by Logan Fox
Another flicker of fire coursed through her.
Not pain this time. That was still there, of course… just as she knew it would be for a long time.
No, not pain.
Anger.
Bright, incendiary fury.
5
All Systems Go
Pearl only made it as far as the dungeon doors. Her righteous anger had dissolved — a blaze that bright required fuel in quantities she no longer possessed — leaving her collapsed in a bundle of quivering pain.
“—sure that — excuse of a man — never sets foot inside—” Jarred’s voice hadn’t fully recovered yet, and he still spoke in tight, broken sentences.
“Of course,” Caden said. “Did you really think I would?”
“You say that now,” Jarred paused, a clank of metal making Pearl flinch. “And then Tanner suddenly develops amnesia — overrides my decisions — and we’re right back where we started. I will not allow—”
“He won’t come back. Not here, not to the Earth.”
“You allowed him to use the Earth?”
Caden let out a frustrated sigh. “He made an arrangement with Tanner to—”
“You see?” Jarred’s voice was tight, almost a hiss. “This is exactly the kind of thing—”
“Pearl?” Ethan’s voice, barely more than a whisper, made it impossible to hear the rest of Caden and Jarred’s argument.
She stirred, trying to push herself to her knees. If he just opened the door for her, maybe helped her to her feet, then…
Then what?
She could hobble after Owen and slap him in the face? She didn’t have anything on her — not a single fucking thing except that warm, thick blanket — and she doubted she could seriously injure an ant right then.
“Come on, let’s go. I want to… see if you need stitches or something.”
“’Eth…” Pearl mumbled.
“What? Seth?” Ethan gripped her arms, tugging her to her feet. “He’s… uh… busy. He’s busy right now, Pearl. Can I give you aftercare? Would you mind?”
Despite the heavy throes of dull, aching pain spreading through her, Pearl detected a note of anxiety in Ethan’s voice. His hesitant tongue, cautious words.
She wanted nothing more than quiet, darkness, relief from the pain. Could Ethan give her that?
“It hurts,” she managed, forcing her tongue to form the words despite its propensity to wallow in its pool of saliva.
“I know, Pearl. I know. But I’ve got painkillers. Stuff to put on the cuts. Let’s… let’s just get out of here, okay?”
His arm slipped around her waist. There was a brief flare of pain, dissipating into that same aching throb an instant later. Her body was obviously dispensing its own painkillers, but it didn’t have enough to stifle the damage to her flesh.
Ethan led her through the Fox Pit. She hobbled beside him, eyes on the floor, making sure she didn’t trip and jar her body. Cool air brushed over her ankles, soothing the strips of heat where the manacles had chafed her. As they walked, the damp hair at the nape of her neck cooled. She began shivering despite the heavy blanket over her shoulder. Ethan’s grip around her tightened — she hissed as this pressed the blanket into the cut alongside her spine — and he quickly loosened his arm again.
The stairs made her wince. And she figured out halfway up that they weren’t going to her den. Pearl glanced behind her, then to Ethan. “Where are you taking me?”
“My apartment. They don’t let us keep drugs in the fox den. But I got…”
His voice fell away as Pearl’s head sank down again. Perhaps he realized she didn’t give a fuck right now. All she wanted was heat and relief. A bath of morphine to drown in. Pethadine hot springs. Pearl let out a huff of a laugh, wavering on the last step as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
“Hey now, hold on.” Ethan caught her, tipping her forward.
Pearl almost went to her knees as her legs caved in under her, but Ethan caught her shoulders and forced her upright again.
“Okay, this…” Again, his voice trailed away. He let out a frustrated breath and then gripped her shoulders hard. “This is going to hurt, but just bear with me, okay? I want to get you off your feet.”
So he did. With a sweep of his arms, Ethan hoisted her off the ground. The soft blanket scoured over her gashes. Pearl bit down a yell of pain, tightening her grip around the blanket as Ethan strode forward.
The thump of Ethan’s every step reverberated through her, but she managed to force back a moan, to deny her tears the escape they so valiantly sought. Instead, her jaw clenched against the agony, and she buried her chin deep into the blanket, holding her breath until the air clawed at her lungs.
“Almost there, girl. You’re doing so well. Just hold on a little longer, okay?”
Pearl shuddered. His voice had changed. He didn’t sound like Fox Handler Ethan anymore. He sounded more like the cop she’d overheard in the maze.
Centuries ago.
Longer?
As if realizing he’d let his guise slip, Ethan cleared his throat. “Don’t know how the fuck they expect you to get out your safe word if you have a fucking bit in your mouth, right?”
Pearl didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.
The word ‘bit’ had brought a rush of bitter saliva to her mouth. Her stomach lurched.
“Shit.” He must have been looking down at her, seeing her face go pale. “Fuck, just hold on.”
Her feet touched the floor. A wall in front of her. Pearl swooned forward, hands barely catching herself as she fell against the cool clay. Ethan fumbled for her, caught her before she could slide down.
Her hip struck something hard — a door frame — as Ethan herded her inside.
A dim room, blooming with light a second later. Rock music pumped into the air.
“Fuck, how do I—”
Abrupt silence.
Pearl’s stomach contracted. She gagged, slapping a hand over her mouth.
“Fuck, hold on—”
Hands, urging her forward. She trod on her blanket, the thick fabric tugging free from her oozing wounds with flashes of fire. Another barely-contained retch brought bile into Pearl’s mouth.
Cool tiles under foot. The smell of air freshener, sickeningly sweet.
The ice-cold rim of a basin dug into her ribs. Pearl pitched forward, retching violently into the shallow basin. Her eyes closed reflexively, streaming as she vomited up nothing but stomach acid.
Ethan’s hand was on the back of her neck. It disappeared, then reappeared seconds later to drape something thin over her shoulders. A robe?
Her stomach was empty, but she had to endure several agonizing retches before her body decided it was done purging.
Ethan touched something cold and damp to the back of her neck. A washcloth. He swiped it up over her cheek, gently blotting her eyes, wiping sweat from her brow. He pinched her nose, cleaning vomit from her like an infant with a runny rose. A clean section of the cloth touched her mouth, her chin, her throat. He held a glass of water to her lips and tipped it into her mouth so she could rinse out the sourness.
Pearl shuddered, eyes fluttering closed for a second.
“That it?”
She managed a nod. Her head pounded in response, and she touched a trembling hand to her forehead.
Then he was turning her around, herding her into the living room. Making her sit on a white couch, sleek and modern. Bringing her another glass of water, two capsules in his palm. She swallowed them without asking, without caring, and drank as much of the water as she could. Her head clanged at her, the wounds on her back aching in time with every beat of her heart.
“Can I…?” came Ethan’s hesitant question.
Pearl nodded, gingerly reaching up and sliding the bathrobe from her shoulders.
Ethan cleared his throat. His weight on the couch beside her tipped her to the side. Pearl turned gingerly around, hand on the cushion to steady herself.
“Shit. Uh… okay
. I’m gonna need… I have to…”
He tried to bring the bathrobe up again, to draw it over her shoulders. Pearl hissed, arching her back to get away from the touch of the fabric.
“Okay. Just… hold on,” Ethan said
He got to his feet and disappeared down the hallway.
Pearl stared at a blank wall. This apartment looked like she’d imagine an expensive hotel suite would look — unemotionally furnished with everything a person needed. Furniture, electronics, decorations. All chosen with exquisite care, but the setup still felt as homely as an industrial loft.
Ethan returned a few minutes later, his weight settling down behind her.
“Where’s Seth?” Pearl’s voice was husky and soft.
“He’s…” Ethan cut off with a rough cough. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but for some reason he was sent to watch one of my foxes, and I had to watch you guys with Caden. They don’t really… tell me anything.”
Pearl let out a long sigh. “Can you make cocoa?”
“Can I…?” Ethan exhaled slowly. “I guess. Do you want some?”
“Thanks.”
She heard him moving around in the kitchenette behind her. The layout of this apartment was similar to Seth’s — the living room to the left and the open-plan kitchenette to the right. The front door placed midway between the two points, staring down the hallway that contained a spare room and bedroom with en-suite bathroom.
Ethan returned with the cocoa, setting it on the far side of the coffee table where she could see it. He averted his eyes when he turned around, his lips quirking into an embarrassed smile.
“I guess it’s kinda stupid for me to pretend like you don’t know nothing about me, right?”
He sank down behind her again, touching something cool and wet to her skin. Cleaning it. Wiping off blood?
“Kind of.” Pearl leaned forward, taking up the cocoa and cradling it in her hands. Her shivers had abated but her core still felt too cold, too fragile. Like frozen glass, ready to shatter at the slightest tremor. She took a sip of the cocoa, eyes closing at its sweetness, its warmth. It tasted different from the one Seth had made for her. Richer, more chocolaty.
Ethan set down the cloth. It brushed her hip. She glanced down, doing a double-take. It was pink. Smeared with streaks of darker red and sprinkled with a few spots of clotted blood. Her stomach gave an uneasy twist and she hurriedly closed her eyes, taking another sip from the mug. She shivered at the sweetness, and Ethan touched his fingertips to her shoulder as if to steady her.
“This might hurt. I have to clean out the… wounds.”
“Okay,” Pearl murmured.
Despite his warning, she took a sharp breath when he touched something small, hard, and wet to the gash on her right shoulder. A Q-tip? She hurriedly took another sip, hardly noticing when it scorched her tongue.
“Thank you for the card. The keycard.” She sipped from the mug, flinching when Ethan ran the Q-tip along her open skin.
“Pleasure,” Ethan murmured.
“I… I’ve got it all worked out. Sort of, anyway. I’m going to the front gate, the one where they bring us in. Following the fence until its low enough for me to get over or until it ends. Sort of past the labyrinth and around the stables. Should get me—”
“Got someone to pick up you?”
Pearl’s shoulders slumped. “No. Not yet. The guy… My friend was supposed to fetch me the other night, but he didn’t show. Or he did. I was late, so…”
Ethan clucked his tongue, but whether that was because of Greg’s no-show or because he’d fumbled his fingers, Pearl didn’t know. There was a brief spark of pain as he moved onto the wound on her left shoulder. This one was deeper — the Q-tip drew spots of fire from her flesh as Ethan rolled it over her skin.
“I think they got to him, Ethan.”
“Who?” Another murmur.
“Tanner. Or Caden. I think one of them figured out I knew Greg. Seth knew. Maybe they figured out he was trying to spring me. I sent him an email, and all I got was one of those automated reply thingies.”
“How’d you manage that?” Ethan’s voice lifted — he must’ve been looking at the back of her head.
Pearl twisted her head around, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. She dropped her gaze at his frank, interrogatory stare. “Tanner… had me in his room the other night. He—”
“When you were with Tina?”
Pearl blushed then, her memory serving her a flash of Tina— and Tanner’s naked bodies surrounding her, slick with sweat. The grunting, animalistic sounds they’d made as they’d fucked her — fucked each other — until the air was ripe with musk and sex.
“No. Another night. He wanted me to look up stuff on his laptop while he took a nap.” Pearl let out a dark, deep laugh, shaking her head as she took another swallow of cocoa. “So I sent Greg an email.”
“You want to phone him? I can—”
“Yes. Fuck, yes.” Pearl swung her head back to stare at Ethan. “Thank you.”
Ethan shrugged, his green eyes darting down to her back again. “No problem. Just let me get you cleaned up.”
Pearl stifled a shudder. She was done having men getting her cleaned up.
Done having them use her as a sex puppet.
Fucking done, done, done.
She took a long swallow from the cocoa, almost draining the mug. She forced it hard down her throat, grimacing at the sting.
“I want to know about the bodies.”
Ethan’s hand paused. Then, as if that had been his intention all along, he began working on the third wound — the one just above her ass.
“Sure you—”
“Yes.” At least her voice was steady again. Still a little hoarse, dead, but steady.
Ethan cleared his throat. He did something — a plastic cap snapped open, was pressed closed again — and the Q-tip was covered with ice when it touched her again. She glanced to the side, but he’d moved away that bloody rag. How bad were the cuts? Would she want to look in the mirror?
Yes.
She wanted to know how badly Owen had hurt her; just how badly he’d shattered that thin veil of trust she’d afforded him.
Because then, when — if — she ever had a chance at retribution…
She’d make sure to exact just the right amount of vengeance on him.
The story behind the dead foxes came out slowly and reluctantly from Ethan’s mouth. Pearl had to persuade every nuance of detail from him, leveraging free every last bit of information. It was draining, enlightening… terrifying.
Four years ago, a lone camper had discovered the first half-decomposed body in a shallow grave several miles from the Fox Pit. In fact, back then, the Fox Pit was still a month away from completion. It was one of ten properties bordering that particular stretch of the Green Mountain National Forest — a massive swathe of woodland that cut through Vermont, Massachusetts, and New York. No evidence was found to link the body to any of those properties, and no judge would grant search warrants without it. Ethan hadn’t been on the case yet, but the detective who was had found no reason to suspect the newly-erected Fox Pit owners of a murder committed several months before they’d even been in the vicinity.
The victim, just shy of nineteen, had been dismembered — perhaps to aid transportation — and not all of her had been buried in that low furrow of earth. Perhaps animals had dragged her head away, or perhaps her killer had better use for it than animal fodder.
She might not have been the first — Ethan’s attempt to explain the timeline was confusing as hell — but she’d been the first body they found. And she wore the decaying remnants of a yellow chiffon dress; it had been wrapped around her assembled pieces like a burial shroud.
The second body was discovered almost two years later, miles away from the first and even further away from the Fox Pit than the first. So far, in fact, that her case fell into a different jurisdiction. She was still intact, but had been buried deeper and uncloth
ed. Animals had dug into the earth, but managed only a few pieces of flesh before a ranger had discovered her half-chewed finger and had tracked down her body. Nothing about her death matched the modus operandi of the killer’s first victim, so it didn’t trigger any alerts on their database.
Rope burns and ligature marks on her skin indicated that she’d been bound for several hours pre-mortem.
With no leads after months of police work, both cases were closed — unsolved.
Another body, found seven months after the second case had been closed, bore the same rope marks. Was the same age group. And she wore the same yellow dress as the first victim they’d discovered.
“The dress linked vic one and three,” said Ethan as he dabbed antiseptic onto Pearl’s shoulder, “and the rope marks linked vic two and three.”
The last inch of Pearl’s cocoa had grown cold in its mug. She tipped the mug left and right, staring into its sludgy depths as Ethan went on behind her.
“So we tried linking all three of them. Forensics matched the fibers they’d found under the second vic’s fingernails to the yellow dresses. It was tenuous — a single fiber from a common fabric that could be bought almost anywhere — but it was enough for us to reopen the cases.”
“So how’d you get the Fox Pit?”
“The dresses, believe it or not. That, and… all three girls’s rape kits came back positive — but we didn’t get any DNA matches in our system, despite how many—”
Ethan’s voice broke off. His hand stilled, dropping away from Pearl’s back.
Pearl gave a small, mirthless laugh. “I’m guessing there was plenty of evidence.”
“At least nine men. Two women.”
“Fuck,” Pearl murmured. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the mug. She let out another laugh, but it was a soft, pathetic sound. “Another week or two and you’d probably have found the same on me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing down a well of nausea. Had that been her fate? Where that bitch Destiny had seen her future headed? Pearl — some assembly required — dug up by bears?