Page 113 of Horror and Chill
“In the flesh.” I twirl slowly so she can see the leather.
Her hands tremble. “What are you doing? Why do you have Daddy tied up? Who are these heathens?”
Garron looks up at her, his eyes flat. “We are the retribution she deserves. Are you ready to pay your penance?”
Debra’s chin lifts just a little, like she wants to pretend she’s brave. “Stop it, this instant. We are your parents. He is your father. You are to obey and serve.”
I take a step toward her. Her words taste like iron. “I obey and serve no one.”
Michael thrashes against the rope. Without a word, Evander and Garron move as one toward Debra. She spins, trying to run back up the stairs, but Evander catches her first, his arms locking around her shoulders and upper arms, pinning them to her sides. Garron is a second behind him, grabbing her feet so she can’t kick. She twists and shouts, her voice breaking, but they carry her as if she weighs nothing.
Corwin grabs another kitchen chair from the table and drags it across the floor so it screeches. He plants it directly across from Michael. Evander and Garron push Debra down into it. She fights, but the rope is already being snaked around her wrists, her chest, her ankles, the same knots they used on her husband. Her breathing is hard and fast, her eyes darting between me and the men like a trapped animal.
My pulse beats harder. This is the moment I have been waiting for since I was eighteen.
Corwin turns back to Michael, his fingers hooking under the edge of the tape and ripping it off in one smooth motion. The sound is sharp in the quiet house. Michael’s mouth opens wide, spittle at the corners.
“Agatha,” he spits my name like a curse.
I step closer. “Michael.” I do not call him Dad. He lost that honor.
“You bring men into my house? You shame yourself again?”
“Shame?” I laugh. “You do not know shame. You only know control.”
Michael's mouth curls and he spits, “Blasphemy. You will answer for this.”
Garron smiles without humor. “You told her that her body was the devil. You told every woman in that church that they were filth unless they stayed bent. You made your daughter believe she deserved your chains.”
Michael's eyes flash. “You are vermin. A pack of dogs. You will rot in prison.”
Evander speaks this time. “We are not the law. We are what happens when the law fails.” He nods at me like I am the judge.
“You will pay for this,” Michael snarls, teeth bared.
I feel a strange satisfaction that is equal parts terror. This is not mercy. This is not justice. It is a reckoning.
“I’ve been away for years.” I lick my lips. “I thought you two would miss me.”
“We know what you’ve been doing. I knew you’d turn out to be nothing but a whore. You were born wild. Born to sin. You needed harsher discipline.”
Garron’s jaw clenches and his eyes go dark. “What you did wasn’t discipline. It was torture. You beat a child and told her God was smiling.”
Michael cackles. “I tried to save her soul.”
Evander cuts in, “No. You tried to crush it. And you failed.”
Garron produces a belt and snaps it once across Michael’s thighs. The sound is like a whip cracking. Michael screams. The sound punches the air. The second strike lands higher. He tries to curl in on himself, but the rope keeps him from bending.
“Count,” Corwin says to him. “Say what you did. Name it.”
Michael spits and repeats old lines about duty and purity, old lies. Each line gets him a crack with the buckle side of the belt. Debra’s face goes white as milk as she watches what is happening to her dearly beloved.
I stand and watch. “Did you think what you did would be hidden forever?” I ask Michael.
He tries to answer with a scripture. Corwin slaps his face. “No more verse,” Garron says. “Tell the truth or stay silent.”
The belt whistles through the air, and another strike lands across his thighs. He jerks, the chair rattling against the floor. A sound tears out of him, muffled and raw. Garron doesn’t pause. The belt comes down again. And again. The buckle edge glances off bare skin, leaving red welts that bloom darker with each lash.
