Empty Heart

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Empty Heart Page 9

by Al K. Line


  "Now, I do believe I offered you a cup of coffee," I said amiably. "But no biscuits," I warned.

  Steve frowned. "You're gonna give this scum a drink?"

  "Yes, I am. He'll have his cuppa and then he'll tell us everything we need to know."

  "I won't," he gasped.

  "You bloody well will. You know Steve here is her father, right?" The man nodded. "So what do you think he'll do to you to get information? I haven't got the stomach for it, and look what I've done just to get you inside. You think it'll go any better for you? You want me to remove the spell of numbness?" I asked, glancing at his arm. I pointed at his eye. "I wonder which one will hurt more?"

  I left them to it and went to make the drinks.

  Strangely Agreeable

  I half expected to find the man with his head caved in, or at least in a worse condition than I'd left him, which wouldn't have been easy as I'd maybe overreached a little. Poor guy had no arm, no eye, and no hope of a future unless he was very lucky.

  But when I returned with the drinks, it was to discover all was quiet. Vicky and Steve hadn't moved, they merely stood and stared at the man who was trying to remain dignified and acting hardcore, but it was clear the numbing agent was wearing off and he was in for one hell of a world of hurt pretty soon. His face was slick with sweat, skin ashen, and his head kept drooping as his body threatened to shut down as he went into shock.

  "You okay, Steve?" I asked.

  "Yeah, but I don't see why we're being nice."

  "Because I've already been nasty, and now we have him. If you want to kill him go ahead, but—"

  "You better bloody not kill me," interrupted the guy.

  "And what will you do if we decide to end your sorry life?" I snapped, my eyes as hard as Steve's. "Do not interrupt me again," I warned. "Now, where was I?" I turned back to Steve. "We need him to talk, and he will, so let's be nice. If he cooperates, we don't need to sully ourselves by hurting him."

  I handed the drinks out, not too worried about the man trying anything as he was in no fit state and he knew that as well as us. For several minutes we all focused on our drinks, us to freak him out, him to fight off the encroaching shock. The sugar-laden strong coffee seemed to do the trick and I upped the power of the spell still swimming through his system although it wasn't very effective. I was never very good at controlling spells after the initial blasting ceased.

  With a nod to Steve and Vicky, the three of us placed our cups down and stepped closer to our captive.

  "So, talk," I said, giving him my loveliest of smiles.

  "Nothing to say," he croaked, hiding his fear behind sipping his coffee.

  "Okay, Steve, this is my house, and my soft furnishings, but you have my permission to kill him slowly and messily. Vicky, let's go. I will not be a party to torture, and I'm sorry about that Steve, but this isn't my daughter. If it was, then I'd do whatever it took. So let's go." I retrieved our empty cups and made to leave.

  We got further than I'd expected, two whole paces, before the man said, "Wait, wait, okay, you win."

  With our backs to him, Vicky and I exchanged smiles then turned around.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "Scum, that's who he is," said Steve.

  I tried not to roll my eyes. I knew he was having a hard time, but this wasn't helping.

  "I'm Paul. Paul Simmons."

  "Okay, Paul, why were you watching us? Why are you following Steve?" He glared at me, defiant. "Fine, and this is getting very old. If I have to ask you a single question more than once, then I will leave this room and you will never see me again. You will be left with Steve until you give him the answers he wants. And trust me, he will keep on asking. He'll keep asking until you tell him. Understand?"

  For a moment I thought Paul would spit or say something that would end his chances of ever leaving here alive, but he obviously thought better of it. "Okay, I'll talk. On one condition."

  "You do not get to make the rules, buddy. There is a small chance of you staying alive, that's it. Talk, and make it easy on yourself, and maybe we'll let you live, or let Steve deal with you and then you die at the end. That's the deal. No discussion." Again, he considered it, but not for long.

  "Fine." He sank back, deflated, knowing he was beaten.

  "Why were you watching Steve?"

  "To make sure he didn't get other shifters involved or call the police or anything stupid."

  "Did you tell the others about me and Vicky? About what we were up to?"

  "Course I did. That's the whole point."

  "And did you take Sunshine?"

  "Me? Haha, no, mate. That was the others. Can't set foot on a boat, makes me puke my guts up."

  "But these others, they took her and you're a part of it?"

  "Yeah."

  I put a hand to Steve's shoulder as the man answered, talking like it wasn't the life of a little girl we were discussing.

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Do not fuck with me. You know what the question means."

  "Money, always money. She's important, powerful, and nobody knew where she was apart from us. So we nabbed her, figured it would be good money with minimal hassle. Your man here, no offense, isn't known for being the sharpest, and we figured he'd do as he was told, get us our money. Plus, we knew he was your mate, and that he was with Vicky. You both have plenty of cash so we figured you'd give him what he needed."

  "You didn't think maybe I'd decide to hunt you down and kill you all?"

  "Yeah, we thought you might, that's why I'm watching. If you got anywhere near us, Steve would get a call and be told to back off. Simple, but effective." Paul smiled, I was nearly as compelled as Steve to punch him in the face. Somehow we both restrained ourselves.

  "Bit risky, isn't it? Taking Sunshine just to force Steve to get money? What if we didn't have it, or didn't give it to him? You know shifters never deal with kidnappers, right?"

  "We know, but it's bollocks. Been loads of cases, done a few myself. Nobody talks about it, they don't want to be seen as weak, but it happens a lot. Everyone says they won't pay at first, that they don't deal, but they always come around. Especially once they get one of their loved one's ears sent by special delivery. Haha."

  Before the smug smile was gone from his face, Wand was out, and I was lunging forward. With a silent force of my will, Wand cut clean and true with a sliver of magic as sharp as Death's infinite scythe. The man screamed, I stepped back, and waved an ear in front of his face. "What, one like this, you mean?"

  "I thought you said no torture," said Vicky.

  "That wasn't torture, that was to show this fuckwit we don't find his jokes amusing."

  "My ear!"

  "You got any more jokes to tell?" I growled. Paul shook his head. "Good. Now, where were we?"

  A Moment

  Paul took several deep, raggedy breaths. He wasn't faring too well, and unless he spilled everything and fast, we'd get no sense from him for a while. His ear would be throbbing, or the gap where it used to be, as there was no saving him from the pain any more. I allowed the rest of the numbing spell to dissipate.

  "It's gonna hurt real bad, real soon," I warned. "I've been keeping it all numb, but that's wearing off, so unless you wanna be in utter agony I suggest you keep talking."

  "I will, I will," he gasped. He stared at his stump and his remaining eye began to roll up in his head. He was losing it.

  I stepped forward and slapped him gently on his cheek. "Stay with us, Paul, almost over."

  "What will you do with me?"

  "Just keep talking, or you will be killed," I warned.

  "Why me? Why her?" asked Steve.

  "It was Duncan's idea. He was a bit dim, but this sounded perfect, so we went for it."

  "Duncan's the guy your lot left to die on the boat, right?"

  Paul's eye opened wide. "He wasn't dead?"

  "He is now," I said.

  "So it's just for a payout, that's it?"


  "What can I tell you? We score big with these ransoms, one a year and we live the good life."

  "Bastard," shouted Steve.

  "Here's the big question, Paul, and think very carefully before you answer. I will ask you once, and if you don't tell us then it will go badly for you." I eyed his injuries. "Worse than it already has. Understand?"

  "Yeah." Paul was sweating profusely and almost green, shock truly gripping him tight.

  "Where is she?"

  "Private place, so we can contain her. Locked in a room."

  "Where, you fucking idiot?" I shouted.

  "Bushy Heights, that new housing project just outside the city, all those fancy homes still being built. Workers are off on vacation, nothing happening for two weeks. We got her in one of the almost-completed houses. Nice and quiet. Big house for us all, perfect."

  "How many of you?"

  "How many?"

  "People? How many people guarding her?" I hissed, exasperated, knowing he would be unconscious soon.

  "Just the others," he whispered, and then his hand went limp and his face fell slack.

  I stormed over to him, shook and slapped him until he woke up. "There's one more thing," I said. I turned to Steve; he knew what I meant.

  Steve walked forward, face grim, and he bent so Paul could watch as he pulled his stubby, well-worn knife from his jeans pocket. He eased the blade from the polished wood slowly and carefully, and then said, "This is for Sunshine, and for all the others." Steve slid the knife into Paul's other eye until fluid trickled down his cheek, then thrust deep, killing him.

  "I thought you were gonna let him go," shrieked Vicky.

  We both turned to her. "Why?"

  "Um, it sounded like that's what you were telling him."

  "Nope," I said, standing.

  Steve grunted as he pulled his knife out, wiped it on Paul's trousers where they weren't soaked with urine or blood, then got up. "He's a murdering kidnapper of little girls, what did you think would happen?"

  "I don't know. He deserved it, but..."

  "But it's nasty, horrible, cruel, and gross?" I asked.

  "Well, yeah."

  "Good, because that's exactly what it is. Some people don't deserve to live, Vicky, you know that."

  We were all silent for a while. None of us felt uplifted, but we sure felt no worse either. The world was a better place, but it left three people one step closer to losing their humanity.

  Tidying Up

  I stepped out of the room and trudged into the back garden for some air. My head was fuzzy, my emotions blunted, everything surreal, like I was there doing these things but one step removed, present but not connecting.

  "Goddamn," I muttered. "It's the girl." Call me daft, call all of us daft, but I hadn't realized quite how cold and callous we'd been when dealing with this Paul character. It was Sunshine's influence, numbing our hearts, our emotions, emptying us out so we could get one step closer to finding her.

  At least, I hoped it was. Otherwise, it meant I really was a stone-cold son-of-a-bitch. Guess there was a little of that too.

  I made a quick call to the Cleaner and wasn't surprised to hear the front door minutes later. I didn't want to see her, there was no point. I didn't want to see anyone. A while later, Vicky and Steve came out into the garden to join me.

  "The living room's clean," whispered Vicky, not wanting to wake the neighbors, although how they'd slept through all the crap with Paul must have been testament to the amount of wine they drank to unwind from the stress of the day.

  "Great," I said, feeling deflated and utterly drained of energy.

  "It's Sunshine, right?" asked Steve. "She made us lose it, made us not care even a little about that guy. Not that I would anyway, but I just realized I felt different, that I was colder, harder, didn't feel a thing."

  "Yeah, it's her. She's upping the game, becoming something else, something very different. This goes way beyond anything I've experienced. It would take a proficient and experienced adept to do a fraction of what she's doing. But let's not forget, it's partly because she's young and doesn't know what she's doing that this is possible. She certainly isn't to blame. She's scared and her emotions are seeping out and affecting everyone. Even those that were immune before. My guess is that the closer we get to her, the more intense it will become. We have to remain alert as I honestly didn't give it a thought when we captured Paul. I thought it was just me, how I am now, and I hope to God it wasn't."

  "Me too," said Steve. "I did what I thought was right, but now it seems like a dream. That guy on the boat, now this, I did it without thinking, without caring at all. That ain't right."

  "No, it isn't."

  "It's okay," said Vicky, hugging Steve. "He deserved it."

  "Yeah, I guess."

  We stayed for another five minutes, just taking the air, trying to get a handle on this, each of us lost in our own thoughts, knowing there was more to come and trying to ready for it in our own unique ways. Some calm before the storm.

  I searched my soul for my true identity, unable to ascertain if I would have done things differently or not, knowing only that I should have felt more than I had. Was that Sunshine or just me being older and more jaded? My best guess? A bit of both.

  Sometimes I wished I could just go into a corner and cry, be left alone with my fears and insecurities, never have to speak to another soul. Run away, roam the world, never return. Lose myself to the wonders of planet earth and be done with all the heartache, the responsibility, family, friends, obligations, regrets, even love. To be a nomad, no strings, no ties, caring for no one and no one caring in return.

  Sometimes I felt like that was what I needed. Or maybe what I deserved.

  Obligations

  Life isn't like that though, and for good reason.

  It's testament to your inner fortitude that you don't go running and screaming into the hills never to return. Staying the course is what makes you a good human being, someone who cares and can be cared for in return.

  Life is a series of challenges, of facing adversity. Be that demons and dark wizards, caring for family members, raising children, or the act of struggling to survive. Each is a battle, a challenge, and yet with it comes a sense of purpose, a reason for getting up in the morning. The trials of life mold us, make us who we are. How we handle them defines us and makes us well-rounded human beings or not. It is our choice. We choose the path, or at least how we walk it.

  So I would not run away, I would help a friend, save a little girl, and not cave under the pressure of it all, under the sadness and horror of what people could do. This would not crush me.

  We snapped from our reveries simultaneously. Without a word, we turned and strode with renewed purpose back into the house to ready for what was to come.

  The Hunt is On

  Citywide construction was on an endless loop of building, demolishing, rebuilding. Houses went up, houses went down. Ghettos were gutted, fancy homes erected, the residents moved to worse ghettos and the city split ever wider down the middle, the gap growing exponentially between the haves and the have-nots.

  But the majority of construction was somewhere in the middle, neither exorbitant, nor cheap enough to be classed as social housing. Middle-class homes for middle-class folks, those with steady jobs, two cars, two point four children, and enough income to wrangle a mortgage from the banks to cover the cost of buying into the dream. Albeit temporarily, until the rot set in.

  The houses went up fast, sealed boxes where you could lock the doors, close the curtains, and shut out the world for a while. Who could blame anyone for wanting that? To feel safe and secure, confident that just for a while your children were protected and nobody would harm them? That's what everyone wanted, and if you could afford it, you could play such games.

  We headed to one such development a few miles out of town down the motorway, coming close to completion. Half the properties were already sold, and soon people would move in, even while construction contin
ued on the others. But for now, before the roads were graded and the infrastructure signed off, the development was deserted. No residents, an abandoned construction site while the crews took vacations and readied for the final push.

  The streets felt wrong, eerily silent, but it was just me being sensitive to the tension that hung like a physical weight in the car. Steve was understandably jittery, Vicky was holding his hand, being quiet, which was always unsettling, and I had nothing to say.

  We were as ready as we'd ever be.

  Sure, we could have prepared, spent time getting all manner of gear, things we may or may not need, but that would cost us time and time was in short supply. Better to have surprise on our side. Paul had been tasked with watching us, so fingers crossed the kidnappers were feeling complacent as he'd given them no warning. The only problem being that we didn't know when he should have checked in, or even if they had such a system in place, which they would have if they were halfway competent.

  These guys weren't amateurs, so chances were good that Paul was meant to call or text regularly and if he missed it they'd know something was up. Meaning, it was now or never, crunch time. We might already be too late, so that meant we were silent, low in spirits, and scared as hell.

  Finally we arrived. I parked up a short distance away and killed the engine and headlights.

  "Wait here, please." I was working on my people skills, so had been making an effort to stop being so bossy. "I'm gonna check out the perimeter. If they're holed up here, they must have put their own people on patrol. There would have been guards as these places are ripe for the picking when the crews are away, so they've either killed them or they were their people to begin with. Either way, we need to get rid of them. I'll handle it alone, then come get you both."

  "Then we go in," said Steve.

 

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