38. Vesper #3
“Open the next one,” Anders says, giggling. “I think you’ll like it.”
I shouldn’t. This is a game that he’s playing and I’m not interested in it anymore, but rabid curiosity has me grabbing the other gift.
I don’t take my time opening it this time.
I rip it open with a savagery that would make any person nervous.
Not Anders. No. He claps his hands in delight as I grab the item that falls out of the package.
HANDCUFFS, MAGICAL ITEM
These handcuffs transform to fit any man or creature, no matter how large or small. They can be coded to a specific player. Currently, these handcuffs are coded for player #2,601,333.
I drop them and leap to my feet. “What fucking game is this?” I snarl, drawing my Bloodsense Fang from my inventory.
Anders doesn’t even react to my clear threat.
He simply stands there holding that stupid present.
He holds it up at my menacing snarl. “Ope! I guess it’s time for me to open mine!
” He rips the paper off and opens the box.
When he reaches his hand inside and draws it out, I hardly have time to react.
One second, I’m staring at him. The next, he’s firing some sort of weapon at me.
A large net comes exploding out of the end of his weapon and wraps around me.
It hits me so softly, there isn’t even a sting from it.
My pain receptors don’t go off as I fall to the floor.
Locke bares his teeth and suddenly drops his hammer into his hand, charging at Anders. Before he can make contact, Krampus is there, grabbing the hammer from his hand and stopping Locke with barely any effort at all.
Gustav still stands in the same place, his smile fixed on his face, his eyes unseeing.
“Gustav!” I cry. “Help me!”
He blinks and looks around, before his eyes land on me. Confusion passes across his eyes for a second before something glows from his wrist and the expression fades. A bracelet with tiny bells jingles as he shifts back to his blank stare.
Anders appears over me, his grin so wide, I can see his gums. “Don’t you want it to be Christmas every day?
” he says, reaching out to stroke a finger against my cheek through the net.
The more I struggle, the tighter it gets, until I stop struggling all together.
“Santa won’t come without his milk and cookies.
And our last milk source dried up.” He giggles. “I think you’ll do just fine.”
“If you touch me, I’m going to bite your fucking face off,” I snarl, struggling again. The net tightens.
“Stop struggling,” Svetlana whispers. She touches her razor arms against the net and one of the ropes splits. “If it gets too tight, I won’t be able to get my arm around them.
Anders reaches out and grabs a fistful of my breast, caressing it before he squeezes it. “Yes,” he purrs. “These will do nicely.”
It takes everything inside me not to struggle as Svetlana works on the ropes behind me where Anders can’t see.
She’s fast, but I don’t know how much longer I can take this.
Locke is yelling behind Anders, fighting Krampus’ hold.
Behind me, Steve flashes between hectic and slow, as if he’s trying to send out a message.
When Anders had shot me with the net, I’d fallen backward.
My head now brushes against the bottom of the Christmas tree and the various other presents still there.
I look up as Anders continues to touch me, his wandering hands leaving behind trails of poison with every point of contact.
I count the seconds, one for each piece he’s going to lose, but my eyes catch on Steve glowing fiercely above.
Don’t go near him unless you want to lose your free will.
Clearly, this place is all about losing your freewill. And Steve? Steve doesn’t seem happy on top of that tree. Two enemies can be friends if we have the same enemy.
The net suddenly loosens around me and I don’t think twice. I explode out of the netting, shoving Anders back with a savage kick to his chest. He goes flying on his ass as I turn toward the Christmas tree and shove it over.
“Alright, Steve,” I say. “I could really use your help if you’re not a murderous little shit.”
The swirling ball of eye rings and wings slowly lifts up from the ground, his perch toppled, and for a moment, I think I’ve made a serious mistake. Anders screams, clearly terrified as he tries to scramble back away from a very bright Steve.
Steve pulses with power, hovering, before he slowly floats toward me. Those rings orbit fast and then stop, too many eyes meeting mine.
“Please,” I say, remembering my manners. “We’re just trying to escape, too.”
“Oh my god, girl. Like, I’m not going to hurt you!” Steve says out loud, and then in my mind, “The big one, however. . .”
The voice that echoes in my head is made up of a hundred of them, the sound ricochetting around my mind in a way that almost hurts as Steve speaks. The main voice is nasally and high-pitched, the complete opposite of what I expected.
“And you can call me Stevie,” he giggles. “Like Stevie Nicks, but better. Now watch me work, bitch!”
He zooms across the room and slams into Anders where he’d been attempting to run away. Anders flies off his feet and slams into the floor. For a second, I expect Steve, or Stevie, to disappear because of the safehouse regulations. When he doesn’t, I frown.
“Those rules are only for other players mostly. Harm done to players causes the Safety Guard to be triggered. Harming an NPC does not illicit the same effect,” Cipher says helpfully. “Though I must warn you—”
“I get it,” I say. “Stevie is dangerous.”
I stay on guard as Stevie fucks up Anders. He hits the asshole again and again, until blood begins to drip from Anders’ mouth.
“Santa needs his milk!” Anders screams as he spits out a few teeth. “He needs it or else he can’t come!”
I stalk over to where he’s sprawled out on the floor and hold up my hand. “Stop,” I tell Stevie, who surprisingly listens. “I have a better idea.”