Page 53 of Pulling Strings

“I’llfinish it.” Jette tugged again on her restraints. The blood had begun to dry on her face like warpaint paired with her mohawk.

Did anyone in this prison not want me dead? I was used to having a target on my back—or my hand, in this case—but I was also used to having the gang’s support. I would have had Ripley’s support now if he wasn’t a turncoat coward.

“Hey, Jax,” I called over. “If you want a Hex mark so bad, you should take the good doctor’s. He’s not using it.”

Both men glowered at me. Ripley stepped away from the bedside and walked quickly to my seat.

“Children who can’t behave themselves can waitoutside.” He grabbed the back of my chair and dragged it across the linoleum floor.

“Children?” I retorted. “How old areyou? Like fifteen?”

He could have been as aged as Grimm and the others, but few witches chose to stop time in their teens. Stuck looking like gangly puppies. It was the worst stage of life.

I glanced over my shoulder to see where we were headed. Besides the entry, I’d seen one other door. Likely a storage closet, and one we rapidly approached now.

“Hell, no.” I planted my feet, but the flat-soled slip-ons that passed for shoes in this place failed to slow our progress.

The door opened and Ripley hauled me across the threshold, then spun the chair around and dropped it. The metal legs settled with simultaneous thunks.

Standing in front of me, he slid the mask down to his chin and spoke. “I have work to do, and patients who need me. You look fine, so you can wait. Nice work, though. A much better showing than last time. I doubt they’ll bother you anymore.”

I didn’t tell him that no one would bother me where I was going next. I was too distracted by the room I found myself in. Not a closet at all, but rather a modified prison cell. Instead of bars, it had walls. Instead of a creaky bunkbed, a single cot. The same toilet and sink but, where Clyde’s desk occupied one wall of our cell, this space had a kitchenette complete with a hot plate and electric kettle.

I gave a low whistle. “Nice digs for a rat.”

He stared at me, deadpan. “You can come off your high horse anytime. I gave up everything to be here.”

Considering I was currently doing everything Icould to get out of this awful place, I couldn’t fathom choosing to live like this.

“Was it worth it?” I asked. “I’d think not since the gang’s stronger than ever.”

Was I trying to convince him to rejoin the Hex? Or to hate me more than he already did?

He didn’t look angry, though. Instead, alarmingly tranquil. “I can sleep at night. Sit in quiet with my own thoughts. Can you?”

Even the seconds of silence following his question made me itch, which proved answer enough.

“Sit tight.” He tugged up his mask. “Don’t touch my stuff. I’ll be back.”

He seemed less interested in murdering me today, a plus, but I hadn’t begun to broach the subject of his return to the gang. And I wasn’t inclined to wait while he patched up Jax and his minions.

When Ripley stepped past me, I chased him with a question. “I notice you aren’t wearing your necklace. Not your color or something?”

He stopped beside me. In profile, I saw his mouthtwist. “You would do well to stay out of situations you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” I replied.

A heavy breath escaped him, leaving his bone-thin frame looking even hollower. He pushed the door closed and moved back, lowering the mask to face me squarely.

“You know as well as anyone that you take orders from a cruel man. You should also know his brutality is not limited to your experiences. He makes everyone around him suffer at one time or another.”

His eyes fixed on mine, steady and calm. I almost wished for the return of the scalpel-wielding psycho I’d met yesterday. Crazy was easier to grapple with than the unnerving calm before me now.

“That necklace belonged to a young woman who suffered unspeakably at Grimm’s hands,” Ripley continued. “For years, I did everything I could to protect her, and my weakness was exploited over and again until it became clear I could not save her.”

Vinton’s new zombie? Was she the same girl Ripley spoke of now? None of the guys kept women around. Too risky, I’d been told. Was this why?

“It was because of you that I finally accepted my failure,” Ripley said. “What Grimm did to Maggie and I? That was his plan for you and your brother. History repeats itself.”

---