When the camera panned back to Brian, he wasn’t alone anymore. A cloaked and hooded figure stood in front of him, weaving a scalpel dextrously through his fingers. Brian watched the show with wide, scared eyes.
I was shaking my head, hand clamped over my mouth to contain my scream of pain and outrage.
The hooded figure smiled into the camera and stopped playing with the scalpel. He stepped toward Brian. I tried to brace myself, knowing what I was about to see, knowing I should just stop the tape now, knowing I couldn’t.
He removed the gag, letting Brian suck in a few frantic gasps of air. But he hadn’t removed it for any humanitarian purpose. He’d removed it so I could hear the man I loved scream when that scalpel sliced through his pectoral muscle.
I screamed, too, hoping my hand over my mouth was deadening the sound so the neighbors wouldn’t call the cops. Blood dripped down Brian’s chest and belly, hitting the waistband of his briefs, then soaking in. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched, trying not to make any more noise. But he screamed anyway when the torturer sliced again.
I wanted to hurl myself into the TV, magically transport myself across time and space to save Brian. The feeling of helplessness was a crushing weight on my chest and shoulders.
The torturer faced the camera again. All I could see of his face behind the hood were a pair of blue eyes with darkened pupils and his thin lips, raised in a smile. He was enjoying himself. My gorge rose, but I forced it back down. I’d go puke my guts out in a minute. First, I had to see this through to the end.
“This was just a small taste,” the hooded man said, his voice digitally altered. Another hooded man came into view in the background to shove the gag back into Brian’s mouth.
“Cooperate, and that will be his last. As you can see, we are wearing hoods so he can’t see our faces. We have no reason not to release him when you follow our instructions.”
The picture fuzzed to static. It was over.
I sprinted to the bathroom, barely making it in time.
Puking two days in a row when I wasn’t sick was a new experience for me. Can’t say as I was overly fond of it.
My mind kept trying to rebel, trying to say “No More! Enough! Just STOP it!” For a minute there, I seriously doubted my sanity. Anger made a feeble attempt to come to my rescue, but I was just too fucking terrified to go with it.
They had Brian. They’d hurt Brian! I’d desperately tried to protect him, and this is what happened. I wanted to scream, break things, curl up in a little ball and die.
But none of that would help Brian. I had to get him back. It was too late to keep him safe, but I was going to save him. Or die trying.
I had a sneaking suspicion the latter was more likely.
When I was stable enough to manage it, I grabbed the nearest phone and sat down. I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me if I tried standing up for this call.
I dialed Andrew’s cell phone number, hating him more than I’d ever hated anyone in my life. More than I’d imagined it was possible to hate someone.
He answered on the second ring.
“If I ever get my hands on you,” I said in response to his cheerful greeting, “I’m going to castrate you with a butter knife.”
“That would be a neat trick if you could manage it. I don’t think Andrew would enjoy it very much, though.”
I stifled a sob. “Andrew invited you into this world, you son of a bitch, so he can go straight to hell right with you. Where’s Brian?”
Raphael laughed. “What, you think it’s going to be that easy?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Raphael. I don’t care if I have to come back from the dead to do it, but I’m going to make you pay.”
“Would you like to discuss the terms for Brian’s release, or would you prefer to continue hurling invective? I have plenty of time, so by all means hurl away. You’re quite entertaining.”
Pain stabbed through my head, making me gasp. It went away almost immediately. I had a feeling it had been unintentional, that Raphael was getting Lugh’s goat almost as much as he was getting mine. I didn’t want either one of us to give him that much satisfaction.
“Everything all right over there?” Raphael asked with a good imitation of polite concern.
I wished I had a zippy, smart-ass comment, something to prove that I wasn’t scared of him. Maybe if I wasn’t so scared of him, I could have thought of one.
“Just tell me what I have to do to get you to let him go.”
“It’s very simple, Morgan. A trade. You for him.”
Nothing but what I’d expected. Still my stomach clenched with dread. “You want me to turn myself in so you can burn me to death.”
His voice when he answered was almost gentle. “Not very appealing, I know. But your other choice is to leave him to our mercies. We’ll send you a new video every day. I’ll oversee it myself, make sure he isn’t hurt enough to kill him. If his pain doesn’t move you after a week or two, we can add some sexual molestation to the mix, see if that motivates you to change your mind.”
“You motherfucking son of a-”
The phone clicked off. Hands shaking with fear and rage, I hit redial. He answered on the first ring this time.
“From now on, you’ll speak to me with respect. That outburst will cost Brian another day of fun and games in our dungeon.”
“Raphael-”
“You’ll receive another video tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll find it most entertaining.”
“Please-”
“When twenty-four hours have passed, you may call me again and we will have a civilized discussion of your terms of surrender.”
He hung up again. This time when I hit redial, my call went straight to voice mail.
CHAPTER 19
I don’t know how long I sat there hyperventilating, trying not to think about what might be happening to Brian. It was probably a long time. Lugh snapped me out of it with another icepick — through-the-eye.
“Okay, okay,” I said, “I’m going back to Adam’s. Knock it off.”
A comforting numbness stole over me, making everything seem temporarily unreal. I thanked God for small blessings, even though I knew I’d pay for it later when it all came crashing down on me again.
It was late in the afternoon, so I gambled Adam would be home from work by now, assuming the murder charge didn’t interfere with his work schedule.
Dominic answered the phone. He wasn’t happy to hear from me. “You’ve got a hell of a nerve calling here!” he snapped.
I sympathized with his feelings, but I was far too distraught to muster a good apology, and a half-assed one just wouldn’t do.
“Is Adam there?”
“No. And don’t call here again.”
He hung up on me. I considered calling back, but decided against it. Odds were he wouldn’t answer. Adam might still help me for Lugh’s sake. Dominic wouldn’t.
Hoping Adam would be there by the time I arrived, I left Brian’s condo and took a cab across town. When the cabbie dropped me off, I glanced at the parking lot across the street and was relieved to see Adam’s car there.
That relief faded quickly when I imagined facing him after what I’d done yesterday. Had it been only yesterday? So much bad shit had happened in my life in such a short time it felt like several years had to have passed.
I dragged my feet as I climbed the three steps of his stoop, butterflies flapping wildly in my empty stomach. Then I remembered what Brian was going through, remembered the fear in his kind eyes, remembered the horrifying sound of his scream. I had to do this.
I rang the bell and held my breath. The seconds ticked by like slow torture. Then Adam opened the door.
He looked at me like you’d look at a dog turd you’d stepped on in your brand-new Manolos, but he didn’t slam the door in my face. He stepped back, giving me room to come in without brushing by him.