make any others.”
The frayed rope ends finally budged, and Rebecca worked faster as she pulled out the knots. Ryan’s wrists broke free. He struggled against the spinning room as he sat up, working on the knots at his ankles. Rebecca paced in front of the fireplace while he freed himself.
“I promised Olivia I would take care of Sophie. Don’t let Tom hurt her.”
Ryan staggered to his feet. He glared at Rebecca. “Where?”
She nodded out the window. “The barn.”
***
Ryan stumbled out the front door and lurched across the clover-filled lawn toward the round barn. He wiped his forehead and grimaced at the bright red smear on the back of his hand. His bloodstained fingers wrapped around the iron handle and he threw the barn door open.
There, under the flickering blue fluorescent lights, knelt Sophie. Her brown arms were wrenched up into the small of her back and tied with frayed rope. Another section of rope held her slender neck down on the chunk of tree stump which Tom used to split wood.
Her eyes widened as Ryan stepped into the barn. Her lips moved but the screeching of the grinding wheel drowned out whatever she was trying to say. She winced as sparks landed on her cheek from the axe blade Tom held to the spinning stone. Tom looked up at Ryan. And grinned.
Ryan moved to step forward, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He caught his breath as the horned shadow stepped from the darkness behind a woodpile.
He glanced back at Tom, who was rolling up the sleeves on his work shirt. The gleaming axe blade resting on the floor, the handle against Sophie’s shoulder. Her lips were parted in a soundless scream, overridden by the tortured grinding of the motor.
Ryan took another step. Tom’s raised finger shook as he grasped the axe with his other hand, swung it onto his shoulder. The horned shadow behind the woodpile beckoned him.
What the hell do I do?
The shadow drew back farther. A polished wooden handle gleamed in the cool blue light where the thing had stood. Ryan’s brows knitted as he recognized the antique pitchfork. His hand shot out. He seized the long handle and lifted it out of its nook.
Tom’s laughter rose above the screeching motor. Ryan turned and pointed the tines. They both knew he could never cross the barn before the axe fell on Sophie’s neck.
Ryan watched helplessly as Tom’s callused hands swung the axe into the air, slowing as it reached the top of its arc. He shifted his grip on the pitchfork, found his center of gravity; his arm drew back as he took two great strides forward.
Step, step, throw.
Ryan followed through just like he always had on the javelin field. The axe slipped out of Tom’s fingers, fell soundlessly to the floor by the grinding wheel. Ryan started forward, but there was no need. Tom had his fingers wrapped around the tines protruding from his chest. Then he collapsed, the pitchfork handle bobbing up and down on the grinding wheel.
***
They emerged from the barn in time to see Rebecca’s Volvo fling sand and gravel into the air as it sped down the driveway, veering onto the dirt road leading to Greenfield. Ryan grasped the brown arm that clutched his waist. He pulled Sophie closer—watching the shadow move among the trees at the edge of the wood.
In Vino Veritas
By Robert Harkess
“See the blonde? The short, dumpy one?”
Marco jerked his head up and down.
“For the Master’s sake take her somewhere and fuck her. We’re already behind on quota for the week.”
Marco nodded again. “Yes, Leo. Of course.”
He started toward the girl and winced when he heard Leonides snort in disgust. Marco dragged his face into something he hoped looked sultry and tempting, and did what he could to inject confidence into his gait. It wasn’t easy. Leonides was a full head taller than he was. Damn it, they all were, with broad shoulders and muscles rippling across stomachs and down hairy thighs.
Another
The frayed rope ends finally budged, and Rebecca worked faster as she pulled out the knots. Ryan’s wrists broke free. He struggled against the spinning room as he sat up, working on the knots at his ankles. Rebecca paced in front of the fireplace while he freed himself.
“I promised Olivia I would take care of Sophie. Don’t let Tom hurt her.”
Ryan staggered to his feet. He glared at Rebecca. “Where?”
She nodded out the window. “The barn.”
***
Ryan stumbled out the front door and lurched across the clover-filled lawn toward the round barn. He wiped his forehead and grimaced at the bright red smear on the back of his hand. His bloodstained fingers wrapped around the iron handle and he threw the barn door open.
There, under the flickering blue fluorescent lights, knelt Sophie. Her brown arms were wrenched up into the small of her back and tied with frayed rope. Another section of rope held her slender neck down on the chunk of tree stump which Tom used to split wood.
Her eyes widened as Ryan stepped into the barn. Her lips moved but the screeching of the grinding wheel drowned out whatever she was trying to say. She winced as sparks landed on her cheek from the axe blade Tom held to the spinning stone. Tom looked up at Ryan. And grinned.
Ryan moved to step forward, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He caught his breath as the horned shadow stepped from the darkness behind a woodpile.
He glanced back at Tom, who was rolling up the sleeves on his work shirt. The gleaming axe blade resting on the floor, the handle against Sophie’s shoulder. Her lips were parted in a soundless scream, overridden by the tortured grinding of the motor.
Ryan took another step. Tom’s raised finger shook as he grasped the axe with his other hand, swung it onto his shoulder. The horned shadow behind the woodpile beckoned him.
What the hell do I do?
The shadow drew back farther. A polished wooden handle gleamed in the cool blue light where the thing had stood. Ryan’s brows knitted as he recognized the antique pitchfork. His hand shot out. He seized the long handle and lifted it out of its nook.
Tom’s laughter rose above the screeching motor. Ryan turned and pointed the tines. They both knew he could never cross the barn before the axe fell on Sophie’s neck.
Ryan watched helplessly as Tom’s callused hands swung the axe into the air, slowing as it reached the top of its arc. He shifted his grip on the pitchfork, found his center of gravity; his arm drew back as he took two great strides forward.
Step, step, throw.
Ryan followed through just like he always had on the javelin field. The axe slipped out of Tom’s fingers, fell soundlessly to the floor by the grinding wheel. Ryan started forward, but there was no need. Tom had his fingers wrapped around the tines protruding from his chest. Then he collapsed, the pitchfork handle bobbing up and down on the grinding wheel.
***
They emerged from the barn in time to see Rebecca’s Volvo fling sand and gravel into the air as it sped down the driveway, veering onto the dirt road leading to Greenfield. Ryan grasped the brown arm that clutched his waist. He pulled Sophie closer—watching the shadow move among the trees at the edge of the wood.
In Vino Veritas
By Robert Harkess
“See the blonde? The short, dumpy one?”
Marco jerked his head up and down.
“For the Master’s sake take her somewhere and fuck her. We’re already behind on quota for the week.”
Marco nodded again. “Yes, Leo. Of course.”
He started toward the girl and winced when he heard Leonides snort in disgust. Marco dragged his face into something he hoped looked sultry and tempting, and did what he could to inject confidence into his gait. It wasn’t easy. Leonides was a full head taller than he was. Damn it, they all were, with broad shoulders and muscles rippling across stomachs and down hairy thighs.
Another
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