William Bernhardt - Dark Eye

“Doctors. Always making referrals.”

“I can’t believe anyone wants to live as you do. I know you must be tormented. Do you have hallucinations? Do you hear voices?”

“I’ve had about enough of-”

“We can block out those voices. We can suppress the irresistible impulses. We can help you.” She strained against her bonds. “I will personally ensure that the finest doctors are-”

“Stop it!”

He poured a drink down her throat and then, when the convulsions ceased, he raised the blade of the scalpel and thrust it downward, cutting between her top and second ribs. A terrible hissing sound followed as air escaped from her lungs. Blood rushed up her throat and out her mouth.

“Where is that heart? Where is it? ”

The razor plunged again, this time between the second rib and the third.

Her body rocked. Gases seeped out of the gaping wounds. Despite the restraints, she jerked and spasmed as if she were in seizure. Blood gushed from the openings in her chest, her mouth, even her ears.

“Where is it?” he cried. “Where is it?” He stuck the blade into her body again and again, until blood streamed from more than a dozen places. “ ‘Dissemble no more!’ ” He slashed wildly with the knife, cutting her arms, her legs, her torso, slicing open her chest, drenching himself, staining everything in sight. “ ‘I admit the deed! It is the beating of the hideous heart!’ “

I didn’t get free of the cops till midnight, and even then, since my apartment had turned into a crime scene, sort of, I was going to have to stay at a hotel for a few days, with security detail in tow. Which was all right with me. As long as it wasn’t the Transylvania.

Thank God, Patrick agreed to meet me at The White Feather. I made some excuse about why we should go separately-the real reason, of course, was so I could leave the security guys posted outside the front door, dash to the bar in the back, grab a fifth, then down it in the ladies’ room. I knew I’d promised Lisa I wouldn’t, but these were pretty damn extenuating circumstances. I mean, the man had been on my bed, for God’s sake. He’d gone through my drawers. When I thought about this psycho pawing my underwear, I got physically ill. I felt like a rape victim, even though he hadn’t laid a finger on me.

Patrick was very good about it, very sweet. I knew he was tired and probably wanted to go home, but he stayed with me just the same. God, I wanted his arms around me. I just wanted to feel safe. I just wanted to feel.

The waitress came by. “Another whiskey?”

I stiffened. “I’m drinking club soda.”

“Okay. Want another one?”

I shook my head. Patrick got another beer. Half an hour later, we were still talking.

“You were pretty tough on the boys,” I said. “Back at my place.”

“With good reason. Someone does a home invasion on a member of the team, that’s serious business. We have to take care of our own.”

“Thanks for sticking up for me.”

He shrugged. “It’s what partners do.”

God, he was handsome. I felt an itching I couldn’t scratch and suddenly I didn’t want to be in this bar anymore. “Patrick? You did tell me you were unmarried, right?”

“Ye-es.”

“Do you think you could get rid of those security guys for a while?”

“I could, but why on earth-”

“Tell them you’re going to stay with me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I am?”

I gave him my best big long lusty. “Unless you still think it would damage our working relationship.”

“Probably would. But at the moment, I’m not sure I care.” He pushed himself out of his chair. “I’ll go talk to the uniforms.”

I’m sure he thought we were going back to his motel room, but we never made it that far, at least not at first. I led him by the hand to his car out back, slid onto the hood, and reeled him in.

“Now, wait a minute,” Patrick protested.

“What?” I said, grinning in what I hoped would seem a lascivious expression. “Don’t you wanna make a girl happy?”

“We’re professionals. We shouldn’t-”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“But someone might come…”

“Who cares?” I bit him on the side of the neck.

He pulled away slightly. “It would be wrong of me to-”

“Oh, don’t be so damn good. Just this once.” I unbuckled his belt and reached inside. After that, I knew I had him. He didn’t care who was watching. I pulled him inside me and felt the warmth, felt the glow, felt good, felt safe. For a little while.

Oh, Susan. Oh, my dear, sweet Susan. I wanted so much for you. I wanted to elevate you, to cherish you, to escort you through the gates of Dream-Land. I tried to win you over, to help you see the light, to seduce you with the truth.

But now I see that you have been seduced by another master altogether.

I followed you because I wanted to help you, to learn more about you. Because I cared for you. And I was concerned, genuinely desperately concerned when I saw you enter that bar, knowing your weakness as I do. But that was nothing compared to the abject horror I experienced when you emerged. How could I know you had an addiction worse than alcohol, an addiction to decadence, to evil? I could never have believed it-until I saw you roll onto your car like the most debased jezebel, like the village harlot, an impure woman less worthy than the dust. Yes, I know you’ve been drinking again. But that is no excuse. There is no excuse.

I know now what I must do.

I must show you the error of your wanton ways. I must show you the result of indulging your passions, let you see your ultimate destiny if you continue on this wicked path. I must crush the spiritual depravity, modify your behavior with an experience so ghastly those old instincts will be dissipated, now and for all time. You must hit rock bottom before you can be cured.

I know you will not come of your own accord. You are willful, stubborn, eternally contumacious. But I can break you. And I will. Not because I want to. Not because I will enjoy it. But because it must be done.

I have only your best interests at heart.

I was used to waking up groggy, disoriented, not knowing where I was. I was used to a throbbing head, pulsing temples, dry cottony mouth. I was thoroughly familiar with finding I had forgotten to put on my jammies. And I was not altogether unaccustomed to finding myself in a strange bed.

But being handcuffed to it? That was different.

“Wha… tha…” My eyes felt as if they had been pasted shut, and I couldn’t wipe them clear since both wrists were cuffed to the headboard. What the hell had happened to me? Could I have been abducted by-

That’s when I felt it-the cold clutching at my heart. The paralyzing, stabbing pain in the chest. Shortness of breath. Panic.

Edgar. Had he found me? Had he given me his drug and chained me here, waiting for the right moment to begin whatever sick Poe-derived deprivation he had in store for me? I pulled at my bonds, but they were secure. I was chained down like a dog on a leash, utterly at his mercy, powerless to help myself. Any moment, he would return with his axe, his dental implements, his-

“Ready for some coffee?”

Patrick appeared in the doorway, carrying a small tray with two cups. “Maybe I’m wrong, but you seemed less the tall-glass-of-OJ type and more the stiff-cuppa-joe type.”

“Why the hell am I chained up?”

He looked up absently. “Oh. Right. Sorry about that.” He put the tray down and fumbled in his pockets for a key.

“You forgot? Is this some twisted power trip for you? You get your jollies by chaining up women with your big stud FBI toys?”