Modern Fairy Tale

by Proby, Kristen

  Was it odd that I wanted my tongue over a finger or toe?

  Was it wrong that thoughts of bargaining and offering up other parts ran riot in my mind?

  Take my pinkie.

  No, my index finger.

  Wait…take my big toe.

  Just don’t touch my tongue!

  I thrashed beneath Darryl’s weight as Master A moved over my head to hold me down. Wedging my skull between his knees, he stared at me, his face upside down.

  His lips moved, melding with the agony inside me.

  “I promised you what would happen if you didn’t talk to me one day, Pim. This is what will happen.”

  My broken hand flared as I pounded the floor and tried my hardest to squirm away. The dollar in my other palm wasn’t enough to bribe my way free.

  My struggles turned violent. But there were two men and one of me—men who’d eaten in the past twenty-four hours and had muscles that weren’t atrophied from malnutrition.

  I didn’t stand a chance.

  Darryl grinned as he opened and closed the shears with a flourish. The blades scraped together in a sinister hiss. “You ready?”

  No, no, no!

  His nails cut into my tongue as he held it firm, not letting my saliva lubricate his fingers. The piece of muscle grew dry the longer he kept it from my mouth.

  Don’t!

  The part of me I hadn’t used in so long was on death row. My silent curse would become reality.

  Even if I wanted, I’d never be able to speak again.

  I’d gone into this as silence being my weapon. A choice not to talk.

  Now that choice would be forever taken away.

  How could I tell the police what’d been done to me if I couldn’t speak? How could I beg another to help?

  My body quaked as I silently sobbed, tossing my head as much as I could in the confines of Master A’s knees.

  For a few hours, I’d been in the safety of another man’s control. A man who put even Master A in his place. Why, oh why, didn’t I talk to him when I had the chance? Why was I so damn stubborn? So afraid?

  I deserved this.

  I’d been so stupid.

  And now, I would never utter another word for the rest of my life.

  At least I still had my fingers. I could write. I could tell my tale.

  But my tale has vanished!

  Years of stolen memories.

  Perhaps this, right here, was the point where I gave up. Where I admitted I was broken and done. Maybe once they cut out my tongue, I would die from blood loss, and it would finally be over.

  Please, be finally over.

  It might not be as painless as the gun, but it would give the desired result.

  The fight in my limbs faded. Not from accepting the inevitable, but because I literally had nothing left. I couldn’t win. I’d never been able to win. All I could do was stop and accept.

  Finally accept that Tasmin was dead and Pimlico would be, too.

  The moment I ceased thrashing, Darryl laughed. “Finally realised you can’t stop this, huh, pretty whore?”

  You’ll rot in Hell.

  My eyes narrowed as he yanked on my tongue, pulling it further from my lips.

  He smirked. “How about one word for your master? One little word…”

  Master A chuckled. “Yes, go on, Pim. One word and I’ll reconsider not cutting out your tongue.” He bent and kissed my forehead, his hair tickling my nose. “If I like your voice, I’ll let you keep it.”

  The dilemma sat heavy.

  If I did this, he’d finally won. My imprisonment would include willingly screaming or answering his torturing questions. If he broke me down to utter one word, he could do two and three and four.

  He would never let me be silent again.

  Or I could take my self-imposed silence for real. Like a devout religious follower denouncing all monetary wealth and entering a nunnery, no longer just practicing their faith but becoming their faith.

  I would be mute no longer by choice but by disability.

  Was I vain enough to hate the thought of not being perfect anymore? Or strong enough to accept that it was the price I had to pay to win?

  Master A’s fingers pinched my cheeks. “Make up your mind, Pimlico. You have ten seconds to decide.” He looked at Darryl. “Cut on one. If she tries to speak, let her have her tongue to do so.”

  “Got it, A.”

  My heart started a countdown, marking each second with dynamite as Master A said, “Ten…”

  Should I speak?

  “Nine…”

  What should I say?

  “Eight…”

  What word will keep me safe?

  “Seven…”

  Do I truly want him to win this way?

  “Six…”

  How quickly will I die if I refuse?

  “Five…”

  Will I drown in my own blood?

  “Four…”

  Make a decision!

  Darryl’s fingers tightened, the faint taint of copper filled my mouth as his nail dug deeper, pulling my tongue out as far as possible.

  Do it!

  One word.

  How about: Help. Or mercy. Or please.

  “Three.”

  I saturated my lungs with oxygen, inhaling hard for the first time, knowing I would finally transform air into sound waves through the magic of human engineering.

  “Two…”

  I shook my head, eyes wild with promise that I’d talk.

  The men paused, eyebrows arched, but Darryl didn’t release my tongue. “Go on, Pim…one little noise. Show us you’ll obey before you get your tongue back.”

  A noise was easier than a word. He’d torn worse from me before.

  I obeyed.

  The tattered moan rose with rust and misuse, vibrating strangely in my chest.

  Master A smeared terror-soaked sweat from my skin. “Good girl. You finally obeyed.” Kissing my forehead, he whispered, “Pity for you…I don’t really like the sound of your voice.”

  Slapping my cheek, he nodded at Darryl. “One.”

  He cut.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Elder

  The car stopped.

  I climbed out.

  The front door was locked.

  I used my skills as a burglar to gain entry within seconds.

  The instant I entered, the alarm shredded my eardrums with a shrill alert.

  I ignored it, stalking forward through despicable corridors.

  The white house mocked me as I erupted from foyer to lounge.

  And then suddenly, I no longer saw white.

  But red.

  Lots and lots of red.

  I didn’t pause to think. I didn’t second-guess. I let the instincts I’d spent years trying to dull rage into being; muscle memory took over.

  Along with my sordid past, I’d done things that’d evolved me from thief to killer, from killer to assassin, from assassin to heartless stealer of souls. Fighting had always been more than just a hobby. It’d been in my past for generations. And because of my unique personality flaws, I’d become a master at it.

  My hand formed a blade, my fingers tight and long, locked together like a machete. I brought the weapon in a swinging arc right onto the juggler of the man sitting on top of Pimlico.

  He toppled sideways, unconscious from the single blow.

  Pimlico didn’t move as blood poured down her front, drenching her nakedness. A pair of large scissors fell from the unconscious man’s hand, clattering to the floor.

  “What the fuck!?” Alrik shot to his feet, leaving his girl to bleed all over the carpet. Moving away, he gave me the opportunity to get closer to her.

  The man who’d hacked down the bedroom door with a baseball bat lunged at me, swinging the same knife I’d taken from the garage. “You freak! You’re dead meat.”

  Normally, I would have fun with such an idiot. I would parry and feint, slowly wearing the assailant down until he begged for the f
ight to end.

  But Pim needed me.

  It took one tiny thought.

  One second, the man stabbed air, doing his best to gut me. The next, the knife was twisted from his hand into mine and the hilt buried in his stomach.

  He screamed as I slashed his insides before yanking out the knife and impaling it in his heart.

  His gaze lost focus the moment I tore through the muscle keeping him alive. However, it didn’t stop his body pumping blood and unspooling intestines as he collapsed onto the carpet.

  Pimlico scrambled back, her eyes as large as twin moons.

  The man was dead. He was no longer worth my time.

  Her gaze met mine, wild and agonised. Blood rivered from her mouth.

  What had they done to her? What fucking monster did such a thing?

  You’ve done worse.

  Yes, I had. I wouldn’t deny it.

  But never to a woman.

  Never to an innocent woman.

  Dropping to my haunches, I pulled her into a sitting position, cradling her against my chest.

  I didn’t care about the blood.

  All I cared about was making sure she’d survive longer than a few minutes so I could do what I should’ve done at the beginning when this asshole contacted me.

  Kill him.

  Screw the contract.

  Screw the fucking money.

  He’s dead.

  Alrik gaped like a koi carp at his dead friend with his guts coiled on the floor. His other friend remained unconscious beside him. “You bastard!” Shaking his head in denial, he back-stepped into the kitchen.

  I let him go.

  Most likely he had another gun stashed somewhere. He thought he had power over me with such a useless weapon.

  Idiotic asshole.

  Wielding a pistol wouldn’t save him from me. Bullets didn’t stand a chance with the methods of killing I’d been taught.

  Discounting him, I pried open Pimlico’s mouth.

  Blood made everything slippery and slick.

  She winced, tears mixing with her bloody mouth as I forced her to show me what they’d done.

  From previous experience, I knew what bled so copiously.

  The tongue.

  And because I wasn’t stupid, I understood why they’d do such a thing. She refused to talk. I’d made suspicions bellow that she spoke to me instead of him.

  Why hadn’t she talked to me?

  Was this the reason? Because she knew I would leave and did her best to avoid the upcoming brutality?

  This was my fault.

  I’d done this.

  But at least, I’d come back to fucking fix it.

  Pimlico struggled in my arms as I traced the damage to her tongue. I expected to find a severed piece of meat, but I hadn’t been too late.

  A huge slice had cut her a third of the way through the muscle.

  It would hurt. It would continue bleeding. But she wouldn’t lose the power of speech. And she wouldn’t die…hopefully.

  “You’ll be okay.” Picking her up, I laid her on the white couch, taking supreme satisfaction as dark crimson rained over the pristine surfaces. “Stay there. I have to finish a few things.”

  Alrik had vanished, but banging came from the pantry as he grabbed whatever he could to make him safe.

  I let him. I didn’t chase him to start the war before he was armed.

  I wasn’t that type of person.

  He wanted a fight.

  I’d fight.

  However, the asshole who’d cut Pimlico’s tongue didn’t deserve such respect.

  Pim’s eyes locked onto mine as I strode toward the unconscious man and grabbed the scissors from beside him. My thumb smeared the still warm blood from the girl I couldn’t stop thinking about and fisted the bronze handles.

  Pim gasped, holding her mouth, doing her best to contain morbid ruby streams.

  I shook my head. “Don’t swallow. Just let it flow. I’ve got you. Just a few more minutes, then we’ll leave.”

  Leave to go where?

  My yacht?

  A hospital?

  I’d decide when it was time. For now, I had other things on my mind.

  She didn’t relax. How could she with such an injury? But her eyes dropped from mine to the shears in my fist.

  She didn’t speak, but I heard her question through the arch of her eyebrow and shimmering hate in her gaze.

  What are you going to do?

  I lowered my jaw, watching her beneath my brow. “I’m going to kill him.”

  That was the only warning I gave her. Dropping to my knee, I jammed the heavy blades through the throat of the man who’d hurt the woman I’d steal.

  The shears were sharp.

  His neck was supple.

  The two met and did what supple and sharp did.

  His throat sliced open, revealing the innards of gristle and esophagus before blood welled and joined the mess of Pimlico’s in an avalanche of red.

  A gunshot exploded above my head, whistling past and embedding in the large oval window behind me.

  The glass shattered, raining outward, letting sea breezes enter the otherwise calm space.

  “Get the fuck out of my house and I won’t kill you.” Alrik shuffled from the kitchen, both hands on his pistol, his fingers shaking on the trigger.

  He still thought I’d deliver what he’d paid for.

  Even after this.

  I laughed. “If you were half the man you think you are, you would’ve shot me.”

  He scowled. “I’m a better man because I didn’t.”

  “No, you’re just a greedy bastard who still thinks our deal will go through.”

  He blanched. “I paid. You agreed. Of course, it will go through. I need that fucking yacht!”

  “Need and deserve are two entirely different things.” Moving around the couch, I trailed my fingers briefly over Pimlico’s blood-soaked cheek. “Our deal was void the moment you mutilated a young girl.”

  “She’s mine to do with as—”

  “As you please.” Raising my hand, I painted her red, red life-force on my cheekbone, dousing myself in the pain of the person I was protecting—just like those of my lineage. We’d fought for empresses and queens. We’d given our lives in the service of others and avenged those who’d wronged us.

  This was no different.

  The many lessons I’d indulged in came back, flowing like magical memories through my veins. I missed my sword, but my hands would do in this case.

  “You went too far this time, Alrik.”

  “You have no authority to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

  “Yes.” I moved closer to him. “I do.”

  His arms trembled. “Think again.”

  The flinch of his muscles gave me all the warning I needed. He pulled the trigger and another bullet did its best to break the fabric of air and speed.

  I ducked effortlessly then charged forward, ploughing into him with my shoulder, crunching him against the kitchen bench.

  All the oxygen in his lungs exploded. The solid thud of his spine hitting marble had a good probability of leaving him disabled.

  He dropped to his knees, only to scramble breathlessly back to his feet.

  Didn’t disable him, after all.

  Oh well, no loss.

  My brain turned off as I reached forward and plucked the nuisance gun from his grip. I tossed it onto the couch beside Pimlico.

  Immediately, she crawled for it, holding her mouth with one hand and doing her best to support the heavy weight of the black pistol with the other.

  I wanted to tell her I’d protect her, help her, but my intentions weren’t that of a kind man. I’d come to steal not free.

  She didn’t need to know that. Not until I had her exactly where I wanted her. Not until she was healed.

  Alrik swung at my face now he’d been stripped of his weapon.

  His fist connected only because I let it.

  Pain was used as power in my t
raining, giving animalistic instincts ammunition when bodily harm threatened.

  I could kill him fast or slow.

  If I had my way, it would be slow.

  But Pimlico wouldn’t last for the hours I’d like to torture. I didn’t have the time to starve him for years with mental and physical abuse. He was getting off fucking easy.

  For now, for her sake, it had to be quick.

  My hand soared forward; my fingers jammed into his larynx.

  He choked.

  While he buckled over, doing his best to suck in a breath, I grabbed his shoulders and crunched his face onto my knee.

  With killing hands, I seized his chin, ready to snap his spine.

  I was disappointed how fast three lives had been snuffed out. This cold dispatching did not satisfy me.

  But this wasn’t about me.

  It’s about her.

  A feral sound warbled behind me.

  I froze, looking over my shoulder.

  Pimlico draped over the back of the couch, blood everywhere, both hands holding the gun. She shook her head—the most response I’d ever earned—as her eyes dropped to Alrik scrambling in my hold.

  “You want to do it?”

  She nodded.

  Her shaking was too much. She wouldn’t be able to aim.

  But I wouldn’t deny the only thing she’d ever asked of me.

  “Fine.” Moving around Alrik’s body, I hoisted him up using his jaw and nape, threatening to break his neck. “Stand, you worthless sack of shit.”

  His feet slipped on the tiles, but he did his best to obey. “You don’t have to do this. You want more money? Have it all. You want her, take her. I don’t fucking care.”

  “It isn’t about that anymore.” I smiled. “It’s about karma and paying for what you’ve done. If it were up to me, you’d suffer for decades—just like you made Pim and countless other girls suffer. But we don’t have that luxury, so consider yourself fucking lucky.”

  Pimlico never took her eyes off him, her finger feathering the trigger. She gagged as more blood flowed, forcing her to vomit red over the back of the couch. Wiping tears away, the gun wobbled as she tensed to shoot.

  “Wait,” I ordered.

  Dragging Alrik toward her, I nodded as I kicked his leg to make him kneel and pressed his sweaty head against the muzzle of the gun. “Now, you can kill him.”

  She sucked in a gasp, scarlet rivulets staining her naked breasts. The look she gave me—so full of thanks and relief and vicious, vicious victory—clutched my gut. She was insidious in her hate; after two years of torture she’d won.