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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE

P ercy thunk, thunk, thunked the flat side of his blade against his thigh while he thought his plan through.

How best to cut Joe so it would heal more easily? Where best to hurt him that would leave fewer noticeable scars? Exactly how far away was the nearest hospital? Was it a decent one? How long would they have to wait in the ER? How much blood is too much blood?

Any.

Any blood is too much blood

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from binding Joe’s cut arm with a clean handkerchief. He’d made some stupid comment to the creature that he was just getting started, but in truth, he couldn’t stand to see the fresh wound there, seeping and clotting.

He thought about the upcoming weeks of bones knitting, the sting and stink of disinfectant, feeding Joe soup through a straw into a wired-up jaw.

And Joe hating him all the while, wishing they’d never met.

‘Take my head or something…’

Not an option. No option but to torture Joe until he got the thing out of him. Then he would deal with the fallout, just like he always did.

The creature spoke. “Do you know, right now, you make him think of his father?”

A well-aimed stab at the gut that hit its mark. “You have no right to tell me that.”

“He would sit right in front of Joe’s bedroom door, blocking it, just like you?—”

“Shut up.”

“And he’d watch Joe. Watch him trying to pretend he wasn’t frightened. Watch him crying. For hours, he’d sit there drinking, watching, all day in that little room?—”

“Shut up or I’ll gag you.”

Joe’s lips laughed out a warm, cruel chuckle. “Do you think that’s why he stays with you? Because he’s searching for the approval he never got? Trying to win the love of someone incapable of caring for him, always locked in the same old trauma, in that same mud-floored bedroom?”

That jab twisted, turned, and redirected itself sharply into Percy’s heart. He held steady, fingers tightening on the chair, refusing to take part in the vicious entertainment, but pulled so taut on the inside he was ready to snap.

The creature watched for the effect of its words, and seeing nothing, it probed a little deeper. “Or is it just that he doesn’t know any better?”

Percy dropped his foot to the floor, leaning forward. “He’s with me because he knows I’d cut his father’s throat as soon as look at him.”

The amused eyes sparkled a shade brighter, the brilliant glimmer of white teeth grew a little wider, and he said, “Too bad Joe already did that.”

White-hot fury fought with horror, and a nerve moved a flash of ready violence down Percy’s arm, restrained only by the memory of kissing those cheekbones so lovingly twenty-four hours earlier.

The door opened behind Percy and a coffee was shoved in his face. A paper bag, translucent with grease, was dropped in his lap. The morale-shattering clank of instruments of torture rattled his insides as Leo dumped everything out onto the bed.

“I got your pliers,” Leo commenced, adding with a double-raised eyebrow, “needle nosed.” He shook a little box. “Razor blades. I had to go to a different shop for those, but it’s fine. Here’s your copper wire, hammers—I got a big one and a little one because I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to—” he glanced at Joe “—well, you choose. Tweezers, cheese grater, vegetable peeler, and of course…” He lifted the star item. “Your blowtorch.”

Percy flinched at the hiss as Leo clicked the flame to life.

“That’ll do,” Percy said weakly. “And what did you learn?”

Leo raised his chin. “Al?”

Althea, eyes glued the implements on the bed, stepped forward until her knees hit the mattress, where she unzipped her parka. “Leviathans, banshees, wendigo, hyenas?—”

“What?” Percy asked.

“Uh…” She glanced at Leo, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Some people believe hyenas can possess people.

“Let’s keep it to Scotland, shall we?”

Althea let loose the papers from beneath her shirt, nervous fingers trying to arrange them into some order as Leo added his pages to the mess. She rattled out, “Djinns, Dybbuks, ghosts of course, and then demons.”

“It’s not a demon. I’ve tested it.”

“I know, but…” Althea sucked in a small but fortifying breath of air. “This really all felt very, um… Well, in Indonesia, we might try different things to anything I found here. Like salt-fish. Nails under his pillow. Or cats, for example. Some spirits are scared of cats, you know? And there’s one next door, so it wouldn’t be hard to… um…” Percy’s dead-eyed gaze quietened her. “Just some ideas… I had…”

He stood with a queasy lurch and shoved the greasy sandwich bag at Leo, who accepted it with a fallen face that Percy failed to notice. He grabbed his bag, turned it up, spilled its contents onto the papers and torture devices, then made his way to the head of the bed, where he smuggled Molly Tulloch’s skull into the bag before throwing it over his shoulder. “Out.”

Leo made his way to the door on command, but Althea remained where she was.

A sick clawing inside Percy’s gut made him even less tolerant than he ordinarily would have been, allowing him only the rough utterance, “Now”.

Yet she remained, sneaking a sidelong glance at Joe. “What happens next?”

“He’s going to torture me,” said Joe, just as calm and easy as if he were discussing the weather. “Because that’s how Percy Ashdown treats the people he says he loves.”

Althea, caught between Joe’s blasé response and Percy’s returned glower, said, “He won’t.” But the brand new metals on the bed shone bright and evil in the dull light. “Percy, you won’t, will you?”

“Out,” he repeated.

“No.”

Joe said, “What do you think, Althea? If you love someone, you don’t hurt them. You do what you can to make them happy, right?”

Raising her hands to her hips and her chin in defiance, “That’s exactly right.”

“But the funny thing is, he won’t let me drink you.” The creature watched the boldness fade from her face, while Joe’s expression kept the same sardonic grin. “How long do you think it will be until he cracks?” He glanced pointedly down at his bandaged arm. “How many holes and slits do you think Percy will put into this body before he serves you up on a platter to save Joe?”

Althea jumped at the touch of Leo’s hand on hers, pulling her gently towards the door. “We should go.”

“You should run fast and far, Althea,” the beast agreed. “I wouldn’t trust Percy. And you know you shouldn’t either.”

Percy’s stomach rose and squelched with a whiff of the lunch Leo still held in his hand. He staggered after the pair as Althea fled and Leo retreated, scowling at Joe all the while. He turned the corner with them, pulled the bedroom door shut, and leaned a shoulder into it for support.

Leo, taking in Percy’s damp, sallow skin, stated the obvious. “You don’t look well.”

Percy twisted to let his back take his weight against the wall, closing his eyes to fight off the nausea. “He’s poisoning me. And he’s going to poison you too unless you get away from him.”

“Then you need to leave with us.” Leo attempted to take Percy’s arm, and was immediately shrugged off.

Percy reached into his bag, saying, “I’m sorry I don’t have time to make this any less traumatic for you, Althea, but meet Cleo.” He pulled the skull out and held it up to Althea’s horrified face.

“What is that?”

“I told you, that’s Cleo. I need you to take her downstairs—out of the house, if you start to feel sick at all—and see what you can get out of her. Anything about Barmiston Hall, Molly Tulloch, The Witch’s Head Inn, just how the fuck she ended up in that skull, and what the hell she’s been keeping in her basement.”

Leo, knowing he should be the one to diffuse Percy’s madness, being the more experienced of the two, could muster up only, “What?”

On a gasping breath of sickness, “And don’t let him see her. Bring her directly back to me, in this bag, and don’t let him know you have her. You’ll have to do it all in yes or no questions, and you’ve got ten minutes.” He shoved Cleo towards Althea. “Take.”

With tentative fingers, Althea held her first human skull. Studying the lifeless object, she whispered, “Cleo?”

“Herrrrrrrrr,” the skull breathed.

Althea squealed and dropped the bone, which was caught in Percy’s long fingers. “And if you don’t get her back to me, intact, within ten minutes, I’m feeding you to Joe.”

Leo slapped his arm. “That’s not necessary.”

“It was a joke.”

Leo shook his head. “I don’t think you realise how scary you are right now.”

With a sickly smile, looking like a man who’d been inhaling shoe polish for three days straight, Percy slurred out, “Althea doesn’t think I’m scary.”

“You’re terrifying,” she said.

“Am I?” Percy let out a tired laugh. “That’s good. Because I’ve got a lot of torturing to do. Wish me luck.”

He disappeared into the decrepit room before either of them could stop him, had they had the wherewithal to think how to do so in the first place.