CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Marcy was in the bathroom with her sister. Ellen was perched on the toilet, with her jeans down around her ankles. Marcy knelt in front of her and coaxed her sister with words she almost certainly didn’t understand. Hygiene was a big problem for Ellen. It had been hard to get her to understand that she couldn’t just squat and shit on the floor any time she felt the urge to go. Nor had it been easy to instruct her on proper use of the toilet. You had to watch for signs indicating she was on the verge of needing to take a dump. She would get restless and start pacing about their room, panting and whimpering like a dog in need of going outside. In fact, the process had been very similar to potty-training an animal.

Ellen whimpered again. “Muhmuh…muh-”

Marcy sighed. “Come on Ellen. Squeeze. You can do it.”

“Muh…muh-”Tears of frustration welled in Ellen’s eyes. “Muh-”

“Oh, the hell with it.”

“Oh, the hell with it.”

Marcy stood and extended a hand to her sister, who accepted it with dumb gratitude, a drool-flecked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ellen stood, and Marcy helped her get her jeans tugged back up and snapped shut. They had just reentered the bedroom when Marcy heard the faint sound of something she needed a moment to recognize as heavy metal music.

She frowned.

It was the first time she’d heard recorded music of any sort since arriving at this place. Though the music was muffled, she had a sense that it was coming from somewhere outside the house. She was moving toward the bedroom door to investigate when the boom of the first explosion sent a hot spike of fear through her heart, freezing her hand on the doorknob. The sound was massive and the concussion seemed to rattle the whole house. It was followed immediately by more explosions, just as big and loud, which was followed by the stuttering sound of gunfire. Ellen screamed and threw herself against Marcy, jarring her hand away from the doorknob. Her hands clawed and scrabbled against Marcy’s clothes as she mewled inarticulately. Marcy shoved her away, sent her tumbling to the floor. Ellen landed on her ass and let out a pained squeal. The sound ripped at Marcy’s heart, but the panic engulfing her was too immense to allow any room for coddling her simpleton sister. She had to figure out something to do, and fast, before whatever was happening downstairs got any closer.

Then she had it. The only answer possible.

Dream. We’ve got to get to Dream.

“Upstairs.” She looked at Ellen. “Get your ass up. We’re going upstairs. NOW.”

She hurried over to the nightstand beside the bed, yanked the drawer open, and pulled out her Glock. She checked the magazine. Full. She popped it ba ck in and turned around in time to see her sister moving toward the door. Ellen’s hands fumbled with the doorknob for a moment before seizing it. A burst of adrenaline sent Marcy dashing back across the room.

The door came open and the sound of gunfire grew abruptly louder. Screams and confused shouts echoed down the hallway.

Ellen stepped into the chaos and Marcy followed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The straight razor felt good in her hands, like it belonged there. Alicia flicked it open and moved to the head of the bed, where she stared down into the wide eyes of the girl tied to the headboard. She was a young thing, slim and blonde, with a cute face and a nice figure. The ball gag affixed to her mouth and face enhanced her prettiness in a perverse way, emphasizing her youth and vulnerability.

Alicia sat next to her and pushed sweat-soaked strands of blonde hair away from the girl’s forehead. The girl shivered at Alicia’s touch.

Alicia smiled. “Once upon a time, girl, I was in your place. Tied up for no good reason other than the pure hell of it. A damn shame, ain’t it? That there are people in this rotten world who get their kicks this way?”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes and spilled down her flushed cheeks.

Alicia wiped the tears away and licked them off her fingers. “Mmm. Anyway…as I was saying, it’s a shame there are people like me in the world.” She laughed and placed the blade flat against the girl’s white belly. “A shame for you, anyway.”

She pressed the blade into the girl’s flesh, penetrating just slightly, perhaps an eighth of an inch, and drew a red line all the way down to her hip. It wasn’t a mortal wound by any means, but the girl squealed and rocked against her restraints. Then she was panting in agony behind the ball gag. Her whole face was red and Alicia wondered whether it was possible to scare a person this young enough to induce a heart attack. It didn’t seem likely, but she supposed it was possible. It would be regrettable.

She was just getting started on her.

It was funny. This thing she was doing to this girl, some anonymous runaway she didn’t even know, was exactly what she’d planned for Dream back when she’d first recorporealized. But things had changed somewhere along the way. Being with Dream made her stronger and made all sorts of interesting things possible. The time she’d spent on the road with Dream and those kids had even been kind of fun. So she’d stuck with them, resisting the sometimes powerful urge to kill them all, and things had worked out just fine. She was in a perfect situation now, in just the right place for indulging the dark compulsions that were always lurking in the back of her mind.

Strange.

She’d never had impulses like these in her first life. The original Alicia Jackson had been just as tough and no-nonsense, but she’d also been a highly moralistic person. That conscience had not made the journey back from the other side of death with her. It bothered her a little, that some piece of her essence was missing, but not enough to matter.

There were three black-clad Apprentices in the room with her. Two young men and a slender girl about the same age as the runaway tied to the bed. The men were lounging in chairs. They looked bored. This wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen a thousand times by now. The girl, though, was sitting in a chair close to the bed, an avid expression on her face, her eyes glittering with a dark, eager hunger.

Alicia smiled again. “Sophie? Could you do me a favor?”

Sophie looked at her. “Yes, Mistress?”

“There’s a bottle of perfume over there.” She nodded at the vanity sitting against the wall behind Sophie. “Fetch it for me, would you?”

Sophie grinned. “Of course.”

She hopped up and bounced over to the vanity, displaying an adolescent enthusiasm Alicia found charming. She found the bottle and brought it over to Alicia. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks, Sophie. Now sit down again and watch. This will be fun.”

Sophie did as ordered and Alicia looked into the bound girl’s eyes again as she removed the stopper from the bottle. She moved the bottle into position over the long incision. “This is another thing that was done to me years ago. Let me tell you something, girl. You may think you’re hurting now, but-”

The blast of bludgeoning heavy metal riffery startled Alicia and the bottle slipped from her fingers. The music was very loud. Very close. She thought about it a moment and realized she’d been hearing another, lower sound prior to the intrusion of the music, a sound she now recognized as the rumble of engines.

Alicia stood and moved toward the bedroom door. “Just what the fuck is going on out there?”

She opened the door and stepped out onto the second-floor landing. She peeked down the stairs and saw a number of Black Brigade soldiers heading into the foyer. Curiosity got the better of her and she started down the stairs. The gunfire was already starting by the time she was halfway down. Then the first AT7 shell slammed through the door, passed through the foyer, and detonated when it struck the wall arch outside the living room. The explosion ripped apart bodies and rocked Alicia off her feet, sent her tumbling down the stairs.