“You’re lying!” she cries. “Take me to him. I’ll tell you anything else you want! Just… just let me see my son!”
“You want to see your son? Fine.” I pull out my cell phone and scroll through the shots from that night—the few I’d taken on my phone.
Even now, the memory of Westlyn’s viciousness makes me hard. She fucking took themdownfor what they did to her.
But then I remember the runes. The terror in her eyes when she realized what she’d done. The shame and confusion.
I remember how she shook with that same terror and shame the night we saw her scars, and all the tears that fell from her eyes when she told us what they’d done to her as a kid.
Fury boils inside me, making my hands tremble just as Jude’s did moments earlier.
There is no room for compassion. No room for decency.
I find a nice closeup shot—one that leaves no doubt whatsoever about Pomeroy’s condition—and hold it up for her to see.
“By the time we finished with him and Florentine, there was barely enough left of their bodies to burn. Your son was pretty much liquified—see that?” I scroll to another photo, this one of the grinder. The blood spilled on the ground around it. “It was harder to clean up than you’d think. Even with a power-washer. If you’d like, I could head over there, see if I can scrape up a bit of—”
“Stop. Please, just… just stop.” Her ferocity is gone. Her shoulders slump, the pain of her sudden grief—not to mention the dagger in her thigh and the destroyed knee—clearly too much to bear. Her eyes drift closed, and she pants for breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I can hear the frantic beat of her heart. She’s losing more blood. Losing hope.
Good.
I put my phone away and grab her by the hair. “Cry and beg all you want, doc, but the only family reunion in your future is happening at the gates of Hell. But before I send you there, I’ve got a few more questions about the demon binding. Specifically, why Westlyn Avery is so important to—”
“No. No!” Her eyes fly open again, some new energy exploding inside her. Blood trickles from her nose, her mouth, and she wrenches her head free from my grasp, glaring at me with wild eyes. “You can’t stop the great purging! Not even the men of shadow and stone, no! It was set in motion long ago and will continue on its course until all the ancient wrongs have been righted. Until the balance is restored. Death to all who oppose the scourge. Death to all who stand in the way of our rise to power!”
I grab Jude’s crowbar and lift it menacingly. “Stop screaming, or I’ll—”
“Death!” she shouts, loud enough to send the roaches scurrying out from the shadows. “Death to all who refuse to kneel before the two great lords!”
And with that final trip on the crazy train, the good doctor bends forward and smashes her chest against the hilt of the dagger in her thigh.
Blood gushes from the wound. Way too much of it.
“Fuck!” I shout. “She just fucking severed her own damn artery!”
I cast around the filthy room for something to stop the bleeding, to prolong her worthless life a few more minutes—just long enough to answer my questions about West.
But it’s too late.
She’s going, going…gone.
I toss the crowbar to the floor. “Damn it.”
“Don’t sweat it, Augs,” Jude says, leaving Connie to join me in front of Dr. Corpse. “Bitch was getting annoying at the end there, wasn’t she? Pretty sure she wasn’t going to share any more details about the whole thing, anyway.”
“Probably not.” I shove a hand through my hair, suddenly wanting nothing more than to burn the whole place to the ground and wipe it out of existence.
Jude clamps a hand over my shoulder. “Let’s say we wrap things up and get the fuck out of here, yeah?”
“We’re not gonna question Conrad?”
“Oh, I tried. Had a nice, intimate little one-on-one with him. But it was all just blubbering and begging, blubbering and begging, and frankly, I’m not in the mood for any more whining tonight.” He steps around me and grabs the crowbar. “Just need another moment with the good doctor, here. I’ve got a vision for my next art installment.”
“Great,” I deadpan. “I can hardly wait for the big reveal, Michelangelo.”
“Do me a favor—look in the closet and see if you can find a backpack or a gym bag—something I can carry a few things in.”
I rummage through the closet and find an old duffel, then toss it on the ground at his feet. “Get it done, Jude. The stench in this place is giving me a fucking headache.”
