"Forget the fucking, after all," she breathed, breasts rising and falling. "This is..."
The ivory tube in one nostril, the other pinched tight, she again lowered her face toward his body. She sniffed up the lines of jolt, her body trembling with the powerful sensation of the drug. Only when the mirror was clear did she sit up again, face wreathed in a broad smile.
"Now, what shall we do, Ryan?"
"Get out," he said.
"Worried the mutie redhead'll find out you enjoyed me doing you? I might go tell her right now."
"That jolt'll kill you soon," he said.
"I can stop when I like."
"Like everyone else can. I seen the stiffs from coast to coast. Heart gives up the effort. You're dead, bitch."
"Harvey won't live long. His heart's near finished, brother-in-law. Then I rule the ville."
"What about your son?"
"Jabez? The darling does everything I tell him to do."
"Like fuck you?"
At last he got through her guard. She slapped him hard across the face so that his head banged back against the wall. She snatched up the knife and stared at him, eyes open wide in an insensate rage.
"You don't... don't..." she stammered, spraying him with her spittle. "I'll... Jabez loves his mother. That's all."
Rachel put the dagger down once more, leaning close to Ryan so that he could almost taste the scent of her sour-sweet breath. With a swift movement she sat astride him, her weight on his groin. Her left hand tangled in his hair, pulling so hard that it brought tears to his eye.
"Keep very still," she hissed at him, her white face inches from his.
Her right hand stretched and touched the leather patch over his blinded left eye, easing it upward.
"No!" he cried involuntarily.
"Ah, so the brave hero has his weakness. I only want to see what good work my dear husband did on his little brother. There..."
Ryan closed his right eye. He knew what Lady Rachel was seeing. He'd seen it often enough in pools of water or in polished metal or in mirrors. The empty, raw socket, the skin puckered, red and scarred. Often the scooped cavity would weep a little. A clear liquid, as though it wept for the missing eye.
He winced again as she laid her thumb on the skin at the very corner of the eye. "What does it feel like, Ryan?" she whispered.
He screamed. For the first time in countless years, Ryan Cawdor screamed in helpless, mindless terror, feeling the jagged nail probe into the deeps of the empty eye socket, pushing hard against the agonizingly delicate skin. The pain went on and on as she turned her finger around, still keeping her iron grip on his hair. Through the mist of raw red pain, he could hear her laughing at him.
Ryan jerked so hard at the handcuffs that blood sprang from the ends of his fingers.
A millennium of suffering crawled by until at last she took the finger away. He could feel a warm liquid coursing down his cheek, but he didn't know if it was tears or blood. It touched the corner of his lips and it tasted salty.
Her weight moved off him, and he blinked open his good eye. Rachel stooped and adjusted the patch back over the blank socket.
"So much blood, brother-in-law. Such a deep scar, isn't it?"
Ryan didn't trust himself to speak, knowing that his voice would shake with his pain and anger.
"I think I shall go and kiss my son a fond good-night. After all, I doubt you could please me with this..." she touched him contemptuously with the toe of her dark blue shoe "…this worm." She giggled, the jolt coursing through her body, making her hyperactive for a brief few minutes. "Know what I do if I see a worm in my path, brother-in-law? I crush it beneath my heel. Perhaps... No, it would be a waste. If it was Harvey's pathetic worm, then..."
"Why stay with him?"
"He is the baron, Ryan. You know what that means. After I throttled your father, Harvey stopped sleeping in the same bed as me, fearing for his wretched life. And he is right. Now he will soon die. There have been two attacks already, and the doctor says he cannot live through another."
"In twenty years you could have..."
The woman shook her head, bending to collect her dagger and thrust it back into the sheath at her belt. "Not until Jabez was old enough. This ville runs on fear, Ryan. And now you've come back. All my life here you've been a shadow on every wall. A listener behind every door, the poison in every dish, the fear in every dream."
"Now I'm here."
"The older servants prayed to you. We flogged and branded them and still they believed that one day you'd come back and save them all from... Harvey and from me. They call me the Lady of Pain, you know, Ryan. Me! This time tomorrow Harvey will return from the hunt. You and your friends will die in a fine public ceremony. Soon Harvey will die, and Jabez and I will run the Shens. And there will be no more shadows!"
Her voice soared like an eagle as she ranted at the bound man at her feet. She kicked out at him in a vicious temper, her feet cracking into his ribs, leaving deep purple bruises.
As quickly as it had come, the anger left her, the wild swinging of moods that was typical of a jolt junkie. She stood panting, her face growing blank. "There, brother-in-law, you made me... Relatives shouldn't anger each other."
"Goodbye, sister-in-law," he managed.
"I came to see you," she said, pausing near the door, "to see if you might be of use. You could have killed Harvey. That would have been pleasant, wouldn't it? All the double-poor stupes that live on our lands would have flocked to worship at the shrine. Ryan, the miracle baron of Front Royal. You could have had me as well, brother-in-law."
"Why not?" he asked. Behind her the last of the lamps was guttering out, making her shadow dance, shift and vanish.
Rachel smiled. "No, Ryan. Not now. You should have been the baron. You and I could... once... Not now. I know men, Ryan. I know you. You might agree, to save your skin, then break my neck without a single backward glance. No. You aren't weak enough."
She pulled at the door handle, pausing a moment in the brightly lit opening to glance back at him. Then the door slammed shut, and Ryan was left alone in silence and in darkness.
The blood congealed on the tips of his fingers, around the nails and on the grazes around his throat from the tearing of the rough iron chain.
As the night wore on, Ryan managed to slip into an uncomfortable slumber, waking often from the pain of his position. He wondered how the others were bearing up, thinking specially of Krysty Wroth.
Ryan also wondered about Lori and Doc Tanner.
Chapter Twenty-Five
"By the three Kennedy's!" Doctor Theophilus Tanner exclaimed, tripping over the gnarled root of an ancient live oak. It had rained, briefly but fiercely, and the ground had become soggy and treacherous. The low clouds veiled the moon, making it difficult to see more than ten feet ahead.
"You okay, Doc?" Lori asked, helping him to his feet and wiping ineffectually at the smears of mud on his black coat.
"Yeah. Just this path doesn't run straight for more than twenty yards at a time."
Nate Freeman looked back over his shoulder, face a pale blur ahead of them. "Want to get nearer than this to the ville 'fore sunup. We're close to Shersville here, and they might have patrols out, watching for me to head home."
The clouds parted, and the moon broke through, bathing the region in a bright silver glow. Doc looked around him, admiring the beauty of the forest, the rain glistening off the boles of the endless ranks of trees.