Vice(32)

“I’m gonna f*cking shoot that one if he comes any closer,” one of the guys hisses. “I don’t like the look of it.”

The wolf pack splits, warily hedging around William’s body. They smell the air as they investigate. They are trying to work out what level of danger this prone man lying in the grass poses to them. I see the moment they catch the scent of death on him. A ripple of excitement runs through the pack, and the largest of the animals, a huge male with a black streak through his gray ruff, darts forward, snapping his teeth at the body. He grows braver when William doesn’t defend himself.

Then, in a whirlwind of fur, flashing teeth and ripping claws, the wolves descend upon the body. It’s mayhem. I cringe as they make short work of William’s shirt, tearing it from his torso, and then it’s flesh they’re tearing from him and not fabric.

Blood spackles their muzzles. They eat in a frenzy, fighting over various different organs they yank from the body. It’s fascinating to watch the hierarchy of the pack in effect: the largest gray wolf is clearly the alpha. A smaller, black wolf must be his second, because he gets to remain at the body, eating, while others dart in and out like fish, grabbing a mouthful here and there where they can. If either the gray or the black wolf bares his teeth, snapping, the others hunker down, golden eyes on the floor, backing away.

“It’s a miracle, no?” Fernando asks, folding his arms across his chest.

“Something like that,” I reply.

The huge gray wolf tips his head back and howls so loudly, the sound echoes off the surrounding mountainside. His pack stops eating and interweaves their own cries and howls in with his, creating a beautiful yet terrifying chorus of ecstasy that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

They eat until there’s nothing left but bones.





CHAPTER EIGHT





A WORD TO THE WISE





I lock my bedroom door when I return to my room. A locked door isn’t going to do much good if Harrison or any of Fernando’s other men decide they want to come pay me another visit, but at least the sound of them kicking the damned door down will wake me up this time. I shower again, feeling dirty after watching the wolves gorge themselves, and then I climb into bed, staring at the ceiling. I already know I’m not going to be able to sleep for hours. I don’t intend on resting, anyway. I just need to wait here long enough to allow everyone else to go to sleep, and then I’m going on a hunt of my own. I need to find out if my sister’s here, and to do that I need to do some snooping.

I should have asked Plato where his room was. It’s likely that Fernando keeps all of his workers together, in the same area of the house. That’s how most of these sick f*ckers keep the people they buy and sell like stocks and shares, anyway. I should have asked Plato a lot of things. That guy back in the party room said he’d been here for three years. If anyone knows anything about Laura, it’ll be him. The opportunity to quiz him didn’t arise earlier, when I was watching him f*ck that huge blond guy in the ass, though. Nor when I was shooting someone in the chest, and he was dragging me out of that terrible f*cking place. I also have no idea if he’s loyal to Fernando, even if his loyalty is only out of fear. There’s every chance he’ll go running to the old man and sound the alarm if I start blabbing about a missing blonde woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to me. I need to figure out whether his bravery today when he helped me was a flash in the pan, or if he actually does want to get the f*ck out of here.

I lie in bed for three hours. When I get up and creep out into the hallway, I already know I’ve been seen. Not by any of Fernando’s guards, or by any of his guests. No, the house is deathly silent. Not a soul stirs anywhere in the building as far as I can tell, but that can’t be said for the small white lenses Fernando has mounted all over the walls. Technology never sleeps, after all. I’m positive I’ve already been captured on camera as I make my way down the hallway; it’ll only be a matter of Fernando’s security detail informing him that I was up and about in the night, and that will be it. He’ll know I was sticking my nose in places it doesn’t belong, and I had better have a good excuse when he confronts me or there will be hell to pay.

Good thing I have some time to think on that. As it stands I don’t have an excuse at all, let alone a good one.

Down hallways and down staircases I go, clutching my balisong in my hand, ready to plunge it deep into the chest of any man who might stand in my way. There are so many bedrooms, so many narrow corridors and so many f*cking dark corners that I begin to doubt my plan. How the hell am I going to search this place without waking anyone up? It’s like hunting for a needle in a haystack.

I head downstairs, following my gut. If I were Fernando… Wow. That’s a horrifying thought. If I were Fernando, I hopefully wouldn’t be hosting such f*cked up sex parties, and I hopefully wouldn’t be kidnapping men and women and forcing them to do unspeakable things to each other for other people’s entertainment. If I were, though, if I were the most deplorable kind of person imaginable, I suspect I’d be keeping my captives under the house, as opposed to in any of the luxurious, comfortable rooms on the top floor. The basement, if there is one in this giant, soulless building, won’t have any windows, which means less chance of escape. And basements are nearly always easy to soundproof, so no faint, desperate cries for help would be heard anywhere else in the house. Seems prudent to me.