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“Yeah,” the Emperor says, “Good idea. Then we can all lick her. Properly.”
“Thoroughly,” the Mastermind agrees. “We can all lick her clean, from tits to tail.”
“From toes to tush,” the Emperor agrees.
The panties that I changed into at the hunting lodge are not glamorous or beautiful, but they were clean. Now they’re dripping. The scent of my heat mingles with the aromas of melted cheese and burger.
The car turns upward, into a dark driveway.
“The old house,” the Mastermind says.
Inside the car becomes quiet as we roll between high, brooding pines and in among the darker, denser woods. On a sweeping turn, black spires and turrets rise into view and my breath freezes.
A cold sensation echoes deep inside me as we coast nearer to the house. It looks like the place that a Saturday night drive-in movie crowd sees the vulnerable heroine silhouetted in front of, and they all shout,‘Don’t go THERE!’
But I’m feeling something more connected. More personal. It looks like the kind of house where the windows and doorways have been witness to dark and terrible deeds, but I feel in my gut that one of the horrible secrets shuttered behind those awful doors belongs to me.
As we all clamber out of the car, my heart is in my mouth while I look up at the black, gothic arches. My foot feels like a sack of lead as I force it onto the steps. I’m shaking so much, the Warrior hurries to put and arm around me and hold me steady.
Looking down from atop the huge stone steps, the Emperor’s face is in shadow, but his eyes seem hollow.
“Her face has drained white. Is she okay? Are you okay?” and he says a name. But I can’t catch it.
The big wood doors creak almost comically, but my gut is churning. My legs don’t want to go up these steps. My feet don’t want to step into that house. Images of the high staircase and the cold mosaic tiled floor blur and spin in my head, before I’ve even stepped inside.
I do know the house. I know the gloomy dining room, with the very long table.
As soon as my foot touches the tiles in the entrance, I blurt, “Where’s the bathroom?” but my treacherous feet know the way.
There’s one just off the vaulted hallway. I have to hold my hands over my mouth and dash for the door. Slumped over the big bowl, with my bound hands holding on like doggy paws, I only just manage to kick the door shut behind me.
Twisting, gut-wrenching convulsions go on, long after my stomach is empty, dragging up acid and bile and gobs of thin, stringy saliva. At the end, when my stomach has finally had enough retching, I sit back against the door with my legs under me.
It crosses my mind that I could finish it all now. The weight of the Sig in my pocket feels like a fleeting temptation.
As well as being packed with evil, this house must trulybeevil. I never had a thought like that before in my life. It fades quickly, lasting only long enough to make me see that I’ve finally glimpsed something about myself.
Something older than the present.
I haul myself up to my feet and lean to drink from the faucet. The water doesn’t taste so much better than the inside of my mouth does right now, but I sloosh it around, gargle and rinse.When I face the mirror, I get a shock from the sight of my eyes looking back.
Now I have a sense of who I am. Not my name, still no details, but I recognize the face in the mirror. And I know what I am.
What I need now is to find out how the hell I got here.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I’m unsteady and weak as I step back out to the high, echoing hallway.
There must be something in my walk, though, or maybe it’s in the look on my face. All three men stop talking. they fall silent and look straight at me.
Quietly, the Mastermind says, “Look out.”
I reach out to him. I need something to drink. Thoughtfully, he already has a glass of water for me.
He says, “There’s alcohol. Spirits, whatever.”
I shake my head. After I drain the glass in three gulps, I put it on a side table and say, “Alright. Whatever else you want here, can you get it done quickly. I need to be out of this place.”
