Chapter 26 Garrick #2
“My patience is running thin. Nothing you’ve said links him to the killings.” I go to step forward, ready to see if pain will loosen his tongue.
He has the sensibility to stand. His intelligence only goes so far, however, and the twat decides to try and land the first punch.
I easily dodge the strike, grabbing his forearm as it flies past my face. In a manoeuvre I can perform in my sleep, I have him up against the wall, face hitting the brick with his arm pulled tight up against his back.
“That was a mistake,” I growl, my panther sitting just below my skin.
Kicking his stance a little wider to off balance him, I reach for the pinky finger on the hand I’ve got pinned. Without remorse I bend it back, snapping the joint with a loud crack which is quickly drowned out by the scream of pain.
“Now, let’s try that again.” I bend to snarl in his ear. “Do you have any actual evidence that Thirty-Nine is the killer, other than he’s a boastful prick that likes breaking into places he shouldn’t?”
“Have you noticed how none of his team have died?” Sixty-Two pants, trying and failing to push himself away from the wall with his free hand. He tries elbowing me in the side as well but it’s a weak attempt with the angle.
“His isn’t the only team still intact. You’re really reaching now, aren’t you?” I break his ring finger next. He yells out and his knees buckle, so I’m having to hold his weight up now as well.
“Fuck you,” he spits, blood covering the wall. He must’ve bitten his cheek, or his tongue.
“Did you know, Sixty-Two, you are the first to actually name another contestant? For that I do have to commend you.” He blanches a little, as if he knows my next sentence before I can voice it. “The others haven’t snitched at all, despite the bones we’ve been breaking.”
Whilst I do want answers, I hate snitches, and it’s clear he has nothing concrete on Wyatt.
Snap. There goes another finger.
“What about that woman he keeps hanging around with?” he wheezes.
I laugh, he’s really barking up the wrong tree now.
Snap.
“Would you look at that? I’m out of fingers,” I mock him, moving my hand to his thumb and gripping the digit.
“Maybe I got it wrong!” His desperation bleeds into the air, mixing with the metallic scent of his blood.
“Start talking.”
“Wyatt also hangs around with that other guy, number Nineteen. It’s always the quiet ones isn’t it?”
“I’m listening.”
“Maybe he’s using Wyatt to unlock the doors but committing the murders himself.”
I contemplate what I know about number Nineteen, the third male in the harem Tacita seems to be collecting.
He certainly has enough of the markers seen in serial killers.
Crappy upbringing, abandonment issues that I doubt he’s ever received the therapy for, was pushed pillar to post and then finally placed in one of the worst facilities I’ve ever heard of in the human plane.
Some of the stuff they did to him shocked even me, and I torture souls in the worst place in any realm.
Still, he wasn’t picked for the games because he’s a killer. He may have committed murder but it was his hacking skills that drew Hades’s attention.
“I’m bored of your guesses, Sixty-Two.” I break his thumb, and in gripping his wrist to do so, feel a few bones break in the joint as well. “I hope you weren’t right-handed,” I quip, knowing full well that he is.
Shoving myself off him, I step back and watch as he drops to the floor. His face is a mess of tears, drool and blood. He turns so his back is to the wall and clutches his mangled hand to his chest.
“You’re a fucking sadist,” he spits.
I take a deep breath and release it on a sigh, placing my hands on my hips. “You don’t know anything. Another waste of my time.”
Leaving him whimpering on the ground, I exit his cell. As I’m ensuring the latch is locked Tarron comes out of the one opposite. His eyes shine with a feral glint I’m sure is reflected in my own.
“Any luck?” I ask.
“Not a thing. This lot are more sanctimonious than they appear. And if we’ve got the killer down here, they’ve got me fooled. How about you?”
“The last guy started spewing names before I even laid a hand on him, but the rest were tight lipped until they passed out.”
“Any names we should be looking into?”
“No, he was chatting bullshit, he had nothing substantial.”
“Well, what’s next? We’ve questioned them all now, haven’t we?” Tarron asks and we do a quick run down the cells. We have indeed seen all the suspects between the two of us.
“Let’s leave Dominic to heal them up, give them a night back in their own beds, then go again.” I start heading for the stairs back towards our offices and living quarters. Tarron follows.
“Why let them out?”
“If we have got the killer, they’ll think they’ve got away with it.
If we let them out and monitor them all closely, we can see where they go.
I’m sure if the killer is in one of those cells they’ll be pretty pissed that they just got bloodied up by one of us.
No doubt they’ll want to prove to themselves they are still the big gun they think they are. ”
“You want them to attempt another killing?”
“Yep. And this time we’ll be watching.”
We reach the main office and whilst I want the blood off my skin, I head into the open shared space to check in with Zafihra, who is currently the lead on duty.
“Any luck?” She looks up as we approach.
“Unfortunately not.”
“Damn. The room searches didn’t turn up anything either. Wherever they are stashing the murder weapons, they are doing it fucking well.” Her nostrils flare and the temperature momentarily spikes as her dragon rises to the surface.
The staff are feeling the frustration as much as I am with how this human keeps evading us.
“We’ll catch them,” I state. “Are you able to allocate one guard to each of the suspects in the cells? I want eyes on them twenty-four seven.”
“We’re releasing them?” she asks, surprised like Tarron.
I relay the plan that I just ran through with my second before leaving Zafihra to get on with reallocating the team.
“I’m going to take a shower and grab a nap before the night shift kicks in. I want to brief the Officers before they start and I’ll stay up incase anything suspicious happens,” I tell Tarron before taking off up the stairs.
“Okay boss, you got it,” he calls after me but I’m already rounding the landing.
Reaching my room, I strip down and step into my ensuite, turning on the shower and letting the water heat up.
The afternoon has already given way to the evening, and I’d love nothing more than to seek out Tacita again and just curl up with her.
Images of letting her stroke me and pet me in my panther form fill me with a want so deep it’s a physical ache.
I’ve not let anyone fuss me as a cat before, except for my parents when I was young, but now the idea is in my head I yearn to make it a reality.
The hot water soothes some of the tiredness in my body as it rinses the red stains off my skin. My mind shifts to Tacita and I wonder if I will see her tonight. She’ll probably want an update but she can’t always sneak away. She has to make it sporadic to not blow her cover.
The thought of getting her alone again heats my body more than the water pounding against my back. What I wouldn’t give for a night off and some time away from this facility to properly spend with the female that’s come into my life and upended it like a wrecking ball.
My cock springs to attention but I don’t give in to the temptation to jerk off. I want the real thing, not just my fantasies.
Stepping out of the shower, I reach for a towel on the rack only to realise I’ve left it hanging on the back of the door in my room. Wiping the excess water off my body, my dick still nearly at full mast I pull the door to the ensuite open and walk across the room.
I’m wrapping the towel around my waist when a voice from behind makes me jump out of my skin.
“Okay, I can see what she likes about you. Demons are packing some interesting junk. I bet that flared head feels nearly as good as my metal.” Wyatt stands in the shadows of the room, in the gap of wall between the window and the wardrobe.
“How the fuck–” I start. “No, why? Why the fuck are you in my room?”