RED
Suddenly I’m back in the halls of FFA, alone, unprotected, starkly aware of all the pain I’m about to endure.
Gretel is like a deranged hyena and she enjoys causing pain when her brother fully lets her off her leash. But he’s the one to look out for. Hansel is far more deadly than Gretel. He’s calculated and controlled enough to draw out the pain. Or worse yet, he continues to give you hope that he will give you some kind of release, but he never does. It’s an effective way to break someone.
And I’ve been broken more times than I can count.
“Where is your wolf now?” Hansel asks with a grin that makes my stomach churn.
Don’t panic, don’t panic, I tell myself, but my hands are ice cold and sweaty. My heart jackrabbits and my brain fuzzes, trying to fight the inevitable.
“He’ll be out in a minute,” I lie.
Gretel tsks. “What a lying little wolf fucker you are.”
“Yes,” Hansel says, observing his cuticles as they both saunter toward me, boxing me in. “How did you end up with such a rare specimen? I think we’ll draw him out later and force him to shift, just so we can make a pelt out of him.”
“I want to have fun,” Gretel hisses at him.
“I’m sorry, my beloved sister, you’re correct. I digress.” Hansel turns to me. “Now give us what we want or there will be pain.”
There’s always pain, even if I give them what they want. Still, I can’t help myself. “What do you want?”
“Don’t play coy with us, your grandma’s newest recipe. We want it. We’ve already enjoyed a hostile takeover of one of her farms in Costa Rica, so we have all her ingredients at our disposal. Now, we need the recipe for her new product. A baseline for our designs if you will.”
Before I can answer, Gretel shoots a hand forward, magic sparking off her eyes.
A sharp pain spikes through my stomach, sending me to my knees. I clutch at my torso, trying to find a way to ease the torment. The worst part is I know Gretel has only begun “playing.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I manage to speak through clenched teeth. “I knew you were sadistic assholes, but I didn’t know you were stupid.”
Gretel’s face further contorts in fury. It’s like there’s a knife twisting in my gut. I gasp, doubling over. Unbearable hunger hits me full force. I’m so hungry, I’m tempted to rip open a nearby trash bag and shove its contents into my mouth. Gretel has pushed me to that before, driven me to eat trash, simply for her amusement.
But I fight the impulse. I refuse to give her the satisfaction, though my guts feel like they’re caving in.
Hansel picks at his cuticles. “Don’t play coy with us, Red. We know you have it.”
I fight the pain, and my words come out choppy. “I have nothing to do with my Gigi’s business. I never have. Why the fuck would I know what she is working on?”
“Stop playing dumb,” Hansel snaps. “It’s clear you are as much of a human lover as that old bitch. We know she gave you the recipe. The secret one she’s about to roll out that will change the world as we know it.” He sounds like he’s quoting something.
“We had her email hacked. She sent a package with the recipe to you before she vanished. Now tell us where it is.” His eyes flash as his palm stretches out, sparking.
Then a horrible twin force snakes around the stomach pain. It’s as if someone is sucking all the moisture from my body. My throat and tongue turn dry as sandpaper. I’m literally dying from thirst. Despite the immeasurable pain, I begin to laugh.
“Why bother hiring all the low-budget kidnappers?” I croak.
“Aside from the fact we are trying to keep a low profile?” Hansel replies.
Insanely enough, I know he’s serious. Though their disturbance at the Poison Apple the other night made the human news, it likely hasn’t touched the mage cities. And the Ogre had been chalked up to a random incident, a fae gone mad who attacked a college campus. Who would possibly believe a fae and a couple of mages were working together? And I’m sure they covered their tracks with the mercenary mages too.
“We are very busy running our new business,” he explains in a patronizing tone. “If one wants to be successful, one must learn to delegate.”
“And if you didn’t have your rotten little guard dog, you would be easily plucked,” Gretel adds.
I hate that she’s right. Per fucking usual, Red is a powerless pawn.
I’m sick to death of it.
