Chapter 32: Emperor of Wrath: Chapter 32

You can tell yourself a thousand times that ghosts aren’t real. But when you’re faced with one, in the flesh, it doesn’t matter what you’ve told yourself. It doesn’t matter what you believe. Ghosts don’t give a fuck.

At least, mine certainly doesn’t.

“I’ve thought about you, puppet.”

I shudder. The very word from his mouth makes me want to throw up until there’s not even bile left. Sitting in the rusty metal chair I’m tied to, I stare unblinkingly at the stone floor. I say nothing. I don’t even look at Valon, though I can feel him standing right next to me in the dank gloom.

I don’t know where we are. I tried to memorize the turns we took after the bike crash, when he and Tengan dragged me into the very van that had just driven my friends off the road. But in the sheer terror of the reality unfolding around me, I lost track.

Now, I’m here.

“Here” is cold, damp, and smells of mildew. The walls are curved, moss-covered stone; the room in the shape of a cylinder. A single bulb hangs from the center of the double-height room, and a metal staircase bolted to the wall winds up to an upper level. A metal walkway rims that, with two openings that lead to dark hallways, similar to the two down here.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear a low mechanical hum that sounds like…a generator, perhaps?

I have no idea where Tengan is.

“Have you thought about me⁠—”

“Never,” I spit coldly, still not looking at him.

Valon chuckles a wheezing, grunting laugh.

“Still not a very good liar, are you, puppet?”

He’s in bad shape. Really bad shape. Honestly, waiting to see if he keels over dead at any moment is one of the few things keeping me together right now.

His skin is pallid and waxy. His eyes are bloodshot, and his torn, filthy clothes are bulging over the heavy bandages around his stomach, chest, and left arm, which is in a sling.

Whatever Ulkan did to him, I wish he was still alive, so I could send him a gift basket and ask him to please do it again.

My eyes dart around the crumbling old space, taking in the rusty chairs and rotted-out desks, the old map of Imperial Japan tacked to a moldy cork board, and a few ancient metal filing cabinets tipped onto their sides.

There’s also a small refrigerator and a cot, with filthy, blood-stained sheets.

I think I know where Valon’s been lying low for the past week.

He winces, his face twisting in pain as he turns toward me.

“Puppet—”

“Do not call me that,” I hiss venomously.

A small smile curls Valon’s thin lips, his pale, sweaty face leering at me as he turns and walks over to a table across the room. He picks something up with his good hand, then turns and walks around behind me.

“I got you a present,” he murmurs quietly.

“I don’t give a shit—OW!”

I jerk, whipping my head to the side and staring wide-eyed at the syringe in Valon’s hands.

The needle is pushed deep into the bare skin of my shoulder.

I stare at the needle and drag my horrified eyes up to his.

“What was that?”

He smiles coldly. “That was insurance. And before you threaten me with your dear husband coming for you, let me save you the trouble. I know he’s coming for you.” His lips twist darkly. “I’m counting on it, in fact. And you should hope that he does, too.”

I stare transfixed as he slowly pulls the needle out of my skin.

“What did you just give me?!”

Valon’s smile is cold.

“Poison, puppet.”

Roiling nausea begins to surge inside me. I choke as my throat closes up, my eyes haggard as I just stare at the spot where he’s stuck me.

“But don’t worry. Your husband is an intelligent man. He’ll figure out where I’ve taken you. He’ll come for you. And when he does, if he’s as intelligent as I think, he’ll do as he’s told. If he does, you’ll get this.”

He holds a tiny little glass bottle up in front of me.

“Antidote for what I just gave you. You’ve got about an hour before things start to get”…he smiles icily…“most unpleasant.”

“You motherfucker.” I strain against the ropes binding my wrists behind the back of the chair. “When he gets here⁠—”

“He will do exactly as I tell him to do,” Valon spits.

My eyes bulge as he pulls a handgun out of his jacket, wincing. The loud metallic click of it cocking echoes in the dank stone room.

“If he doesn’t, he gets to watch you die.”