by Logan Fox
A tear trickled down Pearl’s cheek, but the sensation was so faint she could have imagined it.
The man let out a huge sigh. Cool air stirred against Pearl’s skin.
“Reckon…” he smacked his lips. “Reckon I’m proper tuckered out after all that heavy lifting. We tend ta need a week or two between to recover like.”
Pearl lifted her head. It felt wobbly on her unsteady neck, but she forced herself to turn and look at the man behind her. His hands slid from her shoulders, landing with a splash in the water. Pearl blinked pink water from her eyes, staring expressionlessly at those slitted black eyes, that smarmy mouth.
But those onyx orbs were unfocused now. That mouth slid out of its smirk. The man sank down into the water, his ass skidding loudly over the porcelain. Pearl gripped the sides of the tub, hauling herself to her feet. The water clung to her, reluctant to part, and poured loudly from her as she straightened.
The man blinked lazily up at her. He lifted a limp finger from the water, gesturing up at her as his chin sank to his chest.
“Gonna be you next, lover.” He let out a blustering sigh and slid another inch lower. The water rested on the curve of his chin, floating his beard up around his jaw. Another slow blink held Pearl transfixed as the man smiled.
“Lookin’ for’ard to it, mind. That lush skin of yours painted red. Drippin’. You dripping for me. For us.”
A brief grimace distorted the man’s face. Pearl took a hasty step back, grabbing onto the wall beside her for balance. He seemed to claw himself back from whatever precipice he was sliding over, but the effort meant he lost another inch of air. The bottom of his lip touched the water now, his mouth filling with peony-scented, blood-stained bathwater as he gave her another loose-lipped grin.
Pearl scrambled out of the tub, a sob clawing at her throat. Her feet landed on wet tiles and skidded out from under her. A frantic breath tangled with a scream as her head connected with the tiles.
Leaden agony burst through her skull, snuffed out by a veil of darkness an instant later.
Pearl came to with a deep, spluttering breath. Her head clanged in pain as she shoved her hands under her and forced herself to her knees. Grabbing the edge of the tub with flailing, desperate fingers, She levered herself up until she could see over the side of the porcelain rim.
A silvery bubble broke the surface of the water.
She let out a hacking sob, her fingers tightening on the smooth rim. Seth’s eyes were closed. A tiny bubble glittered in each nostril, but his parted lips showed only darkness beyond. That enormous chest didn’t rise or fall. Those thick legs — still splayed as if she was sitting between them — were limp and unmoving. His hands drifted an inch or two below the water, thumbs bobbing as if reaching for the surface.
Pearl fumbled with the side of the bath, using it as leverage to push herself to her feet. The floor, slick with shampoo and water, forced her soles apart until she stood splayed-leg like a newborn foal taking its first steps.
One of the bubbles from Seth’s nose broke free.
Was that indication of life? Was he still breathing?
No, not Seth. What lay under the water wasn’t the fox handler she knew. It was something else. Someone else.
One of many? All squashed into one?
Pearl’s stomach tightened. She shuddered as bitter bile flooded her mouth.
She’d killed him. Was killing him.
Another murder on her books. Another notch in her fucking belt. Tears blurred her vision, cleared a second later when she blinked hard, squeezing her eyes shut.
He deserved it. Just like that fucker Donaldson had deserved it. They both did. It was justice, pure and simple. She was Karma’s right hand, the bitch’s finger on the trigger of universal — set-to-auto — balance. And all she had to do was…
“Aaah!” Pearl screamed.
The sound arrived from somewhere deep inside her, tearing through her like a physical force. Her knees cracked, shooting pain through her legs as she dropped to the floor.
Her teeth bared in a rictus of a grimace. She shoved her hand into the pink bathwater. Seth’s skin felt fish-slippery and cold as she wormed her hand under his torso. This tub had the drain in the middle, but the block of a man had slid down so far that she had to try and wriggle under his back to lever the plug free.
“No! Fuck!” Pearl cried out as her fingers slipped off the tiny protrusion that passed as a grip on the smooth plug.
What the fuck was she doing? Some part of her — Murderer-Pearl perhaps — bashed against that Pyrex wall of morality that had sprung up. Why was she giving a self-proclaimed serial killer a second chance at life?
She forced her hand further under him, rocking his body. His beard swayed through the water, his thumbs briefly breaching the surface of the water between the few marooned isles of rose-scented suds that still littered its surface.
“Fuck!” Pearl clenched her jaw, grabbed the plug with as much force as she could muster, and jerked it up.
For a second, she could feel the tug of water as it whirlpooled past her hand, headed for the greedy vacuum of the drain pipe.
And then the plug snapped closed, tearing free from her numb fingers.
Tears blurred her vision.
Was she denying the universe its neatly-tied up karmic equivalent of quid pro quo?
She grabbed hold of the plug again. Her eyes fled up Seth’s unmoving body, to his face.
He could have been sleeping.
And then she thought of that note in the pocket of her sweat pants. The one that never once mentioned Seth. The man, minutes before, telling her that Seth ‘was not here’.
Then where the fuck was he? Where was the man that called her kitten? Who’d brought her out of subspace by comforting her, making her laugh, making her fall for him like a tree for an avalanche?
Was he still in there?
Was it him that was drowning?
A pair of tears raced down Pearl’s cheeks as she blinked furiously. She jammed her hand deeper under Seth, using her other hand to try and lift his bulk to give herself more room. Her nails scrabbled against the smooth edge of the plug, caught hold, and tore the plug free. She bit down on her lip, wincing as the plug ripped off the edge of her nail, but managed to get her fingers under it and pull it away.
She tossed the plug over her shoulder, hurriedly diving her hand under Seth and wedging his torso up so his bulk wouldn’t close the drain hole again. She wriggled over the side of the tub, until her elbows were flush with the bottom, and managed to get Seth on his side.
Water gurgled down the drain pipe. Seconds later, the sound stopped. Pearl’s eyes flew open. She used her elbow to drag a dressing away from the drainpipe before it could clog it.
How many fucking gallons of water did this bathtub hold? It felt like an entire swimming pool had to drain out of that single, small hole.
And Seth wasn’t breathing.
His heavy body was cold, unmoving in her hands.
What if she couldn’t make him breathe again?
Pearl forced down a frustrated sob, squeezing her eyes shut against hot tears.
What if she didn’t want to?
When there was only a foot of water left in the tub, Seth slid from her hands. He struck the bottom of the tub with a hard splash, sending sharp shards of water into Pearl’s eyes and mouth.
She spluttered, wrenching her hands free from under him to wipe at her eyes.
Seth retched. Something knocked hard against the side of the tub.
Pearl scrambled to her feet and stared into the tub, her heart pounding against her breastbone as if trying to break free.
Seth’s eyes flared open. His mouth gaped and a stream of water poured out as he coughed, retched, and gasped. He turned his head, retching again, his eyes squeezing shut.
A hand slapped over the rim of the bath. Pearl jerked at the sound, and took an unsteady step backward. Her foot bumped into something soft, but she couldn’t take her eyes a
way from the man levering himself up from the bottom of the tub. His eyes opened again, bloodshot and narrowed, fixing on her with alarming intensity a second later.
“All right, lover?” came the rasping, pained voice. “Where d’ya think you’re goin’?”
Pearl screamed. The thing at her feet tangled, but she managed to stay upright as she pulled herself free with a trembling hand.
Her sweatpants — soaked through and reeking of roses and peonies — found their way into her hand. Her fingers brushed the hard edges of the journal inside.
Then her eyes fled to the cellphone, still where Seth — or whoever the fuck this man was — had left it.
“Ah.” The man’s eyes slid away from her, settling on the phone. “That be some’in, innit?”
Pearl dived for the phone the same instant the man reached for it. Her hand closed over it, those thick fingers wrapping over her a second later. She cried out in pain as the man tightened his grip to the point of pain. Her knees struck the tiles again, sending another jarring bolt of pain through her.
She locked eyes with the man, an involuntary shudder coursing through her.
“Look at you, all wet and bothered.” A lecherous grin twisted at the man’s mouth, his black eyes changing into vicious slits. “I got me a proper hankering for that lush flesh of yours, girl.”
Pearl’s mouth drew into a grimace of pain as the man drew her slowly closer, his arm muscles bunching.
A thought, slippery and elusive, slithered into her mind. What if this man, this thing, was Rex? What if it had been Seth who’d put that wad of paper in her journal? Seth, zombie-like in some kind of fugue state — that’s what they called it right, when you couldn’t remember anything? — slipping into her room and putting those notes where she’d find them. Notes incriminating them. Those other people in his head. Maybe not seven… just four?
Seth.
This man… Maybe Rex, maybe not.
Another, unnamed.
The girl… that sweet little girl who so desperately wished those broken dolls would be woken from their slumber by the kiss of a handsome prince.
“W-where’s Abby?” Pearl had to push the words out through a wall of teeth.
The man blinked, his smirk solidifying.
“That blubbering little cunt?” He laughed, but the sound was uneasy. “You got no—”
“Where’s Abby?” Pearl yelled. “Abby!”
The man’s face contorted into a furious scowl. He yanked Pearl against the side of the tub and slapped a hand over her throat.
In an instant, precious air could no longer reach her lungs. Pearl struggled, her free hand clawing against the man’s wrist. She drew blood, could smell its copper stink filling the air, but the man didn’t seem to notice. His mouth had pulled into a snarl, deepening as he drew Pearl’s head closer.
“Think you’re callin’ the shots here? This ain’t something you can control, mind. I think a fucking attitude adjustment is in order, you little cunt.”
Sparks danced at the edge of Pearl’s vision. She tugged at her hand, but the man kept it effortlessly trapped in his. The fingers raking his wrist relented, and Pearl instead went for his eyes.
The man let out a low, rasping laugh and held his head back, out of Pearl’s reach. Her fingers scraped over his shoulder, his chest, yanked hard at his beard.
“So ‘ere’s what’s gonna happen… I’m gettin’ out and draggin’ you over to that bed. That one over there that’s just blubbering for a taste of that—” he drew air through his teeth in a hiss “—gert lush cunt of yours.”
Pearl gaped at the man, her attempts at breath utterly silent. Violent contractions started up in her diaphragm as her body fought to draw air through her constricted throat.
“Think Morrison’ll be livid if I tell him you ran off?” The man leered at her, drawing her close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. “’Cos that’s the story I’ll be spinning.”
Pearl’s hand slammed into the side of the man’s face. She’d tried a punch, but with so little room, it was more like a fisted slap. The man’s eyes flickered.
For just an instant, his grip relented.
When his eyes opened, they were wide, skittish… terrified.
“Nooooo,” came a high-pitched moan.
If Pearl hadn’t heard the sound coming from between Seth’s lips…
The fingers around her throat disappeared. Those around her hand, crushing her fingers against the phone, slipped away. The man slumped, shoulders drooping.
As Pearl fell back from him, gasping sweet, rose-scented air into her lungs, two fat tears collected in those black eyes and ran down Seth’s cheeks.
The man took a huge, stuttering breath, his lips parting like a six-year-old about to go off like a police siren.
Then he blinked and it wasn’t Abby anymore. Or Seth. Or… the other man either.
Someone else looked at Pearl. Eyes intent, but benign. For an instant, searching her face as if noting every injury, every trace of pain or terror.
Those lips thinned.
“Run,” they whispered.
Pearl narrowly avoided crashing into the doorframe as she flung herself through it, her legs too numb and her muscles too weak for accuracy of any kind. The sound coming from behind — wet flesh skidding over porcelain, a pained grunt, huge blustering breaths taken through gritted teeth — spurred her more than a whip on her rump ever could have.
She held the phone up, swore at its sliver of battery life, and scanned the room with wide eyes.
The chair.
She raced up to it, skidding to a halt on the carpet as she gaped at it. A wooden thing, unvarnished, and not with a charger draped over its backing like she’d so clearly pictured in her mind.
No charger. Just a piece of white string.
What the fuck was a random piece of random fucking string doing draped over the back of a chair?
A wet thud behind her.
Pearl spun around. She ran to the bathroom door, throttling her own scream as she saw Seth drag himself over the edge of the bath. Something was wrong with his legs — or had the tranquilizer only done half a job by paralyzing him from the waist down?
She slammed the bathroom door shut, realized the key was on the other side, tore it open again, and almost swallowed her tongue when Seth grabbed the edge of the door in a meaty fist and tugged it from her hands.
Pearl dropped the phone and her wet sweatpants. She stuck her hand around the door, fumbling for an eternity to get the key out of its keyhole. Seth was breathing so hard through his gritted teeth that his cheeks puffed out with every exhale. She’d just gotten the key loose when he yanked at the door again. The wood drove into her wrist, jarring her hand.
For a second, she thought he’d knocked the key from her fingers. But then her hand closed into a fist, and the key bit into her.
Pearl stumbled back, found her footing, and grabbed the door handle with both hands. She jerked it as hard as she could. It came free from Seth’s hands with a crash. She fell back, crying out as she landed on the carpet.
Seth’s nails scratched against the wood. Reaching. Clawing for the handle.
Maybe Abby wouldn’t let him use his legs. Maybe that’s all the little girl could do — deny the bad man the use of his legs.
Pearl’s breath was fire. Molten lava. Boiling oil that seethed through her throat as she shoved herself up and grabbed the handle again.
The key tinkled gaily against its metal keyhole as she fought to restrain her trembling fingers into some degree of control. The key slipped inside the hole.
Seth caught hold of the door handle. It jumped out from under her hand, slamming into the bottom of her knuckles with a snap that made her yelp in pain. The door was only open a sliver, but Pearl’s heart tried to climb its way out of her throat as she yanked it back, expecting to see Seth’s thick fingers wrapping around the door.
The key locked.
Pearl took a huge breat
h as she fell back from the door, staggering to keep her feet. Her skin felt flushed. Her hair clung wetly to the nape of her neck, trickles of cool water caressing her skin as she stared at the closed door.
A slow exhale melted her bones. Pearl sank onto the edge of Seth’s bed, drawing the back of her hand over her forehead to rid it of the tickling beads of water that had collected. She snatched the phone from the floor, swiping her thumb over it. God, let there be enough battery to make just one call. She typed out Greg’s number, letting another breath wheeze out of her before moving her thumb over the call button.
A message popped onto the screen, scaring the bejesus out of her.
Low battery mode activated.
Fuck, you’d think—
Something crashed into the door hard enough to visibly rattle the wood in its frame.
“Fuck!” Pearl’s hands lifted defensively in front of her face. She lowered them, staring in horror at the almost perfectly straight crack that ran down the middle of the door.
Not… fucking… happening.
She was on her feet when Seth slammed into the door again. Snatching her bundle of clothes and sneakers off the floor, Pearl forced her eyes away from the crack — now twice as long as before — as she ran for the door.
She lifted the phone, swore at its now blank screen, and stopped.
Seth’s bag lay a few feet away from the bathroom door. Another furious crash tore a splinter of wood away from the door. A shadow moved behind it.
Another strangled scream throttled her breath as Pearl slid to the floor, scrambling up to the duffel bag on all fours.
She fell as Seth crashed into the door. The sliver became a shard. Pearl looked up, mouth gaping in horror. A face appeared, red-mottled and contorted with rage. A bloodshot eye peered at her, narrowing.
Fury slithered into sadistic glee.
“I see you,” came the rasping whisper.
Pearl twisted the duffel bag’s strap around her wrist and shot to her feet. The man’s belly laugh followed her from the room, snapping off a second later when she slammed the bedroom door shut. It didn’t have a key.
