38. Vesper #4
I grab the handcuffs from where they’d fallen and clamp them around Anders’ wrists. They widen to fit his thick appendages and then tighten. With my Bloodsense Fang, I cut upwards through his shirt, splitting it wide over his broad chest.
Krampus screams in that high voice and runs away, leaving us to stand in the room in confusion. He’d been so big and tough only a moment ago, holding Locke back. Now? Not so much. Gustav doesn’t do anything except stare at the wall.
“Locke,” I say, peering over my shoulder. “Hand me the nipple clamps.”
Locke’s brows shoot, up but he grabs the box and hands it to me.
“Slay, girl, slay!” Stevie says, bouncing around us excitedly. “Make that man your bitch! I’ve, like, been on top of that tree for, like, so many years!”
I don’t know where Stevie’s accent comes from. I’ve never heard it before. Normally, it would grate on my nerves, but right now, it’s definitely a vibe.
I grab the first nipple clamp and grab Anders.
“No! Please, don’t! I can’t—oh no! Oh,” he moans as I clamp the first one onto his small nipple.
His eyes roll back in his head and almost immediately, his nipple starts to drip with milk.
I don’t know how the magic works, but I’m not about to stick around and find out.
I clamp the other nipple clamp on and kick him over.
He sprawls across the ground where he promptly starts to lick at the droplets on the floor beneath him, making loud mewling sounds that only disgust me further.
“We just gonna leave him like that?” Locke asks, brows raised. He’s looking at me right now, a little bit in respect, a little bit in fear.
“Why not?” I ask. “He deserves far worse.”
Locke tilts his head. “Can we kill an NPC?”
“Yes,” Cipher answers, “but their soul will remain within the pool to draw from.”
“So, if I kill him, he’ll just come back?” Locke clarifies.
“Possibly.”
Locke nods. “Let’s put him somewhere no one will find him then.” He moves over to Gustav and rips the bracelet off his wrist. The moment it’s gone, Gustav blinks and looks around in confusion. “What—”
“I don’t know how long you’ve been held prisoner,” I tell him. “But clearly, that’s everyone in this place.”
Locke reaches down and starts to drag Anders by the back of his shirt. The big asshole is still desperately licking at the floor, trying to reach his own nipple to suck on it. But he’s too big and he’s not nearly flexible enough. Locke opens one of the doors and pauses. “Oh, fuck.”
I peer around him and barely hold down the acid in my stomach.
In the room, there are bodies. Not just bodies. Women. They’re all in various states of decay, all nude, their eyes still open in horror. I stumble back, too sick to my stomach to keep looking.
How many had fallen victim to this crap before I came along? How many had stayed locked here in this room until they’d died.
“Cipher,” I choke.
I can’t get the question out, but he seems to understand what I’m asking.
“I cannot control the NPCs or players once they are walking free. I cannot even change the map any longer. At best, I can tell you where things once were.”
“Did you know this was happening?” I choke out.
He hesitates. “The Harrow is not safe, Vesper. Humans can be . . . evil, for lack of a better word. There will be far worse scenes you come across in your travels. There will be far worse people than this NPC. Some of them will be players. Some of them will be the remnants of them. I would like to tell you there is hope, but . . . humanity has been a source of disappointment for me for a very long time. I suspect they will be for you, as well.”
Despite the things I’ve done to survive, I still think I’m capable of being a good person.
I try to be a good person. Even here in this fucking game where everything is trying to kill me, where other players are trying to kill me, I try to be good.
Even when people remind me that no matter the situation, without consequences, some people will always choose to be bad. This room is a testament to that.
I’d been about to stash Anders in the room, but I can’t put him in there with those bodies. They don’t deserve to be forced in his presence, not even in death.
I pull out my blade. “I’ve changed my mind,” I say, touching the Fang to Anders’ chest.
“He could be remade,” Cipher warns.
“Are you the one doing the remaking?” I ask.
He hesitates. “It takes a great deal of power to interfere, power that is very limited.”
I press the tip into Anders’ flesh, just enough to sting. He moans in response. “Do me this favor and I’ll forgive you for the Frostbit Sea,” I say, staring at the disgusting man before me. “Make his soul disappear.”
Cipher doesn’t answer for one second, two, three, and then he responds with the words I’m looking for.
They’re the words I needed to hear, and even if I hadn’t given him my word, I would have forgiven him for the Frostbit Sea because of his next words regardless.
The hurt disappears, and I fall just a little deeper in trouble with the system running this place.
“It shall be done.”
I shove the blade in deep and smile as I twist.