Dr. Oystein stares at me solemnly as I glare at him and try to break the spell that I’m under. But, as much as I strain and twitch, my limbs won’t do what I want. Owl Man is in command of my body and I can’t move until he frees me.
“There is such ferocity in her expression,” Owl Man murmurs, running his fingers over his bulging stomach and pursing his lips. “I think she would rip your head off if I released her.”
“No,” Dr. Oystein says softly. “She could have killed me in the brewery if she wished to end my life. I was at her mercy but she spared me.”
“That was a mistake,” I snarl, hating myself for what I’ve done to Barnes, hating Dr. Oystein and Owl Man for making me do it. “If the chance comes my way again…”
Dr. Oystein sighs. He studies me sadly for a few seconds, then stands and fetches another seat. He positions it behind me and nods at Owl Man.
“You may sit, Becky,” Owl Man says, and I slide backwards onto the chair.
Dr. Oystein sits opposite me, hands resting on his knees. He looks tired, bloody and bruised from our fight earlier. Owl Man stands just behind him. Sakarias pads across, lies by its master’s feet and closes its eyes. It looks like an ordinary sheepdog now, no sign of mutant claws or fangs.
There’s movement behind me. Rage enters by the back door, grinning wickedly. He must have rowed ashore and tied Barnes’s boat back up at the pier. He spots the corpse and laughs harshly.
“I bet Owl Man made you kill him,” Rage chuckles.
“You’ll be next,” I promise.
“Not as long as I’m a loyal servant,” he says, taking his place by Owl Man’s side, every bit as faithful as the snoozing dog on the floor.
“Let me at him,” I plead.
“No,” Owl Man says. “Besides, in your current condition, it would not be a fair contest.”
“That is why she asked you to let her fight,” Dr. Oystein says. “She wants him to destroy her brain, so that she can escape. I do not blame her. After all that she has suffered, she deserves the relief of true death.”
“Fine words,” I sneer. “Back them up with action if you mean them.”
“I will,” he says to my surprise. “When we are done here, if you wish for me to execute you, I’ll do that great and terrible thing. You have served my cause in ways no one else ever has, and I know you have paid a dreadful price. If oblivion is the reward you crave, I’ll grant it.
“Release her, Zachary,” Dr. Oystein says, calling Owl Man by his preferred title, even though the creep’s real name is Tom White.
Owl Man looks uncertain. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“I think that she is ready to listen to us now,” Dr. Oystein says. “If not, you can always reassert your authority over her.”
“Very well.” Owl Man waves a hand at me. “You’re free,” he says, and I feel myself relaxing back to normal. As soon as my limbs are my own, I hurl myself at Dr. Oystein, fingers clawing for his eyes.
“Stop!” Owl Man barks, and I freeze. “Sit,” he says, and I return to my chair.
“It seems that you were right and I was wrong, Zachary,” the doc notes glumly.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “It was a knee-jerk reaction. Let me go. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
Owl Man cocks an eyebrow at Dr. Oystein. The doc doesn’t hesitate, nodding immediately. “Very well,” Owl Man says. “You’re free again, Becky.”
I’m out of my chair even before he’s finished saying my name, and this time I almost get my hands on an unflinching Dr. Oystein before Owl Man exerts his control over me and once more sends me back to the chair.
“It’s hopeless, Oystein,” he says. “The girl is beyond reason.”
“So it seems,” the doc murmurs. “Yet I would try with her, Zachary, again and again. She is worth so much more than you or I, and I hate what we have done to her.” He grimaces. “But we don’t have all night. I will leave her a prisoner of your wishes for the time being.”
“Ever the gent,” I sneer, then glare at Owl Man. I hate this tall man in the striped suit, with his potbelly and abnormally large eyes, but I’m impressed at the same time. “How the hell do you do this anyway? The doc said you hypnotized me when I was a kid. Is that true?”
“I certainly hypnotized you,” Owl Man purrs, “but more recently than that. I did it when you returned from your first encounter with one of Albrecht’s babies, after it had killed your artist friend.”
I think back. “You mean when I was in the Groove Tube?” That was a long time ago. I was in bad shape then–though nowhere near as bad as I am now–and had to spend a few weeks immersed in the restorative liquid, in a blissed-out, unconscious state.