Page 77 of Hollow

CHAPTER TWENTY

Nikolai’s rage vibrated from the sky above so fiercely, it swept Dimitri into a further fit. It took everything he had to keep his composure, to send Nikolai and the other crows a warning. He couldn’t soothe their tempers, he couldn’t soothe his own, but he didn’t want them to swoop down and attack the hunters. No matter how coordinated the crows were, they were heavily outnumbered by trained hunters. Any retaliation would only result in their deaths.

Low growls from the wolves called to Dimitri. They hid between the trees, ready to launch an attack with the crows, and awaiting their command. As much as Dimitri wanted to relent, to let the beasts unleash their fury, he sent a plea for restraint instead. The wolves remained silent and hidden, ready to attack should Dimitri request their aid.

Still, Nikolai cawed loudly in harmony with the rest of his flock above. He struggled to accept patience, and instead sang a song of death, wishing most of all to peck out Patrick’s eyes and tear the flesh from his smiling face. Dimitri deeply understood the sentiment, craving nothing more than Patrick’s death.

“Get the gear, get the gear,” Patrick instructed, waving his hand that held the device.

A device that kept Dimitri in check. He’d never felt such pain before, and he’d endured a lot of torment at the hands of the Hearst family. A lot of torment at Patrick’s hands. To think the young sadist had a plan to take charge this entire time. Dimitri often overlooked Patrick’s ambitions, sensing the young psycho derived most of his pleasures from inflicting horrors. Honestly, Dimitri assumed Patrick was a layabout, content with his family’s fortune and filled with no drive to claim the company his father constantly tried to teach him to run.

It turned out Patrick paid very close attention, so much so that he plotted a coup right underneath Gordon’s nose, arranging the old man’s death and ensuring his easy succession as the Hearst heir.

Now, Patrick had Dimitri and Jack in his clutches with the intention of trapping hundreds, maybe even thousands of monsters. He’d turn them into captives for the wealthiest and most depraved individuals, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing Dimitri could do to stop this.

“You’re probably wondering how I got here, huh?” Patrick stood over Jack, towering over him with a wicked grin.

Jack didn’t respond. He simply remained kneeling. Even his shadowy expression had vanished. The enchanted pumpkin atop his head was just a plain ole pumpkin with no face.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a sore loser,” Patrick said with a chuckle. “You’re about to be sore all over. Might as well smile while you can.”

Jack didn’t respond.

Patrick kicked Jack’s stomach, intending to provoke some reaction, but got nothing in response. The glazed look of fury in Patrick’s eyes was a familiar sight. Nothing annoyed the man more than being ignored, something Gordon had mastered with decades of neglect. Dimitri sometimes wondered if that sparked Patrick’s twisted fantasies, a need to hurt others so badly his father had to pay attention, had to respond if only to clean up the mess.

“Well, long story short, technology always beats magic,” Patrick said with a bitter smugness. “So, this whole enchanted fog bullshit didn’t give me and my men any trouble.”

Several hunters approached Patrick with metallic briefcases.

“But you’re about to see the full extent of how useless magic is to solid technology.” Patrick smirked.

Dimitri shivered as the hunters withdrew several metal rods. They used to ache, constantly tearing into Dimitri’s flesh to prevent him from fully healing. It was a simple obstacle meant to deter his escape, his resistance. When he would have an outburst, the rods carried a pulse of electricity, spasming every muscle in his body and preventing him from fighting back. Dimitri couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps that had been the chip this entire time. An evil little device buried in his head and connected to his nervous system.

“Got him?” the hunter asked as he lined up a rod with Jack’s forearm while another hunter held it steady.

Dimitri flinched when they stabbed the rod through his flesh and wriggled the device in between bone and muscle.

Jack didn’t react, though. He didn’t scream from the pain. He didn’t react to the cutting comments and cheap laughs at his expense. No, all he did was passively resist. It made more work for the hunters as they stabbed him over and over again with the metal rods. They lined up each device, stabbed Jack, and made a crass joke at his expense. It was a grueling sight to watch unfold, and Dimitri couldn’t do anything, not really.

“Stop this,” Dimitri shouted.

There was one thing he could do. He could speak. He could warn Jack. He could beg Jack.

“Do not surrender because of me,” Dimitri begged. “Do not let them own you, too.”

Jack’s shadowy expression stirred on his pumpkin but didn’t come to the surface.

“Fight them!” Dimitri yelled. “Kill them! Kill them all! Do not worry about me. Do what you must to survive, to stop them. I am begging you to just⁠—”

A jolt of electricity coursed through Dimitri and dropped him to his back. He recoiled inward, his body spasmed and contorted as every cell of his being burned.

“How sweet,” Patrick said as he released the pain and gave Dimitri a break. “I hate sweet.”

Patrick sent another pulse of electricity, reminding Dimitri of his place.

“Enough,” Jack roared, his shadowy expression twisting into angry eyes and jagged teeth.

He went to stand until a hunter kicked the back of his leg, keeping him on his knees. Another hunter quickly clamped a metal collar around Jack’s neck and locked it in place. Soon came the shackles, heavy and designed to connect to the rods embedded in Jack’s flesh.