“To make a long story short,” she said, “Jessica here helped me frame my good friend Jordan for hitting her. She’s a wicked, wicked person. A murderer. And a stone-cold bitch.”
“None of that clarifies why she’s here.”
“Patience, patience. You’ve fucked up everything I’ve tried to do, and if I want to take my own sweet time explaining how the game will end, then it’s my prerogative.” She looked at me expectantly.
If she thought I’d argue, she had another think coming. I knew crazy when I saw it, and it was staring me right in the face. Reasoning with a crazy person seemed like more effort than it was worth. I made a zipping-my-mouth gesture and waited.
Her lips tugged downward in an almost petulant expression. Jessica took that moment to issue another whimper. She made what appeared to be a feeble attempt to get up, but she collapsed almost immediately.
Abraham smiled. “To answer your question about what’s wrong with our dear friend Jessica, she’s drugged to the gills. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s conscious. I thought I’d have to wake her up for the grand finale.”
What the hell was this psycho up to now?
Abraham moved a little closer to Jessica, and the light of the candle glinted off something on the floor. A kitchen knife. Not one of those big-ass chef’s knifes, but not a tiny little paring knife, either. I’m no expert in the kitchen, but I decided this was probably a utility knife.
Abraham put the candle down on the floor. It was a fat pillar type, so it didn’t need any kind of holder. The gun didn’t waver in its aim.
“I’ve wiped it clean of prints,” Abraham said, then stood and kicked the knife across the floor toward me. Her smile became even more vicious. “Pick it up!”
The knife came to a stop against the wall, a little bit to my left. Unfortunately, I was beginning to see where this was leading, and I didn’t like it one bit.
I swallowed hard, though I made no move toward the knife. “You failed to frame me for the last two murders, but this time …” I couldn’t finish my own sentence.
Abraham laughed, having a jolly old time contemplating murder and mayhem. “This time, it won’t be a frame. This time, you’ll be guilty as hell. Now pick up the fucking knife.”
Any ideas? I asked Lugh.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but his voice in my head sounded tense and strained. Do as she says. As long as she’s got that gun on us, we can’t afford not to. Maybe once she thinks we’re doing what she wants, she’ll relax her guard a bit and give me an opportunity.
Too many maybes! But, as he said, we had no choice but to obey as long as she had that gun pointed at my head.
Moving slowly, in case she had an itchy trigger finger, I retrieved the knife. It looked lethally sharp.
While I bent over to pick up the knife, Abraham knelt by Jessica’s feet and grabbed her ankle. Her aim didn’t waver the whole time.
“When I tell you to,” she said, “you’re going to very, very slowly come closer. I’ll want you to come kneel by her head.” She shook Jessica’s ankle, hard. “Come on, honey, stay awake for this. You don’t want to sleep through your own gruesome murder, now do you?”
Jessica sobbed and made a feeble attempt to free her ankle from Abraham’s grip. Abraham continued to smile up at me, savoring every moment.
“That knife I gave you is a little short for the job,” Abraham continued. “It’ll take quite a few stabs before she finally gives up the ghost.” She held up Jessica’s ankle. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere, but she’ll probably find she has some fight left in her when you start stabbing her. It’ll be a shame if she gets your skin cells under her fingernails.” Her laugh was maniacal. Almost over the top, really. Nothing like being trapped in a dark room with a B-movie horror psycho holding a gun to your head.
“Come on over,” Abraham invited when the laughter died. “Slowly.”
I swallowed hard and stayed put. “What if I refuse?” I asked, just to make sure I fully understood the situation.
Another psycho-cackle. “Then we all go our separate ways, and every person on that list I gave you dies.”
“You won’t just shoot me in the head?”
She snorted. “Way too quick and easy.”
“So you don’t actually need that gun.” Hey, a girl can hope, right?
“It’s to discourage you from trying anything heroic,” Abraham explained.
It was my turn to snort, though it probably sounded pretty forced and phony. “Like you’re in any danger from me!”
“I like to be cautious. For all I know, you have another Taser on you. And don’t get any funny ideas about sacrificing yourself by forcing me to shoot. If I have to kill you, then you’ll have cheated me of my revenge yet again, and I’ll be forced to take it out on your loved ones. I have nothing else to live for, after all. Now get your ass over here and get to work.”
I swallowed hard and shook my head. “What did Maguire’s demon do to you that’s worth all this mayhem?”
“You’re stalling, and I have no patience for it. Move!”
I started edging forward, my mind working frantically. Lugh, I don’t know what to do!
Just keep following her orders.
A shiver ran up and down my spine as an ugly suspicion hit me. Tell me we’re not actually going to kill her.
That may be the only way to get Abraham relaxed enough for me to take him by surprise.
But—
Remember, as far as Jessica knows, she caused Maguire’s demon to be executed in a fit of jealousy. This is not an inappropriate punishment.
Oh, so now you’re going all Old Testament on me, are you?
I guess my subconscious desire not to be sick as a dog for the foreseeable future had helped me resurrect at least some of my mental barriers, because I actually felt it when Lugh tried to take over. Reflexively, I fought him.
“Get over here!” Abraham barked. “If I have to tell you again, then I’ll go to Plan B, which you’ve already indicated you don’t like.”
Moving while fighting to keep Lugh out of control was almost impossible. However, in my already weakened state, keeping Lugh out was entirely impossible. Between one step and the next, my free will was taken from me.
I understood Lugh’s point. In a rational, logical way, I knew he was right, and we had to kill Jessica Miles if that’s what it took. It might be our only chance to stop Abraham—our only chance that he might lower the gun, or at least waver in his aim so that if he shot us, it wasn’t in the head. Lugh could heal most gunshot wounds, and with the element of surprise on our side, he was likely to be able to overpower Abraham even wounded.
No matter how logical it was, I couldn’t bear the idea of killing someone in cold blood.
I’m doing it, not you, Lugh reminded me, but that didn’t make me feel any better about it.
Lugh continued to follow Abraham’s orders and knelt by Jessica’s head. She took a weird, awkward swing at him. Maybe she was hoping to knock the knife out of his hand, but she hit the wrong arm. Her nails managed to dig in, though, conveniently getting my skin under them as further evidence that I was her murderer.
“To answer your earlier question,” Abraham said, looking a little wild-eyed, “Brennus and I were rivals in love—several times, actually—and I never came out the winner.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Lugh mumbled.
“Shut up!” Abraham snarled, and the gun wavered slightly. But not enough—and based on the madness in his eyes, we were out of time.
“I’m sorry, Jessica,” Lugh said, and his knife arm started to swing down toward her back.
A bunch of things happened at once then. There was the distinctive sound of a Taser pop, coming from the hallway outside. Abraham’s body jerked spastically. Losing his grip both on the gun and on Jessica’s ankle, he crumpled into a heap. And Lugh, with his demon-quick reflexes, managed to arrest his swing just short of Jessica’s back.