Corin completed her chores and acted the part of the good wife, but she was always watching and waiting. Part of her wanted to shut down and give up, to play the role she had been assigned in Derrick’s egomaniacal kingdom and simply go along to get along. But, in the end, she had too much conviction to acquiesce to the will of a madman. The very thing that King Derrick seemed to admire about her most was the aspect of her personality which would never allow her to be part of his harem.
Along with the other women, she helped with the preparation of dinner. It was an all-hands-on-deck kind of moment. Derrick was calling it their Last Supper. The final meal that they would share together before entering the promised land. She thought it strange that Derrick, a devout atheist, would latch onto such religious language, but perhaps he was doing that on purpose to set himself up as a sort of living god.
The meal preparations went slowly, since they were only allowed to use one knife. And that knife never left the Good Wife’s sight. Early on, Sonnequa had caught Corin staring at the potential weapon while one of the other girls had used it to peel potatoes.
The Good Wife had snatched up the knife, held it up to Corin’s throat, and said, “Don’t you dare get any ideas, little girl. I know you think you’re tough, but you should know that Fallujah ain’t got shit on where I grew up. Don’t believe for one second that I won’t kill you.”
Corin didn’t flinch as the knife brushed against her throat. She didn’t even blink. She stared directly into Sonnequa’s eyes and said, “We should be allies, not enemies. If we work together—”
The Good Wife applied pressure to the blade until a small trickle of blood ran down Corin’s neck. Sonnequa said, “Before I came here I was addicted to heroin. But that wasn’t even enough. I had to have that heroin cut with fentanyl. Derrick saved my life and gave me a purpose. We are going to do great things together, and I won’t let you stand in the way of that. I won’t let you get the rest of us killed.”
Corin backed down, but she kept one eye on the knife to see where the Good Wife stored it when they were done.
She set the table with two extra places, having been told they had special guests. Then she had taken an assigned seat along with the others and waited quietly for Derrick and their guests to arrive. The man in the skull mask was the first to enter, only he wasn’t wearing his mask. Instead, he wore a black suit with a white shirt and tie. His hair was coiffed and his face freshly shaven.
It was a bit surreal to see the murderer who had repeatedly raped her taking his place at one end of the table as if he was the VP of some Fortune 500 company.
She noticed him stealing glances at her, but she did her best to ignore his eyes upon her flesh.
Derrick entered the dining room next, followed by two men whose hands were secured behind their backs. Sonnequa brought up the rear a few cautious steps behind them, armed with a black pistol.
The newcomers were dressed in tuxedos, as was Derrick. The Good Wife even wore a special dress and silver jewelry for the occasion.
Everyone took their seats at the long table, Derrick at the head, opposite the Gladiator. Corin had noticed that King Derrick used his younger brother like a hammer, little more than a tool for his own perverse ends, which made her wonder if Derrick could throw away his brother—and all of them—just as easily as a used Kleenex.
As he took his place in front of the assembled smorgasbord, Derrick said, “A few introductions are in order. Ladies, these two men are representatives from a federal agency called the Shepherd Organization. As part of this evening’s festivities, you will have the privilege of watching these men die.”
The two agents stared defiantly at Derrick. Even beneath the tuxedos, Corin could see that they were both heavily muscled and powerful men. Both were handsome, in their own ways. The one sitting closest to Derrick, whom he introduced as Special Agent Marcus Williams, possessed rugged good looks and brooding eyes. The other man, whom Derrick referred to as Mr. Ackerman, was movie star handsome and had an odd, gleeful gleam in his eyes, as if he was actually enjoying the proceedings.
After Derrick introduced him, Ackerman snickered and said, “How is it that your benefactor figured out my true identity?”
Derrick rolled his eyes. “They may have changed your face. But when Mr. Demon saw your scars, he knew exactly who you were. He’s a bit of a student of scars, and he has a great deal of respect for your work, as do all of the Legion.”
“Thank you. I try.”
“I have to say that my brother, whom you know as the Gladiator, is itching to get into the ring with you. Destroying you and your partner will be his crowning achievement.”
The big man at the end of the table remained silent, but his gaze was locked on the two newcomers. He looked as though he was ready to spring forward and attack at any moment.
Ackerman said, “That’s sweet. Albeit a little sad, considering that after I kill you and your brother you’ll be just another name I forget later.”
Derrick laughed. “The betting is at an all-time high for this episode of the Diamond Room. And, personally, I can’t wait to see how it all turns out.”
Then, with a snap of his fingers, five muscular black-and-brown hellhounds burst into the room, taking up positions around the table. With a small smile, Derrick said, “Don’t worry, gentlemen, the boys won’t beg for scraps from your meal. They know that their supper will come later this evening.”
Corin shuddered at the memory of the Rottweilers in action, the sounds of their growls and the tearing of flesh.
Ackerman looked down at the dogs with admiration and warmth, as if he would have nuzzled the hellhounds if he had not been restrained. He said, “They are amazing creatures. Did you train them yourself? I’ve always found working with animals to be rather unpredictable. A killing machine that loves you based on the contents of its stomach can never be fully trusted.”
“Actually, our mutual Scottish friend supplied me with my praetorian guard. I can only imagine what he uses them for, but I find them much more dependable than any human. You’ve seen what they can do. If I wished it, I could order them to kill all of you. In less than a minute, all of your jugular veins would be torn out and you would be bleeding to death on my floor as the hellhounds slowly devoured you. I’ve often seen them bury their snouts into the intestines of a meal while it’s still kicking.”
The agent with the brooding eyes—whom Derrick had called Marcus—asked, “Can we pet them?”
This drew a chuckle from the one called Ackerman and a scowl from Mad King Derrick.
Corin wasn’t sure what she thought of their behavior. The two men both seemed fearless, in their own ways. She wondered if they were really so inept as not to see the danger they faced, or were they playing some kind of psychological warfare?
Derrick simply smiled and asked the Good Wife to pass the potatoes.
Marcus asked, “Are you going to undo our hands? I think it’s customary for the condemned to be allowed to eat their own last meal.”
“I’ll have one of the ladies feed you once they’re finished,” Derrick replied. “Besides, I want to hear how an infamous serial murderer came to work for the government.”
“I filled out an application online, but enough about me,” Ackerman said. “Have you ever heard the story of the Persian general who trained wolves to fight as part of a northern campaign?”
“I don’t believe I have,” Derrick said, stuffing a piece of steak into his mouth.
“The wolves were powerful and magnificent beasts, similar to your hellhounds. The general trained them well and thought them loyal. So, when he knew that they would have to cross over a dangerous mountain pass—and it was impossible to move the full force of his army—he used the trained dogs and his best soldiers to mount a forward assault. The problem came when they were snowed in up on the mountain. The general’s second-in-command, who was in charge of the rest of the forces, found them two weeks later. They were nothing but bone. The wolves, however, were fat and happy.”
“My animals are well trained and well fed. We won’t have a similar problem here.”
Ackerman smiled, and Corin caught sight of a terrible shifting darkness in his gray eyes. He said, “But, you see, that’s my point. The Persian general thought that he could control his beasts as well. In the end, he was correct in his assumption that the animals could be trained and domesticated. Where the general went astray—a lesson that perhaps you should learn from—was that he failed to see that powerful uncontrollable forces were moving against him, forces which change the rules of every game.”
“And let me guess, Mr. Ackerman. You are that powerful force?”
Ackerman grinned. “The general in the story underestimated the power of the cold, of winter, and of hunger. I was once a force of nature just like those. There was a time when I was the embodiment of darkness, living solely by the philosophy of the tooth and claw. And I have to say that the old me would love to drink your blood and eat your heart, but that’s not my point. I was merely suggesting that one of your dogs is going to turn on you, and I’m not speaking solely of the canine variety. As they say, live by the claw, die by the claw.”
None of the women had touched their food, except for the Good Wife. Sonnequa still held the pistol in her left hand, as she scooped her meal with her right.
The room was silent as Dr. Derrick and Mr. Ackerman stared each other down. All eyes were on them.
Which made Corin realize that now was the time for her to act.
The Good Wife had a death grip on her weapon, and the knife they’d used to prepare the food was locked away in the kitchen. All the steaks and other food had been precut into bite-size chunks.
But there was one other weapon within reach.
Earlier, when he had knocked her out of her chair, Derrick had retrieved a small pistol from a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. She had no way of telling for certain it was still there, but there was a better than average chance that the sidearm was still in place, considering tonight’s special guests.
The only problem was that her legs were broken, scarred, and basically useless.
The Good Wife sat between her and Derrick, and there was no way she could approach him without drawing everyone’s attention.
A strange memory from her childhood struck her mind like a lightning bolt. One of their many foster homes had a small pond in its backyard. Corin and Sammy had affixed a two-by-four to the end of the dock, to create a makeshift diving board. Her younger sister had been too scared to jump, and Corin had told her, “Sometimes, you just have to make up your mind to jump, and let God handle the rest.”
With those words in her mind, Corin Campbell built up all her nerve. She summoned strength from the girl who refused to die, the one living in a beach bungalow inside her mind, and then she sprang into action.