Page 5 of Dark OZ

“Well at least her legs are unmarked. Small blessings. Of course I expect remuneration for the damage done during transportation.” Eastin circled the desk and picked up what looked alarmingly like a whip. Except where normal whips were long, this one was shorter and had nearly a dozen finely braided tails of red leather. The tassels glittered in the light from the small faceted gems lining each one. Shiny metal points adorned the ends of each strap. They flashed ominously at me as she ran it slowly through her fingers.

“I have a gift for you, Dorothy.”

God, I hated that name. Eastin’s scary sweetness wasn't doing any favors. It was eerily quiet. Guards stood silently in the corners of the room like gargoyles. It made the gentle shhhing of the whip passing through Eastin’s fingers sound like thunder.

Her eyes almost glittered with delight. What was she waiting for? Was I supposed to say thank you for what I was fairly certain was a torture device?

“The only marks she was supposed to have are the ones I place.”

Beside me Henry made an audible gulping sound, and I laughed again. I should be more worried. A normal person would be pissing themselves right now. Perhaps I was already so damaged that I couldn’t bring myself to worry, not when Henry’s discomfort was so damn amusing.

“Of course, Ms. Witcher. I’m sure Em will pay whatever you demand,” he mumbled out.

Eastin made a slight nod to a guard. In a flash of light the man wrapped a garrote around Henry’s meaty throat. He made a pathetic strangled sound, his feet scrabbling beneath him, and his fingers straining uselessly at the wire. The guard muscled him to an outer terrace and with a heave tipped him over the railing. It was almost comical. Like a cartoon character walking off a cliff and hanging suspended in the air before plummeting, Henry’s choked scream faded as he fell the fifty floors to the ground.

I will cherish the look of panic in his eyes for the rest of my life. “Fly, monkey, fly.”

A slicing pain lanced the back of my thighs. Eastin swung the whip by her side, the smile on her face could only be described as feral.

“Do you like it? I had it made just for you.”

“What?” I said, more in shock from the unexpected pain than anything. I ran my fingers over the welts striping my thighs, their tips coming back stained red.

In a blur of leather, the tailed whip flew again. This time I saw them crack, then white blanketed my vision. It was then I realized two things. Eastin had been gentle with that first hit, and I needed to be very careful if I was going to survive long enough to escape.

“You have still not earned the privilege of words.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the throbbing pain in my back made me close it again.

“Good. At least it learns quickly.” She pointed at her desk with the hilt of the whip. “Kneel.” Eastin turned to the guard, waving vaguely out the window. “Take a team and clean that up.”

“Yes, sir.” He said walking out of the room, leaving us alone. For some reason, knowing we were alone was what it took to make panic finally rise in my chest. Still, I’d had enough practice with Em to hide my fear. I walked calmly over to the desk, and lowered myself to my knees. I just had to play the good girl long enough to find a way out.

“Did Em tell you the truth about how your parents died, Dorothy?”

My parents? What the hell did my parents have to do with anything?

“No,” I said quietly before adding a tentative, “sir.” See, I could be—

Crack.

I arched against the pain in my back. Fuck, it burned. Trickles of blood slid in dozens of tiny trails along my spine. I shook, taking several deep breaths through my nose, trying to block out the impulse to scream.

“No?”

I blinked the tears from my eyes, using all of my free will to look at Eastin without flinching.

Crack.

I brought my hands up to muffle the agonized sob that I couldn’t keep down. Nothing felt like this. Nothing. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think through the pain. It hazed over everything making the world look like it’d lost its color.

“I suppose that makes sense. Emily always was gutless.”

She took the hilt of the whip, driving it under my chin to be sure I was looking at her. She pulled up on it, forcing me to stretch until I nearly toppled from my knees.

“I, sweet girl, killed them. Or rather, we killed them.”

I sucked in a breath. We? As in, my Aunt Em and Eastin? My aunt was terrible to me, but she always made it seem like she’d loved my mother. I could barely remember my parents, but I knew for certain that their death had changed everything.

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