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"You've offered every thing. I rejected that offer. So you're going to die. Why? Because I finally see your point of view. You've convinced me. Watching someone die can be worth more than all the money in the world."
His face drained of blood, mouth opening and closing like a fish on land.
"Behind door number one we have the most obvious choice. You fall from this tree. Only I'll make sure Clay doesn't kill you. And I won't drop you, I'll throw you. Hard enough to break every limb, but not hard enough to kill you. Then we'll gag you and leave you to die, slowly and painfully.
"Behind door number two--"
"No," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. "No. Don't--"
"Hey, I'm just getting warmed up. You know what I admire most about you, Ty? Your creativity. Your ingenuity. Like giving me the choice between killing Armen or being gang-raped. You've inspired me to new heights of creativity, so shut up and listen.
"Option two. Remember that video you saw of me fighting Lake? The one where I change my hand into a claw? Cool trick, huh? Well, here's my idea. I change my hand and slice open your guts. Not a lot, maybe pull out a bit of intestine, start a steady blood drip. You know what they say about gunshot wounds? That the gut shot is the absolute worst. Takes forever to die and hurts like the fires of Hell. Which, if you ask me, would be a good precursor to what you can expect from your eternity. I kind of like that one. Very appropriate. To hell with the game, I'm going for this one."
I pressed my hand against his stomach. He convulsed and a strong, acrid scent wafted up. I looked down to see a wet stain spreading down his pant leg.
"Shit, Ty. I was only kidding." I waved my hand in front of him.
"Stop it," he whispered. "Just stop--"
"Can't. You remember Let's Make a Deal, don't you? You're about my age, so you must have seen it as a kid. There's a door number three left. And behind this one we have ... hmmm." I looked around, then caught a glimpse of something overhead. "There. See that bird flying to the east? Know what that is? A turkey vulture. Also known as a buzzard. A scavenger. That will be the last choice. Death by scavenger. I take you down from this tree and stake you out on the ground. Then I slice you up. Lots of little, nonlethal slices, just enough to draw blood. Before long, you'll get a firsthand view of every scavenger in these woods. Oh, and I'll need to cut out your tongue so you can't scream. A definite sadistic improvement over gagging, don't you think? You should be proud of me, Ty. I'm your star pupil. Oh, speaking of pupils, I won't blindfold you. That way you can see the vultures and stray dogs as they feed on you. Well, until the vultures take your eyes--"
"Stop!" His voice rose, nearly shrill. "I know what you're doing. You want me to beg for my life. To offer you more."
"What more? You've offered every thing, Ty. And I said no."
His eyes rolled, rabid with fear and denial. "No. You won't kill me. I'm worth too much."
"You're worth nothing. Only your death is worth something to me."
"No! You won't do it, Elena. I know you won't. You want to scare me, but you'd never--"
"Never?"
"You don't have it in you."
"Option one, two, or three. Pick now."
"You're torturing me. That's all. You only want to see me squirm. You don't have it--"
I grabbed him by the throat and hauled him off his feet. Then I pressed my face against his.
"Don't tell me what I don't have in me."
I growled. Saw the terror in his eyes and drank it in. Then I let him go. Clay ripped out his throat before his body hit the ground.
CHAPTER 48
CLEANUP
After killing Winsloe, Clay Changed, and we returned to our clothing. No time for lingering. There was still work to be done at the compound. Every bit of evidence had to be found and destroyed. Then we had to remove all traces of our presence. Eventually someone would find the compound and the bodies within. To decrease the likelihood of a large-scale police investigation, Paige had hacked into the computer system early this morning and transferred the property deed to a Colombian drug cartel. Don't ask me how she even knew the name of a South American dope lord. Some questions are better left unanswered. As for Winsloe, we'd disposed of his body in a way that ensured he'd never be found. How? Well, that's another one of those questions. The point was that no one would ever find Winsloe or link him to the compound, which would avoid the media blitz that would surround his death.
"Did Savannah look okay to you?" I asked as we finished dressing. "She hit that wall pretty hard."
"She seemed fine. Jeremy will look after her."
"Do you think Paige will be able to handle her?"
"If Paige could handle that sorcerer, she can handle a twelve-year-old kid. She'll be fine, darling. They both will."
