plenty of times, trying to get in, trying to find out more information. And tonight I wasn’t going to hold back. It was time I unveiled the truth.
The sound of her heels clicking along the floor made my fingers tingle with magic and my fangs lengthen. I wouldn’t be biting her though. I’d had a feed today which no other could match. And Janice Cunning didn’t appeal.
She walked past me in her white doctor’s coat and I sped out of my hiding place, as silent as the wind as I raced up behind her, cupped my hand over her mouth and lifted her off the ground. I ran with her as she thrashed and kicked, her scream muffled against my palm. Her wings burst from her back and tore through her coat as she tried to shift into her Harpy form. I cursed as I adjusted my arm around her, locking her wings down as she fought furiously. She was strong, but I was stronger. Angrier. More determined. She wouldn’t fight me off.
I reached the ninth level and kicked open the door to Quentin’s little torture room, throwing her to the floor. He pounced on her with a squeal of glee, jamming a gas mask over her face as she thrashed and I leapt forward to help hold her still. Her wings dissolved to nothing as she cursed and kicked, the Order Suppressant stealing away her ability to shift and as Quentin locked two magic blocking cuffs on her wrists, she was totally incapacitated. He’d known I was coming; I’d bought his silence.
I lifted her up, dumping her on the hospital bed at the heart of the room as she screamed.
“What are you doing?!” she begged, her blue eyes wide as she stared at me in recognition, confusion and fear. I helped Quentin strap her in place on the bed, tightening the chains until she yelped.
Quentin cast a silencing bubble, chuckling demonically to himself as he moved to lock the door. He looked to me, wetting his lips as his eyes gleamed with excitement. He was nearly half my height, his back was hunched, his eyes bright red and his teeth sharpened to points, all features he’d altered himself by magic. Because he liked being a scary motherfucker, I guessed. And it worked. The guy creeped the fucking shit out of me, but I’d needed his help and he’d agreed. I knew he wouldn’t be able to pass up the chance to torture someone. That was just the kind of twisted little freak he was.
“The money?” he purred and I reached into my pocket, taking out a roll of auras and tossing it to him.
He licked his lips again as he placed it down on the side then moved up onto a step beside the bed so he was looking down at Janice.
“You’re going to spill all your little secrets, Janice,” he sing-songed in his too-high, nasally voice.
I moved to lean against a counter which was teeming with all kinds of magical torture devices, and some non-magical ones too like drills, blades and bone saws. I wasn’t squeamish, but I had paid Quentin for specific services here. I wasn’t looking to attend one of his horror shows. This was purely business. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to hurt her.
I took my Atlas from my pocket, setting it up to record as Quentin cast a spell over Janice’s lips and sealed them together, silencing her screams.
“Shhh, young Janice,” he whispered and she blinked back tears, looking to me in fear and accusation.
But maybe she shouldn’t have been such a shady psycho bitch and I wouldn’t have had to resort to this. She’d refused to talk to me plenty of times and now that Twelve had seen what was going on in her funhouse, I wasn’t going to feel bad about handing her over to Quentin. It took a lot to make me feel bad about anything, and this did not make the list.
“You’re going to stop screaming now,” Quentin said. “Aren’t you?”
Janice nodded as a tear ran down into her hair and I gritted my jaw, hungry for the truth to spill from her lips. Quentin unsealed her mouth and she sucked in a shaky breath.
“W-what do you want?” she stuttered as Quentin’s long fingers caressed her neck.
“We want to know what exactly it is you’re doing down in Psych,” he said almost soothingly and she tensed up.