Marked. Part I: The missing Link (36 page)

I need to defend her, she doesn't deserve someone else she cares about turning against her.

“
Jay,” the sound of my voice has everyone’s heads snapping in my direction. “She's been used just like us. She tried warning me to leave the minute I entered. Lets not make enemies when we need allies.”

Jay massages the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. He zones back in on Lazra, “Talk.”

“You see,” Lazra begins, clasping her hands back together in her lap, “I've been wanting to get my hands on that dagger for quite some time now. The only problem is I had no means to get it.

“
How do I go about it then? I would ask myself this day in and day out. Then an idea came to me. Get Benedict Cole pissed off enough or in need of something enough that he would hand it over. Now the question is, how am I going to do that? I insured myself that in two ways,” she lifts two fingers, looking overly pleased with herself. “The first, acquiring information that Mister Cole desperately wants. The second – and the most fun I might add – was when I happened to be at the same fundraiser as he and his wife. I was leaving the bathroom when I spotted Kolme Dragoni headed my way. He appeared ready to strike, and as luck would have it, Mister Cole's wife was ready to leave the bathroom as well. I pushed her in front of me and retreated back inside,” she pauses to take a sip of wine, enjoying everyone's undivided attention. “My hope in doing this was to insure Mister Cole's hatred for Mister Dragoni ran deep, and he would be more than willing to hand over the dagger first taken inside the impenetrable walls of Cole Private Bank and Trust by his father.

“
I obviously succeeded in both attempts, acquiring the information he wants as well as ensuring his hatred for Mister Dragoni. Next was finding a person he would intrust the dagger to. Well that was a no-brainer; the only man with three marks and a greed for revenge so strong it consumed him. I knew Mister Cole would ask for something in return, and I hoped it would be the file I had so carefully found. And what would you know,” she laughs in her whimsical, gleeful laugh, her crazy eyes twitching, “it delightfully was. Now, I couldn't have it be easy to acquire or connected to me. I needed this to appear genuine. It all played out exactly as I had hoped. One of my favorite clients easily hooked the gold-digging princess into his life, as I informed him to do, knowing that you would be delighted and figure it good fortune you had an “in”. But now, how do I get you to request the dagger from Mister Cole for me? That is what has taken my plan the longest to play out. I needed an incentive, a reason. You, unfortunately Mister Lincoln, have never been one for money, luxuries, or anything else most people require. I waited, knowing one day the tides would change, and as luck would have it, the beautiful Miss Evans entered your life. Ahh, finally,” she sighs, getting starry eyed, “I found a way to get your attention. Isn't love wonderful?”

I hear Jay growl, but I can't take my eyes off of Lazra, sucking in every word she's speaking, “I sent two idiots your way, knowing you would easily dispose of them, and I hadn't wanted to waste any of my good men on you. And look, here we are, exactly as I had planned. Now, Mister Lincoln, I would appreciate it if you would go retrieve my dagger.”

Jay sits calmly, completely unmoving, eyes locked with Lazra as minutes tick by.

He finally shifts in his seat and swipes his head, “Why do you want this dagger, knowing who it belongs to and what will happen if you get your hands on it?” I detect nothing in his voice. It's calm and level and very un-Jay like.

Her crazy eyes start twitching again, “That dagger is mine!” She shouts, slamming her hand on the side table, making me jump. She recovers her cool, smooths out her skirt, and takes a sip of wine, acting as though she'd never had an outburst. “You don't have any siblings, Mister Lincoln, so you wouldn't understand, but sometimes when a family member dies they pass down heirlooms, and
sometimes
certain family members believe it belongs to them, that they are more entitled to it. That is not always the case, as with my family. The dagger is mine and I want it back.” She says the last sentence slow and clear, her eyes twitching as well as her hands.

She seems to be off her rocker. I'm wondering how mental and off her hinges she really is, and how much trouble Jay and I are in. I start nervously chewing my lip, having a very bad feeling about where her rant is going.

“Oh, fuck,” Jay mumbles under his breath, eyes frantically moving back and forth, lost in his mind, pulling thoughts together. “How did I not see that?” He asks softly to no one, appearing to finally put all the pieces together.

Lazra lets out a chilling cackle, “Because I did not want you or anyone to know.”

He scrutinizes her, “But you've tried killing him too?”

“
He may be my brother, but that doesn't mean I like him.”

Holy shit.

“My father, like my brother, was not right in the head. My father took his insanity out on his family. My brother got his punishments in the torture room – or what some houses refer to as the basement – like our father's father had done to him. Mine were in the bedroom. Our mother would get both, but never as bad as we did. He needed her fully functional so his meals would be on time and the house sparkling clean.

“
One day, my brother was in the torture room recovering from a heavy whipping with a cat o' nine tail, when he snapped. He got our father's dagger – it had been passed down from generation to generation to keep their sons in place – from its lockbox. He came to the dining room where we were enjoying dinner and attacked our father. Slit his throat. But you see, it wasn't enough. My brother has always had a weird tick when it comes to the number three. He only has three meals a day, three things on the plate with each meal, will only sleep for three hours a night, and so on. So after he sliced our father's throat it wasn't enough. He turned on our mother. He still had an itch and he started shaking, repeating that he needed more.

“
I sat at the table trembling, watching the blood gush out of my parent's throats. He kept repeating that he needed more, and who happened to be next to our parents at the time? My beautiful two year old son. He was a gift to me from our father, promising that he would one day pass the family dagger down to him. My brother slit his throat too. Then you could see and feel the peace wash over my brother. His shoulders rolled back and his eyes glowed in a way I had never seen. Mother I didn't care about – she took father away from me some nights, but I loved our father. He was good to me. Seeing my son dead sent me over the edge. I loved my son.

“
I came after my brother with a vengeance, taking my fork from the table and stabbing his eye. My brother was quick and he got me in a head lock. He started in on my throat,” she tilts her neck to display a small scar on the side of her right ear that goes along her throat for almost an inch. “He couldn't do it. He already had three. Four would offset him, cause him unease. I looked at him and told him to do it, to put me out of my misery, and if he didn't I’d kill him. The idea excited him. He liked the idea of pain, of me trying to kill him. I felt him get hard against my leg at the idea. That's when he marked me along my temple. Told me he'd give me two more chances at trying to kill him, and then he'd finish me.

“
That was the only night he ever used the dagger to kill, inventing the claw in it's place, needing the feel of three slashes across their flesh. He should have left me with the dagger. Daddy promised it to me for delivering him a son that he said would replace the worthless garbage my mother gave him.

“
Over the years, my brother found there were many people who'd pay him ungodly amounts of money to do something he craved – killing. He could be rich doing what he loved.

“
I also followed down a dark path. I met a man, a very evil, wicked man, that enslaved me and did unspeakable,” she gives a slight shiver of delight, her lips slightly turning up, “but simply splendid things to me. Things that would break others, but fueled me. He gave it to me just as hard and rough as our father did, and I loved every moment of it.

“
I was young and in love with a man just as twisted as our father. Until someone ordered a hit on him. But my Master was not a man people messed with. Oh no, nobody touched him. Nobody but my dear brother. Again I had to watch him kill a man I loved. I attacked him once more, but I was weak recovering from a heavy beating and being tried out by some of his visitors. I barely got my blade sunk into the side of him. I did get a good twist in, earning a delighted sneer from my brother, who never expressed pain no matter how bad the torture. He gave me my second mark. That was the end of my slavery days, it hurt too much to see another Master I was devoted to die. That's when I opened my brothels and clubs, to cover up being able to offer others the kind of exquisite torture I myself desire. I have a very elite clientèle for my hidden rooms. Sadly, our tastes are not ones most can stomach. Mister Henley here is one of my favorite clients. The pain he can inflict on my girls is beautiful to watch. I've even had the delight of watching him with a few of my boys.”

She cackles, “Silly me, I'm getting off track.” She takes a sip of wine, crosses a leg over the other, and sits back into her chair. “You see, killing is too easy for my brother. He loves when someone goes after him, especially if pain is involved. I had the luxury of hearing him rave about the fight you two shared at the ocean and the beating he took from you on your third attempt. He said both times he was close to death, the closest since our father. He loves the pain almost as much as he loves to give it. You, dear child, are an obsession to him. He knows you have your final mark. He's ready for you to find him, and he's ready to make you suffer.”

An involuntary whimper escapes from her last remark. I'm a wreck with anxiety from hearing her horrible story and tears burn the backs of my eyes. What a horrible, messed up person she is. How can the suffering of her and her brother as children go unnoticed? How does this kind of thing happen? It's not right. I can't believe I want to cry in pain for this clearly insane woman, and her brother who is looking forward to torturing the man I love. It's all so twisted and sick.

Jay leans forward, putting elbow to knees, head in hands, “He knows I'm getting it, doesn't he?” He sounds lost and defeated.

“Of course, dear boy. I've decided this hatred for my brother has gone on long enough. You are my parting gift. I'm handing you over to him.”

Jay and I jerk upright in panic.

She gives her whimsical laugh, “Not to worry, dear. He'll come to you. Where would the fun be for him if I served you on a silver platter? No, I'm giving you plenty of time to plan out your attack. Be sure to make it a good one for my dear brother, he's lived a rough life and he deserves his fun.”

Never mind, I take back any remorse I felt for her. Call it temporary insanity.

“When,” Jay croaks out, then clears his throat, obviously unsettled by this recent turn of events, “When did you inform him I took his dagger?”

“
My
dagger, dear, and don't you worry, you have plenty of time. I got the word out the minute I heard you entered Mister Cole's House. Who knows when word will reach him or how long he'll take to come to you. My brother works on his own time. It could be weeks, months,” she lets out a happy, creepy laugh, “who knows? The suspense is all part of the fun.”

God, this woman is deranged.

“Who else has Lily's file?”

“
Only me, dear. I couldn't have anyone else seek you out. As you know, I've had plans for you. I can't let others spoil it all.”

“
Give me that file now or I'll kill myself and ruin your plans.”

Both Laz and I gasp. Jay remains calm and unwavering, as though he is negotiating a car sale and not his own death.

“You wouldn't.”

“
Yeah, bitch, I would.”

She snaps her fingers and a guard steps forward, placing a USB in her hand. She lifts it between two fingers, “It's all yours.”

Jay stands to retrieve it, “What about Vault's file? I can't go there without it.”

“
It's on here too.”

“
Anyone else have this information or has seen it outside of those in this room?”

“
No, nobody else. Quake had my only other copy, which you've already had your hands on.”

Jay removes it from her fingers, guns following his every move, “I guess I'll go get your dagger.”

“Wait,” she stops him as he turns to leave. “Two of my guards will go with you. If you dare try to take them out or let anyone know what is going on, I will kill her and it won't be pretty.”

He whips around, and with lightning speed has his hand tightening around her throat. Her men are just as fast, circling around them, all guns pointed at his skull.

“Lay one fucking hand on her, Lazra,” Jay spits out and you can almost see the red flames sparking off him, “I will gut you. Got it?”

She licks her lips, not in fear, but with desire and lust.

Deranged lunatic.

“
Promises, promises,” she manages to get out, raspy from his firm choke hold.

He backs off, “Not a single fucking finger, you got that crazy bitch?”