Page 115 of Death is Familiar

“No, I—" White hot pain shot through my spine, radiating down my arms, every nerve lit up like the Fourth of July.

I was frozen. Pinned in pain, words caught in my throat, I couldn’t think beyond the need to claw at my skin and extract the river of anguish that flowed there.

And just as suddenly, the pain stopped. I could breathe again. My hands went instinctively to my neck. The grip I’d felt around my throat wasn’t Imaginary Todd’s, it was real. Metal and leather from jaw to clavicle. I was wearing a collar.

“I wouldn’t do that if I⁠—”

I pulled on it.

A jolt of electricity raced up and down my spine.

A shock collar. Grand.

“I don’t care if I have to shock the truth out you,” Madame waved the remote for emphasis, “but I will have it.”

“Madame…”

“You assured me that the electricity wouldn’t harm any child, were you wrong, Warden?”

“No, but…”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

I was still collecting myself, catching my breath, as the conversation continued around me. Being shocked sucked. So much. The shock collar was going to be a problem.

“But the stress to the child.” Warden White was trying to placate the madwoman wielding the remote. A gesture I appreciated despite our situation. I’d have to thank him later. Then kick him squarely between the legs.

“What are you smiling at?” Madame’s finger hovered over the pain button. Clearly, she didn’t like the expression I adopted.

“You don’t believe me.” My smile grew. I gave a chuckle. “All this set up, and prophecy-shit, and you don’t believe me.” I laughed, “It’s rich.”

She loathed the fact that I was making a joke out of this. I could see it in her beady little eyes. “And what exactly do you think you know, Two?”

Now, that I’d caught her attention—without her taking a fist-full of my hair—I had the upper hand. I’d learned a few things from Three’s singing while in my pit, even if I had done my best not to listen. “First, my name is not Two, I’m Deli⁠—”

And she shocked me. Shocking. “You are Two.”

“—lah,” I exhaled while returning to my senses. Warden White slid a hand over my shoulder and squeezed. He may have been telling me to pick my battles, but being known by my name was a non-negotiable. “Second, I will not answer you with that remote in your hand. So put it down and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Why would I, when I can just shock it out of you?”

Yep, I hated her guts. “It’s easier for us both if you don’t.”

Madame thumbed the pain button again, rolling her thumb over it, over and over again. Control freak, got it.

Just as I was sure Madame was going to press the button, again, Three shouted, “Dogs respond better to positive re-enforcement!”

Apparently, Three decided now was time for her to chime into the conversation. And thought I was worth the comparison to a dog.

“She is right,” Warden White offered, which got him a swift glare from me, but he shrugged his shoulders and gave another tight squeeze.

“And I’m offering to tell you what I know. Answer your questions.” I was brewing up my story, solidifying it between breaths. “So, put the remote down, and we’ll talk.”

Madame exhaled a long and measured breath as we sized each other up. Everything I had in me was used to exude ‘royal pain-in-the-ass’, unless we decided to do things my way. Which must have worked because after a moment she rolled her eyes, put the remote down, and pulled up a chair next to me. “Tell me what you know.”

A small victory. Now, I just needed to keep up the momentum.

Mads had mentioned a bet. A large sum of money. Three’s song mentioned me—my number, rather—being the longshot.