“Oh, okay!” Trevor patted him on the shoulder. “I’d like a one-way ticket off this island. I’ll take Ashton and Erin and be on my way. Bruce is coming with us too.”
Sebastian snapped his fingers. “Granted.” He chuckled obnoxiously, his large Adam’s apple plunging up and down with each break in his voice. Trevor’s skin itched as he waited for him to stop. “What makes you think you can’t leave? And why would I decide that?”
“Why’d you attack us back there then?” asked Trevor.
“Did I? Because I heard a gunshot. You attempted to take my life… Bruce, is it?”
“Ignore him, kid. He’ll say anything he has to. He’s with the island.”
Sebastian gave him a sarcastic look. “Yes, I am on the island. Aren’t we all?”
“We know you killed Skye.”
“And how is that?”
Trevor could access it far too quickly; recalling waking up in bloodied sheets, her open mouth and eyes, her throat.
Sebastian continued, “A little bird told me you killed her.”
“Ignore him, kid!”
“Yes, ignore what you already know,” said Sebastian.
Could I have? Trevor’s head hurt as he tried to access time that was lost. There was something important, something… “Skye and Ashton had both gone missing, but the notes… the notes had changed. It wasn’t part of Stefan’s game, it was your own. You did this. You did something to me and put me there with her body. You…” Trevor trailed off. “I saw her. Her dead face…” Tears fell. “You killed my friend.” His gun was lifting, but Bruce’s hand rested gently on top to lower it back down.
“I didn’t kill anybody. I wouldn’t do that. And it seems to me the strange activities started happening the moment you folks stepped foot on this island,” said Sebastian.
Bruce cut in, trying to deter some of Trevor’s anger. “We’re here for some simple answers. Hang tight while I get my kit.”
Trevor turned to watch Bruce collect a tool bag. When he opened it up on the couch, an assortment of knives and pliers were revealed. “Toenails or fingernails to start? They might not be a game changer, but they’re a good appetizer. What will it be, Sebastian?” Bruce pulled out pliers and paused, his face contracted. “Sebastian. I don’t like that name. Sounds like a goddamn lame horse.” He opened the pliers and ran his thumb over the corrugated part. “This whole mess with their friend… We won’t even start there. How’s that sound?” No answer. “Perfect. We require Erin. She’s at Stefan’s, yes?”
No reply. He moved his tongue along his teeth to check if any were missing, then spit blood on the floor like any tough guy should.
“Okay.” Without any taunting for effect, Bruce squeezed his pliers and ripped off a fingernail in one quick motion. Sebastian howled, spitting everywhere as he breathed in short bursts.
“We need the girl. Where is she?”
“Your sins could only be absolved here, but it will never be permitted.”
Out came another nail, along with a scream that shook the cabin.
“Should I switch to one of the little piggies?” Trevor couldn’t look at the fleshy fingertips, but got a glimpse of the nails on the floor.
“Stay a while, gentlemen. Time is on our side.” His smile widened.
“What did you say?”
“I said stay a while, Trevor. Why would you wish to leave?”
Bruce reached into the bag and pulled out wire clippers, placing them around Sebastian’s pinky toe. “This little piggy? Should it go to market?”
Bruce’s hand tightened around the handle.
“Okay!” Sebastian laughed with relief. “She’s with your brave and noble owner, in his eyesore of a home.”
“Good. We assumed as much but appreciate your cooperation. Next, your clan. Where are the others positioned?” Bruce looked to Trevor. “This one might be a little trickier.”
Without giving him time to answer, he clipped his toe off, and it hit the floor. The sight of it rolling around made Trevor feel sick.
“Your blood will taste sweet in the shadows of—” Bruce had already pulled out a short blade and thrust it into Sebastian’s leg. His scream was so loud, it echoed, like it came from another place.
“My blood is old dust. And yours is on the floor. Where are they?”
Sebastian contorted his face in disgust, pure disdain. “The children are on the other side. Teresa could be anywhere.”
“Oh, brother…” Bruce squeezed the handle of the knife in his leg.
“She’s waiting to intercept the boat! The boat!” Bruce pulled the knife out.
Bruce looked at Trevor. “Gut up, soldier.” He slapped him in the shoulder. “I’ll take care of the crazed woman. You get Erin and meet me on the south side at the dock. Come hell or high water, you make it happen. All right?”
“You’re fools!” Sebastian hissed.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not going anywhere, princess. I’d never leave you.” Bruce turned to Trevor. “Got that gun of yours still?”
Trevor felt around his waist and touched the handle. “Yeah.”
“Good man. You go get your woman now.”
Trevor left feeling queasy, his legs like jelly.
Sebastian’s veins bulged in his forehead and sweat dripped from his chin. “You know the truth. Isn’t that right, Trevor? But you tell yourself that I’m the monster. Go on. If it makes you feel better, you go ahead.”
Trevor remembered that night clearly. It had never left him. Standing at the end of the dock, looking out at the beach… Behind the first set of trees, there was a man, shovelling dirt into a pit. A grave. He had just stood there and watched. That man was him.
Trevor stepped out of Bruce’s cabin. The rain was still coming down hard.
Chapter Twenty-five - Erin
Had Ashton fled from Stefan?
Erin arrived at the top of the stairs. Stefan was back on the couch where she had last seen him. He was motionless, but still breathing. He had something in his hands. It was the folder.
“What is this?” He opened it up and flipped through it, looking at the photographs of the dead policewoman.
“Where’s Ashton?” she asked.
“He’s not in my room?”
Erin shook her head, waiting for a reaction.
He lowered his head. “It’s this place. It’s this… place!”
“How did they get to him?”
“I don’t know, Erin. I don’t know how it works.” He sounded like such a defeatist. It was all over based on the tumbling tones of his dry voice.
“Why was the wine room door sealed off?”
He rose to his feet with a grimace. “I. Don’t. Know. Why am I finding a folder here with pictures of a dead cop and a note that I can only assume was for you?” He was staring straight through her. “You’ve seen this already…”
“It was a long time ago.”
He threw his hands up in the air along with the folder, sending the photographs everywhere. “Oh! Well that’s fine then. Let’s mosey on out of here. Doesn’t seem like anyone is trying to use this against you or anything.” His eyes shifted and he stared at his feet, a picture of the dead cop next to them with blood smudged on the corner from Stefan’s hand. “What did you do?” he asked. He seemed fearful, staring at Erin like she was a dangerous killer.
She couldn’t begin to explain.
“Well?”
“I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t want you to.”
“You’re the reason this is all happening. Help me understand. How can this island have anything to do with this?” He looked down at the photographs again.
“I don’t know, I don’t know, I just—I…” She exhaled. “This is my punishment.” He opened his mouth to ask another question but fell silent as he studied her despairing face.