Betrayals Page 9
At the sound of dirt under boots, a young man walked in. He was maybe eighteen, light-haired and blue-eyed. He took a step toward the first girl and the man chuckled.
"Not that one, boyo. Wait until you've had some time in the saddle before you ride that filly." The man waved the prod. "Take the little gal there. A good, gentle ride for a virgin."
"I'm not a virgin," the young man said, with a lilting accent.
The man chuckled. "Whatever you say. Just take my word for it and start with her. You can always come back for the others. It'll cost you, though. This is your only free ride, and then you pay." The man winked. "You'll get the employee discount, though."
The young man stepped toward the smallest of the girls. I'd like to say she looked fourteen, but she didn't, and he stopped short, revulsion glimmering in his blue eyes.
"Now, now, boyo," the man said. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Why you worked so hard loading up the barge? She's not really a child. Not even human." The man reached out and tapped his cattle prod to the smallest girl's bare leg and she jumped, hissing and baring her teeth.
"I know what they are," the young man said.
"Well, you seemed to need a reminder. You don't like seeing them chained up, but they're like dumb animals, without the sense to stay. We give them what they need, and they don't even have the decency to be grateful."
"I'll...I'll take the young one."
"Like I said, she's not young. She just looks it. Which you will appreciate a lot more when you're my age." The man cackled and leaned back against the wall. Then he smirked. "Oh, I suppose you want some privacy."
Before the young man could answer, his boss smacked him on the shoulder.
"I know, I know. You don't want an audience. Just holler for me to let you out. We lock them in, just in case. And don't be taking too long or I'll know you're trying for a double."
He opened the door and turned to leave, and the young man lunged, blade in hand, driving it into his boss's back.
The older man gasped. His mouth worked. Then he teetered and toppled face-first to the floor.
"Just because they are not human does not make them animals, you filthy whoremonger," the young man said, bending to pull out the blade. "They are sidhe, and if you treated them proper, they would have treated you proper, too. That is how it works." He turned to the girls. "Not that I expect anything for doing this. It is the Christian thing to do."
The girls only stared at him. Then the oldest hissed, lips curling back.
"That's right. You are foreign sidhe. You speak a foreign tongue." He laid the blade on the ground and said, slowly, "I am not going to hurt you. I am going to let you go. Do you understand?"
He straightened, his hands out, the lamiae watching him carefully. Behind him, the older man rose, silently pushing up, his face contorted in pain. He held a gun.
"Prosecho!" the oldest lamiae said, pointing.
The other two both shouted warnings, but before the young man could turn, the older one fired. The bullet hit the boy square in the chest, and he went down.
"You stupid shant," the man said, bloody froth flying from his lips. "You hoped if you let them go, you'd get all the free barney-mugging you wanted?"
"No," the boy wheezed. "I just...It was right...Respect..."
The man snorted. "Respect? Them? Dirty little whores?" He toddled to the door, barely able to stay upright. Then he patted his pocket, took out a key, and locked it from the inside. "How's this for respect? May that be your dying thought, you dumb mug. That you just killed your poor little faeries...and they are going to take a lot longer to die than you or me."
With that, the man crashed to the ground, and the boy's eyes closed, and the girls started to shriek.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The vision snapped, but I still heard the girls shrieking as I spotted a fifth skeleton, that of the older man, slumped just inside the door.
"You hear them, don't you?" a voice whispered at my ear. "Their screams."
I turned to see the young man standing behind me as he gazed at the skeletons of the girls.
"I hope he hears them," he said, glaring at the dead old man. "I hope he still hears them in hell."
He turned to the door. "Others heard. They came around, hoping to buy a poke, and they found that door locked, and they heard the poor sidhe--heard them crying and wailing and begging. And they walked away. Did not want to get involved. And then, after the sidhe passed, one returned."
My penlight faded, taking the room into darkness, and when it surged bright again, the boy was gone, and the girls lay in their beds, and--
One glimpse of them and I squeezed my eyes shut and wished for the skeletons again. Cold, expressionless skeletons. Horrifying in their way, but not nearly so much as this, the image burned on the back of my eyelids. The girls, in their beds, contorted in their last agonies of death, chunks ripped from their own arms, as if they'd tried to chew their way free. The two smaller ones with their eyes closed, the smallest's face screwed up as if squeezing her eyes shut against the horror of her own death. The oldest had her eyes wide, hate and defiance, as if she refused to look away, refused to hide from what had happened, faced death snarling, lips curled back in a final hiss, her body pitched forward, throwing herself against her bonds with her last breath.
Then I heard the sound at the door. A low keening that set my hairs on end. It was the same sound I'd heard in the forest, watching the lamiae mourn their dead. I walked to the door, stepping over the body of the man at its base. When I reached for the knob, my fingers passed right through, and I stepped into the hall to see two girls--two lamiae--one crouched outside the door, the other standing with her hands against it, leaning forward, her cheek on the wood.
"We could not find you, sisters," she whispered, first in Greek, the words translating in my mind. "We searched and we searched, and you were lost, and now you are lost forever, and we cannot even get inside to put your bodies at rest."
She scratched her hand down the wood, splinters digging in, trails of blood left behind. Then a distant board creaked. A thump followed and a man called, "Hello?" The girls went still, one choking back a hiss, and when they turned, the grief drained from their eyes, leaving those blank expressions I'd seen on the others.
A man appeared, carrying an old-fashioned flashlight. He saw the girls and stopped.
"Oh," he said. "You're out."
Even seeing the two sets of lamiae for only a few moments, I could tell these weren't the same girls. Considering that he seemed to be one of the johns, I'd sure as hell hope he'd have taken a closer look at the bound and captive girls he was screwing, but I guess that's naive of me.
"Yes." The girl on the floor rose, pulling the word into a sibilant hiss. "He lets us out now. We have learned to appreciate what we have. We were just coming back for the night."
"Oh, well, that's good. So the trouble's over, then." His head bobbed as he put on a false-hearty smile and strode toward them. "Good to hear, good to hear. Even better to hear that you're back for the night." He winked.
The girl smiled. "We are glad to be back. Now that the trouble is over. You heard it, did you not?"
"I...came a couple of weeks ago and there was something going on down here."
"Crying. You heard us crying for help."
The man shifted, glancing over his shoulder. "I...I don't know what I heard. It's none of my business. You're out now. He's letting you walk around, so whatever it is, it was settled. No harm done."
"No harm done," the girl repeated, slowly, as if tasting the words, and if I'd been the guy, as soon as I heard that tone, I'd have run.
But he only forced an awkward chuckle and said, "Right. Now, is your, uh, boss here?"
"No, he is not." The girl walked over. "He will be, soon. You can wait if you like. But if you do not wish to wait..." She laid her hand on his hip. "We will take your money. What you pay him for one, you can pay us for two."
The other girl sidled over
, struggling a little more to smile. She walked up on his other side and buried her face--and her expression--against him as both their hands slid to his crotch.
"Both?" he said, breathing hard already.
"Is that a problem?" the girl said.
"N-no, of course not."
"You do not have to do it two times. We will both please you." She unbuttoned his trousers and the other girl reached inside. Then she did the same. "We will both enjoy you. Then you can enjoy both of us. First one and then the other, for as long as you can hold out..." She lifted on tiptoes to whisper. "We know ways to help you hold out."
"H-how long will he be gone?"
"About an hour. Is that enough?"
"Y-yes. Please. Yes."
"The room is locked, though. We need to wait for him to open it. If you want to wait for a bed."
"N-no. No. This--this is fine."
"Right here?"
"Anywhere," he moaned. "Anywhere."
She slid her hand from his trousers and pulled them open, then lowered herself to her knees. He tried to look down, but the other girl reached up to kiss him and put his hand under her blouse. Her companion worked on him for a few moments. Then she pulled back, and when she did, I saw her teeth. Sharp white teeth. The other girl stopped kissing his lips and moved down to his neck. Her companion lowered her head to his crotch again, hesitating one split second and then diving in, fangs out.
The man let out a terrible scream, and tried to fling the other girl back, but she dug her own fangs into his neck, ripping out chunks of flesh, tossing them aside, blood spurting and gushing, the man screaming.
"You scream," the one girl said, lifting her bloodied mouth. "Just like they did. You heard them, and you did nothing. Now I hope they hear you. I hope they hear you and they smile."
The scene faded and the young man turned to me. "The sidhe are not always kind or good. That is not their way. No more than it is ours sometimes. Hurt them and they hurt you. Help them and they help you back."
"And these ones?" I nodded at the skeletons. "Is there any way to help them now?"
"Put them at rest. In the forest. Their kin will appreciate it."
"And you?"
A wry smile. "I would rather be buried in consecrated ground, but it does not seem to have done me any harm. Look to the little sidhe. They did not deserve this."
"Neither did you," I said, but he'd already disappeared.
I staggered back and fell right through the door, into the next room. The girls in the beds were skeletons again, like the two men on the floor.
A thump sounded from the next room. I went still, my gun rising.
"Olivia?"
I climbed back over the rubble to see Gabriel crouched at the basement window, his arm and shoulder through it, knocking against the frame with a glower, as if he could break it wider.
"You won't fit," I said.
He glowered at me, as if the situation was now my fault for choosing too small a window. Then he looked away quickly, and I remembered I was wearing my jacket over my bra. I zipped it up.
"Sorry," I said. "My shirt was sacrificed for emergency first aid."
His gaze traveled over me, assessing. My arm was hidden under the jacket, and he said, "Ms. Madole?"
I made a noise that could be taken as assent. His mouth tightened, as if now annoyed that I'd given up my shirt for an injured stranger.
"Come, then," he said with an impatient wave, and I hesitated, trying to get a better look at his expression. The shadows and the night stole it, leaving my chest tightening, and as I made my way to him, all I could think about was the last time I'd been in trouble and I called him.
But he's here now.
Yes, and he doesn't look pleased about it.
When I walked over, he reached down for me, only to realize his hand fell short. He grumbled and scowled, as he pushed his head and arm through the window.
"I can get out," I said. "Just back up."
He ignored me and reached down far enough for me to grab his wrist. I started taking it with my right, and a stab of pain reminded me why that wasn't a good idea. I gripped it with my left instead, and used my feet to scramble up the rough wall as he hauled me through.
"Use both hands," he said.
"I--"
He grabbed my other wrist, and I hissed against the wrenching pain. He didn't notice, grunting with exertion as he hauled me out. Once I was through, I bent over, pretending to catch my breath, as I bit my lip and tried not to whimper at the pain.
"What's wrong?" he said.
"Pulled a muscle. Give me a second--"
He took hold of my arm and pulled it straight. His hand closed around my biceps, and a yelp escaped me. He yanked my arm out of my sleeve. It was wet with blood.
"Goddamn--!" He bit the uncharacteristic curse short and took a moment, fingering the makeshift bandage, getting his temper in check before saying, "Next time you are injured, Olivia, please inform me before I inflict additional damage. Do you have anything in the car? A proper first aid kit?"
I shook my head.
He made a noise, like a growl, gripped me by my good arm, and started leading me down the lane like an errant child.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Considering the number of times we've needed first aid, we should both have a kit in our vehicles. We'll pick those up tomorrow. For now, I have no idea where to find the nearest pharmacy. I don't know this neighborhood, and I suspect you don't, either, so I would appreciate it if you used your phone to search for one while I watch for trouble."
"I meant I'm sorry for calling."
"You did not call. I did."
"I know, but I asked you to come--"
"You did not ask. You did not call or ask."
"You're angry," I said. "Is it--?"
"I understand why you did not call, Olivia. I understand why you did not ask. If I am angry, it is not with you. Now, quickly, please. We cannot be sure your attackers have left, and our voices echo--"
A woman's scream cut him off. I yanked from his grip.
"Aunika," I said.
"Perhaps. If so, let's hope she can take care of herself, because you are injured."
"I'm not leaving if--"
"Yes, you are. She was clearly the target, and I realize you won't like abandoning her to her fate, but it is no more than she did to you. You are injured. She left you."
"I cut my arm on the window after we split up--at my instigation."
"No matter."
He gripped my arm and resumed walking. When I stood my ground, he stopped and glared at me.
"I know you don't care," I said. "I do, but not enough that I'd go tearing after her if I was in danger of bleeding out. My arm is temporarily fine, and I'd like to at least assess the situation before we leave."
"Assess," he said after a moment. "That is all, correct? We assess the situation."
"Umm, the purpose of assessing is to make a decision, meaning it's not actually an end point in itself, Gabriel."
His look said that if he wished it to be an end point, it damned well would be, but he only followed me in the direction of the scream.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We wove through the maze of industrial decay, keeping away from the street lights as we headed to the river. The fog made that even tougher, as it settled in, increasingly thicker as we approached the water's edge.
We came out at a rotting wharf, half fallen away. A barge floated past with its lights smothered by the fog. I watched it go by as Gabriel hovered behind me, ready to snatch me back if I leaned closer to the edge.
When I caught the sound of voices, I whispered, "Do you hear that?" and he nodded. I backed up to the building and crept along it toward the voices. Gabriel stayed behind me. The moment one of those voices came clear, though, he had me by the arm and a stifled yelp from me had him whispering something that could have been an apology. He gripped the other arm and pulled me behind him. I peered around him into the night.
"I have no idea what you people want. If you'll just tell me--"
An oomph. A yowl of pain and a shout. Then running footfalls and "Damn it. Get her back. Now!"
I looked at Gabriel. His gaze went to my arm.
"It stopped bleeding," I said. "I just want to keep an eye on her. I'm not racing to her rescue."
"Good. Remember that."
We set out at a jog. Aunika had started across a railroad bridge, hunched over, visible only as a shape moving against the fog. "Keep going, Aunika," I murmured. "Don't slow down and--"
A clang. Then an oath echoed through the still night. Aunika disappeared onto the fog-shrouded bridge just as two shapes ran onto it after her. I bounced on the balls of my feet, straining to see, but the figures had vanished into the fog.
"Olivia..." Gabriel said.
"I'm just going to get close enough so I can hear her get safely across."
He muttered something but didn't try to stop me. We jogged to the bridge. I grabbed a girder and hauled myself up, wincing at the pain in my arm. Gabriel's hand closed around my calf.
"Two more beams," he said, though I hadn't uttered a word. "Keep your attention on your path, please."
I started to climb. At a grunt from behind me, I knew he'd told me to keep my eyes forward mostly because he didn't want me watching him climb, lest it not be as effortless as he'd like.
I went exactly two more girders. I could still hear the thump-thump-thump of footfalls above, and with my eyes shut, I could imagine a train instead, chugging through the fog, those on the bridge feeling the vibration first, then hearing the thumping before the light pierces the haze and they realize there's no way to go but down.
A thud beside me, along with the sound of heavy breathing, partially stifled. Gabriel was there, looking up at the bridge.
"The game's afoot?" I said. And he laughed. It was barely more than a chuckle, but it'd been so long since I'd heard even that. When Gabriel laughs, I feel it, a warmth and joy as if I've accomplished something incredible.
"One more," he said.
We climbed two. Above us, one pair of running footfalls slowed. Gabriel and I hung there, nearly at the top, the fog slipping and sliding around us like a living thing, masking all but the metal under our hands.