Page 35 of V-Day
9.
IT WAS HARD TO FOCUS. Calli blinked her eyes and opened them wide, trying to bring her thoughts together. Her vision filled with swirls and colored flourishes. A deep black pond of calmness smothered every emotion, so even the difficulty of not being able to see properly didn’t bother her. Nor did her predicament.
She was lying on an antique brass bed with a patchwork coverlet. Her wrists were handcuffed to each corner. The silk robe she wore barely covered her, and she was naked beneath it.
Annamaria and four of her women had piled upon Calli, holding her down. Annamaria had injected her with…something. They sat on her for the five minutes it took for the injection to kick in. Once the black still pond spread through her, the women had stripped her and put her in this robe. Then they had walked her through the bordello to this cozy nineteenth century styled bedroom and cuffed her to the bed. Her legs would not cooperate much, although she could lift them and move them forward if she concentrated.
It meant if she concentrated, she might be able to do other things.
Calli wasn’t sure why she needed to do other things. It would be easier just to rest here and let the calm cover her. She could get back to thinking later.
There was no sense of panic. No emotions got through, although she seemed to be able to think clearly. It just took time to process things. Every thought was interesting because it was completely objective.
The door opened and the white-haired man stepped through and shut it again. He was smiling.
Ibarra, Calli recalled, the name coming to her at treacle speed.
He wore only his uniform shirt and pants. No belt, no boots, no tie.
Nothing that could be used against him. The thought popped up as he moved over to the bed, examining her. He was still smiling.
“I am privileged, tonight,” he said, reaching for the button at the top of his trousers.
Calli watched him open the trousers, registering that the fabric wasn’t even a decent quality twill. Cheap-shit cotton only. Probably made in a Chinese sweatshop.
The indignation the thought should have generated didn’t arrive.
Ibarra settled on the bed beside her and rested his hand on her middle, just below her breasts. His fingers stroked. “I have been looking forward to this for many days now,” he told her.
He’s going to fuck me. Like every other thought, this one was pure fact, devoid of stress. Calli turned her head enough to look at him, at the pure white hair and the mad eyes.
He isn’t Nick.
Some entity in her mind nodded in agreement. Yes, he was not Nick.
No one but Nick should touch me this way.
Pure fact. Yet incontrovertible. The conclusion was also inescapable. Ibarra was not about to stop, so, because this could not be permitted, she must stop him. Only, her hands were not available. What else could she use, instead?
The pure thinking machine which was her mind ticked over and discarded possibilities. The lack of emotion made it easy to assess each possibility quickly, without getting hung up on the horror of it all.
The observer in the corner of her mind whispered that there would be plenty of horror later.Only that was for later,she argued back, as she discarded all but one line of action, requiring only two steps, both using the tools which were available.
As Ibarra leaned over her and tugged the belt of the robe undone, as the silk slithered off her body and exposed her, she raised her head, clamped her teeth on his ear and ripped.
That was step one.
*
CAPTAIN PARRIS GRAVES SHOOK HERhead, her jaw rock-hard. “This isnota sight-seeing tour! I am not taking a single other civilian! Period!”
It was the first time Chloe had seen Parris Graves appear anything other than completely contained. She had a feeling Parris would seem just as controlled when under fire yet dealing with civilians was popping her cork.
Chloe glanced at Parris’ red hair and hid her smile. There was a natural hot temper under all that discipline.
Isabela Peña crossed her arms, her two daughters on either side of her. “It is my house you will be raiding for supplies. If you do not take me with you, I will consider your raid an act of burglary and will file charges.”
Parris’ mouth dropped open. Her men, Chloe noted, had withdrawn along the gully and stood with their backs to the tight circle around Parris. They were letting their commander take care of the silly civilians.
