“Above his head and then to the table,” Apophis instructs. When the knots are complete, he releases his grip on Dustin and steps back to watch him gasp for breath. Laughs as he tries to pull free of his restraints. The rope tightens on his wrists. Rubs raw the flesh there. The girl walks briskly back into the room, her hands full. “Aw, yes. This is perfect.” Apophis holds up a spool of thick black nylon thread. “Yes, this will do just fine.” He fixes the girl in his sight. Memorizes her face for future reference. “What is your name?”
The girl spreads her lips in a seductive smile. “Mianna,” she purrs.
“Excellent, Mianna.” He turns his attention back to Dustin and smiles at him sadly. “I’m very sorry, but this is going to hurt. A lot.” He winks at him and threads the needle carefully. Dustin whimpers, but makes no other sound. No pleas. No more deals. If Apophis could admire anyone, he possibly would consider admiring Dustin for his quiet acceptance. However, there is no time for that. He bends over him, his ear close to Dustin’s mouth. “Any last words, boy?”
Dustin turns his head. Holds in the many things he would like to say. None of them are meant for Apophis’ ears. They are all for Lila. Lila. Oh, how he hopes she went quickly. Not like this. Oh, God, not like this. What has he done?
“So, nothing to say now? All right then.” Apophis grips Dustin’s lips, pushing them together tightly. He thrust the dirty and rusted needle into the skin on top of his lips straight through, down the bottom lip and back out again. Pulls it snugly then begins again at the top. The needle scrapes across Dustin’s gums. Slides across his teeth. Dustin flexes his legs. Pulls his arms with all his might. His back comes away from the table, but he cannot break free of the rope binding his hands. Blood trails down his chin and cheek. At first, he thinks it’s only sweat, but then he tastes it inside his mouth. Metallic and salty.
Over and over, Apophis shoves the oversized needle through his skin closing off his mouth. Dustin stops struggling, understanding the more he moves, the more the sharp needle rips at his flesh. Instead, he closes his eyes. Tears escape from under his lids as he pictures Lila. Imagines the way her long soft hair encloses them when they kiss. He can nearly smell her scent that is uniquely Lila, like fresh flowers and sunshine. She is his sun. She was. She was his everything. Would he go wherever she is? Probably not. There is an extra special place in Hell reserved for him. She’s in Heaven for sure. He will never, ever see her again. He brings forth the last good memory of her. The one when they talked of marriage. She was supposed to be his wife. They were supposed to live together forever in happiness. This is all Keely’s fault. How many have to die just to save her? Who is she anyway? She is not Lila. Perfect, beautiful Lila.
He screams behind closed lips. He screams full of agony, of remorse, of anger, and of vengeance. And then it’s over. He opens his eyes in time to see Apophis smile appreciatively at his work. Dustin glares at him, putting all his hatred for the Demon behind it.
“Now, now. Why would you go and look at me that way? I think I will need more thread.” Apophis plucks the glasses off of Dustin’s face, leaving nothing between him and his eyes.
Dustin tries to move his lips. Tries to pull them apart by opening his jaw. The pain is worse than when the needle moved through his skin. Blood fills his mouth. He chokes on it before swallowing it down. He gags. Quickly takes deep breaths through his nose to calm the gag reflex. If he vomits, he’s dead for sure. He closes his eyes again. What’s the point? They will be closed soon anyway. There is no point fighting. There is no point living. There is no point dying. He will just lie on this table and exist. Or not. It doesn’t matter anymore.
Apophis senses a change in Dustin. Like a sixth sense, he picks up on the boy’s refusal to fight. Refusal to make this fun for him. He should just kill him. He could, but this boy may provide him with a bit of entertainment later. He could have some fun with his girl. With him unable to speak or see, well, that would just add to the torment. Yes, he would keep him around just a bit longer. After that, he wouldn’t be of any further use. He could kill him then. Slowly, of course. He could feast on his blood in front of his girlfriend. That right there will be priceless.
“Mianna, you have served me well tonight. I have a gift.” Apophis gestures to Dustin. Places the needle in her hand. “You may do what you wish, but do not kill him. I want him alive, I have plans for him. And do not drink from him. He is mine.”
Mianna nods as her eyes dart between Apophis and Dustin. She becomes fidgety reminding Apophis of a crack addict. Oh, how he loved them. So easy to enter. So easy to control. Not like the strong willed. Addicts nearly invite Demons in, allow them to take over. Give themselves completely. Apophis shivers with the enticing memories. He brushes his fingers over Mianna’s cheek. “Go play.”
She’s across the room before he’s turned away. As he strides through the door, making the step and slide of his walk appear as if he is dancing, the muffled screams trail after him and he smiles contently.
Apophis makes his way down the tunnel hallway with a man scurrying behind him holding an industrial sized flash light to keep his path lit. He prefers torchlight like in the old days, but he’s in a hurry now that he has a plan. He perfects this plan with every step. This could be how he persuades his sister to join him. After all, it is join or die. And he truly hopes she will choose to join. Regardless of the reason, he is perfectly positive she will come to love this lifestyle. Once she has a taste of it, she will never be able to go back. He will allow her to hook herself, and then he will reel her in.
Apophis is unable to summon emotions such as guilt or remorse. He has never felt fear or regret. Keely, however, has invoked feelings all through him. He believes he feels love for his sister or something very close. There is a definite attraction. He envies her innocence, wishing he could have known that for himself. To live the naïve life she has thus far. It makes his blood boil to the point where he wants so much to hurt her. To inflict such pain and watch it displayed across her face. Yet he doesn’t want anyone else to cause her pain. That is his right alone, just as loving her is his. Her determination stirs a feeling he’s never known. He believes it is pride, though he cannot be certain, for he has never witnessed this before. When she fought against him it made him angry and yet, he felt a connection to her. He could see it deep down; she is capable of very deliciously horrible things. The fun they can have together if she just chooses wisely. If she agrees to be his, and only his. He smiles at the mere thought. Yes, that would bring him joy. For Keely to prefer him over her boy, her Nick. To be winner over their father. He pauses, the man behind him nearly running into him. Apophis wants it all and he is so close to getting it. Excitement overcomes him. Dearest Keely. He hasn’t felt excitement in longer than he can recall. The down side of being immortal. Eventually, you’ve seen it all. He owes this new rush that tingles through his body to her. She has made him feel alive again. She has given him purpose. To think, he was so ready to terminate her. He would have missed out on so much.
He begins moving forward as another thought occurs to him. If she refuses him, he will be forced to kill her. She will be gone, and with her, these emotions. She must choose him. He must retrieve her Nick. It may be the only way. He takes inventory of his assets. He has her parents, which may just be all he needs. Then he has the Watchers, Bryon and Dustin. And of course the lovely Lila. Yet somehow, he isn’t sure it’s enough. But if he had everyone she loved, she would have no choice. And after all, he doesn’t really need to spare Nick. Just pretend this is his intent. Just long enough until she can indulge herself in the lifestyle. Just until she is too addicted to the power to ever want to abandon it.
Apophis turns abruptly to the Demon behind him. “I want you to take several of my Guard. Find Nick Wallace. I want him breathing and I want him yesterday.” He rips the light from the man’s hand and continues on his way. The Demon rushes off to carry out his wishes. It won’t be much longer. The Princess will be his. He claps the fla
sh light against his hand with a chuckle. Not long at all.
***
Keely rests her head on her knees, her eyes closed. “I still think we should do what Bryon said,” she says on a sigh. Her head hurts. She’s tired, but too scared and too cold to sleep.
“What harm is there in waiting just a little while longer?” Lila asks. Keely cannot believe how calm she sounds. How sure.
“Well, for one, they could kill us, but if you need more than one reason I could come up with a few more,” Bryon huffs.
“O.k. so let me make sure I have this right. We make a big ruckus and hope that someone cares enough to come down and is stupid enough to get close to your cell so you can what? Reach through and overpower a Demon with your good looks and charm? Because you have no weapons. Then you somehow get the key to unlock our cells and we run off into the tunnels. In the dark. Again, without weapons. Without knowing where we’re going or which way gets us out. Oh, and at what point do we stop and save Keely’s parents? And we don’t know where Nick or Dustin are. So we need to figure that out on the way and save them as well—again, without any weapons. Does that sum it up?”
Bryon shrugs. “Pretty much.”
“Keely, come on. You have to see my point,” Lila says, annoyance clear in her tone.
Keely thinks it over quickly. Lila has some very good points, but her only alternative is to sit here and wait for something or someone because she has a feeling. At least with Bryon’s idea they’ll be doing something. Anything is better than here. “I still agree with Bry. Sorry.”
“This is ludicrous. Keely doesn’t understand what I can do, but you know Bryon. You’ve witnessed it for yourself. My feelings aren’t wrong.”
“I know Lila, but you can’t tell us what we are waiting on. What if we’re waiting to die because your heart feels it’s our time? I’ve been here so long. I need out. I need out now.”
Keely thinks he has a point. Besides, though she’d never say it, Lila’s heart never bothered to mention her boyfriend selling Keely out. This, she guesses, could be because it didn’t directly hurt Lila herself. In which case, how is Keely supposed to know if this—whatever—Lila is twiddling her thumbs waiting on, is only good for Lila and nobody else? What if she’s waiting on Dustin? She and Bryon are completely screwed then. Dustin has already proven he will do whatever it takes to save Lila, and only Lila. She couldn’t take that risk.
Keely jumps to her feet. She is sick of arguing this. She clamps her hands around the rusted bars of her tiny cell, not willing to be kept like a dog in a cage any longer. She takes a deep breath and lets it out on the shrillest, loudest scream she can manage.
It takes Bryon a very startled moment to understand that Keely is not being murdered in her cell, but going forth with the plan. He joins her screams. Bangs his hands against the bars. One bar wiggles, making a bell like sound with every strike. It must have loosened from his days of trying to get out. It would have been great if he’d come across this sooner. Bryon stops screaming and wiggles the bar roughly. He keeps his hand on it as he lowers himself to lie back on the floor. He brings his foot up to touch his hand, trying to find the right placement. He moves his hand and kicks out at the bar. His fingers find the bar again and he wiggles it fiercely. He thrusts his heel out at the bar over and over. He kicks and he kicks. His foot misses and his leg slides between two bars cutting his shin. He grits his teeth and kicks again and again until the bar gives way. It clatters to the ground just barely missing his head.
Keely stops yelling when she hears the sound. Bryon snatches up the bar and runs his hand across it. It broke evenly on both ends, but it will still work. “Well, Lila, now we have a weapon.”
Lila pushes herself up and grips the bars in shaky hands. “O.k. Don’t be mad.”
“Mad about what? We have a weapon. I mean it’s not the best, but it’s better than nothing.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. That’s what I was waiting for, I think, because right now everything inside is warning me to get out. Now.”
“Oh for shit’s sake, Lila.”
“No time, Bryon. Start yelling.”
Keely can’t find her voice for several seconds. A lose bar in a cell? Lila kept them down here for that? Well, it better be the best damn cell bar ever. She shakes her head and adds her voice to her friends’.
Nineteen:
Though it’s chillingly cold, Bryon is sweating. Using the back of his hand, he wipes his forehead. With a shakiness he isn’t accustomed to, he lines the bar back up where it came from, holding it firmly in place. He takes a deep breath, readying himself for what he’s about to do. Keely and Lila cease screaming as soon as the door creeks open and a lantern glows in the distance. Bryon squints against the light as he checks the bar, making sure it appears unchanged. He continues shouting as planned in order to draw Geryon to him. He had hoped for a smaller Demon, or at least one less intimidating, but he isn’t exactly in the position to be choosy.
The lamp is bright in contrast to the deep darkness, but Keely has no trouble making out the enormous bulk of the man coming toward them. He is the largest person she has ever seen. Bigger even than the men at the professional wrestling show her dad took her to. (She went through a faze when she was twelve.) She had been surprised at their size because they hadn’t seemed that big on T.V. Geryon puts them to shame. His arms alone are as big as Keely’s legs and his eyes are fully black. As he moves closer to her cell, he seems to shimmer, or ripple as if he is under water. Only, when he shimmers, she can see the real Geryon. The real Demon is scarier. Sickly gray skin, drooping blank eyes, and a mouth full of razor sharp fanged teeth. Part of her wants to cower, the other part anticipates Bryon ripping this Demon apart. She wraps her hands around the cool metal bars, biting her lip.
“Is that you screaming like a little girl?” Geryon addresses Bryon with a slight accent. Irish, she thinks.
“Yeah, I broke a nail.”
Geryon tilts his bald head. “Looks like you broke a few.”
Glancing at the dried blood and dirt that coat his hands, Bryon shrugs. “I need a manicure. Think you could set that up for me, big guy?”
“I’ll get right on that. After all, you want to look pretty for your funeral.”
Keely swallows the lump in her throat as Geryon takes a step closer to Bryon’s cell and hangs the lantern from a thick rusted road spike hammered into the wall. He has to be in reaching distance. What is Bryon waiting on? An invitation?
“This one right here is especially in need of work. I’ll ask them to save it just for you,” Bryon says with a smile as he holds up his middle finger.
Geryon smiles back. “You think you’re a pretty funny guy, don’t you?”
“Well, I don’t want to brag…”
“You know what’s really funny?” Geryon asks, taking another step toward the cell.
“Your face?”
Continuing as if he didn’t hear Bryon, Geryon says, “When they’re killing you slowly, in front of your friends, and you start crying and begging for it to stop. That’s when I’ll be laughing.” He towers before Bryon in an unnerving way. Keely wonders if they should revise their plan.
“You know what’s even funnier than that?” Bryon keeps his hand on the bar and kicks the bottom out hard, making contact with Geryon’s genitals. It makes an audible thwack as the air rushes out of the big man. Out of sheer instinct, he bends to grab himself and Bryon brings the bar up, slamming it into the underside of Geryon’s chin. His head snaps back; a terrible cracking sounds from his neck. Bryon flips the bar and brings it down on the Demon’s head, knocking him out. He falls to the ground and Bryon smiles wickedly as he whispers, “The bigger they are…” The adrenaline rushes through him. With one last twirl of his weapon, Bryon stabs the bar into Geryon’s chest, causing him to explode into a whirlwind of white salt. The large key ring clatters to the floor. “The harder they fall.”
Using the very handy cell bar, Bryon pulls the ring to him and
shakes the salt from the keys. The second key frees him. “Now that’s funny.” He moves to Keely’s cell.
“Hurry up. We need to move,” Lila calls.
Bryon is covered in the white salt, and beneath that, days of dirt. Keely doesn’t care. As soon as the lock turns, she is out the door and hugging Bryon tightly, thankful he’s alive, that she’s alive. Grateful for his bravery. His hands pull her against him and those feelings she’s been struggling with take over. She turns her face into his neck. Presses her lips against his skin. As soon as she does this, she pulls away, ignoring the expression on Bryon’s face. This isn’t the time to be deciphering their feelings.
Bryon’s body is rigid as he peers down at her, it’s the first look he’s gotten of Keely, and he gasps. He hadn’t expected her to be so battered, so bloody. Her face is bruised and swollen. “Oh, Kiem.” His fingers shake as he reaches for her cheek.
“I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Bryon is angered all over again when he gets to Lila’s cell and sees her obviously broken nose. She is drenched in blood as well and almost as dirty as he is. “Lila, what happened?”
“I ran into a wall.” She brushes past him and retrieves the lantern.
From anyone else, Bryon would have assumed ‘I ran into a wall,’ meant, ‘I got beat up,’ but from Lila, he believes this is precisely what happened. He can’t help but laugh.
“No, no. Not funny, and not now, Bry. Nice job by the way.”
Bryon nods his head at her in thanks.
Keely skims her surroundings. Looks from cell to cell. “This place is a dungeon. Like a real live, actual dungeon.”
Lifting the lamp, Lila moves in a circle taking in the eight small cells. “These are old. How didn’t we know this existed?”
“We’re not in the tunnels under Pandora. We can’t be,” Keely thinks aloud.
“No, we’re not. You’re right. We must have passed over at some point,” Bryon says.