*One more chapter to go!! I hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I'll be sad to see it end, but it goes out with a BANG!! :D

Chapter 11

Sara and Damien strode along the Thames after having tea in a quaint little tea shop around the corner of the restaurant. It was a pleasant, sunny day…a warm breeze blowing her hair back and bringing with it the tangy smell of the river and the mouth-watering smell of the various foods being cooked in the restaurants occupying the area. They window shopped, and occasionally stopped to peruse the merchandise of little kiosks along the lane.

They were having a wonderful time when her cell phone rang.

"Oh…" she turned and rustled through her bag trying to find it. "I hope nothing is wrong…it's Mary…Hello?" she said into the mouthpiece. "Mary, calm down…what's wrong…you're scaring me…yes, of course I…your flat? Okay, sure…right now? I'll bring Damien…alone? Why? Alright…calm yourself…this can't be good for the baby…okay, alright we're on our way." She hung up and turned to Damien.

"We need to go back, there's something wrong…Mary…" she got no further when he grasped her hand and said…

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Do…you…trust me?"

"Yes…whoooaaa!!!" she shrieked as he picked her up and they literally flew back to to Meena's. Landing softly on the balcony outside his flat, he gently put her on her feet and opened the French doors, ushering her inside.

"Oh…Damien…my god…" she ran a shaky hand through her tousled hair and tried to catch her breath. "When you asked if I trusted you…I thought it was…a…rhetorical…question." Her gasping soon gave way to bubbling laughter. "You really know how to show a girl a good time, Mr. Iscariot."

He grinned, unrepentant. "Now you can tell your friends that I swept you off your feet…" that comment earned him a swat on the arm.

She turned suddenly serious, "Mary…"

"Go…if you need me…"

"I know what to do."

She left him in the living room of his flat.

Vic waited patiently in the stylish living room of the apartment on the top floor of the Restaurant living quarters. Like a spider in anticipation of a long awaited meal, he could afford patience, and wore it with aplomb. The quiet darkness suited him and he sat in comfortable silence until…at last…her small, fragile footfalls were heard.

The door was unlocked…unlatched…open. She, pitiful creature that she was, opened the door and called out, "Mary…Mary, are you in there? Honey, are you alright? Mary?"

Come on…come in, bitch. Get in here you cock-sucking cunt. Whore. Rutting Fuck Whore. Come to papa. Come on…cooommme onnnn.

Sara saw the open door and frowned. It didn't occur at first to feel fear, only select persons who were granted access to their private floor could enter it.

"Mary…are you alright? Mary…?" she opened the door wider and cautiously entered the darkened interior of the flat. "Mary…honey, are you in here?" Straining to hear, she nearly missed the breath of air behind her that had her whirling about…too late. Pain lanced through her head, and her vision blurred, but not before she sent out a frantic call to Damien.

She struggled toward consciousness. What happened? One moment she was opening the door to the flat, the next awakening with a thundering headache throbbing behind her eyes. Slowly she tried to open her eyelids. The light stabbed into her skull causing her to hiss out a curse.

"So, you are awake at last my darling."

Oh dear god, that voice. She thought she had left it behind when she entered the Witness Protection Program eighteen months ago.

"V-V-Victor? Oh, god no…" she whispered.

He leaned in close, so close that she could feel his rancid breath on her cheek. "Oh, yes my dearest wife. It is your faithful husband, the one you betrayed. I've come to repay my debt to you. Come now, be a good girl and open your eyes. I know how much you wished to be reunited with your lover and friends."

She opened her eyes and saw…and couldn't stop screaming.

She was trussed up to a single post in the middle of a warehouse, abandoned by the looks of it. On a long, low table in front of her lay the nude body of Mary…arms and legs tied to spread them as far apart as possible. Her pregnant belly stretched taut over her trim mound and Victor ran his hands obscenely over her body with relish. Simon was tied next to his terrified wife, blood still running down his face from a scalp wound inflicted during his procurement for this little comedy. His head hung limply and he didn't show any signs of life, not even when Victor viciously pinched Mary's nipples causing her to cry out in pain.

"Look, my love, at how responsive she is…oh...I shall enjoy this…" his eyes burned with madness.

Sara turned away, not wanting to witness her friend…the only friend she'd ever really known…being tortured, and cried out in agony. A figure lay prone on the floor, white shirt soaked in crimson blood and dark hair flowing free from all restraint.

"Damien…no…" her voice was barely a whisper of agony, yet he heard her. Smiling he turned, ready to dole out more pain to the worthy.

"He was the most easy of all, my dear! All I had to do was let him follow me and pretend to let him find my 'lair'. Then I locked him in a cage and opened the blinds to let in the sun!! When he weakened, I shot him!"

He giggled…actually giggled, and Sara knew then just how far her ex-husband had slipped into madness. She cleared her throat, trying to work up enough saliva to actually make a sound when she talked.

"Victor…Victor." The second time around, his name came easier and louder. He turned, face thunderous. She had to force herself to continue. "You have me now, please…let them go. You can do what you want with me, but do the right thing and let them go." Earnestly she implored him, "Please, take me…and let them go."

"NO!" spittle flying, he thrust his face into hers. "You should've thought of that BEFORE you involved yourself in their lives, you cock-sucker! It's your fault they've ended up like this! YOUR fault!!!" with these words he threw back his arm and slapped her face. Ears ringing and eyes tearing from the punishing blow, she nodded.

"I know, Victor." She stated quietly, "you don't have to tell me what I already know."

He lay still and quiet, although it was increasingly hard to do so. After allowing himself to be 'caught' by the asshole, he finally admitted to himself that "making it up as you went along" probably wasn't the best plan. High on the list for reasons was the actual pain he had to put up with now…which he'd found out actually hurts like a bitch…when that son of a bitch shot him. Like before, he'd healed nearly instantly, but then the son of a bitch didn't need to know this. When the bastard took him into the warehouse and laid him on the floor without tying him up, he felt it was a telling testament to his acting abilities. He lay and pretended unconsciousness, listening intently to what was going on around him. Rage engulfed him when he heard Mary's stifled sobs and Victor's undisguised gloating.

He just about lost it when she screamed, "NO…Simon!!!!!!!" nearly lifting his head and playing his hand too early. "What did you do to him? Simon…Simon!"

"Shut up." Victor struck her casually across the mouth, snapping her face to the side as easily as if she were a child. He knelt by the bleeding man. "Your stalwart husband gave me a few…problems. I doubt he'll ever wake up again. Pity…I should have liked to watch him break when he watches what I do to you…" Her sobs were achingly quiet and gut-wrenching.

"Fuck you…" she hissed. He grinned from his seated position, "Oh, you will love…you will…"

Sara watched him as he prepared his equipment. She knew from bitter experience that one thing Victor enjoyed was inflicting pain. He kept his instruments in peak condition, clean and well-oiled, ready for use at a moment's notice…after all, you never know when there may come a chance for a good torture session. Mary's eyes grew huge with each passing moment as she beheld each lovingly stroked instrument, each knife, each tool. Tears fell freely down each woman's face as they thought not about themselves, but about the innocent child that lay cradled inside her womb.

Sara knew that this was the moment she had dreaded for her entire life…the culmination of the personal hell she'd suffered since meeting Victor so many years ago. God, had she ever been so young and innocent? She welcomed death now, for with it came absolution…without her, he would have no further need for the hunt and…death. She accepted the fact that she had brought out the worst in him, and prayed that God would have mercy on Mary…

Please…you have no reason to spare me, but use me to create a distraction and spare her life and that of her child…I give you my life to use in place of hers.

As she prayed she was frantically twisting her hands back and forth, loosening the nylon threads little by little. The heavy duty nylon rubbed deep cuts into her wrists that bled freely, the lubrication easing the way for her to slip out of her bonds with very little trouble. Keeping her arms behind her, she began to scoot imperceptivity toward the instrument table. She was going to try to get a knife or something…hopefully…

Her leg bumped the leg of the rolling cart and the tools rattled. Victor looked down and let out a snarl. "What the hell!" He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, hauling her up as she screamed in pain and rage.

Galvanized by the action, taking the chance offered by God…Damien struck. Lightning fast, animal reflexes still intact, he was on Vic before the startled man had a chance in Hades of defending himself. Sara looked over her attacker's shoulders to see an angel of mercy, eyes blazing with righteous fire, open a mouth gaping with razor sharp canine teeth and clamp down on the side of his neck…tearing Victor away from her. She fell then, blood loss and fear making her woozy, and without another sound fainted dead away.

She woke in the dead of night, the ambient sounds of the nighttime rounds of doctors and nurses the only accompaniment to the bleeps and blinks of the heart and blood pressure monitors she was hooked up to. Looking around, she panicked, not knowing where she was or who had brought her there. Scrambling around she found the cord that led her to the bedside nursed call button. Pressing frantically, she found she could barely speak when she heard the reassuring question come through.

"You finally awake, luv? I'll be down in a tic." A few moments later a short, slightly plump young woman in a nurses uniform bustled in. She had red bushy hair and a pretty dimpled smile.

"How ya feelin' luv? It's about time you graced us with your presence. Your fella gave us the hardest time about leavin' here to go and get some rest finally and what you go and do? Decide ta wake up ya did! Oh, he'll never let me hear the end o' this one…" She prattled on, friendly as can be as she tenderly did a thorough check-up of Sara's heavily bandaged wrists. She saw the questions in her patient's eyes. "Now, I know ya have all kinds o' answers ya be wantin'. And I've taken the liberty of having your handsome lover called…now, doncha go blushin' on me lassie! I've seen the way he looks at ye. I wasna' born yesterdae." A jolly laugh was in her voice and her kindly emerald eyes. "Ma point is, ya don't have ta know everything tonight. Don't be exhaustin' yourself." She patted Sara on the hand, and left promising to find her erstwhile lover.

"Oh…wait!" Sara cried, intending to enquire after Mary. Had she and the baby survived? What about Simon? But she was too late, the nurse was gone. Heaving a sigh, she sank back onto the pillows and thoughtfully examined her bandages.

After receiving the welcomed news, Damien rushed back to the hospital. Striding through the corridors, he had people hurriedly stepping out of his way, assuming he was a doctor on his way to an emergency. Reaching her room in record time he simply stopped and stared, struck anew by how very much she had come to mean to him in such a short amount of time. In all of his wanderings, in all of the centuries he had to endure…she was the anchor that tethered his soul. Spotting the bandaging, that encircled her tiny wrists, threatened to unleash anew the rage that bubbled still just under the surface. She must've felt his presence then, because she looked up…and spotting him, froze. This was it…the moment he'd both been dreading and hoping for. Would she run from him in fear, or accept him for who, and what, he was?

A luminescent smile spread across her angelic face, and she opened her arms. Letting out a pent up breath on what could only be described as a sob, he walked right into them.