Chapter Seven: Come into My Parlor

The tunnel sloped down, down into impenetrable blackness that smelled of mildew and wet earth. Percy crept slowly forward, keeping one hand on the wall to stay oriented, until he remembered who he was traveling with and stopped shake his head at his own stupidity. "Vax'ildan," he whispered, "can you see anything?"

"More than you, I'd wager. Want me to take the lead?"

"Please." Percy pressed himself to the wall of the narrow passage to allow Vax to squeeze past. The cold and damp of the stones seeped through the back of his coat, leaving him clammy and shivering.

Or maybe that was just the mind-numbing terror.

He couldn't let Vax see it—not more than he already had, anyway. But every step further into the tunnels, every step closer to her, took a tremendous effort of will. Every instinct he had screamed at him to run the other way, to put so much distance between himself and Doctor Ripley that she'd never find him again. Every scar she'd left on his body throbbed with remembered agony. Every nerve jangled. His jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack under the pressure.

But for Vex's sake, he pressed on.

As his eyes gradually adjusted, he kept his attention focused on the surer movements of the man in front of him. The darkness wasn't quite as total as he'd thought, but he could still see Vax only as a silhouette in a more or less featureless void. With his silent footsteps, he might as well have been a shadow among the shadows.

But he could hear his own boots splashing in shallow puddles. He could feel the packed dirt of the ground and the rough stone of the walls. And under the moldy, damp smell…

"Vax'ildan." Percy touched Vax's arm to pull him to a halt, his nose wrinkling under the combined assault of body odor and old fish. "There are goblins near. A lot of them."

"No kidding," Vax drawled. "I'd take Scanlan after his most raucous night over this stench. Stay here; I'll scout ahead a little."

Percy nodded and held his pepperbox at the ready as Vax crept forward to disappear into the shadows. He held his breath and tried to calm his racing heart, sternly forbidding himself to wonder if his friend would return.

The thought of something happening to Vax was frightening, of course. But if he were completely honest with himself, it was the thought of being alone down here, alone with her, that truly made his blood run cold. He squeezed his eyes shut against the memories that threatened to surface, threatened to drag him back to the dungeons under Whitestone and the chair and the ropes and the hook—

Vax's voice in his ear nearly made him jump out of his skin. "Dead end up—for Gods' sake, relax, Percival, it's just me," he whispered tersely. "Dead end up ahead. The tunnel widens some, and there's one door to either side, torchlight coming from underneath. Goblins beyond, both ways. At least six or seven in each direction."

"Bloody hells," Percy swore. "And no matter which way we choose, they'll hear the commotion on the other side and come at our backs."

Vax snorted. "You wound me, Percival. Watch and learn."

Percy followed Vax, hanging back just slightly, as he moved silently back to the end of the tunnel, chose a door, and gave it a careful tug. Finding it unlocked, he pulled it open a crack, ever so slowly, so the hinges wouldn't creak. Flickering firelight spilled out, dancing over his face as he peered inside, his eyes widening.

"Oh, fuck me…"

She didn't truly need to torment the girl.

Her quarry was already on his way, so she could honestly just dispose of the little firebrand. The girl was more trouble than she was worth, especially now. But then, she had warned Percival not to let her get bored.

And there was something almost musical about the girl's screams.

She could almost get drunk on this feeling. It was a power trip with all the headiness of a fine wine. It was, well, like playing a musical instrument: digging her hook in thus produced such a sound, and the melody she wrung from the girl in the chair coursed through her veins like electricity, energizing and invigorating her.

Idly, she wondered if Percival would recognize Vex'ahlia's voice raised in such agony, or if he would still hold out hope. She didn't know which idea she liked more.

Ripley stood in front of the girl for a moment, giving her a second to breathe—the performance wasn't over; it wouldn't do to have her pass out just yet. And after all, silence was the canvas on which music was made. It was time for a measure of rest.

She studied her handiwork with satisfaction, the score that recorded her opus. Stripped down to her smallclothes, the girl's smooth skin had proven a fine page on which to write this symphony. Deep lacerations crisscrossed her body, a bass line that crescendoed with crimson rivers of blood over pale flesh. Thick, dark hair, once artfully gathered into a loose braid, now dripped with sweat as the girl's labored breathing provided a rhythmic ostinato. There were no lyrics—words had long ago deserted her.

Yes, it was time for the final movement. The grand finale.

The girl whimpered as Ripley touched the point of the hook to her shoulder: such a pitiful sound from one who had once sung so beautifully. In one smooth motion, Ripley pushed the hook down and around the girl's collarbone, severing the subclavian artery before punching back through the skin below. The girl let out a sob that had all the poignant richness of a minor chord.

Ripley twisted her wrist sharply. The bone shattered, eliciting a howl that could put the finest soprano to shame.

She tore the hook free, and more blood spilled, pumping out in spurts in time with the frantic, but fading, beats of the girl's heart. Down, down it spilled, over her breast, her stomach, her lap, to pool on the floor. It was incredible, really, how much blood a body could hold.

She watched for several interminable minutes as the gushing of blood lessened, slowed, and finally stopped. The girl's last breath rattled from her lungs, and it sounded like applause.

Vax jerked back as an arrow zipped past his head close enough to graze his cheek. Three more slammed into the wood of the door, pushing it open further and spilling more light into the tunnel. A shout went up from the goblins within.

Risking a glance over his shoulder, Vax cursed as the other door flew open as well. Not six or seven as he'd thought, but closer to a dozen goblins swarmed out of each room, waving clubs and shortbows and shouting in their harsh, guttural language.

"Bloody fucking hells!" Percy ground out. He might have said more, but Vax couldn't hear him over the deafening report of the pepperbox. One goblin down. Too many to go.

The two men retreated a short distance back up the tunnel, Percy firing off five more rounds as he went, Vax throwing and recalling his daggers. Forced into a bottleneck, goblin after goblin fell under their barrage, but more simply leapt over their comrades' bodies and kept coming.

Vax seized a goblin by the throat as it rushed him, slamming a dagger into its spine with his other hand. A few more arrows streaked by overhead—aimed high, not to kill but to discourage further retreat, Vax realized. Trying to box them in. With a grunt of effort, he threw the now-dead goblin back into the horde, knocking back a few that were trying to advance on Percy as he reloaded. He darted forward, slashing and stabbing. He lost count of his kills.

Another volley of arrows, and Vax's heart leapt into his throat when he heard Percy cry out. He turned to look back, caught a glimpse of the younger man stumbling back with an arrow in his shoulder and another in his side, and then his own right knee exploded in pain as a goblin's club connected. He fell to his left knee with a hiss, but retained the presence of mind to bury a dagger in the throat of the goblin who'd hit him. He flung another to lodge in the skull of one of the archers, and it rematerialized in his hand before the creature fell.

Reassured by the continuing thunder of gunfire—you are tougher than you look, de Rolo, he thought with a grim smile—and bolstered by adrenaline, Vax pushed himself back to his feet and launched himself at the remaining goblins. Tackling one to the ground, he plunged a dagger into its eye. Then he spun, still crouched, and threw another blade at the last of the attackers. It buried itself in the goblin's chest at the same instant a bullet found its head.

The last goblin fell. The echo of gunfire faded.

Vax stood, wincing as his injured knee complained. That was going to hurt like hell in the morning, he knew. But he couldn't let it slow him down now. Not with Vex'ahlia still in danger.

"Vax'ildan," Percy groaned from behind him. "Could use a little help here."

Vax turned to find Percy on his hands and knees, clutching ineffectually at the arrow in his shoulder. At his side in an instant, Vax guided him up to sit back on his heels. "Percival! Are you all right?"

"I'll live," Percy bit out through clenched teeth. "Help me with these. I can't…"

Shifting Percy to lean against the tunnel wall, Vax examined the arrows still in his wounds, and swore. The one in his side hadn't gone terribly deep, but a little prodding—at which Percy hissed in pain but didn't protest—revealed that it was lodged in the bone of his rib. Furthermore, the arrowhead was barbed. These were not of goblin make, that much was certain. And they would be difficult, not to mention painful as fuck, to remove.

But there was no other option. Vax picked up another arrow off the ground and handed it to Percy. "Here. Bite down on this."

Percy eyed the muddy shaft for a second with no small amount of distaste, the put it between his teeth with a resigned sigh. He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched Vax's right arm as Vax gave the first arrow a swift, sharp tug, dislodging it from flesh and bone. Percy grunted as it came free, but otherwise took it stoically. "Good man," said Vax encouragingly.

The other one, he knew, would be far worse. The arrow had penetrated coat, vest, shirt, skin, and muscle to bury its entire head deep in Percy's shoulder. The wound itself wasn't life-threatening, so far as he could tell, but it was still problematic as long as the arrow remained. If he tried to pull on it, though, the barbs would further shred tissue on their way out. And that was if the shaft didn't separate from the arrowhead completely, in which case Vax would have to dig it out with a dagger, running the rick of damaging major blood vessels with deadly consequences. No, pulling it was out of the question.

Instead, Vax snapped off the shaft a few inches out from the wound, then carefully peeled Percy's torn and bloody coat away from it to slip his arm out of the sleeve. Pulling Percy forward to lean against his chest, he braced him with an arm around his back, and murmured, "I'm so sorry about this, my friend." Then he seized the remaining piece of shaft and pushed hard.

Percy was only mostly successful in biting back a scream, and his whole body shuddered violently. The few hellish seconds it took felt like an eternity before the arrowhead finally punched through his back and Vax could pull it through and out. He tossed it aside, the fished in the pouch on his belt for a bandage. Finding two, he wound one snugly under Percy's armpit and around the wound, and fashioned the other into a makeshift sling. Then he gently draped Percy's coat back over his shoulder.

It wasn't perfect, or pretty. But it would have to do.

Sweating, panting, and still shaking, Percy leaned his head against the tunnel wall and shut his eyes. Vax wished he could let him rest, but there simply wasn't time. He stood and held out his hand. "Come on, Percival. We need to keep moving."

As he pulled Percy to his feet, Vax's blood froze in his veins at the distant sound of a woman's high-pitched scream.