“You can’t hurt me. I’m under protection of the church. Plus, you need information from me.”
“You’re wrong. Icanhurt you. I just can’t kill youyet.” I poke the blade under her chin, lifting it so she’ll meet me gaze. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, then you’ll wish that you were dead. I wonder how pretty you’ll look when I cut off your eyelids and peel your cheeks away from the bone.”
Slipping the knife away, I give her the opportunity to let her mouth fall open in shock. Her lips only open in the briefest of breaths.
“So, which finger would you like to lose first?” With a gentle tap against her pinky, we’ll call this a warning tap, I ask another question. “The little finger? Or maybe we go right for the thumb?” I snort with a wicked laugh. “I’d die to see you trying to do just about anything without your thumb.”
Her fingers curl under her palm. She tilts, trying to look past me to Iri. Blond hair falls over her shoulder as she leans dramatically in the chair.
“You’re going to let her do this to me?” Aisha asks.
Iri shrugs, his features schooling into indifference.
“Have you ever heard of the game Stabberscotch?” I pry each finger out of her balled-up fist until her hand is forced to lay straight under my own palm. It’s easy enough to force her hand below mine. I’m surprised at how weak she actually is. Maybe she really had been living off the land. Maybe she is just putting on a show for Iri.
“N-no,” she stutters. Her eyes flitter from the knife to my face to her hand to Iri, repeating the cycle like it might change her fate.
“It’s a game they like to play in the bars. The drunker you get, the less likely you are to win or vice versa for some people. You take your knife, and you bounce it between your fingers.” With a soft thud I tap the blade against the table. “Each pass, you go faster and faster, praying you don’t miss the table and your finger goes flying across the room.”
I mean, my dramatics may be unnecessary, but oh Goddess, are they fun.
“You would know of the games they play in lowly bars.” She sneers, hair bouncing around her face.
“Hey,” The blade digs into the table. “I met some wise people in those bars. Some of whom were wise to yourshit.”
You know we have people to do this, right? You don’t have to literally get blood on your hands.Iri’s steady voice sings inside my head.
He’s right, but we are too far for that now.
“So, let’s try this again.” Easily enough, I lift the knife from the table and twirl it between my fingers.
THUD.Blade to table.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
“How are you spreading the poison?”
Every noise created by the sharpened steel hitting the metal table makes Aisha flinch. Her eyes are so tightly closed that it creates clear wrinkles on her normally flawless skin. I haven’t even hit a finger yet.
“I’ll go faster. Perhaps it will help you think.” Sweat makes me feel damp in every part of my body from the adrenaline and effort of the situation.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
No answer. Aisha’s lip quivers.
“Faster it is.”
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Behind me, I can feel Iri’s hesitation. His want to yank me away from the table or the need to call for Mathis and let him give it a go. I can also feel the strain of him holding himself back. And a little of something else?
Is this turning you on?I ask. He shifts his weight from foot to foot behind me but doesn’t respond.
You bastard.I push to move the weapon as fast I can manage, a small laugh bubbling over my lips at the absurdity.
