Page 3 of The Krampus' Queen
“Diamond crystal, yes. Good eye.”
Oh shit.I cup the glass like a toddler learning to drink and take a small sip. Mr. DeVere throws his back without a care. Feeling more secure, I take a longer sip.
It doesn’t burn at all. If anything, the taste is sweet on the lips and slides down my throat with ease. “What’s in thi…?” Wooziness knocks into my head. I reach a hand up to hold it and nausea follows. The cozy firelight scorches my eyes and I open my mouth to scream.
In a panic to escape, I turn, but my knee gives out. The glass crashes to the floor, shattering like the hot sauce. I fight to move, but my body’s shutting down. My limbs harden to steel and my joints give out. I slam to the ground, fighting to keep my eyes open.
Mr. DeVere stands above me slowly sipping on his cocktail.
“What did you…?” My tongue swells and I can’t talk.
After putting his drink on the table, Mr. DeVere reaches to take my arms and my eyelids slam shut.
CHAPTER 2
DARKNESS GREETS ME.
Pain is a close second.
What the hell happened? I was finishing with the job and heading out to my car. Did I fall?
Even though my head throbs at the thought, I risk peeling open one eye. This darkness is less eternal. A gray room lingers ahead of me. I can’t place the furniture but a Christmas tree sits in the back. Its lights are low and pale, less like twinkling stars and more the pallid flesh of a ghost come to wreak havoc on some miser’s life.
Firelight dances behind me. Both the heat and ever-shifting flame are a welcoming presence in this desolate hell. Goosebumps prick up my arms. The only warmth in this place comes courtesy of a couple of logs giving their life on the hearth. My teeth start to chatter.
Where did I leave my coat? I need to get out of here. Go home and…
My head swivels to try to take in the fire. A loud thunk reverberates through the still room and my arm snaps back. Like trudging through soup, I force my head to lift.
Firelight gleams on a set of chains knotted around my wrist.
What the…?
I yank my wrist, tugging my arm closer. On the far side of the room, a dark mass rises from the floor. The strength of an elephant pulls against me and my arm snaps back. I yelp, metal biting into my wrist.
That’s not right. How did I snag my hand up there?
Almost laughing at myself, I glance at my left hand to help me out of this situation. My fingers roll against the same frost-bitten chain wrapped around my other wrist. Grogginess drains as panic clenches hold.
No. No, no, no!
I wrench one arm, then the other. Each time, I can only manage a few inches before the weights ram my arms back. I’m posed like a letter X, my arms stretched high above my head and my legs straddled a couple inches above the floor in the middle of some asshole’s sitting room.
What kinky Saw bullshit is this?
“Help!” I cry out. “Help me!”
A silhouette passes in front of the door, black on gray. It lingers there, watching me struggle to free myself. “Hey,” I shout. “You! Help me out of this. Please?” The weights catch at the same time, ripping my arms back so fast it wrenches my shoulders. I squeal in pain and tears bead up in my eyes.
Exhausted, I hang in the air, waiting for him to run in and help. “Hello? Can you hear me?” I shout.
Without saying a word, he reaches inside. I jerk my knees, trying to give myself some leverage. The shadowed hand takes the knob and slowly pulls the door toward him.
“Hey! Wait! Get back here! You son of a bitch!”
The door closes and, even through the clink of chains, I hear a lock turning. No one will find me. No one can save me. The burst of adrenaline wears off instantly. All the fight fades from my exhausted bones. My arms snap back into place. I’m hanging from the ceiling like the fucking Christmas star. My wrists throb from having to take all of my weight. I tip my head back to peer at the chains binding me, hoping to find a weak point, but in this darkness I can’t make out the beam above.
How the hell did this happen? I was saying goodbye. Going home. And then…
