Adelaide Upset (31 page)

From his pocket he produced a knife. It was
common, the open blade no more than three inches long. Yet it made
my blood run cold.

“
Don’t. I told you I would
do anything and I meant it, but if you hurt him I won’t say a
word.”

“
You will,” he answered,
not looking at me as he cut open Luke’s shirt. He then gripped
Luke’s shoulder, pushing him back and pinning him upright in the
chair. I got my first glimpse of his bare chest and it was
discolored and ugly from abuse.

It drove me absolutely
crazy to see him drag that blade across Luke’s chest, and I
screamed and struggled until my voice was sandpaper course. Lars
let me get it all out, waiting until I was limp and crying. He
didn’t break Lucas, but he sure as hell broke me.

“
I have the book,” I said
to his back for the hundredth time, watching him carve thin lines
into Lucas. “Stop! Please, just stop, and I’ll give you the damned
thing.” But he didn’t stop, in fact, I don’t know if he even heard
me. “Don’t you want Demidov’s diary? I’ll give it to you! Please,”
I sobbed.

He probably didn’t believe
me, thinking I would say anything at this point. He was right.
I
would
say anything. But then, he was a sociopath, meaning to make a
point regardless of what I offered, and it killed me to think of
how long this torture might go on.

Finally he turned to look
at me, the blade pushed so deep it dimpled Luke’s skin. “Watch,”
Lars said, as if I could do otherwise. And then he began to
push.

I screamed, the sound
tearing from my throat.

The knife went into Lucas
slowly, disappearing inch by inch. I struggled the whole time, my
shrill cries drowning out Luke’s groan. When it was buried to the
hilt Lars let go, and I stared in horror, watching a ribbon of
blood slip down over my ex-boyfriend’s waist.

“
I haven’t hit any
organs,” Lars assured me, “so we have plenty of time to talk. He’s
in no danger of bleeding out, so long as I keep the knife right
where it is. Now I suggest you think of something I might like to
hear, something useful, and if you lie then I’ll remove the knife
from his chest.”

“Get your minions to release me and I’ll
give you Demidov’s diary right now, it’s in the house.”

Lars turned. “What did you
say?”

“I said I have the book.”

“The demon took it.”

“The demon didn’t take it, Reed just
outsmarted you.”

“Bring it,” he barked.

I shrugged out from under
their hands, his men releasing me at a nod from Lars. He followed
me into the closet, blocking the doorway as I opened the fuse box.
He was amazed, spirits elated when I put the book into his hands,
never for a second thinking I actually had it.

“Does Reed know?” he asked.

“No. I was supposed to tell him when I found
it, but...”

“
You read it instead,”
Lars guessed.

I had to convince him
otherwise, being privy to that book would get me killed. “No, I
never gave a fuck about the book,” I said, making sure to meet his
eye. “I just wanted to piss off Reed.”

He studied me for a
moment, and his assessing gaze made me wonder if he had a gift.
What if he could sense lies? But he suddenly laughed again,
startling me from my paranoia. “Oh, you have,” he assured me. “Reed
will be seething.”

While Lars carefully
inspected his new acquisition I ducked past him, wanting to keep
Lucas in my sights. I stood behind the chair, holding his shoulders
to keep him upright. He’d started to slump, and I was terrified the
knife would shift and cut something inside him.

“
Well, I must say, this
visit went better than expected.” Lars waltzed up to me, the book
tucked under his arm. “I didn’t get too carried away. Your
boyfriend gets to live, and he will, live, that is, if you get him
to a hospital without much jostling.”

“
Should I thank you for
that?” Hate thickened my voice.

“
If you like,” Lars said,
gesturing for his men to precede him. And that was it, he turned
and left.

I didn’t move, listening
to them as they shuffled for the door, waiting on the click that
would mark their departure. As soon as I heard it I rushed to
Lucas. I had to call 911, but I didn’t want to leave him alone in
my kitchen, tied to a chair with a knife in his gut. And to make
matters worse, he was slumping again.

I glanced around the
kitchen, trying to remember where I’d put Francesca’s left over
tape. I found it in a random drawer and hurried back over to Lucas
where I taped his shoulders to the wooden backing. His head lulled
forward, but otherwise he stayed in place. I was just about to
leave through the back, needing to use Luke’s phone to call for
help, when I heard a noise.

The front door was pushed
open, but I didn’t hear it close, then slight footsteps, slow and
cautious. I positioned myself in front of Luke, searching around
for some sort of weapon, but there was nothing.

“
I have a gun,” I lied,
hoping Lars hadn’t come back.

“
Ms. Graves, is that you?”
someone called from the hall. “You signaled an emergency. I’m here
on Mr. Wallace’s orders to assist you. Please put down any weapons
you may be holding. I’m going to slowly step into the
kitchen.”

The man appeared, old but
fit and slim, his face familiar. I’d dealt with him on Reed’s
estate once. He was head of security or something such.

“Come and help me,” I said, stepping aside
so he could get a glimpse of Lucas. “I was going to call 911, but
it’ll be faster if I take him myself.”

“
Wait,” the man said,
stopping me as I began to tip the chair back. “Let me check him
first, don’t move him yet.”

“
Hurry up!” I bit out,
beyond patience. “In case you didn’t notice he’s been
stabbed.”

“
Yes, Ms. Graves, I see,”
he answered calmly. So much so, that I wanted to strangle him. “I
was an EMT once upon a time,” he added, his hands briskly skimming
over Luke, and I could see the training. “He’s lucky, his injuries
are so well placed,” the man announced, standing back, feeling
satisfied.

The knife said otherwise, as did the
dribbles of blood on my kitchen floor. I wouldn’t feel any sort of
relief until Luke got some medical attention, and one old EMT
didn’t count.

“Move,” I barked.

The man stepped aside,
questioning me all the while. I hardly heard, too busy with Lucas.
Tipping his chair back so all the weight rested on its hind legs, I
began dragging it toward the front door.

“Who did this to your friend?”

“
Do you know who attacked
you?”

“
Can you tell me what
happened?”

“Larson Hurst happened,” I finally replied.
“Now help me or get the fuck out of my house.”

The carpet was giving me a
hard time, and I didn’t know how I was going to get Lucas from the
chair to my car. Reed’s men came in handy for that. There were four
others, they’d been ‘securing the premises’ and at the older man’s
request, were able to lift the chair and carry it outside with
little effort.

“We have an SUV,” the man in charge was
saying, badgering me really. “The ride will be easier for your
friend if we take him.”

“No,” I insisted. “I’m taking him.”

“I’m afraid that’s not a good idea, not if
what you say is true,” he argued. “Lars Hurst is a dangerous
man—”

“
Fuck
you!
” I shouted, going hysterical in a
heartbeat. “I know your motivation—Reed told you to stay with me
until he got some answers,” I said, reading him like a book. “Well
tell him this: Lars Hurst has the diary, that’s right,” I said,
sensing his shock. “
I gave it to
him!
And now I’m taking my boyfriend
to the hospital and if you don’t move that fucking SUV, then I’m
going to plow right into it!”

Well, there wasn’t much to
say after that. They did move their vehicle; it’d been blocking me
in. They even helped lift Lucas from the chair to the passenger
seat of my car where I carefully buckled him in. And then I left
the five of them scratching their asses in my front yard. It was
the older man, the head of security, that I felt, his emotions
following me as I drove off. He was chewing over what I’d told him,
feeling intensely worried, and rightly so. The messenger got shot
more often than not, and Reed was going to be out for blood when he
found out—Demidov’s diary was beyond his reach and in the hands of
an enemy no less. We were all in for it.

Everything was a blur at
the hospital. The drive had taken less than fifteen minutes, but
waiting as they wheeled Lucas away, well, everything after that
lasted an eternity. I tried to fill out his paperwork, tried and
failed. I didn’t know his social security number, which wasn’t
surprising. But I was surprised to find that I couldn’t answer a
host of other questions, some very basic. Did he have insurance? I
assumed so, him being a business owner and all, but I couldn’t
supply the details. Not about that or his medical history. Did
cancer run in the family? Diabetes? I gave up, returning the
clipboard, only a few lines filled in, rather embarrassing as I’d
already professed to be his girlfriend.

I thought it would give me
better access to him, smudging the lines about our relationship,
but they didn’t tell me much anyway. They were removing the knife,
followed by stitches and x-rays, etc. etc. He would be on pain
medication, asleep most likely, and groggy if not. I was welcome to
wait, but the nurse hinted it would be a day at least before he was
well enough to speak with me.

I didn’t want to do what I
did next. It killed me, but I did it for Lucas. He shouldn’t be
alone. I called the Crowne, knowing Elaine would still be skulking
about. I left a message for her at the front desk, saying it was
urgent. I had no doubt that she would be waiting when he woke up. I
would not be. I had something to do, or to be more specific,
something to fix. And thanks to Nancy Bristow’s prediction, I knew
just how to do it.

The ER was much busier than the rest of the
building. I wandered the halls, a plan having formed. All the
ingredients necessary could be found in the hospital, with once
exception—bolt cutters. Ah, well, I’d just have to improvise.

I had a bad habit of
rushing forward, recklessly putting myself into danger. I’d done it
with Beagban, and with Smith’s killers. It usually felt right,
almost relieving to just jump. After years of idle island life, the
one day at a time mentality, always lying low, new excitement was
infectious. But apparently the thrill only extended so far, and
demons were the limit. I didn’t want to summon a demon. It was an
undeniably dangerous avenue, and it felt like digging my own grave.
But the alternative—letting Lars keep the demon’s secrets—was not
an option.

There were a string of
unoccupied rooms at the end of a corridor, and choosing the last
and furthest from the nurses’ station, I slipped inside and shut
the door. Two narrow beds, a bathroom and television, the sliding
curtain pushed back, but available should someone need the illusion
of privacy. I hated hospitals, my time in convalesce after the well
incident had been long and boring. The current smell brought back
the memories all too clearly.

I went into the bathroom
and washed my hands. I don’t know why. But after that I felt a bit
more prepared to spit out the dreaded word. And I did, expelling it
as I nervously stood in the center of the room, the creature’s name
pulled from the back of my throat, stealing my breath as I gave the
quiet, dry cry of “Raulriechmydl.”

I searched the room,
waiting for some magical glimmer and shine. And suddenly I felt
ridiculous, understanding why people preferred pomp and ceremony
with their demon dealing. This was all falling kind of flat, and
worse, nothing was happening.

“
Raulriechmydl,” I
repeated. “I, ah— summon you?”

I was becoming skeptical
with every ticking second that passed, thinking that Anastas had it
wrong. Maybe treading through the veil
did
require a gift, not merely a
name. But then I felt it, a popping sensation in my ears. The
pressure shifting as one realm opened to another.

The demon appeared,
thickening from midair. Unlike the ghosts, he wasn’t pearly or
light, but a blot of darkness, his shapeless form filling in like
poured ink. I waited for some relatable aspect, like when he was
peeled out of Anastas’ body, but it never came. No eyes, no mouth,
just a malformed oblong creature of shadow.

“She calls,” came the creaking voice,
overlaid with an odd, hissing quality I recognized from my
nightmares. “She wants...”

I swallowed, trying to
buck up and show no fear. “
She
wants
you to shut up and listen,” I
said, pleased by my own bluffing. “You want Demidov’s diary, well,
I’m going to help you get it.”

A croaking sound, it might have been a
laugh. The blanket of shadow shifted, almost chuffing in place.
Creepy.

“
Since I summoned you,
here are the ground rules: You don’t leave this room until we reach
an agreement. No personal questions or observations, this is all
strictly business. Now, I understand that negotiations are a lot of
back and forth, but we don’t have time for that. So I’m just going
to lay it all out there—I’ll give you the means to recover the
diary, and by that I mean a body, if in return you answer my
questions and cooperate.”