| Chapter 11 “The next lesson is up to you, Anders. You will teach our young Spencer who is in control.” “He will not trust me, Father,” Anders protested, his hands rubbing together slightly, fearful of failing once again. “You have gotten Emily to trust you, haven’t you?” “Yes, but it took action I am not accustomed to taking.” Faison smiled. His hand reached out and patted Anders cheek in a demeaning fashion Anders hated. It took all the restraint the son had not to hit his father in return. “Life is about control, Anders. Your control, my control. It is about our enemies and letting them know that when they cross us, there is a bill to pay.” “How has Emily crossed you, Father?” Anders asked curiously. “You’ve never said. In fact, until the other night, I didn’t even know you were going to take Emily. I thought Lucky Spencer was our target.” “He was,” Faison breathed. He took a long puff on his cigar, then exhaled into the narrow hallway beneath the house. They stood outside the cell where Lucky’s torture had taken place. “Plans change. Watch carefully, Anders. You will know when to step in. Take my cue. When all is done, return with Lucky to Emily. They will trust you, believe me.” Faison nodded to the two guards. They entered the cell together, the three of them. Anders, his mind overwhelmed between his desire for Emily, his own sadistic joy in knowing what was about to happen, and his hatred for his father, quelled his bursting passions. His face was neutral as he observed his father through the little window on the door. He leaned against the door as though waiting for the best present of his life. The present that was yet to come. * * * * * Inside the room, Lucky hung in darkness. His legs still wouldn’t support him. His arms screamed in pain, shooting warning signals to his brain as his head lolled forward. The ground below him was all he could see, except for Emily’s face. He could still hear her cries as he was taken away. At least she knew he was alive this time. Alive, for how long? How long could he resist Cesar Faison this time? He wasn’t as strong as he had been before. “Please, God,” Lucky begged in a whisper. “Don’t let Faison win this time. Please help me. Please help me.” Lucky’s head was viciously pulled backward. His yelp of protest was music to Faison as he gazed into the blue eyes that gapped at him in terrorized expectation. “Awake, Mr. Spencer?” Faison hissed, pulling Lucky’s head back so far, Lucky was certain his neck would snap in two. Lucky gritted his teeth in rebellious silence. “So, you haven’t learned your lesson yet, have you?” Faison taunted happily. “I must say I’m not surprised. You were extremely slow to understand my power over you last time. Now you are older, yes?” Faison hit Lucky on the back of the head, forcing it back to it’s lolling position. The dire predicament not only horrified Lucky, but made him feel as though he were no better than the rat he had heard scurrying around on the floor before Faison entered the room. Faison went under the chains that held Lucky so that he was standing in front of him. Lucky closed his eyes refusing to look at the man. Any bit of resistance helped him feel as though he were still himself, still a Spencer. The horsewhip pushing his chin up was a sharp unrelenting pressure that sent further dull pain racing towards Lucky’s already saturated mind. “Open your eyes, Young Spencer,” Faison ordered. “You won’t learn the lesson if you are blinded by your fear.” Faison knew just the words to get Lucky’s attention. Lucky, his mouth dry from lack of water, and breathing through his mouth as he hung from the wall, swallowed before he spoke. “I’m not a coward, Faison. I’ll leave that to you.” An instant slap across the face was Lucky’s reward. Faison gave Lucky that demonic look, halfway between a smile and a frown that always made Lucky know it didn’t matter what he did. Faison was intent on his own purpose, and truthfully if it wasn’t Lucky he was tormenting, it would have been someone else. “You really should know by now, Lucky, that knowing when to keep silent and when to speak shows true courage.” “You wouldn’t know courage if it bit you,” Lucky retorted again. “I won’t learn your lessons, Faison. Where’s Emily?” “Emily?” Faison leaned against the cold wall. He used the horsewhip to draw circles on Lucky’s bare chest. Goosebumps formed on the chest, and arms to Faison’s delight. Lucky cursed his primal reaction to Faison’s little ploy. “Emily is the least of your concerns, Lucky!,” Faison returned coldly. He leaned in towards Lucky, his breath on Lucky’s neck. “I am.” “Emily will always be my concern,” came the firm reply. By the door, Anders heard this. He clenched his fist. Emily was his. Lucky had nothing to do with her. In the end, he would make sure Lucky paid for that comment. “I think you should worry about yourself,” Faison warned succinctly. Faison turned to the guards. “Release his arms,” he ordered sharply. The guards hurried to carry out the command. In seconds, Lucky had collapsed to the floor. As he hit the cold cement, he cried out involuntarily. Frustrated at his inability to control his baser instincts, Lucky quickly tried to sit up. His arms were weak, almost numb except for the constant fire within them. His feet were still attached to the wall. Finally he was in a sitting position, the pain from his back, now starting to overtake the pain from his arms. “Feel better, Young Spencer,” Faison asked with a sarcastic note of concern. “You really did look quite miserable up there.” “It’s your torture, Faison. I’m not the one who is crazy.” Silence greeted Lucky’s words to his surprise. Faison walked around Lucky as he, rubbed his arms. Faison leaned down, whispering into Lucky’s ear. “Insults are not what this lesson is about Young Spencer. You should know that by now. Who is in control?” “Go to hell,” Lucky cried angrily. “You first,” Faison snapped. Lucky was just about to turn when a vicious kick on the back of his head from Faison’s Italian Loafer sent him sprawling to the ground. Unable to hold his tears back, Lucky wept. “I warned you, Young Spencer. How many times, have I warned you? This is lesson #2. You should take notes.” Lucky lay, his body curled into a protective ball on the floor. His brain was scrambled like two eggs, dry and well done. He couldn’t take much more of this. “Hold him up!” Faison yelled at the guards. Lucky’s arms were pulled up so that he was standing. This time, his feet found the ground beneath him. He stared at Faison proudly, his cheeks still wet with tears, but his Spencer blue eyes showing his courage, his strength, his determination to win, no matter the cost. Faison held up his weapon. Lucky didn’t flinch. He merely gave Faison a look of contempt. “Drugs, Faison? You can’t beat me physically, so you use drugs? You are a coward.” Faison was so angry, he wanted to take Lucky and choke him, choke the boy until he begged for mercy. He wanted to see Lucky’s sensitive caring eyes bulge from his head as he died a slow, useless death. At that moment, the boy was so like the man, Luke Spencer, that Faison was almost frightened. He swallowed his outrageous emotions, and shoved the needle in Lucky’s face. “Sometimes, drastic times call for drastic measures. You won’t like this, Lucky. If you would give me your word to cooperate, to let me know who is in control, this wouldn’t be necessary. It is your last chance.” Lucky stared at the syringe. He thought of Emily. He couldn’t help Emily if Faison drugged him. He couldn’t save them if he couldn’t be with her. He was about to speak when Faison pinched the skin on his bare arm, and injected the medication. “Too late,” Faison laughed. “Father, No!” came the distressful cry. As Lucky weakly felt the pinch of the needle, and the plunger deliver the liquid to his system, his head shot up to see Anders run into the room. Anders, grabbed his father by the shoulders, and threw Faison to the floor, the syringe clattering down beside the older man. Faison was up in an instant, bustling and angry. “Anders, you fool. You have interrupted us at a crucial moment. Get out of here.” The guards still held Lucky. The confrontation was clearly between father and son. Lucky blinked curiously. What the H*ll was going on? “You can’t do this. He’s just a boy. He’s not to blame for Luke Spencer’s treachery. Look at him. Do you want to return him home in a body bag?” “If that is what it takes,” Faison laughed. “Sometimes you do what you have to, Anders.” “Not this,” Anders protested, while secretly enjoying the look of distress that was slowly appearing on Lucky’s face. His father moved slightly his loafer stepping slightly on Anders’ to remind him of the game they were playing. Each second was precious, and the game had to be played. “Father, let me take him back. Emily and I will care for him. He’s no good to you now.” “He’s got to learn. We have another lesson with the horsewhip. With the medication I have given him, he will finally deliver what I want.” “What do you want, Father? His life?” Anders yelled. Lucky’s body was betraying him again as father and son screamed at each other for his benefit, though he didn’t know it. His limbs and torso sagged as the numbness took over again. The guards exchanged a glance, then released their hold, not realizing Lucky wasn’t unconscious. Instead Lucky seemed to fall through the air, over and over again, every sense heightened, every noise spinning him around and around. With a hard crescendo, his head split in pain when he hit the floor, his soul screaming in silence. He lay where he fell while Faison and Anders continued their argument. Lucky heard, and prayed as the voices wrenched their way to his auditory system. “No more, Father. You’ll kill him at this rate, and then what will you have to bargain with Luke Spencer. Emily might be enough, but if you kill Lucky, Luke will kill you.” Faison was silent. A minute, an eternity seemed to pass for Lucky as he lay on the floor. Another kick made him groan in pain, though he was powerless to move. “Take him. But this isn’t finished, Anders. He will do what I ask in the end.” “If you let him live,” came the cynical reply through the fogginess of Lucky’s mind. Faison’s heavy footsteps, and the slamming of the door told Lucky he had left. Lucky was shocked. Anders had won. He had actually stood up for Lucky, and won against the crazed Faison. Lucky was certain Anders had just saved his life, but for what, for what reason? Anders bent down over Lucky. “It’s going to be okay, Kid. I promise. It’ll be okay.” To his surprise, Lucky was gently picked up, and carried in the arms of one man. He wasn’t much weight, but the difference and the dignity was amazing. Maybe Anders could be trusted to help them. Just maybe he could… * * * * * “Alexis, the music’s finished,” Stefan whispered softly holding his sister in his arms. He was barely holding on to reality himself. The music rang in his ears, sending raw shivers down his spine. Helena’s voice mingled with the haunting tones reminding him of nightmares that should have been left buried. He would happily wring Helena’s neck for the treacherous tricks she was using to harm Alexis, and himself. “It’s over?” Alexis replied in a high pitched little girl tone. “No! Stavros. Where’s Stavros? He always comes at the end.” Alexis gasped as she pushed herself even further into her brother’s chest. Her hands clawed at the air in a futile defensive motion. “Stavros isn’t here, Lexie,” Stefan replied, using his pet name for his sister. He pulled her hands down into her lap. She looked at him with big helpless brown eyes. “Where is he?” She begged. “He always comes when I’m bad. He…he…” “Lexie, not this time,” Stefan whispered, holding her head against his chest, brushing her soft brown hair. “We’re free to go. There is no more punishment.” “No more?” Alexis sighed in relief. Stefan pushed the door of the closet open with his foot. He crawled out, then bent down to help his sister. She took his hand, but shook her head. “You’re certain? Stavros isn’t there? He won’t hurt me?” “No, Lexie,” Stefan replied patiently. He took both of Alexis’ hands and helped her to stand. She stepped out of the closet, then immediately collapsed. Stefan caught her in his arms, and gently deposited her on the sofa while Luke screamed his indignation. “What have you done with her, Count? You’re supposed to help her, not hurt her.” “Shut up, Spencer. You don’t know what you are talking about,” Stefan returned. “She’s merely fainted from the shock. She’ll be fine in a minute.” “The doctor is upstairs with Nikolas. He said he had a sedative,” Luke offered, forgetting his anger as quickly as he thought. “Maybe,” Stefan mused. “Where is the clock?” Luke took the offensive object off the table, and gave it to Stefan. He examined the ornate ballerina. His eyes narrowed. “She dared to send this…” he hissed angrily. “To hurt Alexis where it matters most, in her soul, when she knew she would be vulnerable. The B*tch.” “You got that right!” Luke agreed, surprised that Stefan understood the situation so well. Alexis was coming around. She pulled her arms around her in a defensive motion. Stefan leaned closer from his seat next to her on the sofa. Luke sat down on the coffee table. Their hearts sank as she spoke. “Stefan, get him off me! Please, God, I’ll do anything. I won’t be bad anymore. He’s cruel and he hurts me. Stefan, please!” With a howl of uncontrollable rage, Stefan hurled the musical clock across the room where it gave one last eerie strain, then fell in pieces to the floor. Pulling Alexis in to his arms again, the man whispered gently to her. The doctor came down the stairs while Luke went to talk to him. The doctor waved his hand away at Luke’s concerns for the Prince. “The bullet is out. He’ll barely have a scar. He should be fine. I’ve given him something for the pain. His young friend seems to be good company for him. I wouldn’t worry. I’ll come back in a day or so and change the bandage. As soon as it scabs over, he won’t need it.” “Thanks, Doc,” Luke said. “You just saved me interminable grief from my ex-wife and the Prince’s family.” “The Prince? He said his name was Nikolas,” the doctor returned in confusion. He ignored Luke as he walked over to Alexis who was sobbing uncontrollably in Stefan’s arms. Without being asked, the man took a syringe out of his bag, and filled it with a clear liquid from a vial. Taking an alcohol pad, he started towards Alexis. “What is that?” Stefan demanded. “She doesn’t need any drugs.” “It’s just some Valium. It will calm her down. She seems to have had some kind of shock. If you don’t want it, just say so, but it seems cruel to make her suffer.” Stefan looked up at Luke whose face was torn at Alexis’ suffering and his loathing of drugs. Stefan looked down at Alexis who shook uncontrollably as she muttered Stavros’s name over and over again. Looked at the doctor he nodded. “Good man,” the doctor replied vigorously. He lifted the sleeve of Alexis’ blouse. Pinching her arm, he gave her the injection expertly. He drew back, gathering his equipment and his bag. “She’ll be fine. Just stay with her. I hope she’s not in for any more shocks tonight?” “We can only hope,” Luke snorted. He let the doctor out while Stefan pulled a blanket over his sister. She relaxed her hold on him as the Valium took effect. Her sobs quieted, then stopped. Luke and Stefan waited patiently for her to relax. “Lexie?” Stefan asked as Alexis stopped shaking. Her eyes finally focused. Her hand reached out for her brother’s, and then she gave her other hand to Luke. Through the peacefulness that gave her strength, she smiled sadly. “Oh, God, Stefan. I felt like I was back there. It was as if I were watching everything happen again.” “I know,” Stefan agreed shuddering. “It’s over now. I’ve destroyed the clock, once and for all.” “Thank God,” Alexis breathed. Luke patted her hand and kissed it. Then he got up and walked over the remains of the musical clock. His feet crunched on the glass, then on the head of the pretty ballarina. He picked up the bottom musical clock. He was stunned to see some papers slip out. “What is this?” He asked in confusion. “What?” Stefan cried. Alexis sat up, her body much more calm, and her senses returning. She watched as Stefan took the folded sheets from Luke. She shivered again as her brother examined the documents. Now what? Now what secret was going to implode in their lives? She sighed. At least she was in reality again. What had the doctor given her? Valium? Thank God for Valium. * * * * * Upstairs, Gia helped Nikolas back to his bedroom. They had been standing at the top of the stairs, listening to the conversation below, trying to make sure Alexis was okay. When they heard the doctor say, Valium, they exchanged looks. “See,” Gia said. “The doctor’s giving her Valium. That’ll calm her down. Let Luke and Stefan take care of her. They don’t need to worry about you too.” Nikolas had to agree with Gia. The last thing he wanted was to upset Alexis further. He let his girlfriend gently lead him back to the bedroom. Her slender body was surprisingly strong, and he relished her touch. As she deposited him on the bed, Nikolas pulled Gia down next to him. “Hey!” She cried laughingly. “What’s this? Didn’t the doctor tell you to get some rest. Something about , If you don’t get some rest young man, I won’t be responsible for you.” “He was being melodramatic,” Nikolas replied, his fingers reaching out to touch Gia’s face. She sat, her quiet smile melting Nikolas’ heart. There was something about Gia, something that made him look past her abrasive attitude, something vulnerable. It was pulling at him right now. “What?” He asked curiously. Gia’s hands cupped Nikolas’ face. She gave him a soft, caring look that she reserved for few people. “If that bullet had killed you,” She whispered. She leaned forward, kissing him full on the lips, her tongue sneaking through to taste the man that was Nikolas Cassidine. Electric sparks flew through Nikolas at Gia’s kiss. He put his good arm around her, pulling her down on the bed. They rolled over, giggling. Nikolas barely felt the pain in his arm now. His emotions, his thoughts, his intentions were on Gia. “It didn’t,” he replied, his voice husky with desire. “Nikolas!” Gia objected as Nikolas’ hands went through her hair. “What about Lucky?” Why had she said that, Gia wondered to herself? What a dumb thing to bring up. “We’re going to find Lucky,” Nikolas said calmly. “We’re going to find out who shot at us too. But right now, Gia, Campbell, I need you.” “You need me?” Gia asked seductively. “More than Lucky?” “Gia, I would give anything to have Lucky and Emily walk through that door right now. I’d like to be able to scold him for interrupting us the way Luke did before. Since I can’t, and none of us are in any shape to go anywhere right now, I’d appreciate a little loving and caring from you.” “Loving and caring?” Gia sputtered pretending to be insulted. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” “Yes,’ Nikolas agreed. He stifled a laugh as Gia took off her blouse, and bra in her most enticing fashion. “Haven’t I been by your side all night and all day?” She went on as she let her pants fall to the floor, exposing her brown body in all its luminance. “Yes,” Nikolas murmured, appreciatively looking Gia up and down. “Didn’t I almost get shot with you, spar with Luke and help the doctor heal you?” Gia kicked off her shoes, then slid under the covers with Nikolas. Her silky skin touched his beneath the blankets. Nikolas had all he could do to control himself as Gia’s hands touched him knowingly. “You definitely did,” Nikolas agreed. He pulled her close, his own hands returning her special embraces. Gia gasped breathlessly as Nikolas’ eyes met hers, and his touch made her wonder how long she could take just lying in bed with him. “Nikolas,” She warned. “You’re asking for an awful lot.” Nikolas’ lips shut her up as he kissed her again. He stopped suddenly, his eyes filled with lust, his question clear. She nibbled at his neck, giving her permission as she whispered in anticipation and delight. “Well, maybe not that much,” She laughed. “Not much at all,” Nikolas grinned. Gia turned out the light on the bedside table. In the darkness, Nikolas reached for his hearts desire, burying his fear for his brother, for himself, for all he loved and held dear. Right now, he had Gia, her heart, her soul, her tumultuous spirit. She was his, and she would never leave him. He was sure of it. She would never leave him. * * * * * Fillian’s dead body had been removed. His murderer stood looking out on the river, frustrated, knowing that Alexis wasn’t supposed to have the package. Fillian had failed at the most inopportune moment. The door to the study opened. He turned to see his second in command step into the room. “Celine Cassidine to see you, Sir,” the man announced. Without waiting, Celine pushed her way into the room. She had dressed in purple today, which was her insecurity. She hated him. Unfortunately, seeing him was a necessity. With her heart churning, never knowing what he would do next, she stopped about five feet away from his oak desk. He turned, smiling evilly, sitting down on the desk. The door closed discretely behind them. “Well, Celine? What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with Stefan.” “I was supposed to be with Stefan,” Celine retorted. She assessed that he wasn’t angry, so she sat in one of the plush chairs in front of the desk, putting her purple handbag down on the floor, and putting her arms over her chest in a protective fashion. Her see through purple blouse left nothing to the imagination. “And!” “I haven’t seen him all day. He’s mixed up with the Lucky and Emily disappearance. Just what did you do with them?” “I didn’t,” came the shocking reply. “I had nothing to do with it.” “But, then, it has to be…” Celine sat forward licking her lips in anticipation of the secret she now possessed over Helena. “You are certain?” She demanded, forgetting who she was talking to. He stared at her, his eyes boring a hole in her as they always did. He was so intense. He looked like he was undressing her soul. “Celine, you are wasting my time,” He observed dryly. “I have more important things to do than worry about Lucky Spencer or Emily Quartermaine.” “You know them?” she asked in surprise again. “Of course I know them. Celine, speak or leave,” came the threat. The dangerous tone hit Celine right in the heart. She stood, backing away from him, knowing how little it took… “Helena wants me to kill Stefan. I told you that. She wants to know why I haven’t succeeded.” “Have you told her that if Stefan dies, you will join him?” “No!” Celine’s voice was heavy with denial. He smiled, a terrifying smile she was all too familiar with. His body came to stand before hers. He was much taller and stronger than her, eerily similar to Stefan, but he lacked that smoldering love Stefan…Slow realization dawned on Celine as she was pushed back down into the chair. A heavy finger was placed on her lips, the voice coming through a ringing in her ears. She looked up into his hedonistic eyes while her own mind pictured Stefan. “Be certain neither Helena nor Stefan know of our alliance, Celine.” “I will be certain,” Celine promised, shivering as he pulled away. She stood again as if to leave. Suddenly he turned, pulling her to him. His arm went around her waist, his breath heavy in her ear as he finished his intent. “You are nothing, Celine. Without me, you have no life. I picked you up off the ground when you were practically dead. If you want to live after Stefan finds out how truly disloyal you are, you will do exactly as I say. Only I can save you, Celine. Only I.” “I know that…” Celine retorted. She was released suddenly and thrown to the ground. Before he could hurt her further, Celine got up. He waved her away. Grabbing her handbag, Celine raced for the door, her purple heels sticking in the carpet, making her flight difficult. Stupid man. He was always threatening her, but he could hurt her. She knew he could. She had the scars to prove it. “Celine,’ came the ominous voice one more time. “Don’t let me down.” Celine fled. In her car, Celine gripped the steering wheel. She put her head against the wheel. Bursting into tears, her emotions drowned her. Stefan. He loved her. He really loved her, not like anyone else ever had. No one had ever loved Celine. She owed her loyalty, her love, her dreams to Stefan, because he alone loved her. How in the world was she going to let him know now that she understood the truth? With Helena and Him to deal with, what was she going to do? How was she going to please them without losing Stefan or her life in the process? This time she might just have gotten in too far…If there was no way out, she would lose it all, and Celine didn’t stand for losing. She never had. She never would. The tears fell down her cheeks unhidden. She wiped them away as a voice from the backseat made her jump. “Well, well, well, Celine in tears. Who would have ever thought that day would come,” came the cynical comments. Celine turned to see the last woman she would have expected. She sighed in exasperation. How could this day get any worse? |