“What did you do for your master?” Kelsea asked.
“I took his pain, and held it.” Brenna’s features were clear, almost beautiful. Her eyes were a deep, cold shade of blue. “I never gave his pain back. It leached the life from me, took my youth and turned me pale, but I held his pain so that he could do the things he needed to do. To keep us safe.”
Kelsea closed her eyes. She had misjudged Thorne, categorized him as a pure sociopath, but he was not. He had felt pain when he was dying, great pain, far greater than the wounds Kelsea had inflicted. Brenna had no longer been able to help him.
“So you’re a conduit, then?” the Red Queen asked in Tear. “To drain off pain?”
“Sometimes.” Brenna grinned, a grin so savage that Kelsea shuddered again. “But I have other talents. My master rarely needed them, but I think we will make good use of them here.”
She grabbed the Red Queen by the hair and dragged her into a sitting position. The Red Queen grunted with pain, but did not scream, as Kelsea was sure Brenna had intended.
“You, Mort bitch, my master spoke of many times. You tried to cheat him when you thought you could get away with it. You will make a good demonstration.”
“Demonstration of what?”
Brenna squatted on her haunches and stared into the Red Queen’s eyes. The Red Queen tried to turn away, but she could not, and gradually her head stilled, her gaze fixed and pinpointed on something Kelsea could not see, her mouth dropping open in horror.
“I own pain,” Brenna remarked, almost casually, never breaking gaze with the Red Queen. “I manipulate it. I can draw pain out if I want. But I can also magnify it.”
The Red Queen began to squeal, a high, animal squealing, a hog in a slaughtering pen. Kelsea closed her eyes, but could not block the sound.
“Think of the worst thing you’ve ever done, the worst that’s ever happened to you,” Brenna whispered. “I can make you live there.”
The squealing stopped. The Red Queen’s eyes had rolled up into her head. Her face gleamed with sweat, and a thin line of drool had begun to work its way from her mouth. Her entire body shuddered.
“Stop it!” Kelsea cried. “You have no reason to do this to her!”
“She cheated my master,” Brenna replied steadily. “That’s reason enough, but not all. I want you to see what’s in store for you, Tear bitch. This show is for you.”
“Motherrr!” the Red Queen howled.
“I think we can loose her now,” Brenna remarked, straightening. She produced a knife, bent over, and began to cut the Red Queen’s bonds. “She’s not going anywhere. And it makes for a better show.”
“Mother, I’m sorry!” the Red Queen screamed, and Kelsea saw that tears had begun to leak down her cheeks as words tumbled from her mouth. “Please don’t! Don’t, Mother! I’ll be good, I promise! Don’t sell me away.” Her unbound hands went to her face, her nails drawing a long set of gashes down one cheek. Blood ran from the wound and began to drip down her neck. Kelsea rolled over and retched.
“Do you have bad memories, Kelsea Glynn?” Brenna asked softly. “Anything you regret? Anything you’ve been trying to run from?”
Kelsea wriggled away from the words, but Brenna was right on her, lifting her head by the hair.
“I will find it. Whatever it is, believe me, I will find it and it will happen to you again and again, until you know nothing else.”
Kelsea shut her eyes, determined not to meet Brenna’s gaze. Brenna tossed her on her back, and a moment later Kelsea felt the gentle prick of fingernails on her eyelids.
“Open them,” Brenna whispered. “Open them or I will take them from you.”
Several feet away, the Red Queen was still sobbing and pleading with her invisible mother. The sound was terrible, but the thought of being blind was worse. Kelsea opened her eyes and found Brenna’s face right over hers.
“Where is it?” Brenna whispered, and Kelsea realized in horror that she could feel the woman inside her mind, searching, prying. “Where is that thing, that worst thing?”
Is this what I did? Kelsea wondered, appalled. Brenna was working through her mind with all the finesse of a thief tearing apart a drawer full of clothing; it was like being bludgeoned. Kelsea tried to break eye contact, but she could neither look away nor close her eyes.
Did I do this to others?
“Buried deep,” Brenna muttered. And Kelsea realized, terrified, that Brenna was drawing nearer to a deep, dark pocket in her mind: Lily’s memories, Lily’s life before the Crossing, constant fear punctuated by staccato notes of violence and violation. Lily’s terrible life, which Kelsea had been forced to live as well.
“Ah,” Brenna murmured with relish. “I see you now.”