Chapter Ten
………………………….
Henri
EVERYTHING FUCKING HURT.
My arms.
My toes.
My soul.
I’d struggled to stay sane the entire walk back to the castle. Carrying Peter had drained the rest of my nonexistent reserves, and having Ily, Mollie, and Rachel stare at my back as I led them home drove me closer and closer to the bottomless black pit in my mind.
I’d snapped when I’d stabbed Kyle a million times.
I’d snapped when I’d strangled Charles.
I’d snapped on my own in that glow worm-dotted cave, drowning in the darkness—screaming into the abyss all while it swallowed me whole.
I needed to be alone.
I needed to rock in the motherfucking corner and figure out how to fix the mess inside me.
They vouched for me.
My rotten heart fisted all over again.
Why?
Why put themselves at risk?
I didn’t have time for such questions.
Didn’t have the capacity to care about the answers.
Shutting everything down, I ignored Ily’s quiet breathing behind me as we finished climbing and headed down the corridor toward Victor’s dead zoo and Dr Belford’s chambers.
Peter moaned in my arms as I pounded a fist on the door.
A cold draft cut through my damp clothes, and my chilled bones added another level of torment.
My temper fractured.
I felt borderline insane. Itchy with the need to get Peter far away from me and to shove away all the mistakes I’d made today. “Open up!” I bellowed. “Now.”
The door swung wide.
I didn’t give a shit about etiquette anymore. Victor’s cornering had well and truly bled me dry; I had nothing left to give.
Bowling past the doctor as she finished drying her hands on a paper towel, I spied a white sheet-covered table by the wall and marched to it.
The relief in my arms and spine as I placed Peter onto it sent fresh waves of pins and needles through me. I put him down as gently as I could, but I suppose it wasn’t gentle enough as the doctor gasped and darted forward, carefully rearranging his legs so they straightened out before tucking a starchy pillow beneath his head.
Raking both hands through my blood-saturated hair, I snarled, “Do whatever you want with him, but give me some painkillers and stuff for bruises first.”
Ily.
I needed to fix Ily before I lost my mind.
Her keen eye landed on my bleeding arm, her body tensing beneath light green scrubs. “I have orders to treat Masters before jewels.” She shot a longing look at Peter before gritting her teeth and stepping toward me. “That looks bad. You’ll need stitches.”
Clamping a hand over the wound, I backed up. “Drugs and bruise ointments. While you’re at it give me some bandages and salve too.” I flicked a look at Ily, noticing her shredded feet. They looked as bad as mine.
Fuck, I’m sorry.
The door opened and closed behind us.
I whipped around as the nurse who’d helped take my blood when I’d first arrived on this godforsaken island appeared.
I couldn’t remember her name, but the doctor snapped her fingers and ordered, “Rose, prep everything we need to disinfect and bandage Peter. I’ll need intravenous antibiotics and—”
“Give me what I need,” I said coldly, calmly. “I won’t ask again.”
Dr Belford scowled and shook her head. “While Rose starts on Peter, I’ll sew you up.” Her nose wrinkled at my sorry state. “You need tending to.”
“You’re not fucking listening! I don’t care about me. Give me what I want, and I’ll leave.”
She flinched at my aggression.
A fracture in her medical professionalism appeared. “Please don’t raise your voice at me.” She couldn’t hide her true feelings or the hatred she harboured. “You’re the reason I have a full-time job patching up sex slaves, so allow me to do that job and stop throwing your weight around.”
“The supplies, woman. Or I’ll make you instead of asking you.”
Every second prevented me from tending the only one who mattered to me.
Ily wisely didn’t make a peep as the doctor swallowed back her loathing and went to a cupboard full of narrow drawers, each typed neatly with white labels. Drawing out the things I’d asked for, she placed them in a kidney-shaped dish and shoved them at me. “Here.”
She made the mistake of looking behind me. Of noticing Ily swaying on the spot.
Red-soaked Ily with bruises pockmarking her from head to breakable toe.
“Goddamn you to hell,” Dr Belford hissed under her breath, pinning me with livid eyes. “You’re all fucking monsters.” Darting past me, she grabbed Ily’s hand. “Sweetheart, you need to sit down. How are you even still standing?”
Ily shot me a worried look—a look full of true fear and wariness. She shook her head. “I-I’ll be fine after I’ve showered and rested. I just need—” She swallowed hard as the nurse placed Peter’s hand into a metal bowl stinking of antiseptic solution. Whatever the liquid was immediately frothed as if dissolving his flesh like acid. “Oh…” Ily wobbled. “I’m suddenly feeling rather faint.”
“I’m not surprised.” The doctor couldn’t hide her horror at the number of bruises covering Ily. “You’re black and blue. Can you breathe okay? Any sharp pains in your side?”
Ily nodded weakly. “I didn’t want to say anything, but…it feels like there’s a dagger in my ribs. I’ve done my best not to inhale too deeply, but it’s super painful.”
What?
Why didn’t she fucking say anything?
“Here?” The doctor touched her battered ribcage, right over a particular nasty bloom of colour.
“Ow. Yep.” Ily sucked in a groan. “But…please don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Fix Peter—”
“It might be a fracture,” the doctor spoke over her. “You need to lie down.”
Fury kindled in me all over again.
The image of that psychopath shooting her at close range.
The pock-pock-pock of bullets.
The explosion of red as if he pried her open to feast.
It’d taken everything I had not to tear off his hands, scoop out his eyes, and rip out his stinking entrails.
Ily shook her head again. “No, no. I’m okay. Honestly, it’s just a bruise. Peter needs you far more—”
“If any of your ribs are broken, you might puncture your lungs if I don’t treat you.” She gave Ily a quick once-over. “Is there anything else broken? Fingers, toes, arms, legs? No sense of building pressure in your chest or abdomen?”
My ears rang with her questions.
Ily closed her eyes, her voice scarily quiet. “No, no. I’m fine.”
“Are you lightheaded because of lack of food, or have you been struck in the head?”
Ily flinched as she looked at Peter and the frothing bowl. “Please don’t mention food.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” The doctor held up her hand.
“Four.”
Glowering at me, Belford hissed, “What exactly did you do to her?”
My hackles rose. “That’s none of your concern.”
“It is as her physician. Did you toss her about? Hit her head? Did you use toys on her? Fuck her? How roughly did you take her?”
Yeah, after the shitty day I’d had, those questions tipped me the fuck over.
“Fuck you and fuck your questions.” I vibrated with enough rage to explode her rooms into splinters. “I’m trying really fucking hard not to hurt you but if you don’t give me what I need, let Ily go, and shut the fuck up, I will snap. And you do not want to make me snap.”
I swallowed blackness. Choked on madness.
Doing my best to leash myself, I hissed, “Give her back to me. Right fucking now.”
Her fingers locked on Ily’s arm. “She needs to sit down and be examin—”
“Ahhh!!” Peter suddenly woke up screaming as Rose cleaned his maimed hand with cotton.
Ily backed up, breaking the doctor’s hold on her. “I can’t stay here. I can’t—”
“It’s okay. I can put you in my room—”
“She’s coming with me.” I shifted the bowl of supplies, ready to grab Ily’s wrist. “I’m not leaving her here.”
“She’s covered in contusions. She might have internal bleeding thanks to the soft tissue bruises.” Dr Belford almost spat on my feet as her rancour grew. “You shot her like an animal. I’ve had enough of you creeps. All of you. I wish you’d just—”
“Melanie.” The nurse left a catatonic Peter and darted to her colleague. “Remember where you are, who he is, and calm down, alright?”
Melanie’s nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath.
For a moment, she looked as if she’d stab me with a scalpel, but slowly, the rage in her pretty older face turned into weary hate. “I’m sorry, Master H. Forgive me.”
“Focus on Peter.” Clicking my fingers and striding to the door, I ordered, “Ilyana, come. I’ve had enough of this place.”
I had to leave.
Before I lost it.
Ily’s gorgeous golden eyes met mine just as Peter woke up again, mumbling with hallucinations and knocking over the bowl of disinfectant.
He screamed in pain.
Ily shifted toward him.
And something terrible happened.
A soft cry on her lips.
A weak press of her hand to her head.
Then she staggered.
And fell.
Crumpling, tumbling—
Tossing the metal bowl away, I hurled myself forward and caught her just before she cracked her skull on the flagstone pavers of the doctor’s lounge.
No one said a word as I gathered Ily into my arms and somehow found the strength to lurch to my feet.
My back protested.
My arms had no strength.
But having her close, feeling her fading heat soaking into me—the rightness of her after the wrongness of Peter—fuck, I needed that.
I hadn’t been aware how much I needed that.
How desperate I was to stay human when all I could see and hear and taste was death.
My eyes met the doctor’s. “If you try to stop me from taking her, I will hurt you.”
“Just like you hurt her?”
I glanced down at Ily’s slack face and closed eyes. I held her life in my hands, and instead of her fiery temper colliding with mine, her silent submission undid me.
“Pick up the supplies and give them to me.”
Melanie crossed her arms. “You can’t take her. I won’t let you. She could die if she doesn’t receive proper care. Especially if there’s internal bleeding.”
“I’ll bring her back later.”
“Are you a doctor, or are you just stupid? She’s my patient. Because of you, we’ve spent the entire day doing our best to repair what you and your fucking friends broke. I thought it was over. I hoped I wouldn’t have to see another brutalised person tonight. But no! I now have two unconscious patients to add to my overflowing surgery, and I’m telling you, Master or no Master, she belongs to the owner of this castle, and it’s up to me to fix her!”
“Wrong.” I stalked into her. “She’s mine, and I’ll take care of her.”
Her eyes flickered to my cut arm. Her expression said she didn’t give a rat’s ass about sewing me up anymore, but she would fight me on behalf of the jewels in her care. Her backbone grew stupidly brave as she shook her head. “If you think you can have more of your twisted fun tonight with a passed-out, bruise-riddled jewel, you deserve to die from that knife wound.”
I reeled backward. “Do I look like the type of man who would fuck her in this condition?”
“You’re the one who put her in this condition!”
“Give me the fucking supplies, and let me pass!” I bellowed, making Ily flinch but not rouse.
“Go jump off the roof!”
“Mel, enough!” The nurse leapt into action. Jogging to the cupboard of many shelves, she hastily ripped out a few other things along with a vial of colourless liquid. “I’m sorry, Master H. Please…forgive her. We’ve had a long day with jewels being brought in from the hunt. Many of them are injured.” Her voice turned small. “A few are dead. It’s…just…forgive us.”
Inhaling hard, feeling my own agonies, I nodded. “Forgiven.”
Melanie sneered but held her tongue this time.
Rose padded back to me, scooped up the bowl I’d dropped, then carefully tucked the supplies onto Ily’s stomach where she lay sleeping in my arms. “There’s a guest room two doors down from here. Please stay there tonight so we can come check on you both when we’ve stabilised Peter, okay?”
The way she watched me.
Maternally.
Kindly.
It very nearly brought me to my knees.
The weight of the world crushed my shoulders, and all I wanted to do was beg this woman to fix everything. To reverse all my actions. To heal Ily and heal me. To stop me from ever being this way.
Swallowing around the rocks in my throat, I nodded. “Fine.”
Melanie sucked in a breath as if surprised by my sudden amenability.
Stepping closer, Rose dared put her hand on my filthy forearm. “Do you give me your word that you’ll look after her? That you won’t hurt her anymore?”
I wanted to tell her it wasn’t me who hurt her, but I couldn’t.
Every wound she carried was because of me.
“On the memory of my mother, I swear I only want to help.”
“In that case…may I?” Moving her hand from my forearm to Ily’s cheek, she raised an eyebrow. “If you intend on bathing her and treating her bruises, she’ll need something to withstand the pain. Once she’s clean and resting, we’ll come in with the portable X-ray machine and take a few slides of her chest and abdomen to make sure nothing is broken. I’m hoping she’ll stay unconscious while you tend to her, but…if she wakes while you’re still treating her, she might hurt herself by trying to get away. So…I’m willing to trust you, Henri.”
My eyes flew to hers.
Another?
Yet another person willing to trust me when I’d done nothing to deserve it?
What Peter had said crowded my mind.
“I see what she does now. You did come for us. You’re going to free us. I know it—”
I had no intention of doing that.
I had nowhere else to go.
If I stepped foot outside this place, I’d die. And I was a selfish, selfish man because I had no intention of releasing Ily.
“Peter informed us that Ily doesn’t tolerate chemicals well. However, the usual over-the-counter medicines won’t dull her pain enough. So…” She flicked a look at the doctor. “Do you think she could tolerate GHB, Mel?”
Dr Belford’s eyes widened. “The date rape drug? Are you mad? You want to give a highly potent drug to someone who can’t metabolise them?”
“Her system already makes GHB. We all do. Albeit in very tiny amounts. I doubt she’d have an adverse reaction to it as long as we got the dose right.”
“I’d hope to God we got it right because the wrong one would be fatal.”
“Fatal?” I backed up, hugging Ily closer. “No fucking way are you giving her anything that could kill her. Jesus.”
Both the nurse and the doctor looked at me with matching questionable expressions.
I didn’t care we were on camera.
I didn’t care Victor would see his in-house doctor yelling at me or my responses to Ily’s condition. He could taunt me or threaten me all he wanted, but under no circumstances would I put Ily through another experience like the one she’d had in Ruby Tears.
And the fact I could look back on that night—one of the most freeing of my life—and only abhor it now broke yet another fucking part of me.
Were there any pieces left?
How much could a man keep breaking before he shattered into dust?
Rose held up the tiny glass vial. “This is GHB in liquid form. It’s practically tasteless and—”
“No.” I shook my head.
“She’s in a lot of pain, Henri.” Rose used liberties with my name again. “She might’ve fainted because of Peter’s treatment, but I think it’s more about the fact she reached the limits of her endurance. The kindest thing you could do for her is to let her sleep while you tend to her. And this” —she wriggled the bottle— “is probably the only sedative she can have.”
I stepped back again.
Rose followed me. “This doesn’t work the same way as psilocybin. It’s gamma-hydroxybutyrate, and in the dose I’m suggesting, all she’ll feel is tired. If she wakes, her pain receptors will be dulled. The worst side effects would be slight inhibition and giddiness. That’s all.”
“I’m not fucking drugging her, alright?”
Ily moaned in my arms; her eyes cracked open a little.
Rose caught her hazy gaze and smiled. “Welcome back. How’re you feeling?”
“Sore.” Ily winced, trying to get away from my arm pressed against her ribs.
I shifted immediately, swallowing a hiss as her hair stuck to my stab wound.
Melanie darted forward, snatching the vial out of Rose’s hand. “Now you’re awake…you can make the choice.” Smiling thinly, she added, “As you know, Peter’s in a bad way, and we need to tend to him first. But…you’re also in a state. Your Master has agreed to do the initial clean-up and tend to your bruises. It will hurt. You really shouldn’t move. Rose has suggested you take a micro-dose of GHB to keep you still, and…I tend to agree with her.”
Ily stiffened. “No, I can’t—”
“You shouldn’t have any symptoms like you did last time. All you should feel is drowsy and free from pain for a while. Does that sound okay?”
Ily laughed, then bit her bottom lip with a moan. “Is that a trick question?”
“Okay then.” Unscrewing the vial, the doctor sucked up the barest amount into a pipette.
“Wait.” Ily blinked and tried to be more coherent. “Are you sure it won’t make me hallucinate? I don’t think I can go through that again.”
“No.” Melanie shook her head. “You should just be a little spacey. However, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I also didn’t advise that it might cause feelings of euphoria and increased sex drive. In too high a dose, it could cause tremors, nausea, breathing difficulties, and or death. So it’s not one I regularly—”
“No way.” I bared my teeth. “No drugs. Give her some damn Panadol.”
“Panadol won’t touch the sort of pain she’s suffering.” Her hate-filled eyes met mine. “And it’s not your choice, is it?”
Ily trembled as if the thought of existing for another moment in pain was too much. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t ask me to put her down. She just nodded. “If it will give me some peace for a little while…then, yes please.”
I sucked in a breath. “Ily, no—”
“I’ve made my choice.” She refused to make eye contact.
Melanie sucked in a breath and squeezed out all the liquid in the pipette until only a few drops remained. Holding it over Ily’s mouth, she murmured, “Open.”
Hesitantly, Ily parted her lips and grimaced as the medicine was administered. Hardly anything at all. A thimble size. Minuet really.
Catching my eyes, the doctor ordered, “If she falls unconscious again, I expect you to monitor her. Roll her onto her side and keep her airway clear. Seeing as Ily has a history of being a lightweight when it comes to substances, it’s your job to keep an eye on her and request us if her care requirements exceed your capabilities.”
“We’ll pop by as soon as we can.” Rose smiled, her eyes far kinder. Either she was far better at hiding her true thoughts or she didn’t hate me as much as Melanie did.
“Fine.” I gritted my teeth. “You have my word. I’ll never take my eyes off her.”
“I can walk, Hen—” Ily cut herself off. “Please, put me down, Master H.”
“No. And don’t ask again.”
Melanie huffed and tucked the vial into her scrub pocket. “Two doors down. Make yourself at home. And Ily…don’t fight the effects, okay? In ten to twenty minutes, you should feel a lot more relaxed and able to ignore the pain.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Ily nodded with a wince.
Spinning on my heel, I strode out of the room before the doctor could say anything else.
* * * * *
Obeying the doctor’s commands, I guided Ily into the spare guest chamber and flicked on the lights. Slightly smaller than our room below, this one glowed in autumn colours. A bed frame made of dull copper, white blankets edged with burnt orange, and curtains a dark shade of bronze. A dresser lined most of the wall with a workstation, minibar, and TV. The view from the small Juliette balcony displayed more of the gardens, allowing us to look down upon the battlements in the distance and the beetle-sized guards patrolling with their spotlights.
The bathroom glittered with modern mosaic tiles, pearlescent white with burnt orange, making everything seem as if we were inside a crystal tangerine.
It felt odd to be in a different room, but Ily didn’t seem to care as she turned on the shower and adjusted it to her preferred temperature of Hades.
I managed to keep my temper the entire time she stripped off her disgusting nude-coloured underwear—now grime-covered and paint-soaked. I chewed on self-hatred as I followed her into the shower and reached for the soap to bathe her.
But then all my fury twisted into despair as she held up her hand and shook her head. “Don’t…please don’t touch me.” She kept her eyes downcast. “The bruises just keep getting worse. The pain is almost too much. I think…I think I’ll pass out again if you touch me.”
I wanted to ask her so many things.
I wanted a comprehensive list of her pain and how to erase it.
I wanted to drop to my knees and press my forehead to her badly bruised belly and just hold her.
But that black abyss smothered me down.
A dam of misery blocked my throat.
I merely nodded.
Leaving her to wash, watching how gently she touched her swollen, black-and-blue skin, I stood under the hot spray and fought the urge to scream.
I’d been too late this time.
I hadn’t stopped him.
That blackness kept billowing, pouring, suffocating…
Rivulets of crimson poured off my skin, but the water didn’t stand a chance at cleansing my insides. My soul was putrid, fetid, corrupted. Red water swirled around our feet, vanishing down the drain. Every drop rivered over my mind, a waterfall pushing me into the deep, dark depths of whatever entity that’d taken hold of me.
My stab wound blazed beneath the hot spray, giving me something to latch onto.
I liked the agony.
I deserved it.
The urge to find another blade and open the scar on my leg flickered in my coal-black mind.
For ten minutes, Ily and I shared a silent shower, taking turns to rinse beneath the heavy pummel of water. Our bodies became clean, but my soul? That became darker than death.
Wringing out her hair, squeezing clear water not scarlet, Ily swayed into the wall.
“Oops.” She giggled.
My heart wrenched to a stop.
I’d never heard her make such a light-hearted sound before.
It was the quickest flare of brightness in my otherwise wretched existence.
Every atom in my body urged me to reach out and support her wobbly steps as she tripped drunkenly out of the shower and clung to the towel rail.
She giggled again as she patted the fluffy towel. “Sorry.”
She’s apologising to the furniture now?
I thought whatever that damn doctor gave her was supposed to be mild?
Wrenching off the shower, I stepped dripping wet onto the bathmat and caught my reflection. The glass above the white vanity fogged with steam, my image hazy and clouded. But even in the mist, my eyes seemed to burn a dull grey full of bone-deep exhaustion. A tiredness that didn’t just come from physical activity or the mental weariness of murder, but something so much deeper.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the wasted man staring back at me was on a slippery slope to burn out, and I didn’t really want to stop it.
If I burned out…this all ended.
I can finally rest.
Alone.
Wrapping herself in a towel, Ily hissed between her teeth, then walked with great concentration out of the bathroom.
Snatching a second towel from the rack, I dried off my hair and swiped my body dry. Agony bellowed in every inch. My arm never stopped bleeding, hinting that the lightheaded wooziness might not just be from thickening depression but also blood loss.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I strode into the bedroom and spied Ily resting on the bed.
She lay star-fished beneath her towel. Arms and legs spread as if not wanting to touch any part of herself. Flat on her back where Kyle hadn’t been able to shoot her, she breathed shallowly through her nose, obviously still in a lot of pain.
I lingered over her.
The urge to cup her cheek and promise I’d make everything better almost broke whatever wasn’t broken inside me.
Everything I touch gets hurt…
Turning away, I fought the urge to run into the night and sacrifice myself to the churning, clawing chasm inside me.
I couldn’t cope like this.
I couldn’t be this way.
I wanted out.
I wanted to forget.
I want…
Christ.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I backed away.
What I wanted I could never have, and if I tried, I’d only hurt her worse.
With shaky hands, I grabbed the medical supplies Rose had gathered for us, then carted them back into the bathroom.
Wiping off the mirror, I rummaged in the packets of bandages, arnica cream, and other salves.
I found salvation in distraction.
I did everything I could to avoid looking into the black maw growing ever bigger inside me. Tendrils of midnight wrapped around me, tugging me closer, closer…
My breath came faster as I found a small packet with a sterilised needle and surgical thread. I stared at my stab wound and imagined sewing myself together like a cobbler with leather.
The room tilted.
My breathing turned raspy.
My chest expanded until the contusion on my side glowed with dirty colours.
I fell into that swirl of pain.
My eyesight blurred at the edges.
I hyper-fucking-ventilated.
Blackness exploded through me, strangling me, throttling me—
My knees buckled as a fear I’d never felt before hammered into every bone.
Clutching the sink, I bent over the vanity, and panted.
I fucking panted and gasped, shaking and quaking as frenzied panic ripped through me.
It vised my chest, gagged my throat, and murdered me with every bad thing, wrong urge, and despicable desire.
I almost lost her.
I came face to face with it all.
Every decision.
Every choice.
I fucking despised myself.
The things I’ve done—
I retched.
Empty stomach acid burned my throat and splashed into the sink. Black despair spewed up and out, purging with every choke. Sweat dripped down my back as I pressed my forehead to the tap and rode out the spasms. The familiar regurgitation that’d punished me my entire life did its best to cripple me.
And for once, I was grateful.
So fucking thankful that the overload of insidious poison inside siphoned down the drain. I didn’t vomit food. I vomited up my very essence.
By the time I stopped, I could barely stand.
She needs you…
Groaning, I commanded my muscles to brace and spine to straighten. Catching my stare in the mirror, I flinched at the creature staring back. My skin was bone white and eyes haunted as a graveyard.
But at least I hadn’t been devoured by the darkness…
Yet.
Finding a paper-wrapped toothbrush in the drawer, I brushed, rinsed, then grabbed the largest gauze in the medical supplies and slapped it over my arm. My blood dripped over the vanity and floor. I didn’t want to bleed over Ily while I tended to her.
I couldn’t exactly do much for her apart from coating her entire body in arnica.
I was familiar with the homeopathic cream, thanks to my mother.
She’d always been jumpy. If I walked into a room without her hearing me, she’d often crash into a cupboard or doorframe as she turned around and noticed me.
I’d hated seeing her hurt because of me.
I’d accepted that every bruise she carried were constant reminders that even though we were family, she acted as if I was her enemy.
And now, Ily is bruised.
Because of you.
The clawing in my chest returned.
The swirling blackness and wretched depression.
While she’d been covered in paint, it’d been hard to see the totality of her bruises.
But now?
Fucking Christ, every inch of her wonderful body was a blazing reminder of what I’d done.
She hates me…
Swallowing hard, I did my best to shut down the slicing pain in my heart.
The abyss pounced all over again.
I sank into the black.