Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (88 page)

“I want to do that,” she agrees. “I don’t want anyone to find out the truth.”

“Then they won’t,” I assure her.

I’
ll never tell Ez about this talk. Ez knows he came inside of her, which means Master Ez and Ezra do, too. I look down at this woman- this Katya Waters, and I feel a wash of emotions.

Master
Ez’s baby is growing inside of me.

What Ez
just did… will it take? And if it does, will the guilt Ez feels for this woman make him forget about his first born. Forget? Hell, he doesn’t even know.

I get half of the man. I had sex with half of the man. Half of the man created the child growing in my belly.
My son or daughter will only get half of a father.

Th
is wounded, violated girl, she got the whole man- no Master Ez or childish Ezra- Ez. Katya Waters got Ez.

I have to look away from her trusting face. I’m disgusted with myself for feeling as I do. I’m jealous and hateful towards an assault victim. I can’t help what I feel, but no one can ever know this train of thought that runs through my mind- it’s evil.

~Chapter Seventy-Seven~

I lean my head against the side window and just bawl. The tears are silent, but the sobs are so deep and mournful that I feel like my insides are bleeding out. It’s just one horrible tragedy after another, and I understand why people want to end it all. The only thing that keeps me from opening the car door and spilling onto
Route Fifteen outside of Williamsport, Pennsylvania is the child growing inside my belly.

I waited with Katya Waters, and then rode to her local hospital in the back of the ambulance. I was correct with my assumptions. Three volunteer firemen, none of which have the proper training to assist on a medical call, showed up. A half hour later, EMS, in the form of two EMTs, arrived with an ambulance. Once questioned, they were bare bones in the training as well. There were no paramedics on site, either. If needed, a paramedic leaves the hospital and meets up with the ambulance en route. Not that Katya’s condition was dire by any means. But I feel better for being truthful about something- anything.

During the ride, Katya went into shock after mumbling the false story we concocted. She was in and out, and when she finally woke, she said she didn’t remember anything. Well, I remember, and I’ll never forget. You can bet your ass I’ll be looking her up ten months from now… and I’m keeping my mouth shut about whatever I discover. I find a small comfort in knowing that I lie because she asked, not because I want to… or so I lie to myself.

Ezra, Aaron, and Cortez were checked over at the hospital and released to Marcus. Marc flew up from New York on a twenty-five minute flight as soon as he found out the guys had been rescued. The four of them will be home hours before Wil and me.

Mentally, they are not good. Physically, they are healthy. They will endure a lot of questioning, court appointed therapy, and a trial. Just before we left, I went over and held each of them. I found out something disturbing when I hugged Ez. Master Ez was firmly in control, and he told me he wasn’t going to allow Ezra to wake for a long while. I was relieved and saddened by that statement- but Ez is fragile, and he needs time to heal.

Raymond Hunter was tracked by the search and rescue dogs, and taken into FBI custody. If we were playing by the gam
e’s standards, Wil and I would’ve put Ray down. The guys’ parents are played by the game, but not playing the game, so they didn’t know any better about involving the authorities. I’m not going to prison to play by the rules. Ray is the state’s problem now.

But none of that is what has me dying inside. If I wasn’t pregnant, I would really open this car door as we drive seventy-five miles an hour towards interstate eighty. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I can’t do what I must.

“We won’t make it in time,” I wheeze out.

“They are waiting for you. No one touches him until you get there,” Wil’s words should be comforting, but when spoken from a throat that is raw from crying, there is no comfort to be had.

Wil is crying just as badly as I am, but he is driving down the interstate at breakneck speeds. I didn’t think he cared for the man. I know he didn’t know the victim. I think it hurts worse knowing that Wil is this upset because I’m this upset. Wil hurts because I hurt.

“What- four, four and a half hours? That is a long time to hold a body before the coroner gets there. It will look suspicious.”

“It will look suspicious anyway. It was staged to look like a suicide- but we will see... you aren’t going to do it,” not a question, a statement.

“I don’t know,” I answer the question, not the statement.

“Faith,” Wil sighs- my birth name, again. “You. Cannot. Do. It.” Wil slowly enunciates the words as if it changes a damned thing.

“But I must,” I choke the words out- several get lodged in my throat, but erupt on a sob.

“If you deem that it needs done, I’ll do it for you,” Wil valiantly says.

“Wil, you’ve never killed anyone before. I can’t let you do this for me.”

“I won’t let you kill a lifelong friend,” he bites out, but ends the comment with a deep sob. “I won’t.”

“I’ve killed my own mother…” I trail off, that pain turning fresh because of this new tragedy.

“You won’t survive this… you won’t. I love you, goddammit!” Wil shouts, punching the steering wheel so hard the horn blares. “Let me do this for you,” he whispers. “You make the decision, and I will carry it out. The decision will eat your soul, but the action will drag you into Hell.”

“I can’t make you kill an innocent,” I scream, burying my head in my hands. I cry so deeply that my hands are covered in snot, spit, and tears. I’m so lost to my misery that I don’t notice that Wil pulled off to the shoulder of the highway until he breaks down in the driver seat. He cries just as hard as I do. The car is rocking from the power of our sobs.

“It’s what Pierre wanted. He wanted him dead, but I have no idea wwwhhhyyy,” Wil whimpers, voice shuddering. A heartbeat of silence, and then a sharp scream pierces the air. “WHY! WHY! WHY!” Wil screams over and over and over until he can no longer speak.

Every time he screams why, I cringe deeper in my seat- the sound is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. I maybe be bleeding out my eyes, but Wil is bleeding out his soul.

“Wil,” I whisper to gain his attention. He stares at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you,” I sincerely say, voice filled with faith and gratitude and affection.

“For… what?” he croaks out, barely a whisper of a sou
nd because he has no voice left.

“You gave me an idea,” I say strongly, voice filled with hope. “It’s better than the alternative. It’s awful- but alive is alive.
We have four hours to come up with a plan. We need you thinking straight. Deep breaths,” I say, breathing in deeply until Wil joins me. “Let’s wash our faces, drain a bottle of water, get to driving, and formulate a battle strategy.”

“I was wrong,” Wil hoarsely groans.

“About what?” confusion is thick in my voice. I blow my nose, and then take a sip of water.

“I thought I loved you because you have a fire in you- a fire that burns brightly and never snuffs out. I kn
ew that no matter what, you’d survive anything anyone threw out at you. But that isn’t why.”

“That’s a
n awfully backhanded way to express your undying devotion to someone that you like to lie to for sport,” I snidely say, irritation winning over the confusion and sadness in my voice.

“I know I love you for what you just said, for what you will do. You will always survive, of that I have no doubt. But you will make sure we survive, too.
I know you could kill him, but it would kill you to do it. I said I would do it for you to save you from the pain, but I don’t think I could…”

“Wil?”
I interrupt him- we don’t have time for self-doubt.

“Yes, Pixy?”
he cautiously asks.

“Fuck our motto of New York’s Bravest,” I respectfully bash our motto
, because I have a new one that fits this situation. “Alive at any cost.”

~Chapter Seventy-Eight~

He walks into the room and I want to melt into him the moment his relieved, soft brown eyes meet my gaze. I want to hold on for dear life and cry my eyes out while he rocks me to sleep on my bed. But I don’t run to him like a little girl does when her daddy comes home. I simply nod at Stanton, and he nods back.

A badass Game Master does not run to her self-appointed father while snotti
ng all over herself- it just isn’t done.

Meyers Manor of Horrific Delights is lit up like a beacon in the night- all are accounted for, with the exception of the minor children, the Marine, the unaware, and the suicidally depressed- in other words, Caleb, Marcus and Regina, and Ezra
are not present.

The living room used to have a pair of doors with a heavy lock- the lock is gone. The room is s
et up differently as well. The enforcers no longer stand at your back like servants- servants who could be up to no good- a point proven when I stabbed my grandfather in the neck with a syringe. Now treated with equal respect, the enforcers sit with their elders and heirs. The families are scattered throughout the room, an equal distance from each other and my desk. My desk is empty. I have my seat and one other beside it. I think of it as the judge’s seat and witness stand. It’s much more civilized.

“Let me begin by giving credit where it is due,” I say in a bored voice, when what I really want to do is hurdle my desk and bash this sick fuck’s skull in with my imaginary gavel. “Well played, Pierre… well played.”

“Thank you, Game Master,” Pierre shyly says, having the decency to blush- all an act, but just as well played as the rest of his game. I noticed he didn’t deny it.

“Pierre’s triple play was flawlessly executed and spanned every family in the game. It makes me sick… but I’m in awe. Enough with me congratulating someone I wish dead,” I flash Pierre a
someday, someone is going to get you
smirk. “We have a body slowing decomposing in a hotel room- the smell will become obvious, even with the air condition on arctic blast. Please bring in the reason we are here.”

Since this is the Meyers’ house, Wil has the honors of escorting Adelaide Whittenhower into the meeting. The waif-thin blonde has red-rimmed blue eyes, but her shoulders are back. I can see the slight tremble in her finger
tips, though. Wil places the frail girl in the witness seat.

Wil and I used four hours of our five hour drive to think of every possible scenario that could possibly arise
. Knowing that this family is as bullheaded as I am- I’m sure I missed something.

I have one question for Adelaide, and if the answer is yes, she signs Grant’s death sentence. But I hope to set it up that even though her answer will be yes, I can find a way around it.

“Adelaide Whittenhower, you are the third and youngest child of Daniel Whittenhower I and youngest sister of Grant Whittenhower, correct?”

“Yes, Faith,” she numbly says, looking nowhere but my face. These people frighten her- people she has known her entire life. The difference is that she finally sees them in the correct light- we are all blood-thirsty and evil. We are not good people.

“Did Grant Whittenhower tell you about the game?”

“Yes, my brother was upset. I can always feel it when he is. I was hurting, so I went looking for him. When I found him, he was drunk and crying. I got him to tell me what was wrong. I did it for him!” she shouts. “Why is he in trouble? I did it for him! I killed Cora! I poisoned her! Grant didn’t do it! I did it! I’m a murderer!”

“Aren’t we all,” I mutter to her,
I’m a murderer
outburst. She looks at me, trying to see if I’m serious. I see the light pop on in her mind- one by one, she looks at the people in the room. A shiver courses through her body as the realization sets in.

“It’s my fault,” she whimpers. “If you kill him, it will be my fault.”

“No, it will be Grant’s fault,” I emotionlessly say to Adelaide. “Wil!” I demand, not able to look at the girl I’ve known forever. How her life has changed, and it’s not for the better.

Adelaide breaks, she unhinges- screaming and crying. Somehow she knows what is to come- but I will save her from the agony
of watching her brother’s punishment… and I’m so thankful that Wil saves me from the agony of watching her die on the inside. Wil has to pick Adelaide up and carry her from the room as she thrashes in his arms, screaming obscenities at all of us.

“Grant,” I sigh, tears stinging my eyes. I’d rather shoot myself in the forehead than do what I’m about to do. By the time Grant situates himself in the chair, Wil is back from stashing Adelaide somewhere. From the look of the fingernail gashes on Wil’s forearms, Adelaide is restrained somewhere in this house.

“I have one question for you, Grant…
and it’s not, did you tell Adelaide about the game.
Since Adelaide is here right now, and Cora is dead, that answers that. Tell me Adelaide is your heir, and we can all walk out of here and go home. You can walk out of here and go home to Regina, your sons, and your unborn baby. Say,
Adelaide is my heir- she is my youngest sister, and I pronounce her my heir
. Say it!” I demand.

“I can’t,” Grant defiantly says, but refuses to look at me.

My sadness evaporates in a second. “Listen up, you selfish son of a bitch,” I seethingly hiss. “You’d rather leave your family behind to clean up your goddamned mess, fine! But don’t drag me into it! Who do you think will have to dole out the punishment of death? Did you forget all of those conversations, all of those words of encouragement, all of those promises you made, those nights you showed me that sex wasn’t evil. Forget about Regina and your kids, because clearly you have. What the fuck about me, goddammit! You’re sentencing yourself to death and making me do the killing.”

Grant says nothing, and I just get more furious as the seconds tick by- I can actually feel my need to kill him rising. It feels natural, and needed, and necessary. Somehow, that makes my mind clear.

My hand strikes out and grips his chin. I lift his face to mine, because he was refusing to look at me. Those crystalline blue eyes slowly rise until we connect, and I speak like no one else is listening.

“I know you l
ove Regina, but you think she belongs with Marc. I know you don’t think you deserve your children. Were all the other words you said to me utter bullshit? Did you lie to me like everyone else? If you lied about one thing, then you lied about it all. Do you really not believe that I should be respected? By not fighting for your life, you are sentencing me to do the killing. I wouldn’t survive that, and Pierre knows it. I am the reason you were targeted. He couldn’t target Stanton, he can’t target me, so he chose you. Do you understand that? Adelaide is wrong, and what I said to her was wrong. I will feel responsible, but Pierre is to blame.”

I look away from his eyes and whisper, “was it all lies?”

“No,” Grant says so softly that I can barely hear him. “I’ve never lied to you about anything, Faith.”

“Why do you want to die so badly?” I breathe back to him.

Grant stares at me for several long minutes, never breaking my unflinching stare. “I didn’t think I deserved to live because I couldn’t protect my family. I told Adelaide because I wanted her to save them once I was gone. I thought if I was dead, they would be safer. But then I realized that this game doesn’t give a shit about life or death- it is a sentient being- it just is. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted to live until after I knew I was about to die. I was selfish enough that I didn’t even think of you and that you would be the one to take my life. For that, I can never apologize enough.”

I rest my forehead against Grant’s and slowly breathe in his scent. I fill my lungs with it. I listen to his heartbeat and feel his breath against my cheek. I think of never seeing those brilliant eyes filled with laughter, and that curl of lips when he’s being playful, or the way he touches me with patience. I’d once thought that Grant’s voice was orgasmic, and I pray that it wasn’t the tone but the words themselves.

There is a price to pay for living.

Alive at any cost.

Grant said he wanted to live, and I hope he doesn’t find the price too high.

“Please forgive me,” I whisper against Grant’s mouth, and finally take a kiss I’ve fantasized about for many long months. I’m almost of age, and as of a few hours ago, he’s no longer with Regina. I will not regret the kiss. Slowly, sensually, I kiss him. There is heat and passion, but it is filled with desperation and fear. I didn’t want those emotions mixed with our kiss. I sip at his mouth and taste hi
s lips. All too brief of a kiss, I pull away, leaving Grant breathless with heavy-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.

“
I am the Game Master for a reason. It is up to my discretion on punishments, for I am the judge, jury, and executioner. You all appointed me as such. If you don’t like it, vote my ass out,” I loudly demand, meeting every eye in the room. “While Pierre played a flawless game, within the rules that were created by him and his fellow Elders, he failed to realize that I have the final say. I am looking at this with clear eyes, in a nonemotional light. Yes, I care for Grant- I may be cold, but I am not dead inside.”

I rest my head on my desk for a moment, drawing in air, fortifying myself to fight for Grant’s life. I try to organize my words so that it doesn’t look like I’m trying to save a loved one when I’m trying to respect the game and its players.

“A vote was called while several members were not present at the meeting. The meeting was called without informing the missing members or the Game Master, that in and of itself negates the vote. The vote was illegal. If I allow that to slip by, then one Elder could call a meeting in his living room, declare a vote that could affect us all, and his one vote would pass it. A meeting must be held within an appropriate amount of time for all of those who wish to attend to arrive. Considering one family lives three fourths across the country, it’s not too much to ask. A time limit of two days was put on the play, so that those who were frozen out wouldn’t find out about the play until it was too late, that also negates the play. While flawlessly executed, it was illegal. But it wasn’t about the vote or the play, it was a maneuver to position Grant in this chair.”

“Sharing the knowledge of the game with someone who isn’t a part of the game is a death sentence. I know many of you have told one or two pe
ople or we wouldn’t have new enforcers. But it becomes an issue when the authorities are brought in, such as a murder in a hotel suite staged to look like a suicide.”

“I relinquish the punishment of death for Grant Whittenhower,” I announce.

“And you say you are unbiased,” Henry stands up and screams at me. The room erupts into chaos. enforcers stand between their screaming elders and heirs. I listen for a few moments, to see who is on whose side. When a chair is chucked across the room, I’ve had enough.

“Shut up and shit down,” I scream, pounding the top of my desk with the side of my fist. “I wasn’t finished. But if you fucks would shut the hell up, yo
u’d find out what my judgment is! Don’t make me punish you all to death- I can think of instances for each and every one of you. I’ll do it, and be done with this game,” I warn, and they apparently believe me because of my pregnancy hormones. I may regret it later, but right now, I’d be satisfied with their blood staining my hands.

“Grant will be silenced,” I announce once they quiet down. “Grant will be silenced permanently,” I hesitate, waiting for that to sink in.

“I would love to go easy on Grant, but then you would either vote me out or misbehave because you think I don’t mean what I say. Asking a man to kill his wife is reprehensible. I don’t care if they hate each other’s guts, it’s just… wrong. Grant acted out of fear. That is why my position exists. I told you all that if not given a choice, even an impossible one, the person will act out of fear, and it is never, ever a good outcome. Grant was set up to seek help from outside sources while the rest of us where putting out the fires Pierre was igniting. Grant was alone, scared, and backed into a corner. I will not put a man to death when he had no other option than to ask for outside help. I would never expect a husband to kill his wife, just because we tell him to. That is the most ridiculous bullshit I’ve ever heard. Let’s just herd our loved ones in here right now. I’ll go get a gun. We’ll do them execution style.”

The gasps all around make me smile, which freaks them out even more. I was just making a point, but they thought I was being serious- good to know.

“I see you understand the gravity of the situation. If I were to allow that ruling to stand, we would set a precedent for the future. We could call a vote and make you kill your own children… just because we can. Not fair, but life never is. This game is definitely never fair, but I’m trying to make it even. If I kill Grant, it sets this ruling into motion. Let’s vote shall we,” I gleefully say, an evil light fills me.

“The vote of yay is
allowing us to vote on forcing you to kill your spouses and children, for any reason, just because we can. If you vote nay, Grant lives and receives a tailored to the circumstance punishment. If you vote yay, Grant dies, and then I will call a vote to make you all kill each other. An impossible choice, but a choice none the less.”