“Really?”
I give him the quick highlights-reel version of the reading, including the part about the factory looking a hell of a lot like the Tower. “I know I sound like Batty McCrazyPants, but… I just know I’m supposed to be here—to see them one last time before you end things.”
“Darling. The day you sound crazy to a bloke likemeis the day you’vereallygot to worry.” Jude stops at another set of massive doors at the end of the last hallway. Looking me over head to toe, he says, “I hope you’re not too attached to this outfit, scarecrow. Judging from that determined look in your eyes, I’d say things are about to get messy.”
Again, that red-hot spark zings through me. Pulling my hair into a quick, out-of-the-way bun, I grin at him and say the only appropriate word for the occasion. “Excellent.”
And then, rather than talk me out of it or list all the reasons why this is a terrible idea, he pushes open the doors and says, “Let’s see how long it takes you to make them shit their non-existent pants.”
* * *
Standing in the middle of a concrete slaughterhouse, the scent of blood and urine heavy in the air, I stare at the two broken mages slumped against a wide cement pillar. Their hands are bound behind their backs, bodies so badly beaten I can hardly tell them apart. One is missing his toes. The other his tongue. Both are barely alive.
“They’ve been chained up and hanging from meat hooks most of the night,” Jude says, “but Auggie has taken the liberty of putting them on the ground for you, darling.”
“Beneathyou, as they should be.” Auggie leans in to kiss my cheek. Then, in a whisper just for me, “The minute you want out, just say so. Jude and I will finish up.”
“Deal,” I say.
“You good?” Jude asks, and I nod, shrugging out of my jacket. Jude takes it from me, and the two gargoyles take a step back and lean against a long metal counter, giving me a little space.
I walk a slow circle around the pillar, looking over every bare inch of our captives. There’s no need to guess what tortures Jude and Auggie have inflicted—the story is written in every bruise, every gouge, every electrical burn on their skin.
The pair are silent but for their labored breathing.
They watch me, tracking my every move. Their eyes are begging me for something I refuse to give them.
I take my time, making a few passes. Waiting to feel something.
Fury. Fear. Even pity.
But nothing comes.
“Do you know who I am?” I finally ask, my voice as cold as the damp cement walls.
Both mages nod.
“Do you remember what you did to me?”
This question doesn’t get a response.
I unzip my hoodie and toss it to Jude.
Standing before the mages in nothing but yoga pants and a sports bra, I turn and give them my back.
My eyes are locked on my gargoyles’ fierce gazes, but when I speak again, I’m talking to the monsters on the ground behind me.
“Look,” I say. “Look at what you did to me. Look at every letter, every fucking scar, and remember how Ibeggedyou to stop.” I’m still numb inside, the calm before a storm, and my voice is strong and clear. Unwavering. “Look at me and remember how you laughed at me. How you held me down and tortured me. How you pissed on me and spit in my face and left me on the tracks to fuckingdie.”
A tear slips down Auggie’s cheek, fists clenching at his sides. A deep, low growl hums through Jude’s chest, but I shake my head, silently urging them both to stand down.
I’ve got this. I’ve fuckinggotthis.
I turn to face the mages again, both still staring at me with terrified, pleading gazes.
“Do you remember now?” I ask.
Alonzo manages a small grunt. Blood leaks from his mouth.
