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REYFYRE AND I DID not speak any further about the pending ball. Instead, we unpacked our meager stacks of clothing while Charity filled three boxes and set them in the closet, so they teetered next to our empty suitcase.
“Anything that remains is a part of the apartment,” Charity announced as she wiped her hands on her jeans and stepped toward the door. “I’ll see you at three o’clock on Saturday.” She didn’t wait for a response and left with a small wave over her shoulder.
Reyfyre went out onto the balcony and shook the comforter one last time before he bundled it up in his arms and came back inside with a sour expression. “We are not ready.”
“No kidding.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Are we in the same block as Charity?”
“No. Her parents lived on the Upper West Side. They owned more than just the bar, so I can see why she chose to abandon this little closet. It’s smaller than my boat.”
I snorted. “Your boat is actually almost twice as big as this place.”
He just nodded and glanced at the news still streaming on the television screen, and his jaw tightened, along with his fists. “If we go after them now, we’ll both end up like those women.”
The screen had transitioned to a dozen horrific deaths played out for the viewing public. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the victim’s faces. One moment, they seemed to be in ecstasy and the next, they transitioned into agony as they screamed their pain.
I could not imagine the shame and horror of the moment. Nor could I imagine willfully walking into a situation that could lead to that specific death. All because someone held a certain resemblance to me or just happened to catch Thor’s fancy. It disgusted me, and airing this over and over instilled a debilitating fear in the viewing public.
The screen transitioned to a square where several people were on their knees with their wrists and ankles bound together. The caption indicated these were people who had tried to flee the moment they received their invitation. A table with an array of glistening blades stood before Thor. His fingers trailed over each knife until he selected one and approached the first offender, who happened to be a woman. He used the tip of the knife to tilt her head up enough for her to see his face. Her defiant brown eyes glared up at him.
“Your deaths will be as painful as humanly possible.”
His sick smile twisted my gut again, and I swallowed the bile. I reached for the remote to turn the television off, but Reyfyre covered my hand.
“Let it play.”
His deadly tone made me pull my hand back, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to look anywhere but at the television.
“There is a small chair on the balcony.” He pointed without moving his gaze from the horror movie playing out on screen.
What Thor did to those poor people made the brutality he rained on Hippocrates seem like a snuggly hug. I noted just how good Thor had become with a simple fish knife before a violent shiver racked my form.
I retreated to the balcony and sat with my hands pressed to my ears and the mixology book open on my lap. I could still hear the screams despite cupping my ears and I just wanted it to end.
Reyfyre finally switched the television off. There were still six more people left to either dismember slowly, or disembowel, or skin them alive and then start carving off visible chunks of muscle until Thor hit an artery or plunged the knife into the victim’s heart to stop the noise.
Silence descended like a fresh coat of snow and eventually Reyfyre stepped onto the small terrace.
“I’m not sure what to do,” he whispered, pulling my attention to him.
“There’s nothing you can do. When it’s our time to go, we’ll have to go. And then we’ll see whether we have some serious award-winning acting skills or not.” My mouth ran dry as the words tumbled from my lips. “In the meantime, we train every last second that we aren’t bartending or sleeping.”
He huffed a laugh. “Who said there was going to be any sleeping?”
My gaze darted to Reyfyre’s tight profile. The meaning I thought was imbued in those words was definitely not the same thing that flitted through my brain.
“Um, if I’m going to be at the top of my game, I need at least eight hours of sleep.” I could get by with six, but I worked better when well rested. And I had not been well rested since the day Reyfyre sauntered into that cave to free me.
“Then you better get it tonight because tomorrow, we start training in earnest. No more lollygagging.”
“Lollygagging?”
“Yes. No more of that. Now the real work begins.”
I moaned, but I followed through and climbed into bed after a few minutes of tense silence.