GAME ON - GoM 2

13

Alex struggled to keep her eyes open. She couldn't tell how long she'd been there anymore. She couldn't even see the room clearly. But the foot lamp was still on, and that blurry shape in the armchair was a man reading. Blake. Who else. Her head dropped to her chest, all her weight still hanging form her numb, sore arms.

"Wake up, my dear."

She let out a hoarse cry as pain thrust like a burning spear from her belly up to her throat.

"Anything you want to say?"

Her lips moved without a sound, until she found a little strength to groan one of the few words she was allowed to utter. "Please..."

"Please? How come? Aren't we having fun yet?"

Alex wished she still had tears left to cry. The bastard was literally having a hell of a time. Since he'd come back to the cellar, he'd stated she wouldn't sleep, eat, drink, not even sit, until she agreed to become his channeler and his breeding mare. To keep her under control, he'd cut her with her amulet and lick the cut, polluting her bloodstream with his saliva. And he would do it again whenever he thought his grip on her was faltering.

The pain receded as soon as soon as she opened her eyes, but she felt she wouldn't stand it much longer. Actually, she hoped she wouldn't. If only she didn't remember what Claire had said about Harry Bormstone: "He so wants to die. But they just won't let'im."

So she tried not to harbor any illusion about being so lucky—and Blake being so kind as to let her die before the morning... nor any time soon. Jesus Christ! Why couldn't her heart just stop beating? But she knew the answer: because Blake didn't want it to.

She couldn't help falling into a numb drowse, until the pain shook her inside again. And then again a while later. And again. And again.

Every time, Blake made the same question. And she didn't answer, because she wasn't allowed to say no. But the idea started rotting her inside: it'd be so damn easy to just say yes and put an end to the torture.

"It's such a simple word, my dear," Blake would repeat. "And then you can rest, and drink, and eat. And what's more important: you can save your niece and your dog boy, and everybody you care about. Don't you want to know they're safe?"

And then, when it couldn't be long before dawn, he threw in Aidan's name.

"Oh, I see that I have your attention now." His smirk still made Alex's fingertips tingle. She would've so loved to smash her fist in his face. "Okay, let me explain it to you. Any demon can open the gates of Hell to access Hell. But here's the catch: to open them to the world, they must be open by a human, acting by his own will. Makes sense, right, my dear? Else any of us would've opened them ages ago."

Alex held his eyes, her breathing a hoarse hiss through her cracked lips.

"The problem is that Greg, following orders from upstairs, covered all the known gates with so many seals and conjures that now it's virtually impossible for any regular human to even get near any of them. That's why I need a Warrior: a human with the strength and the skill to perform the right counter-spells, resist the effects of defusing the locks and open the gates. And there's where your dear Aidan would come in."

She looked away from Blake, trying not to seem interested.

Like he cared. He stood up and started strolling around the cellar as he went on. "Some centuries ago my scholars—because we have scholars in hell, in case you didn't know—concluded that hunters are the best candidates to be our Warrior. So ever since I closed in on the Cross, we've been looking for a hunter to subdue and recruit. And look how ironic life can be, my dearest: Aidan's father, Benjamin Holster, was our main candidate. Until he gave in to drinking and ruined his health, which left him out for good. But turns out his sons make better material than him. And since you're so fond of Benjamin's first born..."

Alex tried to move back when Blake stopped before her, but her feet wouldn't move. She felt sick when his hand slid down her cheek.

"Think about it, sweet Alexandra," he whispered. "You and him together, young and strong for centuries, the world at your feet. You would only have to run some little errands for me, deliver me a son every year, and that's it. The rest of the time would be yours to roam free with the Warrior. That way, everybody gets what they want. You would have your lover. And we would have the world."

What was it with villains, she wondered. What was the treat in ruling the world? How come they spent their immortal lives trying to burden themselves with ruling a whole planet? Plain to see they never had to make it from paycheck to paycheck, keep a house running and raise even one kid.

"Just say the word, dearest, and we'll turn him for you."

Alex would've loved to laugh in Blake's face. Turning Aidan. Yeah, any time. Plain to see they had no idea who they were dealing with. Aidan would die before giving in. But he would never break. So the icing on the pie was a bluff. Maybe not the only one, but the one she could tell. The idea of Blake's frustration pursed her lips slightly, proving that despite the nightmare she was in, she was still in shape to appreciate a good joke.

"Look at you," said Blake. "You still feel like smiling."

The pain reached extents she didn't know possible, and made her shake and squirm, her throat hurting and burning in the useless attempt to scream, leaving her hanging from her shackles like a broken marionette.