House Of Blood Part 10

Eddie wanted to slap himself-the weirdness of the

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situation had apparently rendered him incapable of intelligent discourse.

She turned the pad toward him, fixed him with a serious gaze, and tapped the top page with the pen.

Eddie looked at what she had written.

YOU ARE PROBABLY WONDERING WHY I HAVEN'T SUMMONED THE MASTER.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Well, now that you mention it, yeah."

She repositioned the pad and wrote some more. Eddie's eyes followed the words as she penned them with finely turned strokes.

BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT HERE BY CHANCE.

Eddie was suddenly apprehensive again, recalling the pa.s.sing thought he'd had at the last checkpoint-that he was being herded instead of chased. Well, here was the first inkling that bit of intuition wasn't so far off track.

He tried to keep the fear out of his voice as he said, "So ... why am I here?"

She dipped the quill in ink and wrote some more.

I SUMMONED YOU.

Eddie gaped at her. "But... why?"

I AM NOT READY TO TELL YOU THAT, she wrote.

Eddie squinted at the infuriating words. "Not... ready... to ... tell... me." He cleared his throat. "Well, that's just great. You let me know when you can spare a minute to clue me in to whatever s.a.d.i.s.tic game you and The Master are playing."

He started to get up.

"Meanwhile, I'll catch some shut-eye."

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She hissed at him, displaying rows of perfect teeth as white as oysters-movie-star teeth. Eddie's upward motion ceased, and his eyes widened at the incongruous sight. She was one of the loveliest women he'd ever seen, possessed of a delicate beauty that made his little soldier want to stand up and salute, and yet she looked so vicious.

So deadly.

He sat back down.

The feral quality vanished from her face, and her attention returned to the page of pink stationery, where one slim, pale hand was again spinning beautifully rendered handwriting from margin to margin at a startling speed. She filled half the page, then turned the pad toward him.

Eddie read with mild interest some dry biographical information about the girl, but boredom gave way to shock and terror as his gaze moved down the page.

Her name was Giselle Burkhardt, and she'd first come to this place in 1973, when she'd been seventeen years old and a senior in high school.

Eddie's brow wrinkled at that bit of impossible information-Christ, the girl looked seventeen right now, thirty years after the claimed date of her arrival in The Master's world.

But that was easy to swallow compared to what came next.

She'd been on what was to be her last vacation with her family before embarking on a new phase of her life-college in New England. The car carrying her parents and

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younger brother experienced engine trouble east of Chattanooga, and her father had been forced to pull off the highway. Thus began a long night of terror that culminated with the mutilation deaths of her parents. Her brother was taken to another room, and she was chained and stuffed in a crawl s.p.a.ce, where she remained until The Master was ready to initiate the second phase of her indoctrination. She was removed from the crawl s.p.a.ce and tortured by Ms. Wickman until she was screaming her willingness to do anything to end her agony.

Her brother was brought before her.

She remembered how heartbreakingly brave he'd looked as he stood there trembling.

It hadn't been easy.

She wanted Eddie to know that.

But the pain was more than she could take. And she knew they could keep inflicting pain every bit the equal of what she'd already experienced-and perhaps worse-should she refuse to do their bidding.

She didn't refuse.

Ms. Wickman gave Giselle a straight razor.

Giselle used it on her brother.

Over a long period of time.

Then finished him.

"Oh my G.o.d," Eddie breathed as he read this. "Oh, sweet jumpin' Jesus..."

I MURDERED MY BROTHER, the tale's concluding paragraph began. THE MASTER ALTERED ELEMENTS OF MY BODY CHEMISTRY AND ARRESTED THE AGING PROCESS, ALLOWING ME TO SERVE HIM HERE AS HIS APPRENTICE INDEFINITELY I HAVE SERVED HIM WELL. WELL ENOUGH

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TO FOOL HIM. I HAVE WAITED THREE DECADES TO ATONE FOR MY SINS, AND THE TIME FOR ATONEMENT IS NEARLY AT HAND.

Eddie stared at the disturbing words a moment later, horrified by the cruelty they described, then he wrenched his gaze away. He didn't want to look at Giselle, didn't want to have to look into those dark eyes. He could feel them on him, studying him, taking the measure of him. He cast his gaze about the room, looking for something, anything, to divert his attention-and he realized the cat was missing.

He still wasn't looking at her when he said, "What happened to furball?"

Giselle turned the pad to a fresh page and wrote, GONE.

Eddie frowned. "Gone?"

She elaborated: THE CAT IS A SHAPESHIFTER, ALBEIT A MORE HIGHLY EVOLVED EXAMPLE OF THAT SPECIES. IT FUNCTIONS AS MY PERSONAL MESSENGER AND SPY A shapeshifter.

Well, sure.

Eddie had only seen the Lon Chaney wannabes Below, but he remembered his struggle with the creature in the closet and knew she was telling the truth.

Eddie was finally able to meet her gaze again. "What happened ... have you always been mute?"

She scrawled a single angry word in big block letters: NO.

Eddie winced. "The Master? He ..."

She wrote, I WAS A SHRILL TEENAGER. HE TOOK MY VOICE, A REMINDER THAT MY STATUS AS APPRENTICE DIDN'T MEAN HE WOULDN'T PUNISH ME HE REVELS IN SUCH PETTY CRUELTIES.

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Eddie shook his head, "That's f.u.c.ked up, Giselle."

IT WAS A VALUABLE LESSON, she wrote. I LEARNED PATIENCE. I LEARNED TO THINK. I TURNED INWARD AND GREW STRONG IN MY MIND. I HAVE MANY THINGS TO TELL YOU, BUT FIRST YOU MUST LEARN A LESSON OF YOUR OWN.

Eddie tensed. "Whoa, wait-"

She was still writing: YOU MUST KNOW YOUR PLACE. I ALLOWED YOU THE ADVANTAGE LAST TIME, BUT YOU CANNOT OVERPOWER ME.

Eddie started to push the chair away from her.

"Giselle-"

She seized him about the wrist, gripping him hard with one slender hand. Eddie attempted to yank free, but she held him fast-and with little apparent effort. She steadily increased the pressure until he could feel bones grinding. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. Maintaining her grip on him, she stood up and pulled him away from the table. He stumbled along beside her as she led him to the bed. She spun him about at the foot of the bed, spread both her palms open over his chest, and pushed with all her considerable strength.

Eddie flew backward, then momentarily experienced a kind of drowning sensation as he sank into the plush comforter. The girl climbed onto the bed and stood over him. She prodded him with the tip of a high-heeled shoe, urging him toward the headboard. Eddie scooted backward, too intimidated now to do anything but her bidding. The display of strength had frightened him, all that power in that small body.

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His gaze was riveted to her face-her beautiful, cruel face.

Then he felt the folds of her long dress brushing his bare torso as she planted a foot on either side of him. She neared the headboard and velvet darkness engulfed him.

A moment later he couldn't breathe.

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Dream went to Karen's side, knelt beside her, and draped an arm over her heaving shoulders. Karen turned into her friend's embrace, clutched at the thin fabric of her top, and began to sob even harder. Dream cradled Karen's head against her chest, felt the wetness of tears against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and felt moisture appear in her own eyes. She stroked Karen's hair and made painfully useless cooing noises.

Alicia's face was a mask of intent concentration as she held Shane's limp right wrist. She dropped the wrist and leaned over Shane's face. Dream wasn't sure what Alicia was looking for, but something in her friend's expression told her she wasn't finding it. Alicia pressed two fingers against the man's throat, waited a few moments, frowned, and sighed. She made eye contact with Dream, who asked the pertinent question with a lifted eyebrow.

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Is he...

Alicia answered with a tired nod.

Yes.

And now a tear did slide down Dream's face.