

  Jenner turned his scathing stare on Gabriel. “Stand.”

  Terror tied knots in his gut, but he obeyed. In that instant he decided that he’d rather have let Apollo beat him into the ground than face Jenner alone.

  “You will learn to control yourself.” Jenner fingered the hem of his jacket. His skin crawled at the idea of the man touching him, even through his clothes. “Remove this.”

  “No.”

  “Every time you refuse me, you are one step closer to hurting your precious sister. Remove your jacket.”

  “Please…”

  “Do not beg me. I am not your father.”

  “What?” His throat clenched. “How could you know…?”

  Revulsion dropped over Jenner’s face. “Your sister has wasted no opportunity to seek sympathy for her tragic childhood,” he said. “You are both disgustingly typical. Your father abused you, and would have abused her, had you not insisted on playing the whipping boy to her princess. You are ashamed. You carry your guilt like a mantle, and it has brought you here to save her. Again. Shall I go on?”

  Shock seemed to have stapled his tongue in place.

  “Your jacket, angel. Remove it. I will not repeat this again.”

  He was sure he couldn’t move. But fear for Lillith broke his paralysis, and he eased his arms out and let the jacket fall.

  “Now your shirt.”

  He swallowed a moan. The shirt joined his jacket on the floor, and his back rippled with the ghosts of past beatings. It wouldn’t surprise him if Jenner pulled out a belt or a strap. Or something worse.

  Jenner reached into the bag.

  Please don’t…

  He came up with a small, white object. A roll of gauze.

  “Hold out your wrist. Either one.”

  Not sure whether to be relieved or worried this was a setup for something worse, Gabriel extended his left arm.

  Jenner wrapped the entire roll around the injured area and tied the ends together when he finished. “Your strength is impressive, but you apply it to the wrong tasks. This was foolish.” As Jenner turned and extracted a fresh roll, Gabriel didn’t wait for the order to offer his right wrist.

  A small, cynical smile formed on Jenner’s face. “You do learn. Eventually.” He bandaged the right wrist, released his arm and stepped back. “Such a shame that you did not learn fast enough this time.”

  Jenner’s silvered eyes riveted to his, and he wondered absurdly if the man was going to kiss him.

  Suddenly, a torrent of agony seared his chest. All thought left him. A glance down revealed something long and slender skewering his nipple. His breath hissed through his teeth and his arm shot out to clutch Jenner, whose features remained impassive.

  “Move to the wall,” Jenner commanded, and his feet obeyed automatically. Anything to stop the pain spreading through him like molten lead. His back came into contact with cold cement, and Jenner motioned upward with his head. “Put them on.”

  Biting back a refusal, he raised his arms and felt along the wall until he found the restraints there. He buckled one leather cuff around his left wrist—and realized there was no way he could close the other one.

  Panic set in. “I … I can’t …”

  “Shall I do it for you, then?”

  The word ‘yes’ would not form. He nodded.

  Jenner reached up with one hand, leaving the other pressed against the spear of agony in his breast, and tightened the remaining cuff with a practiced motion. “And what do you say, little angel?�
��

  “Thank you.” The words were a gasp.

  “Very good.” Jenner leaned back and at last withdrew the long silver needle.

  Gabriel’s legs trembled, but he willed them to hold him up. If he collapsed, he’d end up wrenching his shoulder joints, and the pain would be unbearable.

  “I recommend that you do not fall asleep.” Jenner retrieved his bag and strode to the exit. “Good night, angel.”

  He flipped a wall switch and plunged the room into darkness.

  Chapter 7

  The hours lasted longer than a Chinese dynasty. Kingdoms rose and fell while Gabriel stood chained to the wall. Exhaustion hung over him, a haze weighing his limbs. His body grew heavier with each passing moment. He wanted to scream, beat the wall, thrash against the restraints.

  He couldn’t. Lillith needed him.

  Her dependence had kept him alive. Victor Morgan’s answer to even the slightest infraction had been physical punishment. Their father had been fanatical, almost ritualistic, in administering discipline. Victor kept a library of instruments in his study, and Gabriel had spent more time in that dark and suffocating room, either waiting for a beating or enduring one, than he had in his own bedroom.

  Often, Lillith had been with him. He’d always insisted on taking the blame for whatever their father imagined Lillith had done, and Victor had been happy to oblige by beating him all the more. But whenever Lillith had been originally accused of wrongdoing, she’d been required to watch.

  She had seen him naked, battered and bleeding. She’d watched him hold his tongue, bite it, pound the desk he’d been ordered to bend over, all to deny their father the pleasure of voicing his pain. She’d heard, on the occasions when those tricks failed, the screams wrenched from his lips with every blow.

  He and Lillith escaped when he was seventeen, on the wake of a vicious thrashing that had nearly killed him. His error, as usual, had been fighting. He’d rarely started the fights he’d been involved in at school — but he always finished them.

  Victor hadn’t cared who started what. To him, his son’s behavior had been a disgrace to his name.