The girl was slim, fair-haired, and completely unafraid.
I gathered up a pistol and then Red, with a hand under her elbow, and we walked out of there, alone and untouched apart from the damage we had already suffered. I picked up our shoes in the hallway and was struck by the strangeness of sneaking along this hallway, barefoot. I might have been Peter Pan off to a fairytale world.
Peter was a helluva lot more innocent. So was Wendy.
Outside, nighttime was leaving us, and the stars had given way to a paling sky. The street was a quiet cul-de-sac.
We drove away in Ted’s glossy black Jeep. Red did the driving since she was in better physical condition than me. On side roads, I switched vehicles a few times, grabbed lone women who gave me their car keys without blinking. I kept doing that, every hour, until dawn fell… or rose. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure of up or down.
I kept the car when it was one taken from a woman who could logically think she had sold it, and her friends and relatives would not miss the vehicle. By then, I had gathered several thousand in cash. I’d get more.
That part was easy.
The rest…
The throb of pain had dulled but not enough.
“We drive north.” I’d find a place we could stay for a while.
Finally, I stopped the churn of my thinking and rested my gaze on Red. Her taut arm muscles and thigh as she shifted in the driver’s seat or turned the wheel caught at me. New scratches marked her neck. Those were from the enemy. Even recently violated and barely washed, she looked more angelic than anything had a right to be next to me. The red curls of her hair slipped over her shoulder. Her eyelashes glimmered for an instant in the dawn light. Cars washed by, going the other way in a distant roar and hum.
Her dress was ripped.
She was, I realized, definitely an essential part of my world. Didn’t know why. Currently, I did not care. The anger still swirled and possessed me. How dare he touch her, let alone have his men do it.
The headache fed more swirly mess into my brain. That repetitive litany sprang up.
Sometimes… sometimes it got me in a loop.
How dare I… How dare I…
I shut my eyes again and leaned into the seat upholstery. More painkillers?
I pulled the packet from my pocket, and it blurred in and out of existence.
Not those. Not those.
The sheet of ten Keppra pills taunted me.
I’d almost had a kid blow her head off. That was when it hit me. The monster was me. And he always had been me. Mesmer deformed and infected, yes, but still me. For some reason, right now, I was less monster.
The headache?
My hand shook. Was it that? Or was it the anger? The concussion? Or was it something I had missed? Either way, I would return. I, the monster would come back once everything had settled again.
When had I regretted doing anything for the last… was it a year? Two?
I had almost had a kid blow her head off.
What did the world hold? More than fucking? More than control over females? More what?
What else was there?
I could no longer understand what else there was that meant anything at all, but before I could change my mind, I punched out a pill and swallowed it down, choked it past my dry throat.
There, it was done.
There must be more than this.
Must be.
Now to see, what it would do.
To me.
I shut my eyes and fell asleep to the hum of the car.
CHAPTER 3
RED
Days and days may have passed as we traveled through this foreign, pale gray-green land. I should not be driving, my whispers told me. This was how my life had been for ages. Sounds were muted and barely there unless He indicated I should listen. I obeyed as I always had.
I drove until we entered a forested area where trees, greener than before, towered to either side. The trees fluttered as we passed under them, and I imagined them peering down at our passing vehicle, curious and mute. A strange feeling filtered through the grayness in my mind, and it said we were mere minions. Nature was playing with us. One day it would blot us out.
I wasn’t sure I would care if it did.
The red, low-slung Porsche slotted into a parking bay beneath a little house on stilts. It was a house that might walk, I decided, staring up through the circle of rustling, splayed tree limbs and falling leaves. Feathers fluttered. Tropical birds swooped – bizarre daubs of bright paint against a blue sky or darkened forest.
More days passed. Rain poured in and cleared, left the decking puddled, the window glass speckled.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I became aware of my existence, of being a real person, of being… me.
Aware of my hands.
I turned them over, examining a line of bone and tendon, and the crease at my finger joint when my finger bent then extended. The smell of lush rainforest moistened the air.
I lifted my head and breathed. I consciously breathed, for what seemed the first time in years.
I was still with him, with Isak.
With fucking Isak.
Scenes of putrid yet orgasmic debauchery poured in, swamping me. He could make me come whether I wished to or not, make me want him, whether I wished it or not – this was the loathsome power of a mesmer. I remembered. Those memories were not perfect, yet I could
