Rebellion

“The door can only be opened from the outside, so don’t try to be clever.” The voice that piped through the speaker was strained; echoey. And unpleasant. “It’s a very simple principle here: two half-borns enter the room. We only need one of you. Actually, I’ll rephrase that. We only need one of you dead, which means one of you is free to leave. Which one that is... that’s up to you.”

The speaker cut out, leaving Jester and Florence staring at each other across the table, and then it spoke again. It was the same voice, but easier now: less cold, somehow. “Florence? I’d prefer it if it was you...” This time, when it cut out, it stayed silent.

OF ALL THE things Jester wished he could change, he wished he had listened to his sister.

“WE CAN’T,” HE said, holding her gaze. Her eyes were flat, lifeless; her hands hung by her sides.

“We have to. He said.”

“Who?”

“Him. Lucifer. You have to do what he says.”

“Why?”

This seemed to stump Florence, and she blinked in surprise. “Because.”

“No, really, Flo. Why?”

“Because you have to do what he says.”

“I don’t. And neither do you.”

“He’ll hurt Xaph.”

“Fuck Xaph. What’s he done to you?”

“Don’t talk about him like that. You mustn’t.” She glanced over her shoulder at the camera, its red light blinking on and off. Jester sighed and waved at the window.

“They can see us, you know. They’re watching. They’re standing right there. Right on the other side of the glass.”

“I know.” Her hand crept forward, Jester’s heart sank.

“And you know that if I took it... if I took the knife, he wouldn’t lift a finger to save you?”

“I’m past saving.”

“No, you’re not.” He reached out and closed his fingers over hers, around the handle of Zadkiel’s butterfly knife. “Don’t help them. Leave him.”

“I love him...”

“He doesn’t love you.”

“He does, in his own way.”

“I don’t think he can.” Jester kept his voice low. She looked so broken, so fragile. If only he could get her to see... But her eyes suddenly hardened and she pulled her hand away from his.

Jester knew it was hopeless. “Fine. You won’t listen to me. I never listened to you, so that’s fair. But you can’t help them, Flo. Look what they’re doing.”

“Taking back what’s theirs. That’s all.”

“If you believe that...”

“I love him.”

“You’re wrong. I’m not going to fight you over this. I’m not going to make it easy.”

“It isn’t.”

“There’s a reason they’re doing this. You know there is. What if we both refuse?”

“Then Lucifer will kill us both without a thought.” Florence took a step around the table; a step closer to Jester. He took a deep breath.

“Then you do what you have to do.”

“OH, COME ON. I thought you liked this sort of thing!” Rimmon was grinning at Mallory, while Toby whimpered in his chair. There was a small puddle of blood around his feet, which was steadily growing. “Maybe,” Rimmon said with a laugh, “maybe it’s just that you don’t like to watch. You want to be involved... a little more hands-on. Is that it?” He had his back to Mallory, who was on the floor, his back against the wall and his face turned away from what was happening. Rimmon’s attack on Toby was remorseless, pitiless and merciless. He cut and he slashed and he hacked and he twisted... over and over again. And when he was bored with that, on went the hood and out came the bucket.

Three times, he had come and gone – and each time he had left, it was harder and harder to reach Toby. Mallory had tried. But the second time, the words that came back to him from the far end of the cell were slurred; the pauses between them longer than they should have been. The third... there was barely anything more than a moan. Rimmon had almost broken him, and he knew it.

“You see, Mallory, you did me a favour. Purson left a gap in the chain of command when he died. And it turns out that torture’s one of my talents.”

There was another wail from Toby and Rimmon chuckled.

“Let him go,” Mallory said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Let him go.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because it’s not him you want. It’s me. You have me. Let him go.”

“Oh, no.” Rimmon turned away from the chair and towards Mallory, wiping his hands on a cloth he’d pulled from his pocket. It was stained unpleasantly red. “And you know why? Because it’s killing you to watch, isn’t it? Tell me: how does it feel to be helpless?” He dropped into a crouch in front of him, hands resting on his knees. “So you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to keep you here, like a pet. You’ll stay here, chained to this floor, and every day, I’ll bring you a new friend, and every day, you will watch them die, slowly, painfully, begging for you to save them. And every day, I will ask you again.”

“Ask me what?”

“To join us.” Rimmon stood up and stretched. “And sooner or later, you will say yes.”

“I won’t.”

“Then you’re going to have to get used to this...” Suddenly, Rimmon had a jagged metal spike in his hand, and almost gracefully, he rammed it deep into Toby’s thigh. Toby screamed, and Rimmon smiled. “You could save him: all you have to do is say yes. How much blood are you willing to have on your hands, Mallory?”

“As much as it takes.”

For the first time, Rimmon frowned. “Make your peace with this one,” he said, ruffling Toby’s hair. “I don’t think he’s going to last much longer.” He patted Toby’s cheek, and winked at Mallory. “I’ll leave the light on this time, petal. Just so you can get a really good look at what you’ve done.” He was humming a tune as he walked out, leaving his instruments strewn across the floor.

Mallory couldn’t look at Toby. He tried; he did. But he couldn’t bring himself to. The problem was that he knew Rimmon meant what he said. Toby would die, and after him there would be another and another and another. An endless procession of bodies, just to break him. And that was the worst of it: hadn’t Toby asked what he had done to deserve this? Nothing. He had done nothing.

Mallory, on the other hand...

THERE WAS A scratching sound from the other side of the door. It was too soon for Rimmon to be back: based on his other disappearances, he’d be gone for some time yet – and if there was one thing Mallory could be sure of, it was that no-one else was going to be allowed to play in his sandpit. He’d staked his claim to Mallory, and that was the way it was going to be. So who was at the door? And why didn’t they just walk in, instead of lurking out there, trying to be quiet–

“Vin?” Mallory was careful not to raise his voice.

“How’d you know it was me?”

Mallory’s heart leapt with relief. Not only was Vin alive, he might be able to get them out. Or at least help Mallory to get them out...