Page 94 of Grotesque Love

My eyes land on a stone carving surrounded by candles. The poem inscribed makes my head hurt. ‘Souls twist into stone’…that was us, wasn’t it? ‘Death intertwines with fate’? Does that mean…we died here? Were we human once?

“There’s a fire, we need to move.” Mal’s words cut through the questions racing in my mind.

“A fire?” Jas echoes, as he gets to his feet, carrying Ari in his arms.

“That mad fucker Danvers!” Mal rubs his face before kicking over a box, which he instantly regrets as intestines slop onto the floor. He peers into other containers, face wrinkled in disgust.

“We split up to look for you, and Mal found the groundskeeper,” I explain, reaching out to stroke Ari’s cheek. She nuzzles against my palm, her blue eyes ringed red from crying. “He tried to get Danvers to tell us where Carver had taken you.”

Mal snorts, “But the crazy cunt grabbed his shotgun and started firing.”

Ari’s mouth opens in shock and she reaches out for Mal to check him over. I notice the chip missing from Jas’ shoulder, but I say nothing, knowing that he will tell me later what happened and why Carver is unconscious at our feet. I can kiss them both better once we’re out of this chamber of evil.

“We’re fine,” Mal reassures her, with a soft smilebefore he shakes his head. “But he can’t aim for shit, so he hit a petrol can in one of the sheds, then the bushes caught fire, which meant the house caught too. And now everything is burning.”

That was an understatement. All the antique woods, the neglected furnishings, the derelict rooms, it’s all being consumed by the blaze, and if we don’t leave soon, we’ll be trapped down here in a fiery inferno. The derelict manor house is the perfect kindling.

“We need to leave,” I say, pushing authority in my voice. This is my family. And I’m not going to risk their lives for a second longer.

Ari clears her throat, and nods towards Carver. “What if he wakes up and crawls out of the fire?”

I raise my brow at her as I usher Mal towards the door. “He’s not our priority love, you are.”

“We can’t let him leave here,” Mal protests, pushing back against me. He grabs a saw from one of the hooks but I take it from him with a shake of my head.

“Let us handle this, little dove,” I assure her, but her brows draw together in a frown. I hate that little line she gets, I want to smooth it out with my finger and erase all her worries.

“No.” She climbs down from Jas’ hold. “This is one monster…one nightmare that I need to face.”

She pushes her braid back over her shoulder, closes her eyes and inhales slowly before her eyes flutter open with a determined glint.

“Help me lift him?” she asks Mal, and a moment later I realise why. Jas is too softhearted for what they plan to do to Carver.

They drag him over to the Iron Maiden and swing open the door. The spikes are dirty, stained like every other thing else in this room. Carver’s poison touches everything.

Carver groans, and he starts to come around, but it’s too late as they position him against the metal stakes and close the door, clicking the lock into place, the sound drowned out by hisscreams. The spikes are designed to hurt, but they won’t kill him anytime soon. He’ll bleed to death, and it won’t be quick.

“Is it me or is it getting hot in here?” Jas asks, as Ari stands before the torture device, looking through the gap into her step-father’s eyes.

“You’ll never hurt anyone else, ever again,” she vows as blood begins to trickle out of the bottom of the device.

“You can’t leave me here. People will miss me, princess,” he tries to rasp out, but there’s liquid in his lungs as he coughs, then cries out when the cough jostles him on the spikes. “I’m not a nobody who can just vanish, like you.”

“Will you bleed to death, Carver? Or burn?” Mal asks, tapping against the metal shell with his claws. “Do you think you’ll smell like roast chicken? Or more like pork?”

“This is a quicker death than you deserve,” Jas hisses, before he ducks into the passageway. “And Mal, I reckon he’ll smell like rancid burnt pork.”

“I’ll take that bet. My money is on chicken.” Mal laughs, and rubs his hands together as he follows Jas. “How about the loser bottoms?”

“Deal,” Jas replies as their voices fade.

The heat picks up another couple of degrees, and there's a smokey scent in the air.

“We’re running out of time,” I warn Ari as she turns away from Carver to look for something in one of the cabinets. Smoke has started pouring in now, in thick black unfurling waves.

“Wait!” she yells as I toss her over my shoulder. “It’s that one!”

Glancing at where she’s pointing, I grab a braid with the sea blue ribbon and leave behind a screaming Lord Clifton trapped in a hell of his own making.

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