Earlier, when our guests first regained consciousness, I asked them about her. Repeated her name several times, demanded to know what it meant to them.
I was so calm and un-Jude-like, Auggie said I deserved an award. Couldn’t believe I didn’t eviscerate them and hang them from their own intestines rather than messing with the chains.
Don’t get me wrong—nothing would’ve brought me more joy.
But they would’ve died too quickly. Too easily.
Through all the questions, both mages played dumb. Claimed they didn’t remember a classmate by that name. Insisted, despite Rook’s video evidence, they weren’t at the Forsythe wedding last month. They barely even knew the Archmage, they said.
When I asked for the name of the young girl they brutalized ten years ago in an abandoned subway station—if not Westlyn Avery, then who?—they said it never happened. Swore on their mothers’ lives it was just an urban legend, some bullshit story about a vengeful witch who haunts the old station and chases kids through the tunnels, sacrificing her prey to the demons.
That was the part of the show when poor Jakey lost his toes. I told him I was rooting for the vengeful witch, and I wanted to give her a better shot at catching him.
By the way, if you’ve never seen a man piss himself while he’s dangling upside down? That alone is worth the price of admission. Put it on your bucket list, mate.
“You’re not a bad-looking bloke, Zo-Zo,” I say now. “Nice, thick mane. Good bone structure. Shame about the speech impediment, though.”
He tries to jerk out of my grasp. “Wh-what? I don’t have a—”
“You claim you don’t know Westlyn Avery, but she sure knows you. In fact, you know what she told me?” I stroke his hair, my touch as soft and gentle as my voice. “She said you were her first kiss. Did you know that?”
“She’s… she’s lying. That little s-s-slut is—”
“Have you ever been kissed against your will, Zo-Zo?” I ask, his insults beginning to crack my calm demeanor. “Ever had something stolen from you? A rare and precious thing you couldneverget back?”
“F-fuck off, you sick fuck. I’m gonna enjoy—”
“Enjoy what?” I crush his jaw in a vise grip, forcing his mouth open. “This? I very much doubt it, but hey, I’m no kink-shamer.”
Then, while he’s wriggling and gagging, wriggling and gagging, I give him a big ol’ smackeroo on the mouth, bite down hard on his tongue, and tear itrightthe fuck out.
Chapter Nineteen
JUDE
Alonzo does not, in fact, enjoy it.
Blood spills over my chin and down into his nose and eyes, and I shove him away, sending him swinging on the hook, more blood painting the cement.
Now Jake’s on a crying jag again, too. Honestly, I can’t decide which of them is the bigger fucking baby—tie score at the moment.
I jerk the bloody tongue out of my mouth, then stuff it firmly into Jake’s, temporarily silencing him. “Spit that out before I say so, and I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to the rats.” By the time I turn my attention back to Alonzo, I’m feeling much better, all cool and collected and professional again. “Now. About that speech impediment… Anything to share with the class, Zo-Zo?”
His eyes are wild and bloody, his cries of agony echoing across the perpetually damp walls. Pretty sure he’s trying to say something insightful, but…
“Sorry, mate. Can’t understand abloodylickof that.” I laugh and wriggle my eyebrows. “Get it? A bloody lick?”
No response but the tears.
“Seriously? Not even a smile? From either of you?” I shake my head. “Damn, it’s like someone tore out your senses of humor, too.”
“Jude.” Auggie glares at me, exhaustion creasing his human face, taking a bit of the shine out of his normally oh-so-lustrous hair. “Maybe we could speed things along? I’dreallylike to skip ahead to the part where I’mnotwading through blood and body parts while being forced to endure your stand-up routine, as entertaining as you are.” He flashes a bored smile.
“Everyone’s a critic,” I sigh. “Very well..” I swap out my soiled hairnet for a clean one, then select the meat cleaver from the array of tools on the counter behind us, feeling rather official about the whole thing.
“So, Jakey.” I remove Alonzo’s tongue from his mouth and toss it into the trough. “Since you’ve still gotyourtongue, tell me about your man, Full Metal Jacket.”
Through a bloody sputter, he grunts, “Who?”
