King for a Day (16 page)

“A ghost, King?” I whispered aloud, nearing hysteria as I tried to accept these clashing realities. King wasn’t some eccentric, powerful, mysterious billionaire with a private jet and face of a god. King was a king. A ghost. A man cursed, looking for an end to his torment. And clearly, he’d lied about not wanting revenge, as he’d once told me. He wanted it, all right. He wanted to bring back Hagne and kill that bitch all over again. He wanted to wipe any remnants of her off the face of the planet. It wasn’t just about ending his curse.

I leaned forward in King’s armchair and rubbed my swollen eyes.
A ghost…a ghost…King is dead.
The saddest part of all was that I wanted King, or Draco, to find peace. Not revenge, but peace. That horrible, insane woman—who, apparently, Draco loved deeply—pushed him over the edge and broke him. She’d orchestrated Callias’s death by Draco’s own hand. Then she cursed him to live with his pain and guilt forever.

I had tasted that pain. It was the kind of sorrow and anguish that could bring a person to his or her knees and beg for death. It was the kind of torment that would make any normal person crazy enough that they might burn down the whole world simply to end the suffering. I just wished I could tell King that I understood. That part of me couldn’t blame him for wanting salvation so badly that he would kill to get it. And I had been right; he wasn’t a monster, but a beautiful man who’d been hurt.

As much as I hated myself for feeling sympathetic, I couldn’t help but want King’s suffering to end. I just…I just didn’t want to die to give it to him.

My cell phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the number.

“H—hello?” There was nothing but static on the line. “King? Is that you?”

“Mia, it’s Mack.” His voice sounded like death warmed over.

Oh my God.
“Mack.” My voice was nothing more than a shallow croak. “Are you and Arno somewhere safe?”

“Yes. For now.”

Vaughn had kept his end of the bargain. Another shock for the day. “Run, Mack. You have to run with Arno.”

“We can’t abandon you,” he said.

“It’s over, Mack.” At least I could free him and Arno from this nightmare. But they had to run. Perhaps if he believed King was gone, he’d have no reason to stay and try to save me. “King is…
dead
. Really, really dead.”

“Yes, I know,” Mack replied.

That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. “W-what? What do you mean?”

“I mean, he died a long time ago.”

“You knew?” I asked.

“Yes. And so did you on some level. Think about it, Mia.”

I swallowed the bile crawling its way up my throat, realizing that this was what had been giving me the headaches. This was the conflict my mind couldn’t sort through and had been making me sick. It had been King all along.

“How can he seem so…real?” I asked.

“Because he’s very old and very powerful and…because he
is
real. I understand that you have a lot of questions, Mia, but we need to—”

“Did you know that he wants to kill me?”

“That’s not true, Mia. He doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, I do.”

“Really? How many Seers has he killed?” I asked.

There was a long pause. To me, that meant “a lot,” but I’d been hoping Mack might’ve said “none.”

Oh Lord
. Draco’s journal entry said the curse would last as long as Seers roamed the earth. How many were left? How many stood between King and his freedom from hell?

“I’m not the last one, am I?” My voice came out scarcely louder than a whisper.

“Yes. I mean—probably. We think so.”

Fuck. No, King. No.
It would explain why King latched onto me like he had. I was his ticket out of his hell. That’s why I was so goddamned important to him. My only question was why hadn’t he killed me yet?

He wants revenge first. He wants the Artifact to raise Hagne and kill her.
What other reason could there be?

I felt that tiny spark of hope I had for King, that something good lie dormant inside just waiting to be awakened, die a cold, miserable death.

“I see,” I said coolly.

“He
doesn’t
want to hurt you, Mia.”

But I couldn’t believe that. He was loyal to King. And in Miranda’s own words, only a fool would trust anyone.

“Do what you need to, Mack. Goodbye.”

I ended the call and didn’t answer when Mack rang again. And again. And again. I had nothing to say. I was going to die one way or another. King, Vaughn, 10 Club…

Die. I’m going to die.
I began to cry and laugh at the same time, feeling a ludicrous sense of relief that the end of my life would at the very least put an end to this tragedy.
My big fat Greek-tragedy death.
After all, hadn’t Arno—or Draco—said they were both from Crete?

Why was I even thinking about that? I should be thinking about what a giant fool I’d been right from the start. I shook my head, mentally berating myself.
You knew something was not right with King. But this?
I’d completely had my blinders on.

Hell, Mia, no one could have seen this coming. No one. Because it’s…fucking impossible.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking if I’d just opened my eyes, I might’ve seen the truth.

Maybe I’d been distracted by his seductive lips or the hypnotic effect of those pale gray eyes outlined by thick black lashes? Perhaps my attention had been hijacked by the godlike perfection of his masculine body and that deep, room-filling voice he used to control my emotions. Maybe I’d missed the truth because he scared the living hell out of me. Yes, his ferocity was a definite distraction. No man should be that lethal and powerful. No man.

And now you know why.

I closed the thick leather-bound book and crushed it against my chest, clenching my eyes shut, holding back the tears of horror that begged to be set free with a scream.

The man known as King, the man who was said to be able to “find anything or anyone for a price,” was so good at hunting because he had spent a lifetime searching for the one thing he needed most: salvation from the hell of his existence.

And, perhaps, revenge.

I sighed.
Dear Lord.
Despite every terrifying detail I now knew about the man, a part of me wanted him to have peace. No one should be allowed to suffer so much in one lifetime. Not even King.

I dropped my face into my hands. “King,” I said with a sad breath, “if there’s any chance in hell you can hear me, I want you to know that—”

The heavy steel door to King’s chamber burst open.

“They’re here,” I whispered.

And they were early.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

They
had used something to knock me out so I never saw their faces. But when I awoke, blindfolded, hands bound in front, and my body crammed into a narrow space—a closet I presumed—I recognized the roar of a plane’s engine.

Not that I had a clue as to how long I’d been out, but after two hours, I knew for sure we weren’t heading to Los Angeles. After what I guessed were five hours, when the plane stopped to refuel, I figured we were outside the U.S., somewhere far, far away where no one would ever find me. No one except King.

Who will kill you himself, anyway, and is a… is a…
I could still scarcely believe it. I mean I had touched this man. He had touched me. Intimately. Yes, he had strange abilities and was shrouded in a cloud of mystery, but he was no phantom. The guy had a chauffeur, owned a jet, and wore suits, for God’s sake. And spirits didn’t go around working out of offices.
Or murdering people.

Clearly, King does. The man defies every law known to mankind. And, my God, he really wants to kill me.
Perhaps the most troubling and unbelievable part of this entire story.

But not such a terrible fate given the alternative
. Because when “they” (I heard multiple, muffled voices through the closet door) let me out to use the bathroom, still blindfolded, I heard the vile sounds of Vaughn moaning with pleasure while I relieved myself.

Disgusting, psycho pig.
It made me wish I’d opted for peeing in my pants, especially when he offered to wipe me and I felt his hand on my thigh. I kicked at him and screamed that I’d rather die than let him touch me. He’d simply laughed and said that he liked it when they fought; it made it so much more pleasurable for him.

He threw me back into the closet for an endless stretch of time, where I had ample opportunity to pull up my jeans on my own. At one point, my legs and neck cramped so hard from being in the tiny space, my entire body went numb. And each time I saw a sliver of light through the narrow slot at the bottom of the blindfold, I felt my heart choking on fear. It sensed that Vaughn was near, and I could only imagine what he was doing. Perhaps jerking off while watching me suffer?

Sick bastard.

But not once, not even for a second, did I feel King’s presence. It was as if he’d abandoned me all together. Maybe he wanted to prove he’d been right for telling me to run when I had the chance? That was the funny thing about being crammed in a closet on a plane to face a fate worse than death; it gives you time to reflect.

I thought deeply about my mistakes and wondered what I could’ve done differently. However, each alternate path—running away or never having gone searching for Justin when he’d disappeared—would never have worked. I cared too much, just as Vaughn pointed out before he’d taken me.

Being in that closet gave me time to realize that no matter what, I had done what I felt was right. I had to stop blaming myself for being too trusting or always wanting to see the good in people. Even dead kings.

When the plane finally landed, they pulled me from the closet and threw me inside a van, where I had plenty of room to stretch my legs across the cold steel floor. I don’t think we drove longer than an hour, but every passing minute felt like both a blessing and a horrific torture. One more breath, one more second of precious life. One more breath, one step closer to death.

The van finally stopped moving, and that’s when things started to get really hard for me. Panic, the will to fight and survive, outrage, they all began to take hold.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” I growled as someone, I assumed a-hole Vaughn, pushed me along a paved surface. I didn’t know the hour, but I could see through my blindfold it was nighttime. We could be going anywhere—a cave, a secret 10 Club prison—I didn’t know, but the smell of salty air told me we were near an ocean.

“To my very special place for very special ladies like you,” said Vaughn, confirming he was in fact the person shoving me along.

“Let me guess? A place where no one can hear me scream?” I asked.

Vaughn chuckled and pushed me forward again. He shuffled me down three flights of stairs and then removed my blindfold. I squinted while my eyes adjusted to the bare light bulb dangling overhead. It was a small room with cement floors, black walls, a bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in the other. Your basic jail cell.

“Actually,” he said, his hazy brown eyes glittering with wicked bliss, “I wouldn’t say ‘no one’ will hear you scream.” He pointed toward a 360-degree camera mounted to the corner of the ceiling inside a small cage. “I’d say the cell is designed so many can hear your screams. They pay good money for it.”

“They? They who?”

“My clientele, Miss Turner. You didn’t think that I would hurt you and not allow others to join in on the fun? I’ve already sold one hundred tickets to your skinning.”

I wanted to throw up. That this sort of sickness even existed in the world was something I would never have believed. And this horror of a human being was selling tickets.

“So what’s the going rate?” I asked bitterly.

“A million dollars.”

A million bucks? One hundred people paid a million bucks to see me tortured to death? What the hell is wrong with the world?
“When will the ‘fun’ start?” I seethed.

“Normally I would wait a week so that I can give everyone the opportunity to buy a ticket, but I’ve been itching for you, Miss Turner. I’ve dreamed of hearing you scream every night since we met. Oh, yes. I bet you scream pretty.” He dug his nails into his jaw and scratched hard, leaving bloody streaks on his skin. “Tomorrow night will be your special time.”

I wasn’t sure how, but I promised myself that payback would come. I was a Seer. Maybe I could curse him like Hagne had cursed King?

Vaughn sighed happily. “Oh! Before I forget, I have a special treat for you, Mia.” He scurried off, leaving me standing in the center of the cramped room. I wondered if I could run, but as soon as I stepped into the corridor, I saw the pointlessness to that plan. There were heavy iron gates on both ends of the hallway. Nowhere to run except to another room, of which there were three all in a row.

Vaughn stuck his greasy head of hair out of the nearest doorway and waved me over. “Don’t be afraid. I promise you’ll enjoy this.”