The Cardinal Bird (1 of Cardinal Series)

Chapter 42

A/N: Good news! My wattpad seems to be working again.  I gave it a week this time before deciding that for sure since I jumped the gun a bit before.  Hopefully, I can get back in the swing of responding to reviews and posting the sneak peeks!!!

I looked up--er, down--at the sink. It was a large one, most likely used for canning fruits and vegetables way back in the day, once a pride and joy for having the biggest, most state-of-the-art tool of the trade, now a limed-up and iron-stained eyesore. It was hideous and ugly.

I was lowered back down under the water.

I may have been a little biased in my vexation with the object, but I was probably a little justified.

My body thrashed as well as it could with two healing bullet wounds--which meant I was just twitching and flopping around like a dead fish that got its tail stuck in a light socket. I tried to contract my muscles to lift my head out of the water, but I couldn't manage it. The oxygen was burning up all the quicker the more I struggled, so I slowed my movements until I eventually stopped.

With a deafening whoosh and the return of the rest of my senses, I was raised back up, choking and spluttering as water was expelled from my lungs. The smell of the dank, moldy basement flooded my burning nostrils. The blinding light from the sole window obscured my vision of the menacing figure as he crouched down in front of me.

"I have places to be. Peter has places to be. If you continue to fight like this, I might do something I could regret." I kept coughing and shuddering, feeling freezing in the cool air without a shirt on and a head of soaking wet hair from the icy tap water. Grinley ran a burning fingertip along my frigid cheek. I jerked away instinctively, sending my body swaying along the rope that was trussed up to the floor beam. "I just want to know your name."

I coughed once more, trying to calm myself to slow my breathing. "M-m-m-my n-nnname?"

"Yes," he promised, tugging on a lock of wet hair. "Just your name. It'll be easy. Then we can get on to the rest of the questions. The important questions."

I took another deep breath. "M-my n--name will-ll b-be the l-llast thing o--on y-your mind when Gabe sees w-what you've done to my--"

"Dunk her," Grinley said, standing up.

I was plunged down again. Something, probably Grinley, hit the side of the iron sink making the noise reverberate through the water, and it reminded me so much of the lid slamming down on the tank, that I actually managed to use my stomach muscles enough to lift myself out of the water. I didn't get to take a breath though because hands wrapped around my throat and forced me back under. The hands clenched around me tight, hairy forearms scratching at my chest.

At some point, I wondered why I was struggling so hard. Sure, I was a survivor, but that didn't have to apply to Free-Sang if I didn't want it to. I was actually guilty of what Grinley thought I was. I had killed people. People had died because of me. That wasn't okay.

When I had opened my mouth to get it over with and breathe in the water, all that happened was that my mouth filled up. I couldn't actually get any of it into my lungs because his fingers were wrapped so tightly around my throat.

I stopped moving, my eyes opening up to the blurry colors of the iron sink until even that blacked out. Until I blacked out.

Something pounded on my chest, and I woke up with a gasp. I was swinging from the hit, and it made me nauseous. My head was pounding from being upside down for so long. How long had we been down here? It felt like hours. Daylight through the window had slowly crawled through the room as the position of the sun changed, letting me know that at least a good chunk of time had passed. A bright light flashed across my face, but I was too disoriented to decipher what it was.

"Welcome back to the living," Grinley said. "Ready to answer some questions."

I was completely drained of energy after blacking out, unable to even shiver anymore, so my words came out with a satisfying clarity. "It's sort of an oxymoron to strangle someone underwater. Takes away the threat of drowning." It probably looked funny but I shrugged a shoulder to the best of my ability while hanging upside down with bound hands. "Seems like a bit of overkill to--"

"Ack! You insolent--" Grinley took control of the rope and pulley from Peter, dropping me down so hard that my head bottomed out on the sink with the full brunt of my weight behind it. I was disoriented, trying to fight through the pain in my head.

I shook it, thankfully having the foresight enough to not try to breathe. My time in the tank had taught me at least one thing.

My legs were tied still, but no longer taut on the beam. Theoretically I would be able to get my legs under me and push myself out of the bath-sized sink. But I was too hurt, too tired, too weak to move. Too everything.

I went to inhale water, but thick arms wrapped around me and pulled me up. Sound blasted me.

"--you think you're doing? Leave her there. She's not giving us any information. She'll just die in a prison cell in Gitmo anyway! She's a cyber terrorist, a mass-murderer!"

"You do not know that," the voice rumbled beneath my wet back as the massive arms held me close to a warm chest. "Not for sure."

"Yes," Grinley gesticulated wildly at me, like I was a nuclear warhead about to go off. "She won't tell us her name. That is not something that an innocent person would do! Besides, you saw it yourself. She opened her mouth to swallow water. Twice. Normal, innocent people sing away; they don't just allow the torture to continue on or let themselves die. She's guilty as hell!"

"Nyet, no. You do not decide on own. We take her to agency. Do this right. Maybe--if lucky--we won't get fired for this," Peter turned towards the stairs, carrying me bridal style now.

"We can't get fired if there aren't any witnesses!!"

He ignored him, walking out into the kitchen. "My name is Petya Sokolov. You can call me Peter." He adjusted me in his grip, setting me down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. He leaned down to eye level to look at something on my head. When he touched it, my nerves lit up in pain.

I hissed in a breath.

"Sorry?" he said with a shrug. "You have bump on your head. There is much blood. Normal for head injuries."

I frowned and allowed his examination. "Petya is your name though?" I croaked, my hand going up to my throat in mild surprise. Grinley must have been squeezing harder than I thought.

He nodded frowning down at my throat as well. "Da."

"Then I will call you Petya," I said, forcing the words out, my voice wobbly and deep.

He smiled at me, but then a shot rang out. Blood splattered all over my face. The smile faded from Petya's face. He started to fall forward and collapse to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Only pure instinct alone had me rolling backwards over the counter and dodging what sounded like a second shot as it buried itself into the marble on the counter. I landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor only a fraction of a second before Petya's body thundered to the ground beside me. I thanked my instincts for having the foresight to roll to the back, not off to the side, so that I wasn't trapped under the deadweight of his large body. Because that's all he was now. Deadweight. Much of his face was missing now. I'd just been talking to him--a person with a soul and life, and now there was just a thing.

This up-close killing was so much different than being behind a computer screen. I could feel the signs of myself going into shock, and I didn't really do anything to stop it.

Another shot rang out, zinging by my ear, and startling me enough to jump-start my senses.

I scooted back against the island, hiding from doorway to the basement where Grinley must have stood to have taken the shot at his...what, friend, colleague, acquaintance? I just found out that he didn't even use the guy's given name. Petya isn't any more difficult to say than Peter.

I stared at a growing puddle of red that made its way towards me. I was trapped behind a small counter, barely three feet wide, hiding from a madman. It was a terrifyingly familiar situation, right down to the slightly cooled puddle of blood that had nearly reached me now.

"Little girl, come on out. Let's have a chat. I promise I won't hurt you."