Assassins: Slow Agony Part 32

"And that hurts?"

"Y-yes."

The scooting noises again. I could feel that he was close. I could smell him, hear his breath. But he didn't touch me. Probably couldn't. He was probably tied up too.

"It's not bad. It's just like a bad period," I said. "It's so early." The baby barely got a chance. It wasn't even a baby.

"Oh... doll, I'm..." I felt his forehead rest against my shoulder.

"I deserve it, don't I?" I said. "It's punishment, because I had an abortion."

"No," he whispered. "No, you can't think like that."

"If I hadn't done that-"

"If you hadn't, you'd be further along, and he would have shot you anyway," said Griffin. "It's done. It's not your fault."

And there was something in his voice that I'd never heard before. He was crying.

I'd never heard him cry before.

And I wanted-so badly-to be able to take him in my arms right then, to pull him close to me, to comfort him. But I couldn't do that. So, I lowered my head so that our heads were touching.

"We have to stay strong," he said. "I don't what Marcel's going to do, but it isn't going to be good. He hates me, doll. He thought I was dead. He thought he killed me in jail. Now that he knows I've survived, he's intent on finis.h.i.+ng the job."

I felt cold all over. "Why hasn't he killed you then? He's had the chance."

"Killing me isn't good enough," said Griffin. "It's got to be worse than that. That's why you're here. So that he can torture me."

"But why does he hate you so much?"

"I don't know," said Griffin. "I think maybe some people don't get a full array of emotions. They only get the bad ones. And they feel them ten times stronger than everyone else because nothing balances it."

The words hung in the air as we lay close to each other.

"Griffin?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about the baby. I know you wanted-"

"No," he said. "You don't apologize for that. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I wanted..." I gritted my teeth together. "He stole from us. He took everything. I'm going to kill him."

"That's it," he murmured. "Stay angry, doll. Stay sharp. We're going to need it."

We were moving. It seemed as if we'd been in the back of that van for years. There had been no way to measure time, however. We couldn't see the sun. We didn't have our phones. But now we were being hauled out of the back of the van.

Strong arms had lifted me. I was being nudged along with the barrel of a gun.

I called out for Griffin, because I didn't know where he was, but a harsh voice told me to shut up. I'd see Griffin soon enough.

They marched me down a hill. I noted that the temperature here was cooler than it had been in Texas. The inside of the van had been temperature controlled, but out here I could feel that the air was different. It was muggier too.

I stumbled blindly ahead of the gun in my back until the person forcing me forward made me stop.

I heard the creaking of a door opening on its hinges, and then I was shoved inside someplace dank and cool.

I stumbled again, and this time I couldn't keep my balance. I went face down on the floor. Cold concrete. Hard. It hurt. I made a little noise in the back of my throat.

Someone ripped off my blindfold.

I looked around. I was in a bas.e.m.e.nt somewhere. Not a nice, finished one like Griffin's family's either. This one was bare except for a pile of broken-down boxes in one corner and a washer and dryer in the other. There were steps in front of the washer and dryer, which probably led up to the top of the house. In the center of the floor, there was a drain.

It smelled musty. Cobwebs clung to the top of the ceiling. It wasn't a pleasant place.

Griffin was next to me. They'd removed his blindfold as well.

The door at the top of the steps opened, and Marcel came down the stairs. "Oh, they've arrived. Excellent." He came down the last step and surveyed Griffin and me. "Hi, there, Griffin. Did you miss me?"

Griffin glared at him. "Would it hurt your feelings if I said no?"

Marcel snickered. "Well, I missed you at any rate. Hope you had a nice trip."

"Oh, it was great," said Griffin. "We were completely comfortable tied up in the back of a van for hours on end. Thanks."

"You do look a little worse for wear." Marcel eyed me especially. "Your girlfriend's a b.l.o.o.d.y mess. From the gunshot wound and from, um, looks like feminine issues."

Griffin stalked forward. "I swear to G.o.d, Marcel-"

But the two men who'd brought us into the bas.e.m.e.nt leaped out and restrained Griffin, holding him back.

"Oh Griffin, you're so grown up," said Marcel. "I remember how adorable you used to be all those years ago. But now here you are with your own little girlfriend and everything. You must really feel like a man now."

Griffin closed his eyes.

"I know better, of course," said Marcel. "I know deep inside you're the same squealing little p.u.s.s.y." He nodded at me. "Strip her."

I felt like someone had reached into my chest and closed a fist around my heart. What had he just said?

I got to my feet, looking around. There had to be somewhere I could run.

Griffin's head shot backwards, smas.h.i.+ng into the face of the man who was holding him.

The man howled, letting go of Griffin. He ran for me.

Marcel intercepted him, pulling out a switchblade. The knife snapped up. Marcel jabbed Griffin under the chin. "Hold it."

Griffin was seething. He backed away from the knife, blood arcing out.

"I'm only gonna clean her up," said Marcel. He turned to me, knife first.

I backed away. I backed right into a wall.

Marcel brought the knife to my neck.

Griffin surged forward.

"Stay back, or I'll cut out her stomach and you can watch her heal without it in there," Marcel snarled.

Griffin halted, swearing under his breath.

I swallowed. The knife was an inch from my skin. Could I heal without a stomach? I thought I could. Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d.

Marcel pointed with the hand that wasn't holding the knife. He addressed the men, but he never took his eyes off me. "Tie him up and secure him to that hook on the ceiling."

I looked where he was pointing. There was a hook hanging from the bas.e.m.e.nt ceiling. A low hook. It looked like the kind of hook you might use to hang plants. Wait. I remembered- "Just going to clean you up, blondie," said Marcel. His knife slashed down my s.h.i.+rt.

He hadn't cut my skin-miraculously-but he'd cut through all of my clothes, bra included. He slashed at my pants.

No.

I felt the damp air of the bas.e.m.e.nt on my skin.

No.

I wasn't going to be naked in front of Marcel, in front of his goons. I wasn't- I looked at Griffin.

His face was so red it looked purple. He was fighting, but they had managed to tie him to the hook. His arms were stretched above his head.

Stay angry, doll. That was what he'd said, right?

I wanted to fall apart. Instead I glared at Marcel. I lifted my head high, refusing to let my shame and fear show.

He kicked the pile of my ruined clothes away and eyed my body. "What's a pretty girl like you doing with a c.u.n.t like Griffin, huh?"

I narrowed my eyes. My nostrils flared.

He laughed. "Oh, that's good. You're a lot of fun, blondie." He sauntered over to the washer and dryer. There was a hose coiled up on the wall. He turned it on and stalked back towards me. "Hope you enjoy this, Griffin."

The water was freezing.

They hosed Griffin down too. Now we were tied up in the corner of the bas.e.m.e.nt, both wrapped in scratchy green blankets.

I was s.h.i.+vering in my blanket, staring out at the bas.e.m.e.nt. "I know this bas.e.m.e.nt."

Griffin hadn't said anything in a long time. He was shaking too. His eyes looked hollow.

"Did you hear me?" I said to him. I was afraid of what was happening to him. I needed him to keep it together. I needed him.

He stared forward, giving no indication he knew I was talking.

"Griffin!"

Nothing.

"This is Naomi's bas.e.m.e.nt," I said. "I've been down here before. I remember because we talked about why there would be a hook like that down here. She thought it was for hanging plants, but I thought that was silly because there couldn't be any plants growing down here. There's no light."

There were two tiny windows up near the ceiling. They were both foggy and dirty.

"And we were in the van for a long time, Griffin. Long enough to drive all the way back to Thomas. So, I think that's where we are. I think he brought us back to Naomi's house. Why would he do that?"

"He wants to break us," said Griffin.

Oh G.o.d. He talked. "Baby, are you okay?"

He shut his eyes.

"Griffin, please talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, doll."

"Wouldn't it be dangerous," I said, "to be in Naomi's house? I mean, the police must have found her body by now. I had called 911, and I'm sure they'd be watching her house."

"If Op Wraith is involved, then the police didn't find any body. It wouldn't be dangerous. No, he's hoping that you'll recognize her house, and that it will upset you. He'll do anything to upset you. Because he knows that if you're upset, I'll be upset."

I grimaced at the disgustingness of that. "He's awful."

Griffin nodded.

I was cold. I peered into the bas.e.m.e.nt. It was dark and damp down here. It was depressing. I took stock of my situation. In the past month, I'd been chased across the country. I'd seen my best friend killed in front of my face. I'd been toyed with by Wolfman. I'd watched him carve a girl up. I'd killed him. I'd been stuck in a bas.e.m.e.nt in Texas for days on end. I'd been captured by a crazy man, miscarried my baby, had my clothes cut off me, been hosed down like an animal.

It was amazing I hadn't lost my mind.

"We're going to get out of here," I said. "And we're going to stop him. We're going to kill him."

Griffin didn't say anything.

"Griffin?"

"What?"

"Agree with me."