God of Destruction

by Alyssa Adamson

  She stared thoughtfully up at the knife and realized I’m going to die….

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he mumbled. “Now, how many pictures did you take at the museum?”

  Janie turned her head away from him to gaze at the wall. Behind that thin wall, Taran was waiting for her to come back, he had to be.

  She was drawn out of her thoughts when his hand squeezed her cheeks together, puckering her lips and forcing her to meet his eyes, again. “I’m going to pretend you just didn’t hear me. How many pictures did you take?”

  Unable to look away, Janie slumped, soundlessly in her chair.

  She was subsequently struck across the face with a force that threw the chair on its side.

  “I don’t think you understand how this works,” he murmured, putting the chair back to rights. He opened the pocket knife, pointing the business end at her. “You have to answer, Janie,” he sneered, using the knife to pop off the top button of her shirt.

  “I’m not telling you anything,” she whispered, ignoring the sting of her cheek.

  He pursed his lips. “Well, that’s too bad.” He popped off a second button, then a third. “You’re putting me in a terrible place.”

  Janie watched his hand as it easily made her shirt come undone, the buttons scattering across the floor.

  “It’s not like I wanna do you when you smell like a goddamn sewer.”

  Her head whipped up to face him as the last button fell, revealing her emaciated upper body, covered only by a once-white bra.

  He forced his knee onto her upper thigh and grabbed her face with his free hand, pressing the blade of the knife into her neck. His lips pressed firmly to the hollow between her jaw and ear, allowing his teeth to graze the skin.

  Janie writhed beneath him. Her unscathed leg wormed its way up to keep him away, but he only budged a short ways back, gathering himself quickly when he stumbled off of her. “Get away from me!” she shrieked, pulling against the tape tied around her wrists.

  He smiled as he came back. “You don’t call the shots,” he growled, plunging the knife into her torso between her leg and hip.

  Red hot agony exploded before Janie’s eyes.

  Her scream could have woken the dead as she pushed herself back in the chair, forcing it to crash against the floor and the knife to drive further into her flesh.

  “Maybe you’ll be more cooperative now,” he scorned, reaching over her legs while they were forced up by the seat of the chair. Getting a firm grip on the handle, he ripped the knife from her with a purposeful twist.

  Her shrieks reached an otherworldly level but death still stood far away from her. In the back of her mind, she consoled herself with the knowledge that it couldn’t get much worse than this.

  “Let’s get right to the point: Where are the pictures?” he snapped, straddling her waist while he held the red blade to her throat.

  Breaths shallow as she avoided the blade, she glowered at the man above her and spat in his face.

  He reeled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. When his eyes met hers again, they were murderous.

  “You bitch! You bitch, I’m gonna kill you!”

  Janie closed her eyes when the knife sailed down to meet her.

  When neither pain nor death met her, she opened her eyes the slightest bit and found her shirt in shreds about her. Her wide eyes traveled up, finding him as he stripped himself of his shirt and let himself fall on her.

  She couldn’t breathe, his body crushing her chest.

  As he fell, the legs of the chair snapped, throwing her completely on her back. Her legs lay frail and straight beneath him.

  “Get off,” she shrieked, shoving uselessly at his chest.

  Wood splintered in her calves while he forced her legs open with his knee, ignoring her shrill pleas.

  “Stop it!” she implored, flailing her fists at him until he pinned them to the floor. “Stop it, please! Please!”

  His hand traveled toward the edge of her pants, his intent clear in his face.

  “Stop it! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”

  The man’s hand froze just below her navel but he didn’t move from his place on top of her, watching her expectantly as she turned on her side, hiding her tear-streaked face from him. Janie bit her lip, reaching into the cup of her bra for the distorted image she’d hidden there that awful night. It felt like an entire lifetime had passed since then. She held the picture, crinkled from sweat and water, out to him.

  “Now was that so hard?” he asked, standing. He picked up his shirt and dressed before turning back. He grinned, watching her as he jutted out his hips. “It really is a shame, though. You’re missing out.”

  Sobs exploded from Janie’s mouth. She curled up tighter around herself, closed her eyes, and imagined that she was anywhere else. She didn’t want to live if she was going to be subjected to this brand of torture for another six months.

  When his arms lifted her off the floor, she screamed again, nailing him in the face with her elbow in her struggle. He didn’t stumble. If he hadn’t pinned her arms down, she would’ve thought she hadn’t hit him at all. He easily carried her through the doorway, back to the room she’d called home for so long now. “Welcome back,” he chuckled, unlocking the door and throwing her into the darkness. The door slammed ominously behind her.

  Before her eyes adjusted to the dark, the silence fooled her into thinking that Taran wasn’t there at all.

  She felt alone.

  Her cries broke the quiet, especially when she prodded her newest wound.

  “Janie?” his voice murmured.

  She didn’t speak, knowing she could never get the words out.

  She flinched when his hands searched for her through the dark, landing harmlessly on her shoulder. He didn’t ask questions when he collected her in his arms, cradling her against his chest while she sobbed into his shirt. He hushed her quietly, brushing his fingers slowly, comfortingly, through her hair. After a few moments, her cries quieted to whimpers, though he continued to rock her back and forth in his arms.

  “The stupidest thing I ever did was cliff dive with my older brother. That was the second time I broke my arm. I was six and I got in soooo much trouble with my mom!” he chuckled.

  Janie blurted out a pathetic half-laugh as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She wrapped her arms around him while he rocked them, forgetting how bad she smelled. Taran didn’t move, even when he felt her fall asleep.

  He softly looked down into her sleeping face. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Paris, France; June 29th, 2012

  Claire, blinded by the sun, stumbled through the door of the catacombs, falling haphazardly into someone’s arms. The girl’s arms floundered for something to hold onto, finding nothing but, what she didn’t know, was the stubbly back of her savior’s head. His grunt when she, unintentionally, pulled him down to her level didn’t faze her. She hardly noticed him while she watched the backs of her eyelids replay the unnatural scene she’d just experienced, over and over again. The way that thing had looked at her, clouding her mind with his hypnotic, red eyes would be forever engrained in her mind.

  Claire didn’t dare look up for a moment, focused entirely on catching her breath while her legs hung, unused, over the ground. When she realized her compromised position, her face slowly tilted up, eyes following the arms, thick with muscle, wrapped around her up to a broad chest, covered in a tight, black t-shirt. Gasping lightly, she followed his sharp jaw, pausing momentarily on his lips, and slowly her jaw fell. She met stormy grey eyes for a split second and the world around her fell away. Her entire body suddenly felt like dead weight.

  “Wow,” she breathed, trying to find her footing when the ground had fallen out from under them.

  Kierlan was unmoved, having already seen her picture hundreds of times now on the way to Paris. Nevertheless, he pretended to be as struck by her beauty now as he was when he’
d first seen her picture on the plane. “H…hi,” he mumbled, placing her on her feet while he stared into her gorgeous eyes, keeping his hands placed innocently on her arms, steadying her.

  “Claire!” James yelled, loping down the sidewalk toward the two taxis sitting against the curb. He shoved Alex into Scottie’s waiting arms and turned back to face the girl, now in the arms of a man who may have very well been the enemy. “Get away from him!” he yelled, catching the attention of pedestrians collected on the street as he ran to her.

  Claire looked away from her knight in shining armor only when forced by the strong grip on her waist, wrenching her away. James pushed her behind him, shoving Kierlan a step away when they came face to face. “Who are you?” he demanded, holding his hand out, palm forward. Claire couldn’t see it, and Kierlan didn’t believe it, when a faint, blue light danced across James’s outstretched palm.

  “James—” Claire began in a reprimanding tone.

  “Claire, get in the car,” he snapped without taking his eyes off Kierlan.

  “No, James—”

  “Go, Claire! I asked you once, I won’t ask again. Who. Are. You?”

  Kierlan wanted to laugh at the smaller man, knowing if it came down to a fight, his opponent wouldn’t stand a chance. He didn’t though, knowing his humor wouldn’t be appreciated by the screaming boy. He kept a straight, albeit mean, face when he stood up to James.

  “I’m Kierlan Cole,” he said, puffing out his chest the slightest bit. “I’m a private investigator here for—”

  “I don’t believe you,” James spat, backing away, forcing Claire to back away, too.

  “James, stop—” Claire shoved uselessly at his back, barely budging him.

  “Scottie!” James called.

  Seconds later, Claire felt herself being pulled away from James and toward the empty taxi. She thrashed against the hands under her arms, but, eventually, she had to give up the fight when the taxi door slammed in her face. Without the worry of his friend hearing, James scowled up at Kierlan’s face with malice. Unimpressed by the show, Kierlan scowled back.

  “I know what you’re doing, and I’m not falling for it,” James growled.

  Kierlan didn’t show the anxiety the remark created in him. He was a professional. “I would tell you what I was doing here, but you haven’t been listening.”

  “Just stay away from us,” James retorted, turning his back on the man to throw open the cab door. Kierlan followed close behind; he had to get in that cab. When James reached to pull the door closed behind him, he caught it before they could lock themselves in.

  “Sorry, I thought that I was the guy that saved your lives! You would’ve been crushed if I hadn’t led you out.” Kierlan dragged James out of the car by his shirt, letting him stand on his own when he closed the door again. “I think you’re hiding something, and I want to ask you a few questions.”

  “I think you know exactly why I can’t trust you with her,” James bit back. “You weren’t in our tour group, I would’ve seen you. What were you doing down there? How did you know that we were going to need help?”

  Kierlan bit his tongue and hissed, through clenched teeth, “As I was explaining to you, already, I have been following Russell Marks for some time. I have found reason to believe that he has been participating in cult activities. They worship a fictional deity and have been known to take part in human sacrifice in their attempt to resurrect this deity.”

  James’s eyes narrowed, not so sure anymore in his original resolve. “I can’t stay. We have to get back to the hotel.”

  Kierlan moved into his way. “I wanna go with you.”

  “No.”

  Taken aback, he held the door as it came swinging toward his gut. “I saved your lives. Let me come with you. If they tried to get your friends before, they’ll come after them again.”

  “I know they will. That’s why I have to get them back to the hotel,” James growled. “Let go!”

  “I can help you, I have experience in—”

  Claire leaned over, holding her head out the door. “James Bellman!” she chastised, getting out of the cab.

  James heaved a sigh. “Claire, get back in—”

  “Please, stop telling me w…what to do, first of all! Second of all, can you please treat this guy less like a prisoner and m…more like the guy that just saved us? Both of you, please get in the car, now. We have a lot of things t…to talk about!” she hissed, sounding more like a kitten than the lion she was trying for.

  James and Kierlan tore their eyes from hers to stare each other down. James was the first to back down. “Fine.”

  James pulled himself into the cab, followed by their newest addition, who internally congratulated himself. Claire leaned against the window, feeling the sudden pounding in her head dull when it touched the cool glass. They said nothing while they followed the taxi in front of them toward the hotel. James didn’t look back; he just felt it when Mainyu left the catacombs in search of Claire, just like he knew he one day would. The day had finally come, and now James was without anyone to help him get rid of the, newly-resurrected, God of Destruction.

  “Does anyone wanna talk about w…what we just saw? James? I feel like you know something,” Claire mumbled, looking down at her hands in her lap.

  James shook his head, wondering where the hell he was supposed to start.

  As they approached the hotel, Kierlan made a mental note of the address. The car came to a halt against the curb and Claire was the first out, running headlong toward the other car. Scottie was careful to carry Alex as she woke, muttering incoherencies under her breath. “James!” he called, readjusting her light body. “She’s not doing so good.”

  “Who’s he?” Hayden asked, glaring at Kierlan while she pulled herself out behind Scottie, combing Alex’s hair with her fingers. “James, what the hell is going on?”

  “We’ll tell you everything when we’re back in the room,” James explained. “We all just need to get out of the open.” He waved his arms as he looked down the sidewalk in both directions, gesturing toward the door. “Go upstairs.”

  Kierlan reached for Claire, leading her by the small of her back into the lobby and toward the elevator. In return, Claire’s heart beat the frantic rhythm she walked to in order to keep up with his long strides. His touch made her skin prickle like an electric current; she leaned infinitesimally closer to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body chase away the last of the misty cold left in her mind by the man in the catacombs. James held Alex’s head, whispering soothing words while he shot short glances back at Claire over his shoulder.

  When they’d safely installed themselves in the suite, Scottie and James carried Alex to the master bedroom, laying her on the comforters while she babbled into the pillows. James closed the door when they left her there to collect herself.

  “What happened to Alex, James?” Hayden demanded. “And where’s Natalia? And Russell?”

  “Russell and his sister are under investigation,” Kierlan said, crossing his arms. He leaned against the wall beside the dining room table where Claire sat. James stood on her other side, biding his time until Kierlan made his move.

  “For what?” Hayden shrieked from her position on the couch, beside Scottie.

  “Cult activity. He’s affiliated with a group that has been known to partake in things like human sacrifice.”

  Scottie chuckled. “Not surprise. That guy always did seem like a rat.”

  Hayden didn’t seem as amused. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  He nodded to her in greeting. “Kierlan Cole, P.I.”

  Claire raised her hand.

  “Uh,” Kierlan pointed to her. “Claire?”

  “Is that w…why you were on the plane with us?” she inquired. “For Russell?”

  James’s eyes bugged. “You were on the plane with us?” he demanded shrilly.

  Kierlan absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck. “I—”

  “He helped me with
my bag, r…remember?” she said.

  Kierlan nodded, suppressing the urge to cover her mouth before she said anything else. “Of course.”

  “And what about Alex? What’s the matter with her?” Hayden inquired.

  James ran his hand through his hair. “She’s in shock. Claire and her went through…quite the ordeal this morning,” he concluded.

  “What?” Scottie asked.

  James nudged Claire’s shoulder. “Go ahead, Eclair, tell ‘em what happened.”

  She glanced up at him nervously. “They’re not going to believe me.” Nevertheless, he gestured for her to explain. “During the tour, Natalia grabbed me from the rest of the group, begging me to help her find Russell…” she began.

  By the time she’d finished, she’d already had to silence her friends several times when they tried to interrupt. She nodded to them to acknowledge that she was done. “Then Kierlan showed up and helped us out when the catacombs started collapsing.”

  Suddenly, they were all tongue-tied.

  “Wait,” Hayden said, putting a hand to her head. “This guy just…appeared out of thin air?”

  Claire nodded, smugly glaring at James.

  “Alex saw that and that’s why she fainted?”

  “Wouldn’t you?” James snapped. “I saw him. I have to tell you guy’s something. Something that you’re definitely not going to believe.”

  “At this point I don’t think there’s anything I w…won’t believe now,” Claire laughed.

  Kierlan hadn’t moved during Claire’s fantastic tale, but he pushed himself off the wall now to approach her. As he walked, he searched his pocket for the metal instrument he needed.

  “And you really believe all that?” he asked, wondering how someone so beautiful could be so crazy.

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” she insisted.

  Claire felt the cold metal slap across her wrist before she’d finished speaking. A snarl of protest caught in her throat when her eyes met the glare of the handcuffs binding her to her chair.

  Kierlan pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He made eye contact with her for half a second before the look on her face stung his, already shaken, determination. How could he give her over to Natalia, now, knowing she was unbalanced and so unbelievably meek? “Just a precaution, miss. I wouldn’t want to run the chance of you hurting yourself.”