Chapter Thirty-Four
……………………….
Henri
FUCK.
Fuck.
Fuck!
My mind overloaded as the clip of polished dress shoes marched over stone pavers and the rustle of velvet capes whispered in the dark. Every Master came. Multiple guards interspersed with black-masked men.
All male apart from one.
Ily.
The only splash of white came from her and Peter at the front.
No other jewels.
It was as if Victor didn’t give a rat’s ass about them. Single-minded and entirely focused on whatever horror he had planned.
Stalking at a fast pace, Victor guided us down a corridor, through an archway, across a courtyard, and into a tower with a flag fluttering high in the star-studded sky.
Every metre, I tried to figure out how to stop this.
Every heartbeat, I begged for supernatural powers to surge through me and smite Victor where he stood.
This would be so much easier if I could kill with just a thought.
A bolt of sorcery.
A well-placed curse to the brain.
I had no idea which guards were on our side.
Ben and Stewart trailed a few men behind.
My back prickled as they stared at me.
I wanted to fall back and talk to them.
Plan a siege as we walked because tonight was the fucking night.
There would be no Christmas.
No coup.
No bombs, no bullets, no freedom.
Victor knew.
How much he knew, I didn’t know.
But he knew something.
And none of this was fucking good.
Stone swallowed us whole as Victor vanished into the tower and we all followed. Echoes throbbed with ice. Eternal coldness bit into my bones with fangs.
A guard stepped forward and pulled out a ring full of brass keys from his pocket.
They jingled painfully loud.
The scratch of metal on metal as it slipped into the ornate lock. The creaking hinges as the door opened.
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
The door screeched, dragging over the stone pavers as the guard wrenched it wide and stepped aside for Victor to climb down the stairs.
We followed.
So many stairs.
A winding corkscrew of never-ending stairs.
Electrical torches flickered like fire on the walls, granting just enough light not to trip but not enough to get my bearings.
Where the hell is he taking us?
Musk and dankness billowed like a swamp.
The air turned dense and earthy, growing colder and colder until my toes turned numb, and claustrophobia clawed at my throat.
The glow of Ily in her stunning white gown was the only thing keeping me sane.
She was my beacon.
My north.
My only.
She glowed, not because of her dress, but because of her spirit. The light in her that tempered my black. Her goodness to my darkness. Her redemption to my remorse.
Peter didn’t say a word as Victor reached the end of the stairs. His shoes clicked and hissed on rock. The sound bounced around us, the tunnel we’d reached as narrow as a fucking coffin.
I swallowed hard.
My skin itched.
It felt as if he’d buried us alive.
Lights snapped on as Victor triggered sensors.
One after another, disrupting the never-ending black with pinpricks of illumination.
I passed by a shadowy tomb to my left.
I crashed against the wall to my right.
A cell.
Bars.
Shackles on the wall and a drain in the middle.
The dungeons.
We’re in his motherfucking dungeons.
Victor snickered from his place at the top of the line. His voice was cool and collected like any good tour guide offering facts to his tourists. “I hope you like the aesthetics, Henri. I spent many hours poring over the blueprints from Linlithgow Palace and its ruins. I ensured my builders gave me a replica. Right down to the sandstone, granite, and oak.”
I couldn’t have talked, even if he held a gun to my head.
A few Masters behind me chuckled. “Always love the vibe down here, Vic. Especially love a nighttime play. You can almost feel the ghosts of the tortured highlanders who suffered in the real one.”
“Thank you for saying so, Larry. I’m glad someone appreciates my attention to detail.” Victor looked over his shoulder and smiled. His eyes caught mine. “Are you quite well, my friend? You’re looking a little pale.”
I choked, coughed, and cleared my throat. “I-I’m fine. Just…taking it all in.”
“Plenty more to see. Plenty more. This way.”
Picking up the pace, he yanked Ily along with him.
Her bare feet would be so cold.
Her body icy from the bowels of this earth.
The tunnel meandered like a labyrinth. Widening in places and forking off in others. Dungeons large and small appeared in the gloom. Some with typical looking torture equipment, others with brand-new BDSM crosses, leather tables, and racks full of salacious toys.
I completely lost my sense of where the fuck we were as we stopped at another barricaded heavy wooden door. A guard opened it with another set of clinking keys.
“I thought access this way wasn’t possible anymore?” Ian enquired behind me, his dark skin soaking up the night.
“It wasn’t.” Vic nodded, patiently waiting for the guard to wrangle the damp-swollen door open. “But I’ve had a team evacuate the cave-in and they managed to clear it last week. Just in time for this.”
“Perfect! Much easier going this way,” Larry said.
“I agree.” Victor smirked.
My racing mind latched onto the fact that Larry was here.
The weedy little wretch I’d almost slaughtered.
I thought Vic wasn’t a fan.
The day after I’d killed Daxton, he’d mentioned he’d sent the snivelling man home.
I jerked, remembering what Peter had said.
Larry had a guard on his retainer.
A guard who would happily give up his gun when and if Larry wanted to shoot me.
Christ, can this get any worse?
Boxed in beneath the earth, surrounded by enemies, utterly powerless, completely useless, all while the love of my life was manhandled by the worst bastard to ever exist.
I hated myself.
Fucking despised myself for putting her in this situation.
We should’ve gotten out sooner.
What the hell were we thinking, waiting for Christmas?
We should have fought the moment Victor flew away for a month.
Fuck!
“This way, gentlemen.” Victor descended yet another staircase.
My knees trembled as I followed.
Down and down, the musky earth turned sharp with rock.
Pebbles and dust crunched beneath my shoes as we finished descending and stepped into yet another corridor. My black cape tugged my shoulders as it caught on the jagged sides.
If the last tunnel had been a coffin, this one was a casket.
Not just any casket.
One made from stone and ions of pressure from above.
The same overbearing heaviness of the caves a few months ago returned, crushing my head, my spine, driving me into the dirt beneath my feet.
No.
Please tell me we’re not—
“Almost there, friends.” Victor shoved Ily in front of him and pushed her along. The tunnel was only wide enough for a single person.
I lost sight of her apart from a flash of her transparent ivory dress.
I wanted to be sick.
My guts churned; sourness splashed over my tongue.
I swallowed the urge.
I balled my hands.
I forced myself to think.
Peter was here, along with Ben and Stewart. If luck favoured us, perhaps one of the guards Stewart knew was also in this procession.
We could fight.
Here and now.
I could kill Victor. Finally.
Let myself go. Completely.
We could be free tonight.
Free or dead…either choice was better than this.
This scratching anticipation.
This nerve-wracking apprehension.
I couldn’t fucking stand it.
My blood bounced.
My muscles bunched.
I vibrated with war, all while unable to see what side my enemy would strike first.
No one talked as we cut through the earth like worms through soil.
Lanterns decorated our journey.
No glow worms.
No stalagmites or stalactites.
Just chiselled rock that’d been forced to part, leading us closer and closer to the heavy crash of surf smashing itself against stone.
No.
Fuck no.
Peter tripped and went to his knees.
Victor turned and sneered at him on the ground. “Get up, Paavak. Now.”
Peter sucked in a gasp.
“What? You didn’t think I knew your real name? I hear everything, little Peter. I know all. Why give me a false one, hmm? Yet another thing you’ve kept from me.”
I wanted to barge past the two guards in my way.
To haul my friend to his feet.
To beg him to be with me when the time came.
But the guards didn’t move, and Peter stumbled upright with a bow. “Sorry, Sir V.”
Victor chuckled and patted him on the cheek. “You know…you have my permission to say what you truly feel, my pet. Enough of these charades. I’m sick of them.”
For a moment, Peter did nothing.
But then, he dropped all his obedience and cocked his chin. “Fuck it.” Baring his teeth, he snarled, “Do whatever you want to me. I won’t do a thing to stop you. But…leave her out of it. Whatever you think we’ve done? It was all me. She had nothing to do with anything.”
My heart fucking sank.
And I knew.
All of it.
Everything we’d planned.
All our hope.
Over.
Victor smiled. “That’s not how this works, Peter dear. You’re on clean-up. As always. Only once you’ve done your duty shall I deal with you.”
I almost threw up on my shoes.
Despair howled down the tunnel and pounced.
Every ounce of depression.
Every horror and misery, every desolation and melancholy found me, snatched me, and turned off every flicker of light left inside me.
I would die down here.
We would all die down here.
This wasn’t a procession to whatever game Victor had planned.
It was our funeral march.
And I needed to get on my knees and repent.
To confess and atone so when the time came for my life to end, I might stand a minuscule chance at following Ily into the next life.
Because Peter and her…they’d travel together.
They’d find each other again.
Both of them pure enough to deserve a worthwhile existence.
But me?
Fuck me?
After the things I’d done.
The things I wanted to do.
Twin flame or not…I wouldn’t be allowed to go with her.
Sighing happily, Victor twisted to face the front, pushed Ily between her shoulders, and we were all moving again.
Closer and closer.
Nearer and nearer…
Until finally—
“We’re here,” Victor announced, his voice echoing off stone.
With my heart already turning over in its grave and my skin slick with icy sweat, we all spilled out into a familiar cave.
One with an altar.
A cupboard full of skulls.
And seats for devils to watch.