82. Cyrus
CYRUS
As I grasped the back of her neck, Tess was already shaking with terror.
Good. She should be afraid.
Lowering the machete, I turned her chin to face me. Her eyes were already glossy with tears, and in them, I could see just a glimmer of familiarity. A look that captured the fear I’d felt escaping Heirs of Promise, the panic that settled into my heartbeat when we’d made Feverpoint our home.
By the time I’m done with Tess, it’ll be much more than just a glimmer.
Pulling a rough, black scrap of fabric from the pocket of my cargo pants, I shoved it into Tess’ hands. “Blindfold yourself. Well.”
She looked down at the fabric, swallowing hard before lifting it to her eyes. I didn’t have to threaten her to tie it tight. She already knew that trying to cheat me would only make this worse.
Once her hands lowered back to her sides, I took a step back, looking her up and down. I waved my hands in front of her face, testing for a reaction. And when I got none, I pressed my palm to the back of her shoulder, startling her with a weak shove back.
“What the fuck?” She spat.
Secure.
I nodded to myself before giving her another nudge. “Walk that way. Don’t stop until I say so.”
It would be easier and faster to carry her, but where was the fun in that? She looked so pathetic, taking one tentative step at a time. For all she knew, I might lead her straight off a cliff.
Bet her screams on the way down would be entertaining.
I’d waited so long for this moment. And if I was lighting a torch to our rules, I was at least going to make sure that I enjoyed myself on the way.
Step after unsteady step, Tess marched through the Old Frontier and into Rapid Rush. Even in this terrified state, I could see her thinking through what was happening: listening for signs of where I was taking her.
Irritated by her watchfulness, I scraped my machete hard against a nearby light pole. The earsplitting sound was enough to make her jump and stumble.
“Move faster,” I growled.
She tried hard to keep her head high and her back stiff, but Tess wasn’t fooling me. I saw right through the bravado, down to the shaking in her knees. I’d almost feel bad if it weren’t exactly what she deserved.
If Tess hadn’t pushed me out, I never would have had to flee Promise in the first place. She’d created the monster I’d become. And now, she got to feel its claws.
An eye for an eye. Exodus.
It was only fair to hold her to the standards of her own god.
Before long, the gushing waterfalls and foamy sprays of the Rapids disappeared behind us, giving way to the gentle creak of a rocking pirate ship.
Black Doubloon was outlandish, even for Feverpoint. Tall, faux palms and tropical brush sprung illogically from the sandy shores of a glorified lake. Animatronic parrots jeered at us from the treetops as we passed by the giant pirate ship bobbing at the center of the water.
It was like walking right through the back of a Cap’n Crunch box, if the box had been rotting in a landfill. But just like the rest of Feverpoint, this section had its darker underbelly. And I’d spent years honing it for just this purpose.
“Left.” I tapped Tess’ shoulder with the flat edge of the machete, directing her toward a large, black rock formation at the far end of the cove. Water lapped at her feet as we crossed the shore, frigid from the fall air.
Through the mouth of the skull-shaped sea cave, the vibes instantly shifted from camp to something much darker.
Worn nets and fishhooks hung from the black stone overhead like a tattered canopy.
Swashbucklers’ swords were displayed in wall-mounted racks, or otherwise littered across the floor where their displays had fallen.
It had been a bar once: a place where the adults could get day drunk out of view of their kids and babysitters.
That had been a long time ago. I’d had a decade to move out the old leather couches and the bar and craft this into my own personal torture chamber.
“Kneel,” I grumbled, pushing Tess down by her shoulder. She whimpered as her knees scraped the cold, wet stone of the cave floor, and I couldn’t help rolling my eyes.
No wonder the others like her afraid. She sounds like such a slut when she whines.
But while fear made her eager for the others, it only seemed to make her bratty with me. I could see her shifting her weight anxiously, antsy about what would come next. And instead of listening to the fear and shutting her mouth, she couldn’t help herself from spouting off.
“Oh come on, Cyrus. Can you cut the bullshit and finally tell me why you’re mad? Did I steal your bunk? Take your crayon?”
My voice left me in a growl. “Do you really think I’m so trivial?”
Turning my back on her, I stalked over to a heavy black chest, throwing it open with a crash. Inside, I’d packed away all sorts of punishments. Whips and floggers and chains were arranged in a neat display, but that wasn’t the half of it.
Lifting out a false bottom, the true treasure was unveiled: knives, swords, daggers. I knew every inch of these blades, the perfect way to carve through flesh with them. But looking at them tonight, my stomach twisted.
And before I could get a handle on the feeling, Tess continued her goading. “I’m sure we can figure out a more civil way to settle the grievance. Maybe I can give you my pudding cup at lunch tomorrow? Or let you take my turn as line leader?”
The incessant yammering was grating my nerves, making it impossible to think. I’d had a plan coming in here. I just needed to remember what it was. Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to tune her out.
But Tess could never just shut up and take what was coming to her. A peal of laughter bubbled past her lips.
“What’s so fucking funny?” I hissed, but she just kept laughing.
“Oooo, sorry. I, um… I just realized what’s going on here.”
Heat pricked at the nape of my neck, radiating up my brand. “And what’s that?”
I held my breath waiting for an admission, an acknowledgement — an apology, even. But instead, she just laughed.
“I probably didn’t do anything at all. You’re just a sick little freak who gets off on throwing temper tantrums.”
“Do you want to live?” I snarled. None of this was right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
“Oh Cyrus, we both know you don’t want to kill me. Who would you throw your toys at then?”
I slammed the chest shut, pure adrenaline surging through my muscles as I gripped my trusty machete. My plans had abandoned me. It was time to make my own course.
“I wonder why you’re so grumpy? Didn’t get enough attention growing up? Oh wait, of course you didn’t!” She laughed again. “Well here’s your chance. If you’re going to fuck me, just get it over with already.”
In one swift motion, I raised the blade to her throat, tipping up her chin with the flat edge.
Not so talkative now.
I basked in a single, glorious moment of silence before twisting the machete upward, only leaving a slight trail of blood behind as I cut away her blindfold.
With her safety blanket gone, Tess couldn’t hide the terror in her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to adjust to the lantern light of the cave.
Her eyes wavered — I could tell that she wanted to look at her surroundings, to map out an escape route, or otherwise to look down at the blade that was so close to her artery.
But she didn’t dare look away as I leaned closer to her. My breath filled her lungs as I hissed in her face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Ragdoll.”
She swallowed hard, drawing my eye down to her throat. It would be so easy to slice the delicate flesh and free us all from our misery. But there was still a debt to be paid.
Pulling my machete back to my side, I towered over Tess. “Tell me what you remember.”
“About Heirs of Promise?” Her brow furrowed.
“About that night.”
When her head tilted, wispy blonde hair shifted around her like a dip-dyed halo. My chest tightened at the sight. I could see how the whole innocent act got to the others. But all that Tess’ performance evoked in me was rage.
“I um… I don’t remember that much?” Her gaze grew far away, and she bit her lip as she stared off into the dark corners of the cave.
“Look at me when you’re speaking,” I barked, pacing away from her. “I didn’t ask you how much you remembered. I commanded you to tell me what you do.”
“Commanded?” Tess frowned.
“Commanded,” I glared down at her. “I caught you. You are mine to do with as I please until dawn. And if you keep making me wait, I will consider it a violation of our agreement.”
A vein jumped in her neck at the threat. Shaking her head, she sank back further on her heels. “The night you left, I remember sneaking down to the kitchen for a snack…”
It was the middle of the night, about fifteen minutes after the sister’s hourly rounds.
Nash and Blade were pawing through the pantry, trying to figure out how much they could pilfer from the communal stash without getting caught.
If we were going to get out of this place, we needed supplies to survive out in the woods.
I was guarding the door while they packed the bag, clutching the stolen pantry key tight in my fist. I had no idea what I was supposed to be guarding against — if any of the nuns, or god forbid Pastor Harris found us, we were utterly screwed.
But then I saw her.
“When I walked in, you were standing in the middle of the kitchen with a duffel bag at your feet. Blade and Nash were in the pantry making a mess. I tried to turn around and leave, but before I could make it back to the door…”
I barely caught Tess by her scrawny little shoulder. I was still scrawny myself: hardly fifteen with just enough muscle to make due in a fight on the yard.
But Tess was a tiny little thing. It was no wonder she was sneaking down here for snacks — by the look of her, you’d think the nuns were hardly feeding her.
They did that, sometimes — denying us food as a punishment. But Tess never got into much trouble.
“You cornered me against the old refrigerator, told me that I better not squeal.”