by E. S. Carter
I would expect she learned very quickly… or not. Faye Craven, sorry, Faye Hunter, likely enjoys her husband’s brand of tutelage.
When his eyes eventually land on mine, I see the message he wants to convey. He has some intelligence, but he can’t share it with us because Federov is listening. Whatever it is has Cole’s usually bright blue eyes darkening to almost pitch black, as rage tightens his features and ripples across his rigid stance.
“Let’s end this,” is all he says, more to me than the remaining members of our team.
I nod once, my monster baying for blood, but also, somewhere inside us both there’s a seed of need—a desperation to get back to what we’ve claimed as ours.
James.
We turn in unison, the narrow hallway dark and unlit, only the beam from Cole’s small flashlight as he flicks it across the space in front of us, giving us any indication of what Federov might throw at us next.
Because there will be a something next.
This is his game. He’s the puppet master. We are merely his game pieces to move about as he deems fit.
Slowly, we work our way deeper into the maze-like building, the silence between us even seeping into our breaths. We move carefully but efficiently, unknowing if Federov’s threat about the child is a truth or a hoax.
A noise from farther within the walls has Cole stilling, and I can barely see his features in the dim arc of light.
The sound reverberates again.
It’s a scream. No, a roar.
Grim. He’s somewhere up ahead, and the realisation has Cole moving faster, his concern about more deadly booby-traps disappearing the louder Grim bellows.
“Stay back,” he warns the man behind him, and he immediately obeys.
“Fuck that,” I mutter pushing past the body in front of me. “If you’re going for Grim, I’m coming too.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Cole responds, leading the two of us faster and faster through the tunnel-like passageways.
We round one tight corner and stop dead.
Bathed in red light, like the lord of the underground himself, Grim stands about a metre or so in front of us. In one raised hand, he grips the head of a man by the hair. His hunting knife is held tightly in his other with blood running in rivulets from the tip to pool on the floor at his feet. The head—which lightly sways like a pendulum in his grip—doesn’t have a body attached. The face of the person it belonged to is caught in an eternal scream.
As Grim turns to face us, with chaos and mania in his eyes, we see the extra trophies he’s accumulated around his neck from numerous other fresh kills. Grim has been a busy boy, and it looks like he’s so deep into bloodlust that he doesn’t see us as his brothers, more like his next kill.
“Back down, brother,” Cole orders when Grim drops the head, and it hits the floor with a sickening thud before rolling to face us. Grim’s stare is intent, his now empty hand fisting and releasing, his favourite knife poised ready to strike.
“They’re all dead,” he states coldly.
“Who?” Cole asks after a beat.
“All of them,” Grim replies with a twisted smile.
Something lifts from him as if he sheds his skin and reality seeps in.
“The baby?” Cole asks. “What about the baby we heard over the speakers?”
Grim blinks, his face twisting in confusion. “No baby. Only Dominion.”
“We heard it, brother,” Cole states, the tension in his movements controlled but on edge. He’s trying not to spook Grim in his state but is holding on to his personal sanity by the tips of his fingers.
Clarity washes over Grim, and he smiles.
“There was a studio. A single man controlling sound effects and some other shit I didn’t understand. No baby, though. I’ve cleared the place. The fucker had it rigged like a sick game show. Traps everywhere. Men hiding. But they were all watching the front. Didn’t expect me to come from the back. Not one of the fuckers is playing now.”
“And Federov?” I rasp, my monster howling at the loss of missing out on Grim’s spree.
“Didn’t see him, and I made sure to check. None of those filthy shitbags I left behind were him. I’m certain of that.”
“And your men? Chisholm?” Cole asks, his question once more twisting Grim’s face into thought.
“I ditched my team. I work better alone. Don’t know where they went once I found a way in around the back. Chisholm’s team are rat food. Someone picked them off one by one, the others are in bits from an explosion. Came across their bodies on the way in here.”
“Fuck,” Cole bellows before striding across the space and kicking the head on the floor like a football. It arcs high in the air before hitting the opposite wall, leaving a wet splodge of gunk behind.
“Can you lead us out of here? The entrance is shuttered,” I ask Grim as we watch Cole fume and rage until the head no longer resembles a person but more a mangled lump of flesh and bone.
“Fuck, yeah, piece of piss. Is there only you left?”
I glance back the way we’d come. “No, there’s a handful of guys waiting back this way. I’ll get them and bring them here. Make sure The Hulk calms down before I return.”
Grim gives me a salute before turning his maniacal gaze back to our brother.
As I make my way towards the men we left behind, I have one thought in my mind.
Where the fuck is Federov?
Something dark slithers in the pit of my stomach.
James.
Fuck. Federov has gone to the safe house.
Twenty
Lily
* * *
Sasha hasn’t come back yet.
A few hours he’d said.
“Don’t worry, Pusik,” he’d said. “I’ll bring you back a surprise,” he’d said.
Now it was early evening, and I’d been left alone in this fucking hovel with only the dead family who’d owned it for company.
I’d sat the mother, father and two little girls at the table, laying out a feast for Sasha for when he got back.
We’d feed him, entertain him, and then he’d sweep everything out of the way and fuck me in the mess while their dead eyes watched.
The mother looks at me, mouth agape.
“Quit judging me, bitch,” I spit. “My mother used to look at me like that.”
I’d dressed up nice for Sasha.
After my shower, I’d gone through the mother’s measly wardrobe. The only thing worthy of gracing my skin was a vintage red ball gown. God knows where she’d got it, it looks like it was from the forties, but with some clever nips and cuts, I’d transformed it into a slinky, flowing number that made me feel like a princess. Or a vampire queen. Someone powerful and bloodthirsty.
“Off with their heads,” I declare all plummy and queen like, and giggle when the father glares at me across the table. Or he would’ve glared at me if I hadn’t already shoved two dinner forks in his eyes. “I’ll be the Queen of hearts,” I tell his daughter. “A woman you want to fuck, but in the same breath did not want to fuck with you.” The small girl closest to me didn’t reply. Well, she couldn’t as I’d cut out her tongue. Oh, and she was dead of course.
“Sasha will fuck me so good wearing this,” I tell her sister, giving her some helpful relationship pointers that her bitch of a mother will likely never share. “Or he’ll rip it off.”
She also doesn’t reply, and I get bored of trying to interact with this family of deadbeats.
“Maybe it’s a language barrier,” I muse, as I begin to pace. The chiffon of the long skirt swishes around my bare legs and ramps up my need to be fucked. “Either way,” I continue, talking to the family as a whole. “This dress is worth the two hours I spent fashioning it into something wearable. Besides,” I side eye the mother. “It’s not like you’ll ever need it again.”
A noise from outside catches my attention. I didn’t hear a car engine, so it’s likely an animal. I go back to pacing. I’m not chasing som
e squirrel around in this dress. I may get it dirty. Sasha hates it when I’m dirty. I must stay a clean girl. Clean girls get Sasha’s love… and his cock.
Another noise has me ducking and crouching—that’s a big fucking squirrel.
“Who is it?” I yell. My eyes scan the kitchen and land on the butcher’s block full of knives. “Sasha, baby. Is that you?”
Silence.
On the balls of my feet I crouch, and slowly and awkwardly I move to the other side of the kitchen to get closer to the knives. I glare at the father when he smiles at me like he knows a secret. The wooden handles of the forks protruding from his face seem to follow every move I make.
When I get to the knives, I reach up carefully, not wanting to expose myself in the kitchen window, and push over the block so the knives fall and clatter to the floor.
The noise startles the family, it also startles the squirrel outside as the backdoor bursts open and James Cooper stands in the entry, gun raised.
He takes in the feast laid out on the table, then stares at the family. His eyes don’t find mine until the stupid little bitch who should know better at her age—she’s gotta be at least five or six—slips out of her chair and lands on the floor a few inches in front of me. If she weren’t already dead, I’d gut her.
“Lily,” he says soothingly, gun slowly lowering, his other hand held out in a placating fashion. “Is anyone else here with you?”
Yes, dumb fuck. The family, of course.
I remain silent, my fingers edging towards the knife closest to me and just out of his view—thanks, little girl.
“Lily, come with me. Let me help you.” He holds out his hand for me to take, his feet bringing him even closer.
“Go with the Ocean, Lily. Let him cleanse you.”
“Shut up, mother. Just shut up.”
James’ brow furrows. He can’t hear her, but I can.
“You were always such a good girl. Always. Always. Be good again. Choose good again.”
“I said.” I stand, knife in one hand, my other hitting at the side of my head to quieten her voice. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not good. I’m his daughter. Never yours. Never yours.”
“Lily,” James starts again. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but I can help you if you let me.” His hand reaches out for me to grasp and I snap.
With a power born of fury—more at my mother than him—I propel myself at James, blade raised. I laugh as his eyes widen a fraction before the six inches of metal sink into his side like a hot knife through butter.
He stumbles back, hand coming up red when he touches his shirt next to the embedded weapon.
“What the hell, Lily? I wanted to help you,” he says, face turning pale.
“I help myself,” I hiss. “Stay the fuck out of my way. I’m going to find Sasha and show him my dress.”
I run from the house calling for him.
“Sasha, Sasha! Where are you? Come find me, my love.”
The long train of chiffon floats behind me like a bloody veil, and I spin and twirl as I run towards the thin treeline that leads down a steep bank.
Mud splatters up my legs; dark brown blobs speckling my pretty red dress. I rub at it, smudging it into larger streaks.
“Fuck. Sasha hates dirt. Any dirt. Need to get clean. I’ll get clean.”
Water. I hear water and run towards the rushing river.
I kneel on the edge of the bank, hands scooping up the cold liquid and drenching the mud spots, but it’s not enough. I can’t get them off. I can still see them.
“Lily!” a voice from the top of the bank calls, and a second later James stumbles into view clutching his side, gun in hand.
“Don’t come down here,” I warn, knowing Sasha won’t like it if I’m dirty and even being next to James makes me dirty, never mind the mud on my dress. “I’ll kill you if you do.”
He takes an unsteady step over the brow of the small drop.
“I don’t know what’s happened, Lily. But you’re not the girl we saved. Let me help you find her again.”
“I said, stay back,” I caution, my heart beating frantically. Sasha told me not to leave the house. I have. And I got dirty. And he’s getting closer. Sasha will be so angry with me. He might give me to one of his associates for months again. I don’t want that. Not now. I don’t want those drugs. Or the fog. Or the numbness.
I don’t even realise that I’m pulling at my hair and hitting my head until James yells, “Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. I’m coming to help, Lily. Just let me help.”
He can’t help me.
“Let him, Lily. Let the Ocean help.”
“Shut up.” Slap. “Stop it.” Slap, slap. “I said, shut your fucking mouth. I don’t want your help.”
My mother cries. James lunges at me. And I shut them both out by diving into the turbulent and fast-flowing water.
Twenty-One
James
* * *
She’s gone.
I stumble along the bank as far as I can go, watching the flashes of red as she’s dragged under by the current only for her to reappear further downstream. Then the swirling river sucks her under once more. And the flashes of red are gone.
My stab wound bleeds profusely as I stagger over the unforgiving ground, and my limbs turn to jelly as blood loss zaps my strength. I’m forced to give up and find myself panting on my back in the damp grass.
I stare up into the darkening sky and wonder what the hell happened to Lily from the time we rescued her to the moment she jumped from the top floor of the farmhouse and ran away with a madman.
She was like two different people. The Lily that jumped into the river seemed almost possessed.
My breathing becomes shallow and I know I can’t make it back to the farmhouse where I found her, so I call for help using the watch Luke demanded I wear before he left to get Federov. Now, all I have to do is wait and hope someone finds me before I bleed out.
That’s if Cole, Luke and Grim come back at all. They went in search of Federov, but he’d already found us and was lying in wait ready to pounce.
It was an old woman and a young girl from the village that had come to me scared witless and cowering, too scared to come close because of the burning barn, but brave enough to tell me that Federov had taken over the next farm over. If they hadn’t, I never would’ve found Lily.
God, what had she done to that family? Or was it Federov?
Had he tortured and butchered those two little girls and their parents? Was he the one to stage that macabre meal in the kitchen?
Or was it Lily? Was she beyond saving? Did evil run through her veins just like it did her father’s?
And now she was gone.
Had she drowned?
My eyes begin to slowly close. My blinks getting longer.
Will Luke find me?
Will he even care?
As my lids slide shut for the final time, I see her.
Fiona.
She holds Louis in her arms. He’s giggling at something she whispers in his ear, and then he turns to me and his eyes light up.
“Daddy, daddy. You’re here.”
I’m here, little man.
I’m here.
* * *
Awareness rushes in like those first few seconds where you emerge from holding your breath underwater for too long. Lungs burn, breaths pant, sound explodes, sight blinds, and your heart bursts from your chest.
I’m not with my wife and son anymore.
And I’m not on the grass at the river bank.
I’m on a bed, in a dark room with only a small lamp lit in the corner.
Someone is here with me.
No. Not someone. There’s only one.
Him. Luke Hunter.
I can feel him close even without turning to face him.
“Good. You’re awake,” he murmurs.
I roll my head on the soft pillow plumped behind me, propping me up enough to be comfortable.
Luke sits
in a chair. The light from the lamp barely touching him. His body in shadow. His face in darkness.
“You came for me?” The words are out before I can take them back. I clear my throat in discomfort and add quickly. “And Lily? Did you find her? She went into the river.”
Luke leans forward until his face is finally in the soft arc of the lamplight.
“We found her. We couldn’t recover her body, though.”
He reaches down to the floor at his feet, grabs his tablet, opens the screen, and then passes it to me.
The image in front of me doesn’t compute for a few seconds. My brain struggles to register until I focus on the swath of red fabric caught in what looks like an animal’s dam at a narrow point of the river. The picture is taken from up high, and I use my fingers to zoom closer.
“Grim had to use a drone to scope that part of the river. It flows through a deep valley that is impassable. We found some torn fabric of the same colour caught on a branch not far from where we found you. Looks like it got caught and ripped when she fell in the water.”
The material wraps around what looks like a body, but the logs and dark water obscure it enough that you can’t be sure. Although, there’s no doubt it’s the same colour Lily was wearing, and there’s enough of it in the water to be her entire dress.
“And we’ve confirmed there’s a body?”
“Scroll to the next picture. It’s not conclusive, but it’s enough for me, and it’s enough for Cole. He’s already told Faye the news about her sister.”
The next image slides across with the swipe of my finger.
Sure enough, it’s blurry, but what looks like a leg or a foot protrudes from the swirls of red.
“And Federov?”
“Unaccounted for, although Grim is currently following up a lead.”
I have a thought, and ask, “How long since the fire and the attack?”
“Two days. We found you at midnight on the first night. You’ve been given blood and meds. A local doctor was paid off to help you. Initially, he didn’t want to touch you until we showed him that the Dominion’s compound had been flattened.”