VII
Beckett woke with a start. There was someone in the wagon, close…very close. She felt for her stiletto normally lying next to her, but found it missing. And then a cold steel point pressed into the skin under her left ear and soft, ambrosia-scented lips pressed her cheek. "Sophia!"
The slender brunette, barely discernible in the flickering torchlight of the gypsy camp drew back, her fine hair caressing Beckett's cheek. "Hello Kate!" she hissed, drawing out the "o" in "hello."
"And you and all your foolish friends thought I was dead. I know. I watched you and those other idiots look for my body amongst the pile of dead after the attack. You stupid bitch. It will take more than these filthy gypsies to kill me. After all, you were sent her to kill me and you failed…right? Don't you agree, my love…don't you?"
The New York detective carefully nodded her assent, the fine point of the stiletto pricking her flesh.
"Good…now don't be foolish and cry out. I'd hate to slice that pretty little throat above such strong shoulders…and those maiden's breasts that Rick probably can't get enough of." A raspy giggle followed by a throaty cough indicated that the rogue CIA agent, like Beckett, had yet to fully recover from her brutal ordeal at the hands of the Carpathian gypsies.
With the cough, the stiletto's steel had skated across the detective's neck, gently slicing into the skin. "Oh…sorry Kate…as you can see, I am still suffering from the embrace of your loving arms." With another hoarse cough, the blade moved lower, below the New Yorker's chin. Sophia's lips hovered just above Beckett's, her breath blowing warm and sweet on her captive's face, her light brown hair teasingly caressing the detective's bare breasts.
"I am recalled home by those who may not be denied," she continued. "In much that I came to do, I have failed. Much that I have done, particularly concerning you, my love, and Rick, who apparently finds you as enchanting as I do, I would seek to undo. But their summons cannot be denied. Out of the Eastern forests I came, but listen well, you American whore. Fire now smolders east of the Urals, soon to become an all-consuming flame. Ahead lies a time for the West such as has never been seen…people will fall by sword and flame…suffer in captivity…cities and towns destroyed…men butchered…women raped and sold into slavery. Our fire will be all consuming. Nothing will stand in our way."
Beckett trembled, both from words and touch, as she felt her captor's left hand slide lightly down her naked flank, across her belly, and stop. Sophia was holding something above Kate's womanhood, but the stiletto's blade remained hard against her throat, its sharp point penetrating ever so slightly. Even lying perfectly still, the New York detective was bleeding.
"Now I just see those shiny little wheels in your mind spinning. You're thinking of a way to warn your companions, sound the alarm, and after you and they are done with me, ship me back to the States for your CIA sponsors…or for all I know, these fuckin' gypsies will kill me in this stinking hell hole, feeding my body to the stray dogs that frequent the camp garbage dump."
"Hah...you stupid slut! It will never happen. I gave you a chance to join us…to become one of us. You would have been good Kate…hell you are good. You know it…and I know it. You can make almost any man do just what you want…and some women. Remember, I know you in the 'biblical' sense!"
Sophia lowered her left hand slowly. "Spread your legs. And don't be embarrassed. Remember, I've been there, done that." Beckett complied, slowly spreading her legs across the bed.
"Wider bitch!" Sophia hissed. When Beckett could open no further, even with the added encouragement of the stiletto point further digging into her throat, the rogue CIA agent laughed admiringly: "So delicious…I've gotta admit, Castle chose well in finding his woman. And tell me, my well schooled, well trained, NYPD hottie, how is fucking our mutual friend. Does he make you come every time? Do you ever have to fake it with him? With me the answers were 'yes' and 'no.' I'm gonna guess, unless age has taken its toll, those are your answers also."
Beckett refused to respond, but the look in her eyes told Turner all she needed to know. "Well, I guess after all these years you deserved some piece of decent ass. Tell me though, when we were in that dungeon, why did you come on to me. Have you played for both teams before…or did you just feel sorry for me, hung up like some piece of meat?"
When Beckett refused to respond, the rogue agent hissed in barely a whisper, "But of course not, my good little American girl. You still want to be the hero of the 12th, the career woman who can do it all, the woman that every young female trainee looks up to, particularly in those 4-inch heels you wear. You long to be restored to the force and will do whatever it takes to win you badge and gun back."
"I made you an offer to follow me into these wild woods…why won't you do it? Someone make you a better offer you couldn't refuse? Offer to put in a good word for you with the NYPD? Or were you just hired to take me out? What are you now Kate, just a gun for hire like me? If so, I can offer you a lot more than the FBI or CIA can, maybe even more than Castle, though I have a few shortcomings in certain areas compared to him."
Remembering Castle and their nights together brought a faint smile to Turner's lips. "You know, Kate, we would make a good team…maybe all three of us. And I would even let you be on top…sometimes."
When the detective refused to answer, Turner shook her head. "Oh well, time is wasting…and there's always another slut willing to ball for beads where I'm going."
"But before I leave, I have something for you, love." With that she pushed a wide, hard object between the Beckett's upper thighs. Wrapped in thick muslin cloth, in the dim light the detective could not discern what it was.
"Be very still cunt…this may hurt…but rest assured pain is not what I want to cause you! If I had wanted that…you'd already be dead!" And with that, Sophia shifted slightly and jammed her left hand and its contents hard into Beckett's groin. The detective let out a low cry, but the stiletto blade at her throat cut deeper, and she laid still.
"There, now you'll have something to remember me by on cold winter nights. Maybe this will be enough, and you won't have to bed down with this flaccid scum that calls themselves men until you rejoin our mutual friend."
Turner shifted to one knee, but the stiletto remained in place. "Give my love to Rick when you see him again. And Kate…I think I can call you that now that we're such good friends, my love. I owed you my life. And now my debt is paid."
Beckett said nothing; the pain in her groin subsided. But as Turner stood up the stiletto's blade cut deeper. Blood coursed down the detective's throat and on to the horse blanket she was laying atop.
"Oh sorry!" the rogue agent chuckled. "I forgot. I leave you now Kate, to return from whence I came years ago. Waste no time looking for me. Seek not my ashes, for as was said long ago by one far greater than me, 'I am the Lord of Fires.' Farewell my love…until we meet again."
With one final flick of the stiletto…she was gone.
Beckett carefully sat up in bed, pressing her left hand against her throat to staunch the bleeding, while her right sought to remove the object from between her thighs. On feeling its shape she knew immediately what it was. Raising it above her head, the muslin wrap fell off, and the camp's torchlight reflected off the Tennifer finish of her Glock 26.
