Dr. Percival Chaunders pressed himself deeper into his leather seat hoping he would be able to control his bladder.
“He thinks he can come and take over my battle? The Winters are mine to destroy. I made them, all of them!” This time it was the antique Tiffany lamp that found itself in shards against the granite wall.
Chaunders found himself fixating on a shard of red stained glass as it glistened in the overhead light that seemed unable to penetrate the dark veil of Williams’ anger. The room seemed to pulse with his rage. Dr. Chaunders swallowed hard against his fear, but it won by forcing itself back up as acid burning the back of his throat.
“I’ll not sit back while he takes what’s mine. Arkdone has always thought of himself superior but tonight, he will see who is truly the more evil.” Williams was pacing the twenty-by-fifteen room as a caged animal would.
A string of profanities flew like the shards of glass, echoing off the walls.
“Assemble a new team. The Perficio Rez killed themselves off tonight, except one—Gideon Niche, is that correct?”
Chaunders couldn’t even find his voice for fear of saying the wrong thing and becoming the focus of Williams’ fury. He nodded vigorously causing his glasses to slip down his greasy nose.
“Collect him and fifty of my most vicious, deadly metas. We leave tomorrow at noon for the States.” Williams paused to yank his gloves off, whip out a plastic box, grab a syringe and puncture himself between his fingers. Chaunders watched in fascinated horror at the act of corruption.
He seemed to be injecting himself with what looked like heroine and had no qualms about doing it in front of his second-in-command. Williams’ eyes rolled back in his head while bloody tears spilled from his swollen tear ducts. His head slumped forward against the tabletop, waiting for his bloody frame to feel the rush of pain relief.
The doctor’s usually pristine three-pieced suit was anything but now. The shirt tails were pulled out, the neck tie was hanging loosely and his fedora was pushed back on his head to accommodate his bloody face-plant into the marble table.
Unsure what to do, Chaunders waited quietly, wringing his sweat-covered hands. He watched the doctor to make sure he saw his back rise and fall with breaths, but as his eyes were trained on the doctor’s back, he could have sworn he saw something squirm under the Italian cloth of his jacket.
“What are you waiting for, Chaunders?”
“Sir?” Percival was startled enough to urinate. Williams’ nose caught the scent and he inhaled deeply, enjoying the fear he created in the sniveling fool who he’d chosen to replace the old commander. He much preferred the weak, easily controlled doctor over the militant killer Oldham.
“I gave you a directive. Go assemble the fifty soldiers and Niche. Then prepare a flight to leave at twelve hundred hours tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Chaunders bounced his portly, wet body out of his seat leaving a large sweat spot where he had sat, and nearly ran to the door of the conference room.
“Oh, and Chaunders,” Dr. Kenneth Williams called after him, stopping Percival Chaunders in midstep. “In case you were unsure, you will be accompanying the soldiers and me. I’m sure you’re honored to do so.” Williams was sitting up looking straight at the quivering doctor.
“A-a—as you w-w-ish, sir,” he managed to stutter as the rest of the urine in his bladder dripped down his legs, wetting his socks thoroughly.
Chapter 54 Meg and the Dark One
“As I promised, little Meg, I brought someone who’s been dying to see you!”
Meg was curled up into a ball, her knees to her chin. Her bare feet were already black with grime from the dirt floor. She had been pacing for the last two hours, trying to think, trying to stay warm and trying not to panic at the terror she felt after being shredded by Arkdone’s reprimand before. But now she was too worn out to pace. She cried enough tears. She didn’t know how long she’d been in this cell, but it felt like days.
Her long dark hair draped around her shoulders looking, even in Arkdone’s wicked mind like an exquisite lace mantilla, in all its intricacies of delicately woven curls. She had been praying, of course. Arkdone could sense the purity around her and that, more than anything she’d tried to do before now, gave him pause.
Her dark eyes looked over her folded arms. He watched her face as she realized what lay at his feet, unmoving.
He relished the fresh layer of terror that coated her aura and nearly giggled when it began pulsing with anger.
“What have you done to my Maze?”
“Oh, he did most of this to himself, although I think it adds a nice touch, don’t you? Apparently he was trying to dig to you, Meg. Touching, really,” Arkdone scoffed.