Richard
Janus needs to die a slow, painful death. As long as he's around, he'll be a thorn in the side of society. The more my private investigators manage to seize about him in terms of information, the more certain I am that though there are many kingpins of corruption in Animusa, Tarren included – Janus is one of the biggest.
He's the one the other thugs respect, or fear. The ones they don't dare to cross. Tarren's a little fish in comparison. If Tarren's raking in a few million a year, Janus is raking in hundreds of millions. Nothing's directly connected to him, of course. Turning up at his doorstep to arrest him will simply result in failure. His hands are clean, and his lawyers sleezeballs, able to wriggle their way out of anything.
My father has no idea about Emma, let alone would he understand any desire I have to rescue her. I still don't know myself if she's worth the trouble. But still, someone under my care has been taken. Someone who put their trust in me has been taken.
I think about her, now. I think about the way she feels against my skin, and the way she talks, the delight on her face when she saw the apartment for the first time, the happiness when I was united with my brother. The outfits she wore dating me. Talks about her mother and father, the conflict of her former boss, the plans she had for the future.
Whoever she is, she's a person with her own hopes and dreams. A person daring to come closer to my heart than other people.
Not that I really know what being close to the heart really feels like. If it's this uneasy gurgle in my stomach, the headache from thinking about what's happening to her right now – no, don't go there. Don't think about that. Pointless. Serving no one.
There's a sharp, light knock at my office door. The knock of someone who knows what they want. “Come in,” I say, weary, fumbling with my papers, my plastic coffee cup. Hardly stylish, but I didn't get much sleep last night.
Or the nights before.
Tarren walks in, face like a thunderstorm, sallow cheeks sunken in so much that he almost resembles a walking corpse. One of my workers outside seems baffled that someone like Tarren strolls in as though he owns the place. He might not own the place, but he certainly acts like he owns me, and it grates upon my nerves. Honor debt or not, I refuse to be shown up in front of my own people on this matter. Especially since Tarren seems to be doing his best to look like a tattooed paid hitman right now.
“No news,” he grunts, instantly flopping out on my desk, and peering at my monitor screen as if he hopes to catch me looking at porn. “Got feelers out everywhere, but Janus is a slippery piece of shit. He's cut off contacts, but I imagine he'll resurface when he wants to taunt us further.”
I let out a soft snarl. I suspect I'm going to have to approach my brother on this matter. “No news my end. Obviously I can't be seen dipping my toes into these waters, but my investigators are being frozen out of areas. I half wonder if I should just pour shit tons of money into the police system and force the sweeps.”
“Might be best,” Tarren says, his expression grouchy. “Then you'll be accused of corruption and bribery, of course. Even if you're doing it to stamp out corruption.”
I snort. “It's such bullshit. Really. No matter what way we want it to be presented, it can be spun in another. I don't know what to do.” Unexpectedly, my voice cracks when I say this, though I intended to be annoyed, frustrated. Instead, I sound like I'm about to fucking cry.
Tarren regards me for a long moment, his hard face softening. “Me, either. I don't know what I feel about Emma, but I'm not sure I want her to disappear so soon.” He then gives an uncomfortable shrug. “And I suppose I don't want to leave you alone, either. You're too fun to push around.”
My cheeks redden slightly. “Fuck you,” I say, but there's no real venom in it. I suppose that's as close a confession I'll get from Tarren that he likes me enough to not throw me into the dirt. But, I don't know. I don't know what I think about him, either. I like him and Emma together. For some reason. I like the dynamic between us. I like being with Emma alone, too.
But Tarren, alone?
Not really entertained it.
Maybe I should. Once this whole fiasco is over.
“He's going to keep her,” Tarren muses, now eyeing the coffee machine in the corner. He then gets up, grabs a plastic cup, and starts looking at the menu selection. “She's too valuable to throw to the side. He'll either sell her out for sex, or he'll use her for himself as a sign of status among his fellow minions, and as a giant 'fuck you' to us. Me in particular, because I think he won't know how involved she is with you.”
I shrug, now walking to my landing platform to gaze out at the smudged sky, and the bustling city below.
Anger boils inside, hotter than any flames a dragon can breathe. It physically hurts me to think about Emma being in the jaws of Janus. There's always the slight possibility it's not that bastard of a tiger shifter, but some other opportunist that took her unawares. I must have sent a dozen messages to her, a dozen more calls, but there's nothing.
She's gone.
“What options do we have left?” I whisper, not wanting to think about her in that position, to think how vulnerable she is to the whims of a psychopath. Worst case scenario, he might not even keep her as his whore. He might just throw her in one of his underground Hunts as a victim. The ultimate irony against me, since my brother would have been a sacrifice himself. Now he is safe.
It's not pleasant to think about. I can't help but be distracted by other matters. I can't help but pace up and down, while my insides are a sorry mess.
Tarren shakes his head, at a momentary loss. “We need someone who can infiltrate. No point bumbling around kicking a stink, because they scurry faster than rats when it comes to clearing their nests. We need someone discreet. And it can't be a human. Can't be a dragon.”
I hiss. “We can't trust anyone but dragons to be able to overpower those beasts.” I think about somehow roping my father in this. An ancient, fearsome dragon like him can open doors everywhere. Even though he pretends to be clean, I bet he knows every single dirty secret in the city. Maybe if I petition to him, say there's an immune that we can breed with – to think I have to even use the word breed – maybe he'll start fishing through the underworld and scooping up the dangerous people.
Then again, my father doesn't care much for immunes.
“I might know a couple of people who can do it,” Tarren says, and he crunches his fists together, eyes locked on some distant memory. “But they'd need to be paid enough to not be bought out by the ones they're spying on.”
Hmm. “Doubling any offer that might be given to them, I presume?”
“Something like that. You'll have to be aware they'll likely fake the 'offers' they've gotten as well.” The dark-haired shifter lifts his lips in a sneer. For a brief, manic second, I imagine kissing those lips. Breathing in his scent, like I've done with Emma. There's something off about the dynamic, though.
I'm not sure if I want to kiss him outside of her presence.
As if he's a package deal.
“You got anyone you know, Richard?” His voice is low, gravelly, and I have to remind myself that he cares, too. That he doesn't want to see Emma suffer, either. Not because of us. Not when she should be starting a new and better life.
“Just my father. I don't know the other members of the council enough to know if they have connections, and my private investigators are clean cut ones with decent lives, and no real desire to hit it deep into the underworld.” I figure Tarren won’t murder me if I smoke here, so I tease out one roll.
Tarren leans so far back in his chair that I think he's going to fall off. I half expect it, before he rocks himself back into place, and grins like a boy. A rather evil boy high on sugared sweets. “Oh, I can't wait to get my hands on him. He'll wish he'd never been born. I'll tear out his guts and wear them as a belt!”
“Steady there, savage,” I say, but not without that hot determination simmering inside. The flick of the lighter
calms me. “Let's go and meet these greedy mercenaries of yours. See what they have to say for themselves.”
“Well, we're going to need to fly to Denmark,” Tarren replies, twitching an eyebrow. “Since that's where they currently live.”
“Denmark?” Guess that explains why he hadn't brought them on board. Drag, inhale the smoke. Let it burn, let it out.
“They were doing missions all over Scandinavia, last time I checked, yeah.” He gets up, starting to slouch out. “Hope you've got deeper pockets than mine.”
“Count on it.” My voice comes out as a faint growl. I'll buy every single international agent I can if it means that Emma's getting out of there.
Emma
Seems like Janus doesn't know what to do with me. I've been since moved in my cage to his personal headquarters in some undisclosed location, and the most he's done to me so far is to stare. Like he expects me to suddenly spout a third arm or something or turn into an ogre. I honestly expected to be forced to have sex with him every night. He certainly made it sound like that – but out of the reach of his cronies, out of all the people he's trying to impress, I'm his pet in a cage.
And I'm not the only pet, either. He keeps someone else in a separate room. He does not want us to talk. My imagination goes haywire, thinking who it must be. Maybe Lisa Arrow. Maybe she's right next to us, so close, yet so far.
Not the kind of luck I'm looking for, of course. But if our fates are entwined, because I came here, risking myself to look for her, walking straight into a strange, alien society, antagonizing this Janus – it wouldn't surprise me further to know that I'd end up on the wrong side of the fence.
Perhaps this will be my fate. One room away from Lisa Arrow, held captive for an indeterminable time.
My nails dig into my leg, and Janus just sits in his chair, reading, his gaze occasionally flicking over to me. I must be sport to him. He must think me a joke. This is probably just some extended form of torture where I'll sit here, sweating like a pig for days, only allowed out to piss, shit and shower, whilst I'm shoved awful foods through the cage doors.
I've learned to be quiet pretty fast. The first few times I attempted to talk to him, I received a stinging whip upon any piece of body he could reach with his riding crop. I'm simply supposed to be here, silent and sullen, whilst he watches me.
If I get out of this, perhaps I should just forgo my dream of the city. I might live in a beautiful apartment I don't need to pay rent for, but it doesn't stop me from being kidnapped. It doesn't stop the fact that Richard and Tarren, two prominent, powerful men, are in a sense, poison to be around.
At the same time, it's not like I can really back out now. I know too much of this world. I've seen too much. It's like that staring into the abyss thing. The abyss has stared back and has now deposited me into a cage.
Now, I can sit here and hope Richard or Tarren find the means to rescue me.
Smarter is to try figure a way out by myself. So far, best option is when I need to pee. They have someone stand outside my bathroom. There's no windows, no crawlspaces that are accessible. But there's three doors, and I've already figured out the one second to my left will lead out. There's more doors behind it – some kind of underground facility. Though Janus has no windows for his property, he has ventilation. Too small for someone to crawl through, of course. That's best saved for school movies or dodgy sci-fis.
He's got air-cos as well, which suggests we can't be that far underground. They need to be positioned with access to the generator outside, after all.
The chances of me getting to the room next to this bedroom is tricky. The prisoner next door is allowed to make noises, however. I hear low, animal grunts of pain, and sometimes keening moans. Usually in that suppressed way, of someone who doesn't want to draw attention, but nonetheless can't seem to control their reaction to pain.
Wasn't Lisa Arrow terminally ill? Is she dying in the cage next to me as I think? Not a thought I want to entertain. Easier to pick at my nails, scratch white flakes out of my hair, and squeeze that one, annoying spot at my inner thigh. If I'm stuck here much longer, I'm going to start finding more spots to squeeze, or deliberately inflaming the skin so that spots appear, just for something to do.
Another whimper next door. Janus sees me twitch, and a cold, cruel smile spreads across his thin lips. Waiting for me to ask. Waiting so I can be punished again and gain more red welts across the knuckles of my hands.
Then, with a fake yawn, he stretches, and ventures over to entrance of the other room. Opens the door. Watches as I try to look into it without making it obvious what I'm doing, before he slips inside.
Anger surges like a volcanic eruption inside, and I have to fight the urge to beat my fists against the cage. I need a distraction. I need something. Anything.
Hope. The memory of laughter. The warmth of a friendly, social conversation, or the snakey hugs of my parents, friends and lovers.
The rage mingles with fear and frustration, and then into prickling tears that have no place on my cheeks right now.
The moan behind the door becomes a howl, full of pain, of anger. Fuck. What's he doing? What's he planning?
No way to get out. Only thing I can do is use my hands to block my ears, to muffle the sounds, and try to shut down my imagination, so I don't become poisoned by whatever might be happening.
I hate being this useless. I sure as hell hate Janus and want nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his ugly face.
Creak.
The door opens and closes again. Heavy footsteps drag themselves towards me, then pass. I don't look up. I don't do anything.
* * *
Days pass. Weeks, maybe. The outside world shrinks, and begins to blur around the edges. I think I'm losing grip of reality. I've picked at the sides of my nose so much that now there's a whistling sound that comes out of my nostrils. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but with the little amount of distractions I'm afforded, finding things to do on my body's the next best thing for me.
I finally get to see the person next door, though. Janus allows them out of the room, and I see for the first time, the face of Lisa Arrow.
Dark haired, dark eyed, a miniature version of her senator father. Her young face is put under great strain. Her clothes are tattered, unkempt, and she gives me the barest of glances. Janus, meanwhile, is grinning wickedly, gauging my reaction. As if he knows it was my original mission to locate this missing girl, now locked in some unknown basement in the middle of nowhere.
I suppose he enjoys my powerlessness. Watching me grind against the cage, waiting for the fate that I was apparently stolen for. A precious immune that can't endure his whispers.
Something's off about Lisa Arrow, though. I can't put my finger on it, but continue to peek at her through the ragged knots of my hair. Seeing this woman sets my heart pounding in such a way that I'm surprised no one else can hear it, because my ears rush with the sound. I think about how Tarren and Richard are locked out of this place now, unable to penetrate into the depths that Janus has claimed.
“Why do you have her?” Lisa says, and her voice is curiously blank.
“Now, now,” Janus says. “She's not of any importance. Why don't you take your clothes off?”
Without even hesitating, she begins to take her clothes off in front of me, and I realize with a sick feeling in my stomach that of course. Lisa's not immune. She'll obey anything he asks her to do. She’s a slave to his commands.
Which also means that the screams that I hear mean that Janus wanted them to happen.
Maybe he even fucking ordered her to embrace whatever pain she felt inside and caused her to scream louder and louder. Fury wells up inside me, threatening to burst.
“Now,” he coos, once Lisa has taken all of her clothes off, “Why don't you let daddy come in you? Hmm?”
Lisa lies on the bed and spreads her legs before him, and I have to blot out everything, because I don't want to see this, don't want to be reminded that this wou
ld probably be my fate in this world – before there's a knock on the door.
Janus lets out a rather irritated sigh. “Seriously? Hide under the sheets,” he snaps to Lisa, and she scrambles underneath. The bedcovers tremble like a hiding mouse as Janus gathers himself together, flicks me a nasty glance, then goes to open the door.
“Oh,” he says. “It's you. Carla. You weren't supposed to be here for another hour.”
“I like to be on time.” A rather unctuous female voice floats back, followed by a rather false laugh. “Do you have the immune ready?”
“Do I have the money in my bank account yet?”
There's sound. I can't see what's going on. Being he's being shown something? Maybe...
“See!” Carla trills, sounding offended that he'd even suggest that to her. “All there! In return, I do hope we'll see you at the event? It's in two days!”
“I suppose,” Janus says, with a heavy sigh. “It does seem like a supreme waste of money, though.”
“All the more better to come, then?” Carla now pushes herself past Janus, and I'm immediately struck by her appearance. Shaggy red hair, red eyes, and a cruel, hawk like smirk on her mouth that suggests that there's not a single kind bone lurking in her body.
And I thought Janus was the scary one. She glides in, her robes rippling behind her. They look exotic, like she's been plucked from some kind of Middle Eastern country. Turkey or Egypt, perhaps, glittering with gold threads and opals. The light makes all of them wink in tandem. She's wearing possibly thousands of dollars’ worth on her dress alone, and it makes me wince.
“Oh, I see you've got someone under the bed. How uncouth.” She opens the bed, and sees the naked Lisa Arrow there, still curled underneath from the instructions Janus gave her. “Get up, girl, get dressed. I do dislike sexual violence towards women, so I'll take this one. Come!”
Seducing Two Serial Killers Page 15