You call this fate?

Chapter 35

Frank—I did not want to think of him as Rodwell—wore a simple black suit with a white shirt and vermilion tie, matching his eyes beautifully. His hair was slicked back over his head, just like it had been in the picture.

But in the picture the highlight had been his broad smile. There was a smile on his face now too, but it was cold and calculating as he regarded the shock on mine. He wasn't a very tall man, I noticed. Maybe six feet or less. There was a thick cane with a decorative eagle head in his hand, which he thumped on the ground with each step—not because he needed the support, I presumed, but because it cut an imposing figure.

When he came close enough, he stopped and looked at me with interest, like a scientist might a new specimen uncovered in his back garden. He inclined his head to the side, not saying anything.

I had forgotten all about trying to free myself. My wrists had no doubt been cut to ribbons already and, while I had been talking to McKenzie, the pain had been a constant dull companion. Now, I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't think anything or say anything. And I couldn't hear anything either through the dull ringing in my ears.

I had felt fear before. Completely bone numbing fear. This wasn't anywhere close to it, true, but I think this one deserved its own category. At least before I had known that I could scream. Now, I felt like my voice box had itself run away screaming.

Frank continued to gaze at me for a moment longer, then turned to the crew cut man. The man's face was hard and unimpressive as he stared straight ahead. His master leaned closer and whispered something in his ear, and then presented his own. The man waited a beat in thought, then whispered back from the corner of his mouth.

Frank turned toward me and smiled beautifully, showing off pearly white teeth. He had a slight diastema.

Pressing his arms on my thighs, he leaned on me as a child might to tell the ghastly secret of who ate the last pie. His face was so closed my eyes crossed over . I was quaking on the inside.

Bringing his lips to my ear, he muttered, "I hope McKenzie was nice to you." Goodness, gracious, was his voice soft... It was the kind of voice that lulls one to sleep. I had a feeling he employed it for the same purpose. To lull people to sleep. Forever.

And it was all for me.

If I had been at my best, I would have known what he was doing. It was so obvious, really. But I was terrified. His eyes were making my stomach roil, so much did they resemble the fires of hell. Yet they were the coldest things I had seen in all my life.

I was terrified. I couldn't look at him without wanting to scream, so I had to look away. And, as my instincts kicked in, I was naturally inclined toward looking at that place I had last seen a familiar person. McKenzie.

My eyes must have flickered for a split second, but that was all he needed. His smile grew tenfold, like a kid with a golden ticket. He heaved himself off of me lightly, stepping back. His eyes swam over those assembled with mild interest. "Where is McKenzie?" he asked, both his hands lying on the eagle head.

There was no answer.

And then, slowly, one of the shadows on the left, where I had glanced, extricated itself out of its companions and stepped forward. "H-here, sir," McKenzie raised his hand.

Frank turned to look at him. McKenzie shrank into himself. "So, McKenzie, did you like your first assignment?"

The boy unravelled at the tone his boss employed. "Y-yes, sir," he said with a little more confidence. He obviously had no idea what it was his Master had learned from his man and me, so very easily.