Three Times Torn Page 14

  “Fine.”

  We meet Roseland and Scott outside of the let out bathroom.

  Scott turns to greet us and angers when he sees Glen here too. “No! No! Not happening! Go back in the house now!” he demands, pointing at Glen.

  Glen rushes to him. “No, Scott. I want to come too. Nathan’s letting Tracey come.”

  “No, Glen. This is not for you.” He thrust a point toward the house. “Go back in the house. Two of the three parasites in there are attracted to you. And with the way you scream and the shit we’re going to be doing to them. No! Absolutely not.”

  “Scott, that’s not fair. If Tracey gets to come, so should I.” I hate it when she does this. It would be okay if when she used me to get her way it worked. But no, I’ll get the pouty eyes from Scott, and the just stay here eyes from Nathan and wind up sitting somewhere missing all the action. Glen can’t take the death, the beatings, or see them shift into anything non-human. So they don’t freak her out, they’d prefer she not be around instead of them being judged or looked down upon for being different. It’s why Scott hesitates being entirely truthful; he’s not one hundred percent accepted by his mate even after her accepting him. It’s complicated.

  Scott’s gaze slices over Nathan and finds me avoiding him. Grumbling, he shifts his weight but restrains from crossing the grass to Glen. “Do you remember what all you saw yesterday?” he asks her peacefully, somehow serenading her with his question.

  She nods, turning up her lip. Her shoulders shiver as the thought, maybe, explodes in her mind and finds its way lessening as she shakes it away.

  “This is going to be much worse than that.”

  “Way worse,” Olar declares, amusement dancing in his eager eyes.

  “You won’t be able to speak, gasp, move, nothing,” Scott continues. “You won’t be able to call or distract me. You’ll have none of my attention, Glen. I won’t allow you to demand it from me.”

  Demand it.? We can do that? It always gets me how Glen’s so new to this, but far more advanced in most of the knowledge than I am. I know Scott doesn’t share much with her or go into too much detail about Sephlems or Burdeneds or the other creatures that lurk in the dark. So, how—how—does she know this stuff? Like the other day, about them feeding? No way would Scott tell her that.

  “Okay, I won’t do any of that stuff,” Glen promises, bouncing on her toes.

  “Come on, Scott. We’re wasting time,” Olar interrupts. “We have other things to do today.”

  So true. Like making the house look like someone hasn’t wrecked every room.

  “He’s right, Scott. Let’s go.” Glen tries to convince him with a pat on his back.

  Scott looks stuck, playing with the thought for a moment. He doesn’t like it but agrees with a nod. “If you do anything, you’re blacking out,” he threats.

  “Okay,” she exclaims perkily and plants a kiss to his cheek. He accepts her kiss, but the discontent settling on his paling face shows how much he disagrees with himself. But arguing with Glen will only waste more time, and he knows it. He turns away from her, and I see his neck visibly harden and relax, reflecting his anger.

  We head for the door, but before they can open it, I find it necessary to say, “Glen, he’s serious. You can’t speak or move when we go in here. This isn’t going to be anything like yesterday. These guys, they want you, and will most likely try to go through Scott to get you.”

  “Okay, Cey. I got it,” she crabs, dismissively waving her hand in my face.

  I turn away from her. She’s so far from having it.

  THE AIR IN THE let out is muggy and hot. Drawing my shirt over my nose, I mollify the piercing reek of soured flesh that may be due to days of body order sat on Johann’s body, maybe piss, and something that gives off an ammonia-like smell.

  Glen takes in the scene, slack-jawed. The sight is worth the repulsed expression.

  Hanging from the pipes by no rope or chains, just their hands clamped around the rusted metal, each intruder awaits their fate. Top, the biggest in the room, drapes from the pipe by one arm and his tiptoes grazing the blood and dirt stained tile.

  Nathan leaves my side. He’s in a zone, one where his switch is just centered, not up or down, just facing straight out waiting for the earth to shake and determine which affect he’ll have on it. May it be one that’s stable, human-like or one of ire where there’s no rest for the wicked or his foes.

  Roseland takes my side he left, and I keep Glen on my right, nearer the door. I have my exit plan in place in case shit hits the fan. She nods at Scott before he leaves her crossing the disgusting floor to the three amigos. Glen’s sure to step closer to me.

  Flipping a coin, once and then again, Olar snatches my attention. The dim light from the two hanging, rectangular ceiling lights gleam off the turning half-dollar, flickering sparkles around the room. Olar leans against the wall in the shadows, making sure we know he’s there, though he can’t easily be seen.

  Distracted by Nathan’s defensive shield hardening his skin, I turn my attention to him. It continues to crawl over me, and I reflexively roll my shoulders, not yet used to being consumed by the effects of someone else’s body. Throwing out a foot and stepping forward, Nathan dubiously paces back and forth in front of Jaworski, Top, and Johann. He chuckles to himself, and I often wonder what the hell could be so damn amusing to him in situations such as this. But the reminder that I’m dating a psychotic beast tainted by the blood of demon, who happens only to look the part of a human, is never too far off to my delirious conclusion to his behavior.

  “Thanks for joining our little powwow,” he says. “I’m sure Johann was getting lonely.”

  Johann has been in here for days. By the looks of it, he may not have been as alone as Nathan lets off. It would be no surprise to find out Olar made it in here, which is how Johann’s powder blue button down is now stained with basketball-sized gray and black blotches. Weakened by, maybe, lack of food and Olar’s deranged form of torture; he sluggishly hangs from the pipe by just his fingers. When I stepped into the room, I felt his gaze. I meet his eyes, seeing the desire I expected to dissipate but find revulsion charging from my stomach up to my throat, seeing it’s grown stronger.

  Jaworski drops from the bar, staring in our direction, mirroring Johann’s looks for Glen. Scott approaches him. All the eyes in the room follow him. Except for Top—no one should be able to tell what direction he’s looking. His left eye is swollen shut and the right, hanging on by nerves and veins, rests against his cheek. I wonder what he is; unable to heal himself; he can’t be Sephlem.

  “Scott, I understand she’s your mate.” Jaworski nods to Glen.

  “You understand correctly,” Scott interjects.

  “My attraction to her is unintentional. As I’d explained to Nate last night, I came following orders,” he simply informs, as if that should excuse him coming to kidnap me! “I also didn’t know the person I was coming for was Nate’s.”

  “Well.” Scott shrugs, tipping down the corners of his mouth. “She is.”

  Jaworski puckers his lips then clucks his tongue. It echoes off the walls until fading. “I also informed him that I know your intentions and I won’t go easy.” His voice darkens into an angered calm—the rage of an oncoming storm, blown in by a refreshing breeze, yet ready to pour down its raft at any moment. Taking on his demon, he concludes, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t play with me.” The flash of crimson starts in his face and vastly waves over his exposed skin. Night blue eyes shine when he blinks, the yellow outlining them stings.

  Glen jumps. Meeting her eyes, I confirm her mouth’s closed. She nods, indicating she’s under control.

  “Good.” Scott morphs, letting his Burdened consume him as well.

  I search the room for Nathan, hoping he’s keeping a close eye on Scott. Finding him leaning against a far wall with a leg up and his arms crossed, he looks distracted, which isn’t like him. Though he’s looking over everyone, his mind seems to b
e somewhere else. I worry, only because Nathan’s always focused.

  Scott’s shoved, and Glen makes a move for him. I hold her back and tap for Roseland to stand at her other side to help.

  Jaworski stands taller than Scott and is bigger than him in frame. “I’m not stupid,” he growls. “Don’t try to play me like you’re doing me a favor. Even when I do bring you to your last, I’m sure Nate and Olar will step up to avenge you.”

  Scott walks up on Jaworski, hands balling into tight fists. “You come to our home, seeking out our family. You don’t think you deserve to be slain?” Scott questions in disdain.

  “I followed orders!” Jaworski states aggressively. “I didn’t know to whom those requests pertained. Only her.” He angrily thrusts a point at me.

  I try to avoid it as if danger flew off the tip of his nail and was coming for me.

  “You say follow orders like he’s your master. Like your life lies in his hands,” Nathan snorts, amused. “Humph,” he laughs once. “If you don’t deliver her, what’ll happen to you?”

  Jaworski’s short, informing, “Death.”

  “Death by whom?”

  “I’ve explained I can’t tell you that.”

  “Who do you think?” Top speaks, voice deep with so much bass it takes effort to understand his words. “You all are sitting around here, attempting to torture us as if you do not already know what’s going on. He sent his best men. It may have been in vain, as it is now we who are captured. But you know who sent us.”

  “You’re right, Top.” Nathan pulls himself from the wall. “I do know who sent you. I wanted confirmation and to understand why you are looking upon this man as a god, following orders, obliging him under threats of pain and death.” He rubs his hand over his beard, chuckling devilishly from his throat. Olar’s husky laugh joins him as they enjoy a private joke. Total maniacs. “But, Top,” Nathan continues, “since you are so willing to offer information.” Top drops from the pipe, landing on his bare feet with a heavy thud. “I’m going to let you do us the honor of killing the other failure. Like yourself,” he adds.

  Scott steps away from Jaworski with a wicked smile stealing his once infuriated face.

  Jaworski cracks his neck and squares his shoulders, readying himself. Before he turns to Top, he gives Scott a deadly look with a promise in his eye I hope will never be kept.

  Scott keeps his eyes on him as he leans his head back against the wall, unfazed.

  Jaworski faces Top, and the big, one-armed man growls. They’re from the same team, but will slaughter each other even knowing neither of them will make it out of here alive. I don’t know, I’d fight for my life too, but to not stand up for themselves, to not decline, to not try to face the enemy tells me a lot about the way they look upon Nathan and Olar. I’m unsure, though if it’s respect or fear.

  “Is this really about to happen?” Glen whispers, grabbing everyone’s attention.

  Heavy footsteps rush in our direction. Glen’s facial expression morphs into fear, and I turn away from her, seeing Top’s big ass making his blind way to us, using his sense of smell to find her. He sniffs the air bear-like, in search of his honey, feet shuffling across the floor.

  No one moves or says anything to ward him off.

  My hand thrusts out, releasing my overgrown snake of fire. It circles Top, weaving between his legs and Top dances from the heat. With a feeling, I demand it to stop playing. It concedes and quickly enters into Top from his bottom. My pet is so gruesome.

  Jaworski smiles at Glen and slowly struts in our direction. The confidence in this guy is farfetched. Stopping halfway to us, he yells a deep, manly holler with his head thrown back, hands flying to his face, neck strained so tightly the muscles protrude.

  “I like playing.” Olar moves from the wall to his side—vanishing and reappearing in seconds. “Matter of fact.” His voice’s so venomous it scares me. “I have the perfect game for us to play.”

  Jaworski drops to his knees, wailing in agony. The muscles in his arms flex with whatever’s happening in him causing him to contract against the pain.

  “Let’s see how long it will take for you to rip your brain out.” Olar’s as gruesome as my pet snake, which is lighting up Top. This is about to get messy.

  I look over my clothes, making sure I don’t mind messing them up. Top’s a giant, and if he explodes anything like Nathan’s deceased sister did, blood will be everywhere.

  I shift my gaze to Nathan also watching Top light up like a giant Christmas tree.

  Olar steps over, the sticky liquid on the tile floor making his movement sound as his shoe’s peels from the tile, then again as it presses back against it. He stands over Jaworski’s knelt body, saying nothing, just watching and enjoying.

  Jaworski bellows a scrutinizing cry as he claws at his forehead and then his braids. Black, brittle nails scrape and scratch against his skin revealing pink flesh slithered with black veins. He rips off half his scalp, exposing skull and his black blood leaks down his arms. Lines of it trail down his face and drips from his chin, splashing in the puddle that’s formed beneath him. I hear the drops loudly and my stomach recoils.

  Top’s thundering footsteps stumble backward as the fiery glow brightens his middle. He jerks, smacking and snatching at his illuminated skin. My pet snake of fire is taking his time with this one, or maybe Top isn’t easy to slither through.

  Something loud smacks in my ear. Glen’s hand covering her mouth. The mortified expression on her face influences me to follow her gaze.

  I hear it before I see it. If only I could turn them down. Jaworski rips out his hair, pulling it away from his scalp and the worst. The remainder of his scalp going with it, exposing the rest of his skull. He’s loud and over his holler I can hear the hair ripping along with the removal of his skin stickily separating from the bone.

  Scott watches, snickering, enjoying every minute of it.

  A glimmer in the shadows draws my attention away from Scott. Nathan blinks, causing the soft shine in his eyes to flash. He nods toward Top then taps his arm where his watch would be. I shrug. It is taking Top a long time to blow up. The light is only just nearing his neck.

  Behind Top, I spot Johann staring at me. I flick my gaze back to Nathan. He’s already noticed. Shaking his head, he puts up a finger, telling me to wait a minute. I nod uneasily.

  Jaworski’s bald and has to be bleeding to death with all that black blood flowing from his skinless head. His detached braids soak in the fluid beneath him. Seeing that makes my stomach turn. If he makes it through to his skull and I see some brains, I’m done.

  Top’s eyes shine a fiery orange. He opens his mouth, exhaling fire as he howls in distress. Exploding, blood spurts everywhere.

  Whipping around, I throw my hands over my face just in time. It slops against my body as if I’ve been hit with a bucket of water.

  I swallow, holding in my hurl. That is so vile.

  Slowly turning back around, it’s impossible to avert my eyes from the pieces of Top hanging from pipes and splattered against the walls. Or, the multitude of his red, human-like blood rushing down the drain in the middle of the floor.

  My snake of fire slithers around the tile, making sure all of Top is gone. I open my hand, calling it back, telling it good job in my mind as it reenters.

  “Okay. That was cool!” Scott says, laughing. “Good job, Tracey.”

  “Took long enough, but good job,” Olar adds, wiping the blood off his arms.

  Everyone’s drench in the giant’s juices.

  Jaworski pulls my attention back to him with a chalkboard screech. His nails have made cracks in his skull, and he scratches and claws at it, trying to get inside. Unable to make it in, the struggle becomes far more real than I expect. Slapping his hands to the floor, palms down, he whips his head back and throws it forward, slamming it on the tile, cracking his skull apart.

  I turn away, covering my ears, trying to muffle out the sounds. Efforts in vain, I hear lumbering footst
eps cross the floor, and a foot crushes the remains of Jaworski’s skull. These ears make it all too clear; hearing the pieces of bone dig into his brain, and the squish of it makes me gag. I breathe, trying to keep down my barf.

  Scott’s footsteps squish across the floor.

  Sure, I won’t be able to hold in the little breakfast I ate today, I avoid looking at the ground.

  Nathan stands before Johann. “And now that that’s over,” he drawls, amused, wiping his hand down his face and then whipping it toward the floor. “Care to tell me what he’s up to?”

  Oh, I get it now. The whole scare you into talking scam.

  “She did that?” Johann asks, avoiding Nathan’s question.

  “Yeah. You wanna see how it works?”

  Johann drops to the floor, barely able to stand. “No.” He stretches out his arms.

  Nathan’s voice darkens as he orders, “Tell me.”

  Everyone’s breaths are even as we’re drawn into their exchange. Glen’s cold beside me and still as stone.

  “He’s decided to take her, from you, by you,” Johann finally speaks up. Looking around at his deceased colleagues, he adds, “We were a distraction as you’ve confirmed. Something to keep you busy instead of coming after him, while he orchestrates something bigger. He’s used us to throw you off his trail. I’m sure he never thought you’d allow us to take her and we walk away.”

  “Then he isn’t stupid,” Nathan interjects.

  “He’s not. But the most I can confirm for you is that he wants her, and I believe he will do anything in his power to get her. He’s obsessed, and that anything includes you willingly handing her over, or her readily discarding you. Even if he has to defeat you,” Johann completes. Confident, he stands straight, with his long, black hair touching his butt, and his chin extended in his true form.

  “Thank you.” Nathan steps from him. In my next blink, Johann’s gone. A pile of ashes mixed in with Top’s blood, carrying him to the drain.