Faline

Back out to the hallway and away from the kitchen, there are twelve people in total here that are being used as sex toys. I intend to see each one freed. I hurry forward to match his stride.

"Do you know the Johns in there as well?"

I could probably figure that out myself if I go back through the memories but I really don't want to. Brain feels dirty enough. Some of the devices I'd seen were being used for an assortment of things that they really weren't originally made to do.

"Regulars. Stuffy office types that get off on causing pain."

His whispered response has my jaw clenching.

"Want this done as quietly as possible. Don't want to alert the one below. While I take care of the office trolls, you get the others freed. Keep them quiet. I'm sure by now Brucey and Ed have their hands full, so don't need to worry about them."

Actually not too sure about that but I can't hear the chatter that had been going around. Tad points out two bedrooms along the next hallway. Wasn't necessary, can hear and smell them from out here.

Annoyed, I bite my tongue, putting another halt on my breathing. Both vics are male, big, and animals. Tied down and drugged, although not enough to not be aware of what's going on, and they can feel everything. As is proven by the muffled grunts of pain coming from ahead as I tiptoe closer. Isn't needed, footfalls are silent without having to do so. Like breathing, it's just another human habit.

Hand gets held up to the guard as I quickly but quietly open the door. Sounds within become crystal clear, causing me to wince before I even see it. I have to consciously keep my breath held as I take a quick look around.

Pointing to myself then the man whose hips are pumping enthusiastically, then to Tad and the incense burner on the dresser, he nods and moves over quietly as I sneak up behind the shorter man. Might actually be taller, but he's leaning over the man who's bent over the end of the bed.

Eyes closed, face twisted in pain, and a ball gag strapped tightly to his face, the image burns into my brain in anger and outrage. Bright gold-green pain-filled orbs open and find me instantly. I don't bother holding a finger to my lips, no point. I've never tried breaking a neck before, but with supernatural strength, it shouldn't be too hard. On an outward thrust, I grab the back of his head and yank back hard.

Quickly grab to position and twisting till I hear a break. Barely any noise made, and what did come out can easily be explained as a sound of screwing. I pull his body back and off the abused male, moving away so Tad can do his thing.

The smokey herb stick has been put out and the ceiling fan turned on. Didn't notice it at first but can now hear it. Limp man in my arms is set near the dresser, neck all wonky.

You never tell a broken neck by the head; it shows in the throat. Bones and such busted and misshaping the skin. This time, however, the head is at a wrong angle and vertebrae poke through the side of his neck. Whoops, got a little too overzealous there. My bad.

Looking in the dresser, I pull out a long nightgown shirt and toss it to Tad. He isn't paying attention, so it lands on the back of the one still strung to the bed. His arms stretched out to either side and belted down, same with ankles.

I avert my face, not wanting to add to his perceived shame. Makes it even more awkward since he's turning his head to keep me in his sights. Another item gets pulled from the dresser and dropped onto the man's face. Just like Tabby's, his eyes are still open, these ones are in surprise though. Personally think someone should see their death coming, but exceptions can be made. Least his was quick, which he didn't deserve.

No bathroom is attached to this room, so cleaning up is going to have to wait. Grabbing up the dead man’s pants, I rummage in his pockets and pull out his wallet. Personally I don't care to know who he is but I toss it on the bed in case the other man does. For some, it helps to know, for others it won't or they don't want to know.

One side of the animal's body is undone, yet he hasn't moved anything but his head to keep a watch on me. I pace with pent up energy. Tad finally gets all the leather straps undone, hasn't said anything to the man on the bed though. Guy thing I think, but then again, what do you say in situations like this? 'I'm sorry' just doesn't seem appropriate.

The ex-bodyguard lays the shirt over the man's rear end, which I'm sure is appreciated, but he still doesn't move. Shock?

"Tad? I need to get to the next room, are you coming?"

Don't mean to sound impatient, but I can't not hear the others' cries. He whispers to the man on the bed before following after me. We make our way to the other door just as quietly. Same thing as last time, I go for the body while he gets the drug put out.

Upon opening the door, the scent of blood hits me hard. After exhaling I hold it, eyes taking in what is revealed as the door opens.

Again coming in at their backs, they're on the bed as well, sort of. Long black and brown hair is wrapped around the owner's neck, being held at the back as a handle to tighten and strangle. A four-poster bed, he's strung up on the foot posts, arms held out and up while legs are bent at the knee and tied higher up as well.

He's hanging at the end of the bed, thick cords holding him aloft. Legs are bent far apart for no other reason than to make things even more painful. The male at his back is nude, but not forcing his groin forward; instead intent on carving strips from his victim’s back.

They’re thin and deep, making his back into a bible page. The verse about witches is written heavily within the bloody and butchered skin. The hung male is hanging limply, but still twitches and stiffens when the blade bites in.

Can feel my face twist into something ugly as I reach for my own blade. Wasn't what it was intended for, but this is where it's needed. The one so intent on his work is humming.

Humming.

Standing almost six-foot, there's no way I'm going to get to his neck quickly. Scrawny, but you can see definition. He's just about to turn when I press close, blade tucked up under his naked shaft.

"If I were you, I'd be very careful how you move, or little Johnny is going to get one hell of a reduction."

His swift intake of breath is what answers me.

"Drop your blade or mine starts slicing."

It drops immediately. We move back so Tad can get to work on freeing the animal from his bonds. I have the man move till he's on his knees in front of the side wall, trembling.

Switchblade having moved to his throat to keep him from making a sound, I fight with myself on what to do. A free hand creeps around and covers his mouth as the blade slices across. The cut is deep; arterial spray coloring the wall as I stare at it.

The body struggles to free itself even as it dies. I keep hold, eyes closing. Smell of fresh blood is strong in my nose. No point in trying to keep from breathing, the drug is already in my system.

When attempted thrashing goes into twitches, I move his body forward to lean against the wall, kicking his legs further apart so his weight is evened to stay in place. Hands are covered in red paint, so I grab the button-up cotton shirt that belonged to him and use it to clean my hands and knife.

"How do I get below?"

Voice has no inflection and my expression is blank as I focus on my hands. Tad looks at me as he works at the cords. Eyes are wary as he looks over me.

"Door by the stairs, it leads down."

Nodding, I finish wiping the metal and retract the blade. It gets slipped back into my pocket as the soiled shirt gets tossed onto the dead man’s head.

"When they can move, get these two up front. Apex has a vehicle coming for them all."

His head inclines while I leave the room. I want to go straight down, but I have to tell Lady what's going on. I follow the scent of blood, seems I wasn't the only one to make a mess.