"Maybe not," Santos says, refusing to be intimidated. "But it's hard to ignore that your sweet, young wife drugged my girlfriend and me. And"-he holds up his wrists to show off his chains-"I do have a problem with being locked up and chained to my bed." Santos pauses, looks as if he's considering something, then nods his head. "As a matter of fact, I have to admit, I've already decided. I'm going to have to kill you both."
I grin at the incongruity of my prisoner threatening me.
"And how do you plan to do that? Don't you think the chains and the locked cell will get in your way?"
"Well, I didn't say it wouldn't be a challenge." Santos laughs.
His laughter catches me off guard and I let myself join him, wishing things could be different, wondering how hard it will be to control this man. Our mirth lasts only a moment, then fades into silence-Santos glaring at me, me returning his stare.
In the next cell Casey Morton grumbles, "How can you laugh? You know the bastard's going to kill us."
"Are you?" Santos asks.
"Not unless I have to," I say. I see no reason to explain their eventual fate. "Of course, the two of you are going to have to stay here. You'll be expected to help maintain the household and the grounds-"
Santos whoops and laughs. "You're fucking nuts! This is America. You want to make us slaves?"
I frown, consider rushing into the cell and striking him-beating him until he learns humility. "Enough! You need to speak and act with more respect. Look around you. Test your chains. You and your friend have no options. You're going to have to learn to accept that."
"And if I don't?"
"There are dogs outside that would like the opportunity to meet you," I say. "Or I could leave you locked up without food or water. I could hurt the woman or you dozens of different ways. I could kill her and let you live… or vice versa." I shrug. "Or I could kill you both. Or you could cooperate and live fairly comfortable lives."
Santos looks around his cell. "You think this is comfortable?"
"It could be made more so."
"We need to get out of these wetsuits," the Cuban says.
"It can be done," I say. "But first, you mentioned a note yesterday."
Santos grins as if he has the upper hand. "We need food and dry clothes. And Casey needs for her cuts to be taken care of."
I nod. "First tell me about the note."
"It came in the mail from the attorney that bailed me out, the one I didn't hire. He said it was from his client in California."
Scowling, I say, "Go on."
"There wasn't much to it. It said, 'You're on the right track. Peter DelaSangre killed your sister.' Then it said, 'If you ever need help bringing him to justice call,' it listed a number, a local one…" Santos pauses, shakes his head. "I can't remember it now… and then it said, 'Please call any time day or night.' There wasn't any signature or name."
"Did you ever call?" I ask.
He smiles. "No, I wanted you to myself." Santos pauses again, his grin turning smug, then says, as if he's earned some new concession, "Casey and I should stay in the same cell."
"No." I shake my head. "I don't think so."
"Okay, I guess you're in charge," Santos says, his tone acid again. He holds his hands up, palms out, in a mock gesture of surrender. "So it's whatever you say, Boss… for now. Just don't forget… things can change. And when they do, you're dead."
This time I chuckle. The man has no concept of my powers and abilities, nor of Elizabeth's. I have no doubt, if given the chance, he will attempt to slay me and I have no fear that he will succeed. "Whenever you think you can kill me," I say, "Please feel free to try."
"I will… later," Santos says. But he cooperates when I unlock his cell and readjust his chains so I can lead him into the hallway. Morton surprises me by cooperating too, shuffling out of her cell, waiting next to Santos while I chain them together. Santos whispers something to her, but she saves me the need to quiet them and stares away, saying nothing in return.
Father taught me that keeping humans captive calls for constant vigilance and careful technique. "As weak as they are, they are most dangerous and most determined once they are taken captive. They become like rodents in a cage. They never stop trying. I've had ones who dug through stone; others who worried at their chains so much that the metal failed. You must always keep them bound in some way, alternate their cells on an irregular schedule, inspect their walls and floors, examine their locks for tampering. Never show mercy, never trust them. Whenever you do, they'll turn on you."
I fetter Santos and Morton the way Father taught me-with only twelve inches of chain between their feet, their wrists bound by shorter chains, Santos's right ankle shackled to Morton's left, his neck ring connected by a short chain fastened to hers. They have no choice but to move slowly, shuffling in tandem with each other, their chains clinking as they ascend the stairs in front of me.
Their clangor precedes them, wakes Elizabeth shortly before we reach the second floor. "Peter?" she mindspeaks. "Why are you bringing them up here now?"
"They're a mess. They need to shower and change.…"
"They're slaves. Take them outside and hose them down," Elizabeth says.
"That's unnecessary," I say. "We've plenty of extra rooms, more than enough showers they can use.…"
"They're not our guests."
"But it wouldn't hurt to treat them as well as possible."
"Honestly, Peter, sometimes you make no sense. They're just humans."
Elizabeth joins me as I lead them into one of the other bed chambers. I'm relieved to see that she's chosen to be both in human form and clothed. I doubt that Santos and his woman would be as cooperative if they saw either of us in our natural states.
"You," Elizabeth says to the woman. Morton looks at her, then stares at the floor, waits to hear what Elizabeth wants. She remains still as my bride unchains her and helps her out of the wetsuit and the bathing suit beneath it. She stands naked before us, slightly trembling.
"So thin," Elizabeth mindspeaks. She holds Morton's empty chains in one hand, runs the fingers of her free hand over the cuts and bruises of the woman's face, then turns her so she can examine the long gash on Morton's side where one of the Hobie's wires cut into her. "After you shower, I'll put some herbs on this," Elizabeth says. "It will heal quickly."
Casey nods. The woman's docility surprises me. She accepts Elizabeth's continued inspection-Jorge and I watching them.
"Do you like her?" Elizabeth asks. "Would you want to make love to this blond woman? Or is she too thin for you, her breasts too small?"
Santos shifts beside me-clinking his chains, shaking his head-but I ignore him. "I only want to make love to my wife," I say and turn my attention to Elizabeth, her swollen stomach. "Maybe once I would have found one like this of interest.…"
"She isn't an animal!" Santos shouts. He whirls toward me, throwing his arms over my head, wrapping the chain between his manacles around my neck, choking me, grunting as he tightens his grip.
Instead of fighting off his attack, I immediately thicken my neck muscles, preventing the iron links from blocking my air or cutting my blood flow. Santos tries to tighten his hold and groans when he finds that, no matter his effort, he can't. I almost feel sorry for him as he strains to no avail, wait for him to see the futility of his actions and give it up.
Morton, her eyes wide, watches our struggle, but provides no help. Not so Elizabeth. She quickly tires of waiting for me to end it. "This is stupid," she says. Twirling Morton's empty chains over her head, she steps closer to us and crashes them into the side of Santos's head. His grip loosens and I push the chain from my throat, and knock him to the floor.