I folded up my notepad. This was getting nowhere. Time to search the girls’ room. They would protest-I might even have to sit through a phone call to Dick Conners-but eventually they would relent. Because whatever their faults or foibles, they wanted their little girl back. And they knew the longer she was gone, the less likely that became. As did I.

It was nice being with Susan again. She’s almost like she used to be before the Bad Man took her but sometimes her hands shake and I can tell her stomach hurts and she looks like she’s going to cry but her smell is better and she’s back and she let me read to her while she drove the car. I wish I could drive the car but they wouldn’t let me get a license and I know I could do it but not unless they let me try and maybe Susan would let me after we catch the Bad Man and her hands don’t shake so much anymore. I know she likes me. I know she likes me.

Next time I’m going to ask her about babies.

Tiffany was the strongest, as it turned out. Who would have guessed that the spoiled rich girl would be the most resilient of the threesome? Hidden depths, he supposed. Dark secrets such as the prophet often saw lurking just beneath the surface. But those depths held dangers. They had to be eliminated.

He’d taken her through the entire “Pit and the Pendulum” scenario, just as he had the other two. But whereas Judy and JJ had disintegrated into hysteria, Tiffany had kept hold of her senses, even after the blade gave her a few rather significant slices. She had remained defiant, even through her pain.

Additional measures were required.

When Tiffany awoke, she found herself strapped to the table, still naked. It was amazing, he noted, how nakedness and physical discomfort increased their vulnerability. He had made the room positively frigorific, so much so that her body was covered with goose pimples.

“Good morning, Tiffany.”

“You can’t hurt me,” she said through dry and cracked lips.

“I’m glad to hear that, my dear. It will make what I have to do next so much less trying. Are my hands cold?”

He pressed the palms of both hands down on her abdomen. She flinched.

“I feared they might be. Hard to keep warm this time of year. The temperature is having a rather remarkable effect on your body.”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, you sick fuck, but it isn’t going to work! I’ll never do what you want. If you’re going to rape me, then go ahead and do it. Get your filthy rocks off so I can get out of here!”

“My dear Tiffany, you mistake my intentions altogether. And you have a mouth like a sewer.”

“You’re a disgusting little creep. I bet your thing is just as short as you are. That’s probably why you have to get your thrills hurting teenage girls.”

“My darling-”

“Where’re Judy and JJ? What have you done to them?”

“They’re in another room.”

“Are you torturing them, too?”

“Not at all. They’re being quite compliant. Only you are-”

“Then let me see them!”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible yet. But in time-”

She twisted and strained against the straps, trying with all her might to get free.

He laid a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back to the table. “You’ve cut yourself.” He pointed to an abrasion across her left breast, just above the nipple.

“It was your damned pendulum, you-”

“Looks nasty. Could be infected. Needs attention.”

“Leave me alone!”

“Fear not, I know just the thing.” He lifted a bucket and placed it on the edge of the table where she could just see it. “Heavy. Needs to be stirred.” He took a large wooden ladle and swirled it through what appeared to be a thick gray muck. “There. That’s better.”

“What is that? What are you going to do with it? Are you going to put that on me?”

“Of course not. This is not the salve. This is but the living environment.” He dipped the ladle into the bucket, this time just skimming the surface.

It came back with something.

He brought the ladle around so that she could see it, letting a splotch of gray goo splash down on her neck. It was small, thin, and writhing, greenish black in color. As he held it close to her face, the putrid smell made her turn away.

“What the hell is that?”

“Don’t you know, Tiffany? It’s the best thing for an infection. In the prophet’s time, all the best physicians used them, a practice that has sadly fallen out of favor.” He leaned in closer, pressing the lip of the ladle against her cheek. “It’s a leech.”

“Get it away from me!”

“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s a good little creature. It’ll clean your wounds. Suck out the poison.”

“I said, get it away!”

“Don’t be silly. You’ll hurt his feelings. Now where was that wound? Oh, yes.” He tilted the ladle until the leech slowly oozed out and plopped onto her left breast.

“Get it off me! Get it off!”

“Don’t fuss so. Let it do its work.”

“Get it off!” Her voice screeched, panic rising. She squirmed as the slimy creature oozed its way across her. “Get-it-off!”

“Many hardy souls such as yourself are quite resilient when it comes to physical torment or fear, yet still have a weakness. Spiders, perhaps. Loud noises. But I suspected that you might have a touch of tactile defensiveness. We all do, of course, to varying degrees. But your case might be more extreme.” He smiled. “Oh, look. The little beastie has found the wound. Engaging suckers.”

“Please make it stop.” She was sobbing, her voice bubbling, tears streaking. “Please make it stop.”

“Just leave it to him. He knows what’s best for what ails you. Oh-look! Another wound.” With his fingertip, he traced a line up the inside of her upper thigh. “Fortunately, I have more of these salutary animalcules.”

“No! Not there!”

He plopped another leech onto her leg. Tiffany writhed and shivered, thrusting herself forward and backward, right and left, trying to shake it off, to no avail.

“Is that a pimple on your face? Oh, I hate those.”

“Please don’t. Please don’t.”

“Here comes another helper.”

“Not on my face! Please! Not on my-”

He dropped it just above her upper lip. It immediately began to slither toward her mouth.

Her eyes widened with fear and helplessness. She didn’t dare speak, but she bucked against the table, thrusting her hips, squirming, trying to relieve herself of the slimy creatures.

“Honestly, Tiffany, you will carry on, won’t you? About three puny leeches? The way you’re behaving, I might as well-you know what? I think I will.”

He tilted the bucket and dumped it, gray ooze and leeches alike, on top of her. Tiffany was deluged with the muck, in her eyes, in her mouth, every crevice and orifice.

She sputtered and spit, trying to keep it out of her mouth, but it was useless. She spat out a leech, gagging. She shuddered, unable to hold still. Her eyes were wide as balloons, her breathing a rapid-fire succession of jagged intakes, her chest heaving. She couldn’t speak, but was reduced to making incoherent guttural noises, vacant and horrifying.

“How does it feel?” he asked, truly curious. “Having that sucking sensation all over your body, on your hands, your face, even your most private parts? Is it too awful? Or is it, as you young girls say, a turn-on?”

“Please make it stop, please make it stop, please make it stop…”

“Oh, Tiffany, my dear, you don’t need me to do that. It will stop, sooner than you might imagine. You see, those leeches are more than just disgusting. They are poisonous. Instead of ridding your body of toxins, they are actually infecting you, tainting your bloodstream with a potent cyanide derivative.” He looked at her levelly. “You will be dead soon, Tiffany. And then you won’t be able to feel the little creatures at all.”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeease!” At least, that’s what he thought she was saying, but her shrieks were so piercing at this point he couldn’t make it out with any degree of fidelity.