Page 52 of Seven Graves

The Mortician

Does anyone else have a thing about their feet or hands being dirty?

Well, I do. I’ve been staring at the nauseating state of my feet, wiggling life back into my toes every few minutes.

I’d rather not know how many people have been in this hole or what happened to them, and I’m sure I’ve probably cleaned worse, but…

whatever is on this floor is caked to my soles and I shudder to think about the kind of rot it’ll cause.

I’m past the point of being cold. My stomach started eating itself hours ago, and if I so much as picture Emmy or Vivian… or anyone else in that house…

I’m sinking into madness, and it hasn’t even been a whole twenty-four hours.

They took Bridget to God only knows where.

At this point, if anybody ever comes back in here, I’ve decided I’m gonna tell them where to find Kendall.

If I end up in another box, so be it. At least I’ll have clothes and three shitty meals a day.

And at least I’ll have a toilet. Amazing, the shit we take for granted.

None of this is worth my family. Especially when none of this was more than a couple of incredible fucks with a guy just as unstable as me.

I do deserve this, despite what Bridge thinks.

Jonas gave me twelve hours, and I don’t even know how many of them are left.

For the first time…death does seem a little different.

A lot different where it concerns the people I love most, and their blood staining my hands for the rest of my existence.

Mrs. Porter would be shaking her head at me right now.

The sound of the door clanging down the hall startled me, but I don’t have the will to move. I rested the back of my head against the wall and turned it to watch the door to my cell. It’s not Jonas. It’s the other one. I don’t even remember his name.

“Smells of pish in here. Well done. Made it to the level lower than dog shite.” I stared blankly at the bastard. I’m not in the mood. “Must be pretty hungry by now.”

“There a purpose to this visit, or are you just here to make sure I haven’t killed off before you could get answers?”

He smiled, and honestly…if he wasn’t such a prick, I’d almost think he was the more attractive of them. He doesn’t have shit on Malek, but I’m too upset to even think about his charming fucking face right now. I hope he’s alive so I can bash it in.

“I came to see if you were ready to talk.”

I raised my knees and stared at the wall where Bridget’s mattress laid. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

“Other than five or six funerals?”

I scoffed and laid on the moldy, disgusting excuse for a bed.

“You’re probably the worst kidnapper in the history of kidnappers.

And you’re not even hot, so sadly, you don’t have the dirty fantasy aspect going for you either.

You gotta give to get, asshat. You wanna know where your brother’s sorry ass body is?

Gimme proof of life and at least a turkey sandwich.

I’m pretty sure I’ve got a couple more hours. ”

“Ya talk a big game for somebody sleepin’ in her own offal. Jonas is a bit more kind than me, lass. She was prettier than you…American rubbish .”

Shavonn…he’s talking about Shavonn. Well. Score one for asshole. That stung.

“Could say the same for you. You talk a big game for somebody enjoying the freedom of a country he obviously hates, but refuses to go back to wherever he came from. American dream too good for ya?”

“Soith bhréan…”

Yeah, it’s only sexy when he does it. Pretty sure I just threw up in my mouth a bit.

“English please.”

“I said, foul bitch . And you want your proof, or not?” I sat up, watching him turn a phone towards me, and there sat Leviticus House.

Time was stamped in the bottom corner. Took me a minute to realize it was a live video feed from a dash cam.

I could hear someone eating and a radio turned down low.

“And how do I know they’re safe inside?”

“By the lack of a phone call or a text with their kill order. Where the fuck is Kendall?”

The video feed glitched, sputtering out, and he looked at it in confusion. I found myself doing the same, darting my eyes from the screen to his face.

“What’s happening?”

“Don’t know. Feed’s out.” He dismissed the camera feed and brought up a number, hitting call and pressing it to his ear.

A few seconds later, he lowered it. The call isn’t going through.

“Fuckin’ basement. I’m goin’ upstairs. I’ll come back with somethin’ to eat, and when I do…

you’re talkin’, or I’ll make you talk. Jonas might be keen on playin’ games, mate…

but I’m not. I don’t care how long he gave you. ”

“Whatever.”

I went to lay back down as he turned and started to walk down the hallway, but we both nearly jumped out of our skin at the sound of gunfire— and a lot of it . Directly above me.

God help me, I wanna hate him right now…but I know in my heart it’s him.

Malek came for me.

My fingers are gripping the bars to the door so hard that they ache with cold and pressure.

It sounds like an all-out bloodbath upstairs, and this nameless fucker went to go investigate, only to hide out like a pussy at the end of the hall.

He’s tried several more times to get that phone to work, and I can tell he’s nervous.

Small light at the end of the fucking tunnel for me.

He knows what’s coming for him. Even worse?

I think he came down here unprepared. He was under the impression that he’d come talk shit and report back to his brother, but…

now he’s stuck without anything to protect him except his hands. It’s all I can do not to laugh.

A handful of Irish curses I’ve grown accustomed to hearing Malek say are flying out of his mouth and I’m betting he’s pulled a few wads of his hair out, pacing back and forth at the end of the hall.

This is karma at its finest. And the silver lining is that it seems like he can’t make a call to hurt my family just to spite me or get at Malek.

My excitement was short-lived when he turned towards me, storming towards the door and I stepped back, letting go of the bars.

“If I’m goin’, ‘yer goin’ down with me, Princess.

He’ll find you about as alive as his other bitch.

” My heart thrashed, and any snarky retort was lost on my tongue as he jammed a key into the lock.

I can fight, and probably kick some ass with the help of adrenaline, but…

he’s obviously stronger and bigger than me, muscular, and brought up in violence.

I’m not gonna last five minutes. I breathed raggedly, and prayed to God somebody could hear me past all the racket upstairs.

“Malek!” I screamed, hoarsely. “Malek, I’m down here! Hurry the fuck up!”

The only response was more gunfire and Armageddon above us. I backed myself to the farthest wall, my chest heaving while I watched dipshit struggle with the lock—and then it hit me.

His key isn’t fucking working. He can’t get in here.

“Fuck!”

I guess the key doesn’t unlock both doors…how am I getting this lucky?

Lucky…

A flash of amused green eyes and a four-leaf-clover ran through my rattled mind.

A crooked smirk. An annoying strut. Sharp objects and candy that tastes like cough syrup.

A coincidence that made sense, for once, about the reason I drunkenly got what I used to believe was the dumbest tattoo in fucking history.

We’re each other’s own brand of luck. And like all luck…

it eventually runs out. If we don’t die tonight, then the reality is it’s gonna kill me to let him go. And I have to.

Meatball spun around, and I jumped at the sounds of bullets pelting the metal door, echoing down the hallway.

Loud bangs followed behind it and several muffled voices.

None of them sounded like Malek. Jonas’s brother chuckled under his breath and dragged a palm down his face, bending over and bracing his thighs as if he couldn’t believe just how unfortunate he is right now.

It only took another second for him to turn around and try to pry the door to my cell off with his bare hands.

Dare I say…he might be strong enough to manage that…

especially pissed and facing a brutal end. My panic came back full force.

Do something, idiot. Do something!

I stumbled towards the door and went for his fingers. It’s the only play I’ve got. Fuck it. I bent my arm, ramming my elbow into them and he growled, shaking it off while I did the same to his other one.

“Fuckin’ bitch! ” Every blow I made, crushing his fingers against metal, he went right back for, trying his damnedest to get a hold on that door.

I used elbows, knees, my filthy feet, until he gave up trying to touch it.

“When I get my hands on you…I’m gonna snap your fuckin’ neck.

I’m gonna rip every limb from ‘yer body, and—”

“Viper!”

“Malek! Down here!” I beat my fists against the bars, and the brute turned, blocking the only way to me. The metal door smacked against the wall and Malek emerged from the dark like a fucking god . Bloody. Sweating. Disheveled.

I might come on myself.

“Sev…” It was like a shattered affirmation of life. I couldn’t help myself. I smiled at him. “Step away from that fuckin’ door, Zane…and I might make it quick for you.”

“Make it a fair fight for once in ‘yer pathetic life, half-breed, and we’ll see how quick it is for one of us.” Malek cocked his head in confusion.

“He’s unarmed. And he doesn’t have the right key,” I snapped. Zane braced himself and Mal grinned like a sadistic idiot. I’m trying to tell myself it isn’t hot as fuck. His hand raised and a set of two keys dangled from his bloody fingers.

“This key?” he chuckled.

“We doin’ this shit, or what?”