God of Destruction (12 page)

Janie scowled up at him, shivering without
constraint as the room’s frigid temperature passed easily through
her wet clothes.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you a few questions, and
you’re gonna answer them, ‘kay? If you don’t…” he trailed off,
pulling a glinting, silver pocket knife from the back pocket of his
jeans. “Get it?”

She stared thoughtfully up at the knife and
realized
I’m going to die
….

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he mumbled. “Now,
how many pictures did you take at the museum?”

Janie turned her head away from him to gaze
at the wall. Behind that thin wall, Taran was waiting for her to
come back, he had to be.

She was drawn out of her thoughts when his
hand squeezed her cheeks together, puckering her lips and forcing
her to meet his eyes, again. “I’m going to pretend you just didn’t
hear me. How many pictures did you take?”

Unable to look away, Janie slumped,
soundlessly in her chair.

She was subsequently struck across the face
with a force that threw the chair on its side.

“I don’t think you understand how this
works,” he murmured, putting the chair back to rights. He opened
the pocket knife, pointing the business end at her. “You
have
to answer,
Janie
,” he sneered, using the knife
to pop off the top button of her shirt.

“I’m not telling you anything,” she
whispered, ignoring the sting of her cheek.

He pursed his lips. “Well, that’s too bad.”
He popped off a second button, then a third. “You’re putting me in
a terrible place.”

Janie watched his hand as it easily made her
shirt come undone, the buttons scattering across the floor.

“It’s not like I wanna do you when you smell
like a goddamn sewer.”

Her head whipped up to face him as the last
button fell, revealing her emaciated upper body, covered only by a
once-white bra.

He forced his knee onto her upper thigh and
grabbed her face with his free hand, pressing the blade of the
knife into her neck. His lips pressed firmly to the hollow between
her jaw and ear, allowing his teeth to graze the skin.

Janie writhed beneath him. Her unscathed leg
wormed its way up to keep him away, but he only budged a short ways
back, gathering himself quickly when he stumbled off of her. “Get
away from me!” she shrieked, pulling against the tape tied around
her wrists.

He smiled as he came back. “You don’t call
the shots,” he growled, plunging the knife into her torso between
her leg and hip.

Red hot agony exploded before Janie’s
eyes.

Her scream could have woken the dead as she
pushed herself back in the chair, forcing it to crash against the
floor and the knife to drive further into her flesh.

“Maybe you’ll be more cooperative now,” he
scorned, reaching over her legs while they were forced up by the
seat of the chair. Getting a firm grip on the handle, he ripped the
knife from her with a purposeful twist.

Her shrieks reached an otherworldly level but
death still stood far away from her. In the back of her mind, she
consoled herself with the knowledge that it couldn’t get much worse
than this.

“Let’s get right to the point: Where are the
pictures?” he snapped, straddling her waist while he held the red
blade to her throat.

Breaths shallow as she avoided the blade, she
glowered at the man above her and spat in his face.

He reeled back, wiping his face with the back
of his hand. When his eyes met hers again, they were murderous.

“You bitch! You
bitch
, I’m gonna
kill
you!”

Janie closed her eyes when the knife sailed
down to meet her.

When neither pain nor death met her, she
opened her eyes the slightest bit and found her shirt in shreds
about her. Her wide eyes traveled up, finding him as he stripped
himself of his shirt and let himself fall on her.

She couldn’t breathe, his body crushing her
chest.

As he fell, the legs of the chair snapped,
throwing her completely on her back. Her legs lay frail and
straight beneath him.

“Get
off
,” she shrieked, shoving
uselessly at his chest.

Wood splintered in her calves while he forced
her legs open with his knee, ignoring her shrill pleas.

“Stop it!” she implored, flailing her fists
at him until he pinned them to the floor. “Stop it, please!
Please
!”

His hand traveled toward the edge of her
pants, his intent clear in his face.

“
Stop it
!
I’ll tell you
!
I’ll tell you
!”

The man’s hand froze just below her navel but
he didn’t move from his place on top of her, watching her
expectantly as she turned on her side, hiding her tear-streaked
face from him. Janie bit her lip, reaching into the cup of her bra
for the distorted image she’d hidden there that awful night. It
felt like an entire lifetime had passed since then. She held the
picture, crinkled from sweat and water, out to him.

“Now was that so hard?” he asked, standing.
He picked up his shirt and dressed before turning back. He grinned,
watching her as he jutted out his hips. “It really is a shame,
though. You’re missing out.”

Sobs exploded from Janie’s mouth. She curled
up tighter around herself, closed her eyes, and imagined that she
was anywhere else. She didn’t want to live if she was going to be
subjected to this brand of torture for another six months.

When his arms lifted her off the floor, she
screamed again, nailing him in the face with her elbow in her
struggle. He didn’t stumble. If he hadn’t pinned her arms down, she
would’ve thought she hadn’t hit him at all. He easily carried her
through the doorway, back to the room she’d called home for so long
now. “Welcome back,” he chuckled, unlocking the door and throwing
her into the darkness. The door slammed ominously behind her.

Before her eyes adjusted to the dark, the
silence fooled her into thinking that Taran wasn’t there at
all.

She felt alone.

Her cries broke the quiet, especially when
she prodded her newest wound.

“Janie?” his voice murmured.

She didn’t speak, knowing she could never get
the words out.

She flinched when his hands searched for her
through the dark, landing harmlessly on her shoulder. He didn’t ask
questions when he collected her in his arms, cradling her against
his chest while she sobbed into his shirt. He hushed her quietly,
brushing his fingers slowly, comfortingly, through her hair. After
a few moments, her cries quieted to whimpers, though he continued
to rock her back and forth in his arms.

“The stupidest thing I ever did was cliff
dive with my older brother. That was the second time I broke my
arm. I was six and I got in
soooo
much trouble with my mom!”
he chuckled.

Janie blurted out a pathetic half-laugh as
she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She wrapped her
arms around him while he rocked them, forgetting how bad she
smelled. Taran didn’t move, even when he felt her fall asleep.

He softly looked down into her sleeping face.
“We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Chapter Eleven

Paris, France; June 29
^th
, 2012

Claire, blinded by the sun, stumbled through
the door of the catacombs, falling haphazardly into someone’s arms.
The girl’s arms floundered for something to hold onto, finding
nothing but, what she didn’t know, was the stubbly back of her
savior’s head. His grunt when she, unintentionally, pulled him down
to her level didn’t faze her. She hardly noticed him while she
watched the backs of her eyelids replay the unnatural scene she’d
just experienced, over and over again. The way that
thing
had looked at her, clouding her mind with his hypnotic, red eyes
would be forever engrained in her mind.

Claire didn’t dare look up for a moment,
focused entirely on catching her breath while her legs hung,
unused, over the ground. When she realized her compromised
position, her face slowly tilted up, eyes following the arms, thick
with muscle, wrapped around her up to a broad chest, covered in a
tight, black t-shirt. Gasping lightly, she followed his sharp jaw,
pausing momentarily on his lips, and slowly her jaw fell. She met
stormy grey eyes for a split second and the world around her fell
away. Her entire body suddenly felt like dead weight.

“Wow,” she breathed, trying to find her
footing when the ground had fallen out from under them.

Kierlan was unmoved, having already seen her
picture hundreds of times now on the way to Paris. Nevertheless, he
pretended to be as struck by her beauty now as he was when he’d
first seen her picture on the plane. “H…hi,” he mumbled, placing
her on her feet while he stared into her gorgeous eyes, keeping his
hands placed innocently on her arms, steadying her.

“Claire!” James yelled, loping down the
sidewalk toward the two taxis sitting against the curb. He shoved
Alex into Scottie’s waiting arms and turned back to face the girl,
now in the arms of a man who may have very well been the enemy.
“Get away from him!” he yelled, catching the attention of
pedestrians collected on the street as he ran to her.

Claire looked away from her knight in shining
armor only when forced by the strong grip on her waist, wrenching
her away. James pushed her behind him, shoving Kierlan a step away
when they came face to face. “Who are you?” he demanded, holding
his hand out, palm forward. Claire couldn’t see it, and Kierlan
didn’t believe it, when a faint, blue light danced across James’s
outstretched palm.

“James—” Claire began in a reprimanding
tone.

“Claire, get in the car,” he snapped without
taking his eyes off Kierlan.

“No, James—”

“Go, Claire! I asked you once, I won’t ask
again. Who. Are. You?”

Kierlan wanted to laugh at the smaller man,
knowing if it came down to a fight, his opponent wouldn’t stand a
chance. He didn’t though, knowing his humor wouldn’t be appreciated
by the screaming boy. He kept a straight, albeit mean, face when he
stood up to James.

“I’m Kierlan Cole,” he said, puffing out his
chest the slightest bit. “I’m a private investigator here for—”

“I don’t believe you,” James spat, backing
away, forcing Claire to back away, too.

“James, stop—” Claire shoved uselessly at his
back, barely budging him.

“Scottie!” James called.

Seconds later, Claire felt herself being
pulled away from James and toward the empty taxi. She thrashed
against the hands under her arms, but, eventually, she had to give
up the fight when the taxi door slammed in her face. Without the
worry of his friend hearing, James scowled up at Kierlan’s face
with malice. Unimpressed by the show, Kierlan scowled back.

“I know what you’re doing, and I’m not
falling for it,” James growled.

Kierlan didn’t show the anxiety the remark
created in him. He was a professional. “I would tell you what I was
doing here, but you haven’t been listening.”

“Just stay away from us,” James retorted,
turning his back on the man to throw open the cab door. Kierlan
followed close behind; he
had
to get in that cab. When James
reached to pull the door closed behind him, he caught it before
they could lock themselves in.

“Sorry, I thought that I was the guy that
saved your lives! You would’ve been crushed if I hadn’t led you
out.” Kierlan dragged James out of the car by his shirt, letting
him stand on his own when he closed the door again. “I think you’re
hiding something, and I want to ask you a few questions.”

“I think you know
exactly
why I can’t
trust you with her,” James bit back. “You weren’t in our tour
group, I would’ve seen you. What were you doing down there? How did
you know that we were going to need help?”

Kierlan bit his tongue and hissed, through
clenched teeth, “As I was explaining to you, already, I have been
following Russell Marks for some time. I have found reason to
believe that he has been participating in cult activities. They
worship a fictional deity and have been known to take part in human
sacrifice in their attempt to resurrect this deity.”

James’s eyes narrowed, not so sure anymore in
his original resolve. “I can’t stay. We have to get back to the
hotel.”

Kierlan moved into his way. “I wanna go with
you.”

“No.”

Taken aback, he held the door as it came
swinging toward his gut. “I
saved your lives
. Let me come
with you. If they tried to get your friends before, they’ll come
after them again.”

“I
know
they will. That’s why I have
to get them back to the hotel,” James growled. “Let go!”

“I can help you, I have experience in—”

Claire leaned over, holding her head out the
door. “James Bellman!” she chastised, getting out of the cab.

James heaved a sigh. “Claire, get back
in—”

“
Please
, stop telling me w…what to do,
first of all! Second of all, can you
please
treat this guy
less like a prisoner and m…more like the guy that just
saved
us
?
Both
of you,
please
get in the car,
now
. We have a
lot
of things t…to talk about!” she
hissed, sounding more like a kitten than the lion she was trying
for.

James and Kierlan tore their eyes from hers
to stare each other down. James was the first to back down.
“Fine.”