Like the last time, two of the men started the show. One clicked on the laptop while the other maneuvered the camera. He was also the one in charge of the cue cards.

“Just like last time,” he told her as he stepped over the tripod legs and ducked behind the camera. “Read the cards.”

Someone else must have written them, she realized with some relief. The old set had barely been legible. The words had been sloppy, misspelled, and some of the letters had been backwards. It was the workings of a six year old.

The little red light just beneath the fat lens blinked on. Her guard adjusted the lever, getting the camera angle just right before poking his head around and giving her the nod.

“Go!”

Juliette took a deep breath and started. “My name is Juliette Romero and I have not been injured. Not yet. But my time is running out. If you ever wish to see me alive again, I will be waiting for you under the golden arches.”

The guard hit the switch and the red light flicked off. The flood lights were shut off next, leaving little bulbs popping across Juliette’s vision. She stumbled as she got awkwardly to her feet. The cords and wires bunched around her feet caught her ankle and her guard caught her before she could take the camera down. She was returned before the assembly. The computer guy remained behind to put her video together and ready to send.

“Beautifully done,” Man-Child praised. “You’re a natural.” His subtle mockery toyed at the corners of his thin mouth. “I think you’ve earned your treat.”

“Why are you doing this?” Juliette demanded. “Who are you?”

“I am Cyril Konstantinov,” he replied without a second of hesitation. “But we will save the reason you are here for another day.”

With a curt bob of his head, he motioned to the man on Juliette’s left. The man rose and ambled to the compartment door without a word. Juliette watched with growing panic as he flicked the switch cleverly disguised as a strip of paneling and disappeared down the stairs. Concern for Maraveet had Juliette starting after him. She got two steps only to have her arm grabbed by her guard. He smirked, clearly amused by her unease. His dark eyes burned into hers with the same sick pleasure as the others.

She pulled away. He let her.

“What is he doing?” Juliette turned to Cyril.

He didn’t need to answer. The man returned with a semi-conscious Maraveet being dragged along at his side. Juliette rushed forward and the other woman was unceremoniously tossed into her arms. The weight nearly took them both down had Juliette not braced her feet. Maraveet cried out on impact. Her entire body seized with the pain and Juliette had to tighten her grip. She shifted Maraveet higher and elicited another groan.

“Can’t a girl sleep in peace?” Maraveet rasped, lifting her head enough to glower at Cyril.

He seemed unperturbed by her lip. Maybe he was used to it. Juliette had no idea what the two talked about when Cyril brought Maraveet up.

“Alcorn and Calhoun will take you up for a shower,” Cyril said, ignoring Maraveet’s comment entirely. “Your smell is beginning to put me off my supper.”

Alcorn was their guard. Calhoun was the beefy man who had brought Maraveet upstairs. He reminded Juliette of a young Santa Claus with too much gut straining the front of his knitted sweater and a permanent flush to his round cheeks. His brown hair was matted to his scalp and there was just a hint of an unfinished mustache along his upper lip that she could never seem to take seriously. The straggly patches were missing in places and thick in others. Not a shaving job gone wrong, but more like he was still waiting for the rest to grow in.

He moved forward. Alcorn flagged their other side and the two herded Juliette and Maraveet up the winding stairs. It was a long process when Juliette had to practically carry the other woman. They were both sweaty and breathless by the time they reached the top. Juliette adjusted her grip under Maraveet’s arm and guided her the rest of the way to a small, three piece washroom.

It was clear immediately that this was something they did often. The white room was sparse. Just a sink, a toilet, and a bathtub. There wasn’t even a mirror. The only color came from the pile of fabric dumped inside the porcelain bowl. The forest green outfits were clearly meant for them to wear, but there were no towels, she noted.

“You got ten minutes,” Calhoun told them.

“Ten minutes?” Juliette panted. “That’s barely enough—”

“Nine,” he prompted.

Juliette didn’t speak again. She took Maraveet to the toilet and gingerly set her down. Behind her, Calhoun snickered and shut the door.

At least they’re giving us privacy, Juliette thought bitterly.

Sucking in a deep breath, she turned to Maraveet. “You go first,” she said, already reaching for the woman’s coat. “You’ve been here the longest.”

Maraveet arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying I smell worse than you?”

Juliette started. “What? No, I was just—”

“Because you don’t smell like a basket of roses yourself,” the woman finished.

It took Juliette a second to realize she was being teased. She rolled her eyes with a grin and hoisted the woman up. Maraveet gripped the lip of the sink as Juliette quickly stripped her. The ruined clothes were tossed into the corner in a dirty, smelly pile and forgotten.

“Ready?”

Not waiting, she got Maraveet into the tub, helped her kneel and started the water. There wasn’t any shampoo or razors, but there was a bar of soap and Juliette used it liberally.

The jets hit the array of colored skin and rained down into the bottom of the tub in a dark gray smear. The majority of her injuries were collected like badges across her torso. Sharp blossoms of blue, black, red, purple, yellow and green sprung up beneath the pale surface of her skin, a beautiful spray of flowers in the winter. The colors ran along the curve of her waist and splotched along her thighs, back and arms. But none of that was anything compared to the scars. Those ran in deep rivulets across her entire body. Whole areas rose in thick, crude ropes. Others were shallow nicks and faint, shiny slits. Then there were the burn marks, old, but unmistakable. It all jumbled together in a mess of ruined flesh. The sight was horrific. Seeing them made Juliette wonder if maybe Cyril had been right. Maybe Maraveet was stronger than Juliette. She knew for a fact that she would not be nearly as put together had it been her on the receiving end of all that.

“As flattered as I am, I’m not into women.”

Juliette blinked and focused on Maraveet, who was watching her through half lidded eyes. There was the hint of a grin on her face and Juliette realized, with some embarrassment, she’d been staring at the woman’s breasts.

Flushing, Juliette quickly looked away. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t—”

Maraveet snorted. “Although, give me a few more days in that cage and even you might look tempting.”

Despite everything, Juliette laughed. “Come on. Let’s get you out.”

It took no time at all to get Maraveet washed, rinsed, and dressed in the green two piece suit that reminded her of prison attire. Juliette helped her down on the toilet once more before stripping and climbing into the shower herself. It was the fastest cleaning she’d ever done in her life, but she felt semi human by the time the door swung open. Juliette gathered hers and Maraveet’s coats, left the rest and followed Alcorn and Calhoun back below with Maraveet using her as a crutch.

“Better,” Cyril said. “Now get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Juliette had no idea what that meant, but whatever it was, Man-Child looked far too happy for her piece of mind.

Chapter 25

It was three days after the first video when the second one arrived with the morning mail. The yellow envelope held the sloppy penmanship of someone in a hurry. Blue ink bled across the front, carving Killian’s name and address in mocking slants. There was no return address. No other name. Not even a stamp.