He fired the gun at the wall. I clamped my hands over my ears and shrieked.
From under the floorboards I heard the muffled voice of Magnus yelling my name.
Asgall gestured at his lap.
I shook all over as I stepped forward and perched on his knee. The proximity made me gag.
He put the gun down on the table and picked up the phone. He held it out like he was posing for a selfie. “See how handsome I am?” He raised his chin, as if he were searching for his best side. His nose was misshapen, his face rounded, he was flabby instead of fit.
He hit record. “How are ye doin’, Katie? Tell Lady Mairead.”
I paused.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, hard.
I sobbed, “Not good.”
“Lady Mairead shouldna take time with our negotiations, daena ye think? Time is of importance. Would ye like her tae go fast?”
He yanked my hair back even more. It hurt terribly. Tears rolled down my face. “Yes, please.”
He twisted my hair even more as he leaned forward. “Grab that newspaper.”
I pulled the newspaper to my chest, but couldn’t look down on it. I was arched back, facing the ceiling, my eyes watering, clamped tight in pain.
He said, “Turn it over so she can see the date.”
I turned it over. He said, “Fine, tis good enough.”
Then he said, “Lady Mairead, ye see I winna take hesitation kindly, I hae yer son and yer daughter-in-law. They are at my mercy. Ye must sign the contract.”
He put down the phone with a slam on the table.
I said, “Owie, owie, my scalp, it hurts.”
He let go of my hair with a shove on the back of my head, knocking me forward. He grabbed the newspaper from my grip and tossed it on the table.
I got a quick glimpse — The Virginian, or something. That old drawing of the snake cut into parts,that was revolutionary war, right — not civil war?Then a flash, near the title: 1775… Virginia in 1775, that was helpful.
He drew his fingertips across my shirt, and fondled my breast through my dress. I shoved his hand away and tried to get up but he grasped my wrist, yanked me back down, and stuffed his hot sweaty panting mouth beside my ear. He started kissing me there. His other hand fondled my breast and I whimpered,stop, please stop,but it seemed to drive his excitement, so instead I stared right at his cheek. I stared at his swollen pock-marked pig-face, and didn’t move, submit, or struggle, I just glared.
Finally he pulled his face away from my ear and looked at me. “What?”
I glared back.
“Och nae, I knew ye were a bitch.” He shoved me hard off his knee.
I fell on the ground, hitting my back on the way down on the edge of a coffee table. “Ow.”
“Get up. I’m bored of ye.”
I scrambled up, even though the pain had knocked the air out of me. But then —the gun! I dove forward and grabbed it.
I held it up, my arms shaking and tried to steady it.
He laughed.
I squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. It was empty. “It’s not loaded?”
