Huntress (15 page)

Drew was trying to reason with this mad man, but I knew better. You don’t reason with insanity. You drug it, you kill it, but there is no reasoning.

"Do you not think that I’ve already looked for her? She’s been missing for weeks! I want her back and I want her back NOW!" he roared.

"Father please," Drew pleaded, "You know that I can find her. I’ve done so before and it should take me no time. You’ll be back in your lab before you know it."

"I think not Adonis," the fire in Zachary’s eyes brightened as he gazed upon me. "I think that I shall take the bastard with me. I will use her blood to track Diana myself. And then," he smiled with malice and madness. "Then I believe that I’ll come out and play a bit. Things certainly have changed while I’ve been indisposed."

"NO!" I screamed and returned to my struggles. It was like a flea beating upon a tiger. My scratches and kicks had absolutely no effect on this man who’d raised himself to God.

I looked desperately toward Drew and saw that his nose and ears had begun to bleed. His face was filled with anguish as he struggled to reach me, arm and fingers straining.  Like he thought if he could stretch
just a bit
further, he’d be able to save me.

I knew better. Nothing was going to save me. What would happen to my baby? We were supposed to decorate the fucking tree tomorrow. This couldn’t be happening!

Oh Dylan…

Those were my last thoughts as darkness filled my head and my body was whipped into nothingness.

In my books, the heroine always "comes to" with smelling salts or someone gently waking them. Oh, not me. I wasn’t afforded that courtesy. My consciousness hurtled out of the dark void screaming in pain. "FUUUUUUCK! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

It felt like every bone in my body was broken and the meat sack that surrounded them had been run through a shredder with a lemonade cocktail poured on top.

To make matters worse, I was freezing, naked, and strapped to a metal table.

"Interesting," Zachary murmured. "I was sure that you’d have died from your injuries. I made certain to create quite a bit of havoc with your body."

My limbs shivered uncontrollably and I forced my mind not to focus on what exactly he might have done with me while I was unconscious.

"Wh-where am I?" I could hardly talk with my teeth chattering so hard.

"In my lab. Where do you think you’d be?" His voice held a hint of annoyance and I could hear the clinking of metal instruments as he puttered around.

"Wh-why?"

"Well, because this is where I work, Bastard Child."

"Why-why do you keep calling me that?"

"It’s what you are," he replied.

Oh right, of course! How could I have been so stupid? I clenched my teeth together to prevent the sarcastic words from falling out. The Grace who was terrified right now wanted to keep her mouth shut. The pissed off Grace wanted to tell this son of a bitch exactly what I thought of his crazy little escapade.

I wish that Terrified Grace had been a little more forceful in her wishes because Pissed Off Grace’s mouth opened.  Keeping it shut would have caused less pain.

"So, since you get to call me Bastard Child, can I call you Batfuck Crazy? We’ll be the BC twins."

He hit me so hard and so fast that I saw stars and heard the crack of my shattered cheekbone. It sounded like a gun exploding an inch from my ear.

I wanted to bite my lip to keep from crying out, but my jaw wouldn’t work. So, I cried. I sobbed with the pain. I’m not stoic. I didn’t suffer through childbirth in silence. Hell, I could hardly get blood work done without tearing up. I don’t do pain.

This went beyond pain. This was an agony worse than any child birth in the history of man.

"That’s a lovely purple color blossoming on your face. I wonder if it will heal. I should write this down."

 "Why me?" I couldn’t say much, but I needed to know what this guy had against
me
in particular.

"Why what, dear? You’ll have to speak up.
 
I can’t hear you that well. Enunciation is the key."

I let another scream fill the back of my throat and I howled in frustration, refusing to let the tears win. Rage was what I needed. This was bullshit. All of my life I’d dealt with adversity and after coming to some sort of peace with the cards dealt to me, this shit happened. Whoever was in charge was getting an earful when my body finally gave in and died from this abuse.

God, what if I was reported missing? Where was Drew? Why wasn’t he here rescuing me? Isn’t that was Heroes were supposed to do?

"Why. Me." I gritted out.

"Did you know that Diana and I were married several hundred years ago? I imagine right before she tricked me into this lab, actually. You’re certainly not
my
daughter," he chuckled. "And thank goodness for that considering what you were doing with my son. That would have been awkward, no?"

Yes, actually that would have been awkward and my stomach turned a little at the thought.

"So, what was my Diana doing? Well," he chuckled again without mirth. "We obviously know what she wasn’t doing, don’t we, Bastard Child?"

He muttered to himself as he rummaged through the lab equipment, as though he were looking for something important.  I closed my eyes and tried to focus on something - anything - other than the pain.

Well this was interesting. It looked like someone wasn’t being entirely honest with me.  Of course, what else could I expect from a mother who’d abandoned me?

Did I have abandonment issues? You bet your ass I did.

Was she on another jaunt? A little romantic get-away? She’d better hope to all that was holy to her that she wasn’t. If I were suffering so that my mother could get laid, Zachary wasn’t the only one she had to worry about.

"I see that you’re making connections. This is interesting. I can see your anger. Where is this anger coming from Bastard Child?"

"I have.  A.  Name." I ground out.

This seemed to startle him. I don’t think he wanted to think of me as a living being. It was easier to destroy something that was just an object, wasn’t it?

"I imagine that you do," he replied nonchalantly.

"Grace. My name is Grace. I have an eleven year old son. His name is Dylan."

Before he killed me, he was going to know who I was. I wasn't just some castoff from an unfaithful wife. I was so much more. How ironic that I didn't figure this out until I was lying on a metal slab on the verge of death.  I was going to tell him that I was strong, witty, compassionate, brilliant and loving. I was going to give this man as much information as my mouth could before my jaw fell off.

"I grew up with an adoptive family. They didn’t like me much. Too many strange things happened around me. I-"

"Hold on a moment," he cut me off. "I want to get comfortable for this. What kind of strange things?" He pulled a stool up next to me and settled down, leaning against the table. 

His interest surprised me. I was planning on going forward and just giving this man my wrecked life story. However, if he wanted strange details, I’d give them.

I recounted the story of the freak storms, the dead boy and the earthquakes.

The earthquake story seemed to interest him the most. He kept making me pause and asking me questions.

"I’m sorry it’s hard to talk. My jaw and face hurt so much," I hedged with the hope that he had something that could heal me.

He sighed and impatiently covered my face with his hand. It burned hot for an instant, and then the pain was gone.

"Thank you."

He nodded away my thanks and gestured for me to continue.

"It seems as though the earthquakes only happen when I’m angry and can’t control my temper. Drew was trying to help me control those."

"Who is this Drew?"

"Your son, Adonis."

"Mortal names!" he scoffed in anger. "He has the name of a God and yet he refuses to use it. He’s so impetuous. I should have drowned him at birth but No! Persephone wouldn’t allow it. She and I have a bit of a talk coming as well. Why didn’t she tell me all of this until too late?"

As a parent, I could understand his frustration with his kid. There were fractions of a second where I wanted to drown Dylan too. Did that make me evil? No, it made me human.  Something sounded off about his words, but my pain wracked brain couldn't make sense of what it was.  I tucked his words away for later. Hopefully there would
be
a later.

"Why were you locked in this lab? What did you do? I mean—besides sinking Atlantis? Which, if you ask me, should have been enough."

"How is that your business?" His voice grew cold again. "Tell me more about these weather anomalies." I heard more clanking. "Do they only happen when you’re angry or upset? Why haven’t I felt anything since you’ve been awake? Here, let me just do this to test," He whipped his hand out and stabbed me below my breastbone, missing my lung and heart by centimeters.

I screamed in surprise and pain. God, why did I think that reasoning with him was going to help me? What? We’d share a few words and he’d take me out for pie and coffee?

One of the true flaws in the makeup of Grace was that I was always rooting for the underdog. Were you misunderstood as a kid? Did you not get that raise you deserved? Were you down by fifteen points in the Super Bowl and even though I hated your crappy ass team did I root for you? Yes. Yes I did. Every fucking time.

Where did it get me? Strapped to a god damned metal table with a knife sticking out of my chest.  The lack of tremors disappointed him and he stabbed me again for good measure. 

The good news was that the pain was starting to dissipate.

The bad news, I guess, was that the pain was starting to dissipate. I didn’t know how much longer I would live under these conditions.

How funny.  I had spent weeks having anxiety over outliving all of my friends and family only to die before I became immortal. My lips quirked up in a small smile. Alanis Morrisette hadn’t included this one in her song, but she could have.

"What are you smiling at Bastard Child?"

"Grace," was my only reply.

"There is no grace here, child. Only your imminent death awaits you."

He chuckled as though he thought this were funny. I actually started laughing too, which hurt my broken ribs. A bubble of blood escaped my lips.

"No, you stupid fuck. That’s my name," I choked out. Blood spattered across my cheeks and dribbled down my neck.

"No, no, no. You don’t get to die yet."

There was a modicum of alarm in his voice. I couldn’t see him anymore - everything was growing dark.  I felt satisfaction in his alarm. What did the idiot think would happen when he stabbed me twice?

"If you’re powerful enough to cause earthquakes and rogue storms, you should certainly be able to survive a bit of roughing up."

I could have laughed at the grousing in his voice, if I’d been able to actually draw a breath. He was obviously perturbed that I was going to die. Good. I hoped that Diana came back from her jaunt and rammed his cock up into his brains.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. I had no such flashing. I couldn’t reach past the pain and the small satisfaction of besting this idiot of a man to think about my life. I didn’t even think of Dylan in those last minutes. The only word that filtered through my pain-fogged brain was, "Finally."

Light shone brightly on my face.  This was it.  I was going to heaven!  I'd always worried, of course.  Not having a solid belief in a One True God tends to make the perpetually clumsy a bit nervous.

I suppose now I'd be proven wrong.  Either someone was letting me through the pearly gates, or God was about to pull a fast one on me at the last minute - sort of a thumbing of His or Her nose.

"God?" I asked hesitantly.

"I’ve been called such," replied that hated voice.

"OH God DAMNIT," I yelled. "Won’t you just let me die already?"

"You’d give up so easily? What of your beloved Son?"

"Yes! Yes I would. I don’t like pain. Where is my son? Where is my Mother? Has anyone found her? Why am I still stuck here with you?"

"Ahh yes, there’s some spirit. I was wondering if you had any."

"Why did you bring me back? I know that I died. I could feel it." My voice sounded so small to my ears. I hated sounding small. I was a lion! I was going to jump off of this table and kick this man’s holy lovin’ ass! Er…just as soon as I could move my legs.

"Oh, I didn’t. You did this yourself."