Spirit Bound - Christine Feehan [95]
At once he could see an array of objects in a small bin beside tools. She had created the various items she wanted to use in her cells from materials that would only reveal themselves under the ultraviolet light. Ingenious. Stefan shook his head at her creativity. Not only was she able to hide her work, but the secretive nature of the cells reflected the intensity of the emotions she kept so hidden from the rest of the world. Essentially, she’d locked a part of herself away in those sealed cells.
Stefan choose year one to examine first. Not only was it evident to him that this particular cell was the beginning from being on the bottom of the stack, but when he took it close to the light and swirled the contents, he clearly saw the number one in the midst of the other items. Red drops that looked like blood dripped over the images. Purple swirled through the contents and once more sorrow settled heavily on his shoulders.
Year one was all about grief. Judith imprisoned her anguish at losing her beloved brother in this cell for all time. The heartache cut deep, slashing wounds that refused to close. Through the cell were images of guilt and a faint trail of shame. Twisting sticks of metal, a broken heart and weapons of torture swirled slowly, tumbling over one another, all while the cell wept drops of blood. The same Japanese character in red that was the name of her brother tumbled in the mix. A glittering object proclaimed “I’m sorry” and another was a very telling clock turning back the hands of time.
He found himself nearly weeping and, glancing down, realized his finger stroked the trigger of his gun. Abruptly he pulled his hand away, understanding just how intense her emotions were. He was feeling what she felt. Here, in this room, surrounded by relentless sorrow, she contemplated ending her life to make up for her sins. She knew better, he could read that as well, but the thought was in her mind occasionally. She couldn’t bring him back; she couldn’t turn back the clock.
In the second cell he studied the objects representing Paris. A broken paintbrush. A slashed canvas. A palette of colors that ran to darker blues and purples. A tiny replica of the Louvre. A torn picture of herself and her brother that nearly broke his heart. Small things that told him her guilt was growing.
Subsequent cells revealed a Japanese Kanji symbol for shame and another that represented guilt. A police badge. The small Greek island where Jean-Claude’s men caught up with her brother. Things he believed portrayed her brother’s life. As the years progressed, the rage in Judith obviously grew and more items showed the slow, torturous death, slice by slice as they tried to extract information about Judith’s whereabouts. In a single cell she had created tiny replicas of torment so detailed he knew her spirit had merged with her brother’s as he lay dying and she felt every cut, every burn, just as he had.
A burning flame took fire in his gut. His mind snarled and raged with murderous intent. His body crawled with the need to avenge the murder of Paul Henderson. Murderous rage for Stefan was unfamiliar. He killed coldly. Without emotion. His feelings had long ago been stamped out of him. Until Judith he hadn’t realized he had such a well of passion to draw from.
This—this need to make La Roux suffer had to come from Judith, not from him. His hands didn’t shake, his body didn’t coil tight, his brain never roared for the kill. She’d poured those emotions into this room, and then trapped them here and his spirit always absorbed hers. He was soaking those darker sentiments into his body.
Taking a breath, Stefan managed to push the rage down deep as he fit the cell into the large kaleidoscope and added the portable ultraviolet light. The wand fit into the cylinder and illuminated the cell. Placing