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After brunch, we practice breaking through restraints together, with Amethyst thinking ahead for a range of contingencies. She keeps a bobby pin between her fingertips as I overpower her and arrange her limbs in the best positions to give maximum slack.
In the afternoon, Camila joins us with a group of operatives, and we practice hand-to-hand combat until Amethyst is exhausted. After that, I take her to an underground parking lot, where I teach her to unlock trunks from the inside.
I’m spiraling. Pushing her into a state of over-preparedness because we’re operating in the dark. I was blindsided by the knowledge that Amethyst’s mother was Father’s new wife and appalled that I’d had her in my grasp and allowed her to escape.
Amethyst breaks out of a truck’s doors covered in sweat and doubles over with her hands on her knees. This is the eighth vehicle she’s tried, and she’s panting hard and fast.
My chest tightens at having to squeeze a week of lessons into a single day. “Good job, little ghost.”
“Can I have a rest before we move on to the next exercise?” she asks, still out of breath.
“We’ve finished for today.” I scoop her up in my arms. “Let me take you back.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, her body falling limp. “Thank fuck. I was at my breaking point.”
Pressing a kiss on her damp brow, I walk toward the exit, where Jynxson awaits with Tyler.
“Report,” I say.
“I’ve found Nocturne, or rather, his website,” Tyler says. “He runs a private-members club with nights for BDSM and swingers. Once a month, they hold a slightly more vanilla event for the general public and anyone who wants to become a member.”
“How many tickets did you buy?”
“Nine so far,” he replies. “I want to stagger the purchases, so it doesn’t look like we’re a group. I also looked into Melrose Manor, where the club nights are held, but it’s owned by an offshore consortium.”
“I’m more interested in finding Nocturne. What do you know about him?”
Tyler exhales a long breath. “Someone wiped a shitload of records on him, and it looks like he doesn’t exist. He might be going by a different name, because all I have are a few forum posts from former members, reminiscing about his old club.”
“Do we even know if he’s connected to the Ministry of Mayhem?”
Tyler shakes his head. “There isn’t a scrap of evidence online that links him.”
“Send Camila photos from previous club nights and see if she can get Harlan Stills to identify him.”
“Consider it done.” Tyler darts away, leaving us with Jynxson.
“What do you want to do about McMurphy?” Jynxson asks.
I adjust Amethyst in my arms. “How long has she been imprisoned?”
“Thirty-six hours,” he replies. “I’ve left her with a week’s supply of water.”
“Good. Any update on the studio?”
“It’s just regular porn with professional actresses. Everyone working there gets paid in cash by a guard who lives in the downtown house with Harlan Stills. That’s also where they edit the footage.”
Cradling Amethyst in my arms, Jynxson and I continue through the exit and into a hallway where he calls the elevator. She’s either ignoring us or sleeping, but she’s earned her rest. After our little spat this morning when I reminded her of Lizzie Bath, she focused on her training like a professional.
The elevator arrives, and we step inside, letting it transport us to a brightly lit mechanical room filled with HVAC units, electrical panels, and pipes running along the ceilings.
We pass through the vast space into a tunnel where an electric cart awaits. Jynxson jumps into the driver’s seat, while I sit beside him with Amethyst curled on my lap.
He starts the engine and drives down a dimly lit tunnel connecting the parking lot to a network of underground passageways that span Beaumont City. The low rumble of the motor echoes off the concrete wall as he drives toward the Parisii neighborhood.
“How’s the training going?” he asks.
“She’s a fast learner,” I reply as she twitches in her sleep. “Strong combat skills for a beginner, and she can break out of ropes, cuffs, duct tape, and zip ties.”
