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Callen and Freddie snicker.
“You’re never going to be found,” I say. I head to the altar and my neat row of knives organised by blade size, then turn to Callen. “Remove his shoes.”
Callen wrinkles his nose and arches one eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want my help.”
I bat my eyelashes at him. “I’ll let you cut off a toe for your trouble.”
“Promises, promises,” he purrs, eagerly rushing to untie Trout’s shoes. He tears them and his socks off in a flash.
“Help!” Trout shouts. “Somebody help me!”
“No one can hear you,” I say. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see you again.”
“Who are you?” Trout asks as tears fall down his chubby cheeks. “There must be a mistake. I don’t know you.”
I sigh, clicking my tongue impatiently. None of the others recognised me either. It proves how little we meant to them. How can they not remember my face after they ruined my life? It’s my job to make sure they never forget it.
“Let me remind you,” I say. “Five years ago, you worked for Spencer Bexley. It was a dark night. You and Spencer’s cronies forced a car off the road. When you went to the wreckage, you found two girls…”
His bottom lip quivers. He looks up in horror, seeing me properly.
“You’re still alive,” he whispers.
“And so are you, unfortunately,” I say. “But my sister isn’t. Do you remember her? The girl you raped and killed. The girl you left to die like she was nothing.”
I’m shaking with fury and grab a knife.
I address Freddie and Callen. “Hold him still.”
They don’t need to be told twice. Trout thrashes while Freddie crushes his neck underfoot to keep him in position, and Callen seizes his ankles.
“Are you ticklish, Christopher?” I ask, running the blade over the soles of his flaky feet. “Do you want me to sing you one of my favourite nursery rhymes?” He begs me to stop, but I’ve entered the zone. Nothing will stop me, and I sing, “This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed at home, and this littlepiggy…” I grab his toe with my spare hand and whack it off with the knife.
He wails in pain as blood spouts from his stump. I pick up the toe and hold it up to his face.
“Do you like sucking toes?” I ask, ramming it into his mouth and smiling. He looks like a pig biting down on an apple. “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”
Suddenly, a ringing phone interrupts the mood.
“Turn it off,” I order, but Freddie and Callen’s blank faces tell me it’s not theirs. I don’t believe it. Fucking amateurs. “You didn’t search him before bringing him here?”
“In our defence, I didn’t think you could get a signal down here,” Callen mumbles.
Trout spits out his toe, hoping to make another desperate plea for help, but Freddie stops him instantly. His foot presses harder on the back of his neck until he’s gasping for air and unable to talk.
I reach into Trout’s trouser pocket and remove his phone. The screen is smashed, but it’s still working.
My mouth goes dry as I read the caller’s name:
Alaric.
I answer the call without thinking. “Hello.”
“What are you doing?” Freddie asks.
I turn away so they can’t see my face.
“Ivy, I thought it would be you,” Alaric says. There’s an amusement to his tone, like he knows what I’m doing. “I don’t want to ruin your party, but I have information for you.”
