"You'll have to pay for it, you know that. More than a year erased. And all the while you've been living in this miserable little shack, laughing at me, working as a waitress, serving people. Trying to start your pitiful little business, kitchen business. Humiliating me. "
His hand slid from her cheek to her throat, squeezed. "I'm going to forgive you after a time, Helen. After a time, because I know you're slow, and just a bit stupid. Have you nothing to say to me, my love? Nothing to say after this long separation?"
Her lips were cold, felt as if they might crack. "How did you find me?"
He smiled then, and made her shudder. "I told you I'd always find you, wherever you went, whatever you did. " He gave her a hard shove that jammed her back into the counter. The pain registered in kind of an absent way, like a memory.
"Do you know what I found here, in your little nest, Helen? Helen, my whore? Men's clothing. How many men have you slept with, slut?"
The kettle began to shriek, but neither of them heard.
"Did you find yourself some strapping local fisherman, let him put his fumbling, workingman's hands all over you? All over what belongs to me?"
Zack. It was her first clear thought. Clear enough that her swimming eyes registered bright fear.
"There's no fisherman," she said and barel
y cried out when he slapped her.
"Liar. You know how I detest liars. "
"There's no-" The tears escaped at the next slap. But it snapped her back to who she was. She was Nell Channing, and she would fight. "Keep away from me.
Keep away. " She grabbed for the knife block, but he was quicker. He'd always been quicker.
"Is this what you want?" He drew the long, jagged-edged blade free, turned it in the light an inch from her nose. She braced herself. She thought: So, he'll kill me after all.
Instead he reared back, smashing the side of her face with a vicious backhanded slap that sent her flying. She crashed into the table, striking her head against the edge of the thick wood. The world went bright, went dark.
She didn't feel her body hit the floor.
***
Mia treated a young space explorer. The bookstore was one of the most popular spots on Halloween. She had dancing skeletons, grinning pumpkins, flying ghosts, and, of course, a coven of witches. Her usual store music had been replaced with howls and shrieks and rattling chains.
She was having the time of her life.
She served a cowboy ghoul a cup of punch from a cauldron as the dry ice packed beneath it sent out curls of smoke.
His eyes were huge as he watched her. "Are you gonna ride on your broomstick tonight?"
"Of course. " She bent down. "What kind of a witch would I be otherwise?"
"The witch who chased Dorothy was a bad witch. "
"She was a very bad witch," Mia agreed. "I happen to be a very good one. "
"She was ugly, and had a green face. You're pretty," he giggled and slurped his punch.
"Thank you very much. You, on the other hand, are very scary. " She handed him a bag of candy. "I hope you won't trick me. "
"Huh-uh. Thanks, lady. " He dropped the bag in his begging sack, then ran off to find his mother.
Amused, Mia started to straighten. The pain came fast, bright, like a spear of light through the temple. She saw a man with pale eyes and bright hair, and the gleam of the blade.
"Call Zack. " She rushed to the door, calling out to a startled Lulu. "There's trouble. Nell's in trouble. Call Zack. "
She raced into the street, swung around a group of costumed children and nearly plowed into Ripley. "Nell. "
"I know it. " Ripley's head was still ringing. "We have to hurry. "
***
She came to slowly, her vision fractured, her head screaming. There was absolute silence. She rolled, moaning, and managed to get to her hands and knees. Nausea sent her curling into a ball again.
The kitchen was dark now, lit only by the faint glow of a candle in the center of the table.
He sat there, in one of her kitchen chairs. She could see his shoes, the gleam of them, the perfect crease in his slacks, and she wanted to weep.
"Why do you make me punish you, Helen? I can only think you must enjoy it. " He nudged her with his shoe. "Is that it?"
She started to crawl away. Just a moment, she prayed. Give me one moment to breathe, and I can find my strength again.
He simply pressed his foot into her back.
"We're going to go somewhere where we can be alone. Where we can discuss all this foolishness, all this trouble you've caused me. "
He frowned a little. How was he to get her away? He hadn't meant to put marks on her, not where they could be noticed. She had pushed him to it.
"We'll walk to my car," he decided. "You'll wait there for me while I pack and check out. "
She shook her head. She knew it was useless, but she shook her head, then began to cry quietly when she felt Diego brush against her legs.
"You'll do exactly as I say. " He tapped the tip of the knife against the table. "If you don't, you'll leave me no choice. People already believe you're dead, Helen. Beliefs can easily become reality. "
His head snapped up as he heard a sound outside the door. "Perhaps the fisherman's come calling," he whispered, and rose, turning the knife in his hand.
Zack opened the door, hesitating, cursing as the phone on his belt rang. The break in stride saved his life.
He caught a blur of movement, a glimpse of the blade hacking down. He twisted, going for his weapon with a cross-body draw. The knife ripped through his shoulder instead of burying itself in his heart.
Nell screamed, gained her feet, only to have her head spin and send her staggering. In the dark kitchen, she could see the two silhouettes struggle. A weapon, she thought, biting her lip to keep from passing out again.
The bastard would not take what was hers. He would not harm what she loved.
She stumbled for the knife block, but it was gone.
She turned back, prepared to leap, to use teeth and nails. And saw Evan standing over Zack's body, the knife dripping in his hand.
"Oh, my God, no! No!"