Roger’s throat closed.Dmitri, what the fuck happened?
Another spotlight illuminated a pale circle on the far left stage. Anton strode into it, and the light followed him as he made his way toward Seamus. He yanked on the rope trailing behind him, and a figure tumbled out into view.
Dmitri hit his knees. His arms were bound against his chest as if he were praying. Every stitch of clothing had been removed. His eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw was at an odd angle. Roger watched him begin to heal, but the distant look in his eyes said that he’d suffered worse horrors.
Roger’s feet remained rooted to the spot. He didn’t dare shift his focus. Were they going to kill Dmitri? Of course they were. What else would be the point of this pageantry?
“Hello, love,” Anton said to Seamus as if they hadn’t seen each other minutes before. They kissed.
The stage lights turned up, though the brightest spot remained on Anton and Seamus. Roger slid his hands into his pockets to keep from making fists.They’re expecting me to react.
Though Anton spoke toward Seamus, his voice carried out into the room. He was putting on a performance; he might’ve gone as far as writing a script that he was now reciting. “Look what I discovered poking around our gardens.”
“What have you found, lover?” Seamus asked.
“A rabbit that thinks it’s a wolf. Isn’t that hilarious?” Anton yanked on the rope.
Dmitri was already on his knees. Though he struggled, he couldn’t catch his balance and fell onto his face. Anton glanced over his shoulder, then sighed as if he was the one being put out and strode over to Dmitri. With a single hand, he lifted him from the floor and waited for him to get his feet under him.
As soon as Dmitri stood, Anton delivered a sharp kick to his knee. A sickening pop preceded Dmitri’s pained scream.
“Oops,” Anton said with a grin. “I forgot to do something first.”
He slapped Dmitri hard enough that his jaw broke anew.
Roger had seen torture before, and he’d administered some himself. Moments from the Gladwell Manor flickered into view once more. Of all the horrors he’d seen, that one was troubling him most.Because that was when I knew what monsters we can be. I buried that. Devoted myself to becoming the vapid one because if you don’t look, you can’t see. And Dmitri has always paid the price of that chosen ignorance.
But Dmitri wouldn’t be the one to suffer if Roger attempted to alter the course of Anton’s production. Zack, Kit, Carver, and Takashi were essentially helpless in the center of a crowd. Even if some portion of the vampires of the coven agreed with him, if they didn’t immediately follow him, his people would be the first to suffer. He had to hold himself together and remain passionless as a rock upon a shore. He had to play into the farce before him. What other choice did he have?None.
Yet to stand by while Dmitri was hurt made him a coward.
I should have stopped him from whatever madness led to this. He should have waited for me to strike.Then another thought struck.Is he even alive? Or is this some cruel trick of Anton’s? He’s reanimated corpses before.
But corpses never cried out in pain, and Dmitri had done so once already.
Anton dragged Dmitri across the stage and deposited him at Seamus’s feet. “I’m afraid this rabbit isn’t suitable for dinner, but I did find him with some others.”
“Oh?” Seamus asked.
Anton clapped his hands.
Four more bound individuals were dragged out onto the stage. Like Dmitri, they were naked, but they also had gags in their mouths. Each of them had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing that looked like they’d truly suffered yet. Three were men, one a woman. The oldest of the men had a tattoo on his left shoulder identical to Zack’s.
Hunters.
Dmitri tried to do the job himself and failed.Roger fought the urge to glance out to the crowd. He had to figure out and act his role.
“I do see that you have guests, love.” Anton kissed Seamus’s cheek. “Shall we offer them first choice for dinner?”
“I think that’s only fair,” Seamus replied. He spoke to Lucille. “Go and take your pick, darling.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” Lucille said sweetly. She made a show of examining each potential victim, but Roger knew which one she had her heart set on. As long as he’d known her, she had a type.
She chose the oldest man and stared him down with intensity. Likely, she was attempting to overcome his mental shield and tattoo in order to use her powers over him, but he continued to glare in her direction.
“No need to soften him up,” Anton said. “Enjoy yourself!”
Lucille lunged forward and grabbed the man by the shoulders. She hauled him down and tore into his throat. The pure and wonderful coppery scent of fresh blood hit the air, and despite the stress plaguing Roger’s mind, his hunger burned his throat, longing for a taste. When she finished, she let the man’sbody drop to the stage floor, then grabbed him by the bindings and dragged him out to lie beside Dmitri.
