Page 53 of Hupotasso
“Oh, Angie’s fine with it,” Viper smiles, “all for it, can’t wait, actually. And I’m sure the table behaviour will be exemplary. Any friction must just have been my imagination. Think nothing of it.”
When he’s gone Wolf stands.
“He’s up to something.”
“Viper? He’s always up to something, but the shit he landed himself in with Spider has taught him a valuable lesson. He’ll confine himself to the usual whoring, drinking and gambling from now on — I’d lay money on it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Jag shakes his head. “I’m heading out. I’ll study the maps Sophie left and get my head around the layout of Spider’s castle.”
“I’ll focus on organising a watertight alibi,” I sigh.
“And I’ll be getting laid,” Wolf grins.
“And organising weaponry,” I remind him.
He snorts as he and Jag leave the room.
All going to plan, in six weeks Spider will be out of my life for good, as will Angie and any reminder of the farce I’ve had to live through these past two years.
39
I don’t know what to do.
When I got back to my room last night I’d washed until I’d scrubbed myself raw, and gargled enough whisky and mouthwash to make myself vomit, before continuing to drink until I was drunk.
When I was clean, liquored up, but still shaking like a leaf, I’d had to get a grip on my emotions. Being face raped was horrific, something I don’t even want to think about ever again as long as I live. I’m determined to compartmentalise the assault and pretend it never happened, because it’s not the worst part. The worst part about what Viper’s done to me is that I no longer have any free will.
None.
All day I’ve stared into the mirror, seeing me, but not me. It’s like there’s someone else living inside my head alongside me, and they’re evil, calculating and controlling.
I tried telling a maid this morning what had happened, but my lips wouldn’t open. It was like they were glued shut and my tongue was concreted to the roof of my mouth. I tried stabbing myself with a pen, just to see if I could harm myself, but my hand wouldn’t allow me to pick it up. I tried pretending I was going to write something and then stabbing myself, but I still couldn’t pick up the pen. My brain betrayed me anyhow — any intent to do anything other than what Viper has ordered me to do is thwarted.
I’ve cried all I can cry. I thought my life couldn’t get any worse living in this castle, in this royal vampire hell.
How wrong I was.
My face still swollen from weeping, I make my way to the only one I think might, somehow, be able to help me.
As I step into the kitchen bustling with staff I don’t recognise, I notice her leaning against the far wall, flicking a knife back and forth over her fingers.
When she sees me she sniggers and rolls her eyes.
“What now?”
If she takes in my harried appearance, she doesn’t show it.
“I need to speak with you.”
“Didn’t I make it clear the last time you were here that I don’t like you and I don’t want to speak to you?”
I want to tell her that last time we spoke I wasn’t a zombie under the control of a maniac. But, of course, I can’t. If I try to form the words my throat constricts and I feel like I’m suffocating. Instead, I shrug and try a round-about way to see if there’s any chance at all of revealing that he’s bitten me.
“What can you tell me about Viper?”
“Ask the maids if you seek gossip.”
“I don’t seek gossip. And the maids won’t speak to me, although one did tell me Viper’s hosting a special guest soon, a lady friend. She said Viper probably had a few other people coming too because she’d had to set up several bedrooms.”
