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Gerlinda gaped with her eyes, frozen to her seat as the Dukes let out an uproar of laughter.
“Go on, salad dodger!” yelled a Fabio-looking Duke with an English accent. That had to be Astaroth, the twins’ father. How gross.
The next few minutes were filled with lewd comments and shrill laughter from the rowdier Dukes.
“Perhaps we need to roll her onto the stage.”
“I’ve got something in my pocket for you, all right.”
On and on it went.
I ran through a series of emotions during those moments. Pure joy that I was saved. Revulsion at the treatment of this girl. Dread that I would have to sit through whatever they had planned for her.
One of the Dukes threw something at Gerlinda, and suddenly there was a shower of junk food raining down. Baked goods, candies, cheese puffs. They had planned for this. I looked at my father’s table. He sat with Jezebet, Melchom, and Alocer, the fathers of Blake and Kope. The four of them watched with boredom, as if they were too cool to partake in the spectacle, but the vicious Dukes around them didn’t care.
Food continued to hit Gerlinda, and tears slid down her rosy cheeks. She didn’t try to move or shield herself from it. My heart broke for her. I wondered if this poor woman was the sole reason for tonight’s summit, or if she was just a prelude to the main show.
A tall, thin man with icy eyes and light hair stood up, pointing to the woman and shouting in German, “Gerlinda! Erhalten Sie auf der Bühne jetzt!” He pointed to the stage. It had to be her father, Kobal. His cheeks were red with anger. Gerlinda shook her head, and when she didn’t move he shoved his chair back, knocking it over, and made a beeline toward her. He grabbed her hard by the arm, and she screamed out as he pulled her to her feet, pushing and shoving her toward the stage. The Dukes cheered him on.
I couldn’t watch. My stomach was in a tight, hard ball and everything good inside me cried out against the injustice. How many times in history had innocent people been brutalized while bystanders stood by and did nothing? Could I be one of those bystanders? I wanted to slam my eyes shut and cover my ears, but even if I couldn’t see or hear, I would know a terrible atrocity was being done.
I doubted Gerlinda had a single person in her life who loved and encouraged her. Unlike drugs, food couldn’t be avoided. We all had to eat. Would I have done as well with my self-control if my sin were gluttony? I couldn’t imagine doing small amounts of drugs and not going overboard. It was all or nothing.
When Kobal got his daughter on the stage, he stomped back to his table, receiving slaps on the backs from his “brothers” for his manhandling abilities.
Gerlinda stood next to Rahab on the stage, slumping with silent sobs.
Rahab sneered at her. “Enough with this sniveling. Your father was good enough to warn you years ago. He even went so far as to seek medical attention for you. Did you not undergo a surgical procedure?”
Gerlinda nodded and let out a heart-wrenching cry, as if she were trying her best to hold it in but no longer had the strength. I clamped my teeth together and swallowed several times, blinking away the burn in my eyes.
“So what is the problem then?” Rahab’s French drawl became harder to decipher as he shouted, and drops of spittle flew from his lips. “You allow your appetite to make you disloyal to our cause. Overindulgence is for humans. Not for Neph. Your kind need not seek enjoyment and comfort. You are nothing!”
Rahab inclined his head to Pharzuph, who picked up a small round table sitting next to the stage. There were three plates on it, each with a different food item: chocolate cake, a hamburger, and a slice of lemon meringue pie. Pharzuph set the table in front of Gerlinda, and stepped down from the stage, joining the disorderly table of Dukes.
“Since you have spent your life shoving food into your face, we are doing you the kindness of letting you eat your way out of this life. You get a choice, Neph girl. Aren’t you so lucky? Two of these delicacies contain poisons that will bring your death. One poison kills quickly. The other promises you will struggle, vomiting and bleeding until your guts are eaten away.” Rahab paused, allowing his malicious information to set in. “The third plate contains no poison at all. If you choose the food with no poison, you will be given one more year to prove yourself to us.”
No. They couldn’t do this. My father and the other three at his table watched with polite disinterest, not sharing in the mirthful murmurs and occasional laughter. I wanted my dad to stop this; he must have felt my eyes, because he tilted his head to meet my stare. A vicious warning was issued to me in those brown eyes. He didn’t want me saying a word.
My jaw quivered and I bit my bottom lip. My father went back to watching the show.
“Which will it be, big Gerlinda?” Rahab waved a hand over the three plates. “Will your death be fast, or will you writhe in pain as the poison eats away your stomach lining?” He grinned at the cake. “Death by chocolate. I bet you never dreamed it would be so good.”
“Take the chocolate!” one of the Dukes yelled. And then that whole rowdy table was calling out their choices, as if it were a game show.
Feeling severely queasy, I scooted to the end of my chair, entranced. There was hope—she could choose the one without poison. I wanted to look at my friends but couldn’t take my eyes away from the stage. My father angled himself in the chair, scratching the side of his face with two fingers. He shot me a fast, stealthy glance and continued to move those two fingers up and down his face in an unnatural manner. Two. Two. A signal. His eyes darted to me again, and then to the table with the food.