Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Blackwell
While Warrick poured himself into scouring the books, trying to dig up anything he could about Bloody Mary and the Obsidian Circle, I opted for a different route. I know without a shadow of a doubt we only have one true enemy here and it isn’t the beauty who hides in the shadows, coming to you when you call her name in the mirror. No, it’s the evil bastards who barter in the supernatural, more specifically, the rarities found within it. Right now I can’t think of anything more rare than Varys. It’s only a matter of time before they come to take him back, and I’d rather be ahead of the game.
It’s why I decided to go out on a different type of hunt. One that would yield different answers than Warrick’s and, if I’m lucky, all my hard work will reward me with another visit from the sultry vixen. Hopefully, this time, it won’t end with a massive case of blue balls. It didn’t take much work, not when you know where the fuckers like to drink. Then it just takes being able to read people, knowing what they desire the most and tempting it from them like candy to a kid.
For him, it was the lure of cock. Mine is infamous and well, he prefers blondes. I was happy to dangle myself in front of him, not that he’d ever get to taste the sweet nectar held within. But in war, we do what we have to. And this is a war, whether the world knows it or not.
The bloody, crying, gagged bastard strapped to the chair in front of me is one of those easily pliable members of the Obsidian Circle. He’s bound to a steel chair that’s bolted to the floor. No possibility for it to tip over, allowing him an opportunity to escape. I have his wrists and ankles bound with cruel precision, the buckles pulled so tightly that blood is dripping from where they are cutting into his skin. Not even the lure of the crimson fluid excites me, not when it’s from the likes of him.
The dim light of my work chamber flickers, casting a harsh shadow across the room. The air is stale, thick with the metallic tang of fear, sweat and the Obsidian member’s repulsive odor. It is so pungent it makes me want to hurl, and I’m basically a walking corpse.
My eyes trail along his disgusting form as I contemplate how best to get the information I need from him. He’s dressed in a black uniform; to most, it looks like a jumpsuit of sorts with the Obsidian insignia across the breast pocket. How he thought his superiors would approve of him wearing that into a bar escapes my logic.
He glares back at me the best he can through two swollen, blackened eyes. Blood trickles from the corners of his mouth around the gag that’s firmly tied in place. But I can still see the smirk he’s attempting to give me. He still thinks he has the upper hand here. That the Obsidian will somehow storm in here and save him.
How wrong he is. He’s a nobody to them, indispensable. While he is slightly higher up in their food chain, the top brass only care about themselves. Yet these mindless fools still follow after them like little puppy dogs.
It’s time for answers. I pull my knife from the sheath on my leg and slip it underneath the fabric of the gag, the blade sliding along the flesh of his cheek. My eyes light with joy at the flow of blood, and I take pride in knowing I made his face just a little bit prettier.
“You fucked up. Do you know who I am?” he sneers, his voice hoarse but laced with venom.
I lean back against the counter, crossing my legs as I pick at the imaginary grime beneath my nail and laugh.
“Well? Are you dumb or something? I asked a question."
“Nope. My partner had me tested. Turns out I’m just a certified psychopath. But as for knowing who you are, I do. It’s why I sent you a gift that I knew would snag you.”
“You’re fucking dead,” he growls as he fights a losing battle, struggling against the securely placed restraints.
“Already dead. So, not afraid of that. But you, my friend, have information I want. You’re just high enough in the pitiful circle to be privy to it, but too dumb to be at the top of the food chain. And tonight you’re going to tell me everything I need to know.”
“I’m not telling you fucking shit. You think I’m scared of you? You’re no one compared to them.” His words hit a nerve. With a flash, I’m off the counter and across the room, the blade of the knife pressed firmly against his carotid.
“I’m your worst nightmare, my friend. Well, next to the goddess. I need answers about her and why both the Obsidian Circle and Bloody Mary are interested in a certain unicorn.”
On any other day, I’d take joy in his eloquently executed scowl.. But not today. “Fuck you, find out yourself.” He spits in my face, and my vision turns a glorious haze of red.
My eyes flick over to the nearby table, an array of tools gleaming under the sparse light: pliers, syringes, and a car battery rigged with wires. But this bastard has pissed me off, and he needs to feel some pain now. With great precision, I toss the knife in the air, catching it by the handle as it falls and stab him in the leg, so close to the femoral artery I can almost taste the blood that would flow from it. But that would end the fun too quickly, and I still need information.
“No thanks. You’re not my type. Nope, I’m into a man with a horn and a woman who loves to lurk in mirrors, spying on your every move. Neither of which you are.”
“Stupid piece of shit vamp. Once the Obsidian knows I’m gone, they’ll find you and rip you to shreds. As for the unicorn; he’ll be back in their possession and back on track to meet his fate.”
“Big words from the man bound to a chair.” Just because he’s not experiencing enough pain, I step over to my table, my fingers dancing along the cool texture of the toys until I find my new knife and a staple gun. Time to play.
“Words you say? More like promises. You’re nothing compared to them. You think I don’t know who you are, vamp boy?” The asshole’s voice is calm, almost conversational, which only deepens the hate boiling within my veins.
I circle the chair slowly, each footstep echoing like the ticking of a clock. “Then I need to remind you just how much you should fear me if you think I’m just a boy. The twelve soft inches in my pants tell me I’m more of a man than a boy.” I step in front of him, his eyes finally landing on the items in my hands.
My captive’s smirk falters for a fraction of a second—just enough to betray his fear. I chuckle softly, the sound devoid of warmth, not that I have any in me. I’m a cold dead popsicle. I step closer, crouching so my face is level with his.
“Pain and information is my goal here. Call it a double pleasure for me. And the longer you resist, the more... creative I have to get. So, let’s make this simple. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make death come quickly. Keep being a dick, and I’ll take great joy in inflicting pain until you tell me what I want to hear. Who is Bloody Mary, and why does the Obsidian want the unicorn?”
The asshole’s eyes flicker, recognition finally dawning on him that he’s not walking out of here. Guess that faith in his oh-so-mighty Obsidian Circle isn’t that great. He quickly masks it with another sneer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s a unicorn, rare, a fucking commodity to anyone, and I don’t believe in stories meant to keep children in line.”
“Oh, but you do.” I hold up the knife, letting the dim light of the room glint off the blade. “This should help jog your memory. A special little trick I learned over the years.”
With my last word, I grip the handle tightly as I slam the blade into his other thigh, giving it a twist once it’s firmly seated inside of him. I set the staple gun on the floor, needing both hands for my next step. Taking hold of the handle with both hands, I drag it through his skin, the acute sharpness of the blade slicing like poetry through his flesh. Once I’ve given him a sizable wound, I drop the blade to the floor and stick three of my fingers inside the opening, twisting them, adding more agony as he cries out in pain. His scream is a fucking cock tease.
“Now, for the best part,” I tease, giving him a wink, picking up the staple gun. “Can’t have you bleeding out before I’m done.” Then I quickly staple up the length of the open wound, his cries of pain growing louder with each discharge of the gun.
The asshole’s breathing quickens as I stand from the floor and lean closer into his face. His struggles against his bonds increase as he desperately tries to break free, even using what slack he has with his torso to slam his body, trying to knock it backward, but the chair holds firm. As it should, being bolted to the floor. A key factor that the punk isn’t privy to.
“You’ll regret this,” he spits at me, though the tremor in his voice betrays him. “The Obsidian will come for me.”
“Let them,” I reply coldly. “But by the time they do, you’ll already have told me everything.” I lean in once more, my voice low and commanding. “Now, let’s try again.”
“Ohh, look at you, toying with a poor, vile soul when all the answers you want can easily be obtained from me.”
Her voice wraps around me like a velvet ribbon, low and smooth, each syllable dripping with a dark seductiveness that resonates in my chest. There is a magnetic quality to it, a cadence that lingers in my mind long after she’s spoken, sending a shiver down my spine. The way her words curve, deliberate and unhurried, stir something primal deep inside me, leaving me breathless.
I turn, the motion unhurried as I savor the anticipation of laying my eyes on her.
When I’m finally granted the moment, time seems to freeze. She stands before me, bathed in the soft glow of the evening light, her presence both commanding and effortless. My breath hitches as my eyes trace the gentle curve of her silhouette, her lips pressed firmly together as she gazes back at me with a cold darkness I know all too well. For a moment, the world around me fades, leaving only her and the quiet echo of my heartbeat long taken from me.
“You think I’m not aware that your President is scouring the internet, digging into long hidden records trying to find the secret of who I am? Meanwhile, you torture this creature who wouldn’t know a childhood boogeyman story from reality. The Obsidian cares nothing about him, nor would they share their secrets with him. Only a select few of the highest ranks know the true history.”
Something about her calls to me, a familiarity that I’ve never felt with anyone before. I could care less if she killed me now, ending my immortal life, sending me into an unknown oblivion. I’d take that fate, knowing her hands were the last to touch me. My cock stirs in my pants, aching to be buried deep inside her pussy, pounding into her as she cries in pleasure.
“You took my prize and now you try to find my secrets. Betrayal after betrayal. It’s time I stop letting you think you have the upper hand and take what’s mine.” She holds out her hand, fanning her fingers as she moves her hand in a circular motion, then fists her hand.
The putrid smell of burning flesh hits me before the scream pierces my ears. I turn to see the body of my victim, now a ball of flames. When I turn back, she’s gone. The only clue she was here is the now dead man. Her presence lingers in the room, and my craving for her becomes unbearable.
I need to talk to Warrick. Something’s about to happen, and I don’t think it’s going to be just a message written in blood on a wall. This time it’s going to be more.