Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [664]
“Do you still refuse?”
“Yes, my dark goddess, I still refuse.”
“When you raped these women long ago, did you dream of the price you would pay?”
“No, my dark goddess, I did not.”
“You didn’t believe in our gods, did you?”
“No, my dark goddess, I did not.”
“You thought your white Christ could save you, didn’t you?”
“Yes, my dark goddess, I did.”
“You were wrong.”
His head hunched between his shoulders as if he were trying to draw into himself like a turtle. The metaphor was funny. The gesture was not. “Yes, my dark goddess, I was wrong.”
She gave another nod, and the women began to whip him in a blur that made the whips gleam silver like lightning in their hands. Blood ran in streamers down his back, but he never cried out, never asked for mercy.
I must have made some movement, because Edward stepped close to me, not grabbing my arm, but touching it. I met his eyes, and he gave the barest shake of his head. I wouldn’t really risk our lives for a vampire I didn’t know, really I wouldn’t, but I didn’t like it.
Olaf made a small sound. He was watching it with glowing eyes like a child at Christmas who comes down to find that he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. He’d put up the gun, his big hands clasped in front of him, clasped so hard they were mottled, and a fine tremor ran up his arms. I might not like it, but Olaf did.
I glanced at Edward, sort of nodding to the big man. Edward gave the barest of nods. He saw it, too, but he was ignoring it. I tried. I caught Bernardo’s eyes. He was staring at the big man, a look very close to fear on his face. He turned and concentrated on the stairs, turning his back on everything in the room. I’d have liked to join him, but I couldn’t turn away. It wasn’t just macho crap, you know. If Edward could stand to watch it, then so could I. Though there was a little of that. Mostly it was if Diego could endure it, I could watch it. If I wasn’t going to stop it then I had to at least watch. To do nothing to help him and to turn away would have been too much cowardice for me to swallow. I’d have choked on it. The best I could do was try to watch other things around him. The way the women’s arms went up and down like machines, as if they would never tire.
The five guards stood impassive, but the vamp that walked at Itzpapalotl’s right side watched it with half-parted lips, eyes intent as if afraid to miss even the smallest movement. He was almost as old as the goddess herself, seven, eight hundred years, and for five hundred of those years he’d been watching this particular show, and he still enjoyed it. I knew in that moment that I never wanted to make an enemy of the creatures in this room. I never wanted to be at their mercy. Because they had none.
The other two Spanish survivors had moved back to stand against the far wall, as far from the show as they could get. The one with salt and pepper hair stared at the ground as if there was something of great interest there. The starved one on his leash had curled into a fetal position, as if he were trying to disappear altogether.
The women turned Diego’s back into bloody ribbons. A red pool formed at his feet. He curled his upper body over his legs until he was like a little ball of pain. Blood began to drip down his shoulders to form a second puddle in front of him. He was weaving, even that low to the ground, as if he might pass out. I hoped he passed out soon.
I finally did take a step forward, and Edward grabbed my arm. “No,” he said.
“You feel pity for him,” Itzpapalotl said.