Chapter Forty-Six

Syaoran leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths as if that would dispel the lingering ache in his body. Sweat dripped down his neck and back, making his hair stick to his face, but next to the fiery pains at the tips of his fingers, that tiny discomfort was barely worth notice. Blood crusted over the fingertips of his right hand where Cassie had used a pliers to rip out his nails.

"You're holding up much better than I expected," she informed him, plucking a dainty hammer from her work bench and weighing it in her hand. Syaoran watched, stomach churning, but a moment later, she set the hammer down and picked up a thin knife instead.

Have to keep stalling, he thought, banishing his terror to a dark corner in the back of his mind. "Why are doing this?"

"They always ask that. 'Who are you? Why are you doing this?' As if my answer would change anything." She shook her head. "I'm doing this because it's fun."

"But there must be some reason you brought me here."

Cassie cocked her head to the side, then turned to look at him. "You think you're special?"

"I think there must be a reason you picked me. There had to be easier targets."

Her eyes hardened as her smirk grew more pronounced. "Fine. I did it because you're our competition in the chess matches, and any advantage I can give my team is worth the effort."

She's doing this for the tournament? he thought, slumping. "We'll withdraw from the chess matches, stay out of your way. I can make the others agree to it." At least he hoped so. Kurogane would agree to it. Fai probably would, since he'd been trying so hard to make things normal lately. He wasn't sure about Sakura, though—she'd insisted on attending as many matches as possible, so they could trade their winnings for the Other's soul. Sakura wasn't cruel, but if it came down to a choice between his well-being and that of his clone . . .

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought.

"Well, isn't that nice," Cassie said, holding the knife up to the light, then walking over to the wood-burning stove in the corner. There, she sat down and added some kindling to the hearth before pulling a bottle of lighter fluid from the windowsill and spraying it across the logs.

Fai will be here soon, he told himself. Or he'll have gone back to the apartment to find Kurogane. All I have to do is hold on until they find me.

Cassie pulled a matchbook from her pocket, struck one of the matches, and tossed it into the hearth. Orange flames spread across the wood, bright from the lighter fluid. She stared into the flames for several seconds, then placed the pocketknife at the edge, so the blade rested over the hot coals.

"You don't have to do this," Syaoran said. "Really, you don't. And you don't want to. My friends—" His tongue tripped over the word, and it took him a moment to collect himself. "My friends will find me. They'll kill you over this."

"Unless your friends have bloodhounds, I doubt that." Cassie walked over to the table and put on a pair of gardening gloves. Syaoran watched as she went back over to the hearth and pulled the knife away from the coals. The blade glowed orange.

Oh. The gloves were to protect her hands from the heat. Of course. He took a deep breath, trying not to wince as her high heels clicked toward him.

"What do you think?" she asked, holding the knife so it rested an inch above his collarbone. "Are you going to scream now, or are you going to keep being stubborn?"

He set his jaw and closed his eyes. The others are coming. Even if Fai and Sakura aren't looking, Kurogane will. He has to.

The heat intensified, the tip of the blade skimming across his chest.

Kurogane has to come. He has to. He'd look for me.

The tip of the knife buried itself half an inch in his flesh. He clenched his jaw, hearing the sizzle of burning skin as she drew the knife along the line of his collarbone, and held his breath as the point of pain carved a line of searing agony into his chest. His fingers coiled, the scabs on his fingertips digging into his palm. But he didn't scream.

The knife lifted away from his skin, and he exhaled, shoulders slumping.

"I'm impressed," Cassie said. Her hand snaked up, whipping the still-hot knife across his cheek, drawing a line of blood. He grunted, startled. Everything else, she'd warned him of. Taunted him, even, with how much control she'd had. But this attack caught him offguard, and it took him a few seconds to regain his bearings. "Still no screams. What is it about you?"

"I have something I need to do."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"I have to set right what once went wrong," he said, hoping his cryptic answer would get her to talk so she would be too distracted to cut him up. Instead, her lips slipped into a frown, and she slapped him across the bruised side of his face.

"I told you I didn't like clichés."

"Don't you think the psychopath torturing their victim in their basement is a little clichéd?"

She slapped him again, harder, on the other side of his face. He hung his head, not sure which side of his face hurt more. "I also don't like smartasses, unless they're my friends."

Well this isn't going as I'd hoped.

Cassie stood and started for the stove again. She set the knife over the coals, then procured several larger knives from her desk on the other side of the room. Syaoran studied the growing collection with unease. There were curved blades and serrated ones, and visions of those blades sawing and slicing cast gruesome shadows in his mind. But the characteristics of each blade were secondary—it was the hot metal that would hurt most.

"How long was I unconscious before I woke up here?" he asked.

"About an hour. You must've been tired. Most of my toys don't sleep so long."

Then it must've been at least an hour and a half since they caught me. Which means Fai has almost certainly gone back to the apartment and talked to Kurogane. They'll be on their way. They'll think of something.

"Why? You got a doctor's appointment or something?"

"Chess match," he lied.

"Too bad. Your team will get disqualified when you don't show."

"I'm betting on them showing up. And if you're smart, you'll get out of here before they do."

"Threats and manipulation. Not what I expected from the stoic boy I saw in the arena. Is that whole reluctant warrior bit a façade?"

He raised his chin half an inch, eyebrows slanting downward. "No. I don't enjoy fighting. But there's something I have to do, and I'm going to fight for it, no matter what."

"God, you are just a model of heroism." She pulled a glowing knife from the fireplace and strolled over to him. Several strands of wheat-colored hair had escaped her ponytail, and they tickled his chest as she crouched over him. "Is that what this whole stoic prisoner act is about? Do you really think anyone else will care whether you scream until your throat bleeds?" She pressed the flat of the glowing blade against his abdomen, and he grit his teeth against the pain. A smoky stench filled the air, and he coughed, not realizing until she pulled the knife away that the smell was that of his skin shriveling with heat. "Do you?"

"I won't scream," he hissed through his teeth.

"Yeah, definitely a hero complex. You got a princess waiting for you in a tower? Have lots of magical adventures with your friends? Explore foreign territories and overthrow cruel regimes?"

"That's actually a lot more accurate than you would believe."

"I've heard the line between hero and villain is a fine one. What makes you so sure I'm the bad guy and you're the hero?"

"Well generally, it's the villain who locks the hero up and tortures them for fun."

"Fair point." The woman smiled and pulled his arm from behind his back, unfastening the locks anchoring it in place. After having half his fingernails ripped off, Syaoran had come to realize that the only way to get out of these restraints was to have someone else take them off. Cassie obviously wasn't going to do it, but perhaps one of her friends would be more easily manipulated.

"You're a fun little toy." She picked up the long, narrow knife she'd used on him a moment ago and rested the tip over the back of his hand. "It'll be a shame to see you break."

She brought the knife down, driving a hole through his hand.

Syaoran screamed.