While two of us were sleeping, the other had been down here, waiting for some sort of movement or sign of life from our little house guest. But so far, nothing had happened.
I walked over to where Bevan’s corpse sat, tied up to the chair, the single piece of furniture in the whole room. Late in the night, I’d welded a piece of metal to the floor next to the chair and threaded all the ropes through it. I had no idea just how strong Bevan was, but I didn’t want to take any chances when he did wake that he’d be able to escape.
I flashed my hand in front of his glassy eyes, but as I expected, nothing happened.
How long did it take for their corpses to reanimate again? Less than a day, obviously, but how much less was anyone’s guess. Of course, it was also possible that Boudicca had abandoned him, since he’d been captured and all, but I was really hoping that wasn’t the case.
“Bevan!” I shouted. Still nothing. “Hey, dickweed!”
This time, there was a tiny hint of motion. The half-closing of one eyelid, perhaps. It had been almost imperceptible, but I was certain I’d seen it. Then it was gone, and he was still once more.
“Come on, chump! Up and at ‘em!” Once again, it was useless.
I wondered briefly how Rick was getting along with Sheila. Both of them were awake now. Sheila was doing what she did best - baking cookies. Rick, on the other hand, was poring through that old Celtic grimoire we’d found, looking for a way to stop the ritual. Or at the very least, redirect it.
“Hey, fart-breath!” I yelled at Bevan’s corpse. This time, there was discernible movement. Not much, just a twitch or two in a finger, but it was there.
Was hurling insults at his corpse really helping him come to? I was good with that.
“Needle nose!” I shouted. “Fart muncher! Dingbat! Gator breath! Dickless swine herder! Get up already!”
All at once, Bevan’s body started to convulse. I imagined his arms would have flailed all over the place, but tied down as he was, that wasn’t possible. Instead, his body shook, and I heard the distinct sound of him pulling in a rather large breath.
Whether or not it was because of my string of insults or it was just his time to wake up, no one would ever know. But it was totally the insults. I was particularly fond of fart muncher. His breath was something else.
“Bevan!” I shouted again.
My prisoner blinked his eyes a few times, and the glassy look slowly faded, replaced by two dark, beady eyes. Bevan’s head jerked a few times, and then he looked at me and his eyes narrowed and darkened further.
“That’s right, asshat, look up here,” I taunted him.
Bevan tried to yell at me, but he was still gagged, so it all came out garbled. Instead, his hands shook like he wanted to grab me and strangle me to death, but again, it was no use. He was held fast. My handiwork held him fast.
I laughed a dry, haughty laugh and the sound echoed around the small room. “Not so tough now, are you, big guy?” I lowered my head until my face was practically next to his. “Immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be this time, is it?”
Bevan groaned a few more times, and his head shook vigorously. He pushed upward so hard that his chair did move a little bit, but only very little. I was shocked that he’d gotten it to move at all, but even the strongest ropes have a little slack.
“Now, now, Bevan,” I said. I tsked at him a few times, wagging my finger in his face. “That kind of behavior’s not going to get you very far, but if you answer my questions truthfully, I might just let you go back to your little buddies.” I stood up as tall as I could and looked down on him. “Deal?”
He sat there for a moment, his eyes looking cross, then finally he looked at me and nodded.
“Good boy, Bevan. I knew we could play well together.” I gave him my best smile.
I reached my hands behind his head and started working on the gag. His death breath wafted over me, and I had to stifle a cough. Within a minute or so, I’d loosened the gag enough to pull it out of his mouth.
The second his lips were free, he tried to snap at me with his sharp little teeth and bite off my nearby finger. I pulled the digit backward and stared at it for a second like it was on fire. Then I backhanded Bevan across the face.
“Not good, Bevan,” I said, tsking again. “I give you a hint of freedom, and this is how you repay me?”
Bevan’s head lolled around for a second before he straightened it back up. When he glared up at me, I could see a little rivulet of blood streaming down his lip where I’d hit him. I must have hit him harder than I’d thought.
“Go to hell,” Bevan spat at me.
“Happily,” I replied. “And I’d be only too happy to take you there with me, if you’d just stay dead for longer than half a day.”
Bevan grinned a little at that one.
“Still, that’s mighty high talk for someone in your position,” I continued. “Captured by the enemy, bound to a chair, unable to move or do anything for yourself. Not exactly a position of power, is it Bevan?”
“Pfft,” he said. “My friends will come for me.” He grinned at me again. “And then you’ll be the one who’s bound and helpless.” He scoffed. “If you’re even that lucky.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Will they, now?” I waved my arms around the room. “I don’t see them here, Bevan. You’ve been
