Chapter 21

Quentin hung up the phone and smiled a predatorial smile at Rhiannon. He went to a bookcase near the wall and seconds later the wall swung open. "Nobody knows about this room. Not even Barnabas. I think this is a safe place to keep you." He swung her into his arms and carried her into the room. Once inside he lit a candle on the small table inside. He reached inside his pocket and took out a rather large switchblade. Exposing the blade he stepped toward Rhiannon who was huddled on the ground in fear. He ran a smooth, flat side against her cheek, down her throat and arm. The coldness of the steel striking her mute in terror. Slowly, the knife traveled against her skin. How easily he could slit her throat, slit her wrist. That's where the knife was poised now, over her right wrist. In a lighting fast motion he cut the tie that held her wrists. She flinched, expecting to feel the cut of the blade, the running of blood.

"No, not yet my dear. You'll not die yet." He said as his finger replaced the blade, retracing it's path back up . She shuddered, her body racked with silent sobs. He lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to looking into his chilling blue eyes, her own eyes, so like his, were wide and wet with the promise of tears. He pressed his lips to hers, savoring them like a dying man. He released her and strode out of the opening, the wall closing slowly behind him.

With the door shut and her prison hidden to all those outside it, she had never felt more alone, more helpless. She looked around her at the small, dimly lit room. The walls lined with bricks and the corners inhabited by age old spider webs. What would he do when he came back? Would her death be quick and painless? Or slow and agonizing? How would he do it? Bring her a plate of poisoned food? Slit her throat? Would he have his vile way with her first? Would he torture her? Would he leave her in this room to slowly go mad? To starve to death? Rhiannon lay her head on her knees and wept. There was no doubt he would kill her. How much time did she have before he did? Hours ? Days? Only a few precious moments? Would she get to see her sister, the sister she had so recently discovered before she died? Would he kill her in front of Nancy? "Please," she prayed, "Please don't let Nancy see me die. If she has to spent the rest of her life with that monster don't let her see him take me away from her. The candle sputtered briefly, and she was afraid she would be left alone in the dark. It was the wall opening. Quentin had returned. The candle light illuminated his face. He looked like the devil himself, an evil smile on his face. Was this it? Had her executioner returned to see his duty done? She felt lightheaded, and darkness surrounded her and her head hit the floor.