Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(62)

The van screeched to a stop.

“Oh,” said the lookalike, “looks like we’re here.” He reached down and hooked his arms under my armpits. Then he hauled me to my feet, my back to his front. His arm went around my waist to steady me.

I couldn’t hold my head up. It flopped down against my chest.

“Prop her head up,” said the lookalike.

One of the other men yanked my head back. Even though I was paralyzed, it still hurt when he tugged on my hair.

“Okay, good,” said the lookalike. “Open the door.”

We were positioned right in front of the sliding door. Why did he need me standing up like this, anyway? If we were going to leave the van, surely it didn’t matter, did it?

The other man opened the door slowly, with flourish.

At first, all I could see through the door was the Texas landscape. We were out of town, and there wasn’t much of anything outside of the cities in Texas. Just open space. Flat, open space and blue, blue sky. I felt a pang, missing the mountains of home, wishing I were anywhere but here.

Then I saw the edge of a car—something sleek and black and new with aerodynamic lines, its surface polished until it gleamed.

Marcel was leaning against the car. I recognized him from the night in my house when he’d shot Naomi. He was grinning that same awful grin. My insides turned over in revulsion and fear.

Griffin was standing next to him. His arms were behind his back. He must be tied up.

When Griffin saw me, all the blood drained out of his face.

Marcel laughed. “Told you I had a surprise for you, didn’t I?”

Griffin started to struggle against whatever was keeping his hands behind his back. “You said you wanted me alone.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be much fun, would it?” said Marcel. “Besides, I’ve been curious about this little blonde thing ever since she shot me point blank back in West Virginia. And when I heard she killed Wolfman, well... I knew I had to get to know her better.”

He was leering, and I was really hoping that getting to know me wasn’t some kind of euphemism for something worse.

Griffin looked ill. “This isn’t the deal I made with you, Marcel.”

“You’re hardly in the position to make deals anymore, are you?”

“Let her go,” he said. “You’ve got me. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To make me suffer? Well, you have me. Leave her out of it.”

Marcel shook his head. “No, no, you don’t understand. What better way to make you suffer and to make you cooperate, than to have her around?”

Griffin gazed into my eyes, apologies written on his face. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with it,” said Marcel. “To you, she’s the most important person on earth. That makes her important to me.”

“Fuck you.”

Marcel laughed again. “Don’t know why you’re so worried, Griffin. She’s got the serum, too, right? Doubt we’ll do much actual physical damage.” He pulled a pistol out. “Hell, I could shoot her in the head right now.”

“No,” said Griffin, suddenly panicked.

Marcel raised his eyebrows. “She does have the serum, doesn’t she?”

I didn’t get it either. I’d been shot before. It wasn’t any fun, but it was usually over before I knew it, and I was all healed. If Marcel shot me, then when I woke up, I’d be healed of this damned paralytic. Maybe I could figure out some way to stop these guys if I could actually move.

Going dark was like being dead to everyone else, but to me, it would feel like passing out. As far as I was concerned, Marcel could bring it on.

“Don’t shoot her,” said Griffin.

“You can’t stand it even when you know she’s going to be fine?” said Marcel. “Oh, we are going to have a lot of fun, Griffin.” He advanced on me, leveling the pistol.

Dead... Wait a second. What would happen to the baby if I—

Griffin’s voice, agonized. “For God’s sake, she’s pregnant.”

Marcel laughed.

The baby wouldn’t survive, would it? If I died, then it would die too. And it wouldn’t heal.

Marcel pulled the trigger.

I felt the painful tear of a bullet entering my flesh. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t do anything. The agony exploded in me, and then— Blackness.





Chapter Thirteen


When I woke up, I couldn’t see anything, but I realized that was because I was blindfolded. I could feel gentle movement underneath me. I was in a moving vehicle of some kind—probably still in the van. My hands were tied behind my back. My feet were tied too.

I could feel a dull pain in my abdomen, something like menstrual cramps. And there was stickiness between my legs.

I was having a miscarriage.

No, I’d already had a miscarriage. It was over now. I was bleeding it out. The end. I wasn’t going to have a baby. I wasn’t going to be pregnant. Griffin and I weren’t going to be shuffling our class schedules around or carting a little mini-us to daycare. There weren’t going to be any arguments between us about how old someone needed to be to use a gun.

I wasn’t going to get really fat. I wasn’t going to have to worry about going through labor.