Pell, mind your temper.
No freaking way!
“Kadir.” Zeki’s calm as Gorilla #3 approaches. He frowns at Gorilla #2’s moaning as the goon scuttles away.
I kick Gorilla #3, landing several of my strikes on his seeking hands and dodging shins, but my leg tires and the guy grabs it at last, then repositions it, hugging it like the last monster to keep it immobile.
I pant, I’m not sorry, but I stop short when Eser closes his eyes and, hands trembling, takes the stirrer stick from Mazhar.
My knuckles turn white. They can’t mean to make a boy…
Harpoc!
I need to stall. He’s coming, I know he is.
I clear my throat. “The King of Roses did what he promised.”
Eser stops and looks between me and Zeki.
“And what exactly do you think that is?” the overlord asks, looking down at me.
“He kept your secret.” I pray Zeki’s isn’t one of the leaked secrets Harpoc mentioned. “No one knows your operation is illegal. You’ve no doubt made loads of money. Better half of the profits than none at all.”
Zeki laughs.
But I’m not done. “You didn’t have to tell him your secret. It’s yourself you should blame, not the King of Roses. You should have known secrecy comes at a steep price.”
Zeki’s smile turns into a frown.
Way to go, Pell.
“As you would know…” He raises a brow. “… the king doesn’t quote a price up front. He forced me to divulge my secret first, before telling me what it would cost, so if I chose not to go through with it, he’d tell all.”
I stiffen. His confession takes me off guard.
He forces a laugh. “It seems you don’t know him as well as I presumed.”
Zeki’s a monster, no way am I taking his word for it. I don’t agree at all with what Harpoc does, but he’s not responsible for what his “clients” do after the fact—yes, I’ve learned a thing or two about responsibility. So I don’t blame Harpoc for my predicament, aka Zeki’s actions. I just wonder how he’ll deal with his scummy clients when he finally tracks me down, because it better be good, or I will go ballistic on him.
Zeki’s nod toward Eser refocuses my attention in an instant and the boy shuffles toward me, stopping before Gorilla #3 who’s still kneeling, keeping my leg still.
Eser stares at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes, clearly fearing I’m going to blame him for what Zeki’s about to make him do.
Harpoc! Damn it, man!
“I don’t blame you, Eser. It’s not your fault.” I’ve no doubt he’ll receive my stripes if he doesn’t do this. Shit, they might even make me deliver them on the boy, sick bastards.
Eser looks up, a mixture of guilt and hope pooling in his eyes.
“Enough talking. Eser, you know what you need to do. Let’s start with ten stripes.”
He inhales sharply. He knows what this feels like and no doubt no one’s held back on him. His shoulders slump, but he nods, then looks back at me as he raises the stick and brings it down.
Shit my wound stings! I manage to bite back the pain and keep my features neutral, for Eser.
“You can do better than that, boy.” Zeki’s tone is gentle, but no one misses the underlying threat.
This sick bastard deserves to die; they all do, standing here condoning this.
The corner of Eser’s eyes fill, and I can tell he’s trying to swallow down tears as he brings the stick up, then smashes it on the sole of my foot again.
I can’t help but close my eyes this time, swallowing a yip.
“Do you need to feel it, to try harder, boy?”
Eser shakes his head and brings the stick up again.
Where’s Harpoc? How long will this continue?
Chapter Thirty-Six
I can’t hold in a grunt as Eser brings the stick down again, harder this time, as tears run freely down his cheeks.
Damn it, Harpoc! You told me you’re a god, act like one!
It’s broad daylight, the white fabric of the tent makes it even brighter, and I close my eyes and clench my jaw, preparing for the next strike.
I groan as it lands.
For a kid, Eser’s got some strength in those scrawny arms. But I don’t blame him, we’re both just trying to survive.
Eser’s dealt four blows, and I open my eyes to see how he’s holding up, then furrow my brows. The light’s playing tricks on me because I swear I see dark shadows beginning to coalesce around the perimeter of the structure.
I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again as the next blow lands. I can’t help but cry out.
Damn, that hurts!
I’m never getting a foot massage; no one’s ever touching my feet again.
I scan the perimeter again, hoping.
Please, be Harpoc.
The shadows grow thicker, then turn inky black, swirling fast and faster around me.
“Don’t hurt the boy!” It’s all I can get out before the sound of grown men screaming fills the void my cries leave.
Harpoc’s essence… I guess that’s what you call it… fills my vision. He’s everywhere, and I’m blind in the pitch-blackness despite it being daytime.
More shrieking harmonizes with things crashing, glass shattering, and something else smashing.
I’m worried about the boy as the sounds of destruction and agony go on and on. I pray Harpoc heard me.
Pained cries finally die.
The darkness ebbs as Harpoc’s dark swirls gather as if a giant vacuum sucks them up, and he steps out.
Our eyes lock, and I give him a small smile. My conquering hero.
Harpoc’s on the ground beside me in an instant and my bonds vanish in
