Livia Lone (Livia Lone #1)(17)
Because of the DHS grant, inventory was monitored closely. But Livia had thought of a way around that. She’d only been waiting for the right moment to act, and if Barnett’s funeral was going down in a day or two, the moment was now.
Donna nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll send the paperwork to the Tool Shed.” She took a moment to look around at the assembled detectives, then said, “All right, everyone. Let’s go get ’em.”
Livia’s expression remained perfectly neutral—a routine request, a routine permission granted. But inside, she felt the familiar stirring. The heat. The power. The dragon.
Go get ’em, she thought. Oh yes, I will.
8—THEN
Every night after, it was the same. The second time was nearly as bad as the first. But by the third time, Livia at least knew what to expect—what the men wanted, and more or less when and how it would be over. The men must have loved curry, because they always stank from it. And when they smelled like alcohol, too, they were rougher with her, like they were trying to hurt her, and they laughed when she gagged or threw up. But she was able to endure it because she knew doing so was protecting Nason.
After that, time didn’t pass so much as it blurred. She sat in the box with the other children, and knew it was day from the light coming through the airholes, and knew it was night when the light faded and they needed the blankets to stay warm. The only breaks in the monotony happened each morning and evening, when the men brought food and water and changed the buckets. After each evening feeding, Livia would go outside the box with the men and numbly do the disgusting thing, then come back and hold Nason, allowing herself to cry noiselessly only after Nason had fallen asleep.
By now, she knew there were no “jobs.” As hard as she searched for a way to explain it away or alter it, she couldn’t deny the essential truth. She and Nason . . . their parents had simply sold them, the way they would sell a chicken or pig.
One night, the alcohol smell was especially strong. Livia’s stomach sank at the realization that outside the box it was going to be even worse than usual. But there was nothing she could do. She would have to endure it for Nason.
When she had finished her food, she stepped toward the door to go out with the men. But Skull Face smiled and said, “No. You stay.”
Livia watched him, uneasy. It would be a relief to not have to do the disgusting thing. But she sensed something dangerous in Skull Face’s smile, some trick.
“Why?” she said, hating that she had to ask, but needing to know.
“You no fun anymore. We want new fun.”
Livia felt heat spread from her stomach to her limbs. Was he talking about one of the other children? Surely he couldn’t mean—
Skull Face pointed to Nason. “Take her.”
“No!” Livia screamed, in her panic reverting to Lahu. “No, no, no!”
The other two men moved forward. Livia shoved Nason to the back of the box, as far from the door as possible, then turned to face the men, blocking Nason with her body. “No!” she screamed again, in Thai this time. “You say, you promise!”
Skull Face laughed. Livia turned so her arm would be hidden, then slipped the can top from her back pocket. She would slice the first man who tried to get past her to Nason.
Skull Face was laughing harder. He took a bottle from inside the jacket he was wearing and began to unscrew the top. The alcohol, Livia realized.
And then a vivid image flashed inside her mind: the way they killed snakes in the village. Not by cutting off the tail.
By cutting off the head.
Skull Face raised the bottle to his mouth and tilted his chin up to drink. Livia took an enormous breath and raced forward, screaming with all her heart and lungs, the piercing wail of it exploding within the confines of the box like a thunderstorm. The men flinched. The children covered their ears.
Skull Face saw her coming and tried to move away. But before he could reach the door, Livia leaped, her free hand grabbing at his jacket, the other hand swinging the can top down and around like a tiger claw, slashing it across his eye. Skull Face shrieked and staggered back. Livia crashed into him and they both fell to the ground. Livia tried to slash his face again, but his hands were up and she succeeded only in cutting his arms. She darted her head in, got her teeth around the meat under one of his thumbs, and bit as hard as she could, bit the way she’d imagined doing every time they had made her do the disgusting thing, and Skull Face howled and jerked his hand free and she slashed at him again, trying to get past his arms to his face and especially his eyes. There was blood in her mouth and on her face and she felt a savage excitement at the smell and taste of it, the awareness that she was hurting Skull Face, maybe killing him.
And then she was being pulled backward, and she twisted and slashed with the can top and cut one of the other men across the cheek. He yelled and she tried to slash him again, but the other man grabbed her arm and pulled it behind her back. She felt a jolt of pain in her shoulder, and the bloody can top was pulled from her fingers. The man threw an arm around her stomach, jerked her high into the air, and slammed her down onto the metal floor. Livia saw stars and the breath was knocked out of her.
After that, everything was confusion—Skull Face rolling back and forth on the floor, wailing, his hands covering his face; the other men trying to help him; the children retreating to the walls of the box, screaming and crying. Livia tried to yell at them to run, run! But she couldn’t breathe. She watched, agonized, as the other men pulled Skull Face to his feet and dragged him through the door. The children could have easily rushed past them, but none of them tried, not even Kai. They all just sat and cried, their backs to the walls, their arms around their knees.