‘I’m not embarrassed, Major. Where else was I going to get a first class education?’
‘And what happened at the end of that first-class education, when you were all grown up, past your sell by date?’
‘We were set free,’ she said, fluttering her fingers. ‘Off to the best universities and then on to train as financiers, lawyers, politicians, scientists, doctors, classical musicians, anything. The older girls would write in the months after they left. We used to look forward to their letters and cards. Access to the internet wasn’t allowed, apart from research. Social media was off limits.’ She sighed. ‘But eventually they forgot about us, the correspondence dried up. Too busy in their ongoing studies or their careers.’
‘More likely too busy being digested in the stomach of a pig. And where did you go?’
‘I didn’t. Not immediately.’ She glanced over at the writhing sack. ‘I stayed to help with the teaching, to mentor the younger ones. Dmitri and I grew closer and then the pandemic struck.’
‘Let me guess. You dropped the portcullis and pulled up the drawbridge.’
‘Exactly. As I said. You and I are not so different. You’d have done the same.’
If Helix could have shaken his head, he would have done. ‘Chance would have been a fine thing. My experience was a little less romantic.’
‘We allowed a few last-minute refugees with appropriate skills to join us from surrounding towns and villages to ensure our self-sufficiency,’ the hologram continued, perching on a stool. ‘But otherwise, we sealed the gates and manned the towers to repel anyone attempting to scale the walls. It was during one such skirmish that our uncle was killed.’
‘Shame. And good old Dmitri ascended to the throne to carry on his father’s good work, no doubt.’
‘Hmm.’ She nodded. ‘And to celebrate, he asked me to marry him. I agreed, but I wasn’t going to be sharing him with anyone. He had to stop what his father had started.’
‘Oh Jesus. How romantic. Pass the tissues, I’m welling up. I bet he was chuffed at having his supply of adolescent entertainment cut off.’
‘I was more than enough for him,’ she snapped. ‘He told me he loved me. He promised me. Said he would never lie to me about anything.’
‘And you all lived out the pandemic happily ever after.’
She pressed her hand to her stomach. ‘I was pregnant. It was perfect,’ she sighed, ‘until his father arrived outside the gates.’
‘Hang on,’ Helix said, wrinkling his nose. ‘His father? You said the old man died heroically wielding his broadsword in battle, defending the castle.’
Lytkin glanced at the sack again and folded her arms. ‘His real father,’ she spat. The sack ceased its fidgeting. ‘Until then, we’d allowed no one in. People pleaded, begged, offered money, gold. They were so desperate, they would’ve given up everything on the promise that we’d open the gates. We never did. We just took their things and left them out there. Dmitri welcomed him in with open arms. He welcomed that monster into our home.’
‘And who exactly was this monster?’
‘The man that betrayed my father and brother, murdered my mother and sold me.’
‘Sounds like a regular soap opera,’ Helix scoffed. ‘Did Dmitri know what his father had done?’
‘No.’ She toyed with her necklace. ‘Keen to impress his father, he arranged an extravagant dinner, something we could ill afford. He invited some of the school tutors and doctors. His father brought along his lieutenants and, keen not to be outdone, Dmitri invited some of his. A kind of “my gang is better that your gang” thing. Boys will be boys. I invited Archer.’
‘For his riveting conversation? I hope he was a bit more chatty than he is today.’
Lytkin’s eyes flared as she turned on him. ‘Your sarcasm is becoming tiresome, Major.’
‘Like your life story, Miss Lytkin. Perhaps, you could skip forward about twenty-five years and tell me what the fuck—’
Lytkin snapped her fingers at Archer.
Helix spasmed. Electricity surged through his body like a stinging swarm of killer hornets. The surgical instruments around the chair rattled and shook with the tremors. Agony screamed and arced between his temples. His eyes and veins bulged. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t shout. Starbursts of light danced across his eyes. Amidst the pain, the metallic tang of blood seeped into his mouth as he bit his own tongue. The end was as explosive as the beginning. His body fell limp. Gasping grateful breaths, a string of blood and saliva ran down his chin. He regulated his breathing in between bouts of coughing, his eyes fixed on Lytkin.
‘The collection of scars across your body suggest a certain familiarity with pain, Major,’ she hissed. ‘No doubt the surgical procedures were carried out under general anaesthetic. But you have no idea about the actual pain you missed while you slept. Drawn out unbearable pain. Endless suffering. If you’d experienced genuine pain you would have begged to be sent to hell for a holiday.’
Helix ran his tongue over his lips as she turned away. Maybe if he kept quiet she’d just get on with it.
‘Dmitri’s father had placed him in the castle to protect him against reprisals from other people he’d betrayed,’ she continued. ‘Years had passed. I had grown up. He didn’t recognise me. When I enquired after my family, he said he didn’t recall the name, denied knowing them. He dismissed us with a flick of his hand. We were nothing to him.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘So, I let it go for then. The evening proceeded convivially enough with his father and his father’s men completely unaware of the cocktail of slow-acting anaesthesia Archer had laced their food with. Dmitri had always maintained that the man we’d called uncle was his father. He had lied to me, which was bad enough, but to discover who his real father was…’ She glanced at Helix.
He’d seen profiles of psychopaths. How they hid behind a well-cultivated mask of normalcy. Lytkin might have thought they were the same. His
