Chapter 31

The all encompassing darkness was comfortable and safe. Tom didn't want to leave it. But something alien swooped around the fringes of his consciousness, driving the shadows back. Unwillingly, he was herded up into the light.

As he came to awareness, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sensations that poured in from his abused body. His head throbbed with pain. Idly he wondered if he had gotten away with a concussion or if his skull was as fractured as it felt. He was lying on his side in what seemed to be rubble; hard, sharp things pressed and poked uncomfortably against him up and down the length of his body. After a brief struggle, he managed to open his eyes. Even with blurred vision, he could make out a face, only inches from his own, staring curiously back at him.

In a soft, cultured voice, Arthur said, "Welcome back, Detective. You were quite difficult to wake, but I just couldn't bear to allow you to sleep through this."

Tom felt himself being lifted from the floor by his arm. He dangled loosely in Arthur's grip, his knees scraping on the rough floor. From his new vantage point he could see that he was in the ruins of a basement, lit by a multitude of flickering candles. The portion of the house above him was intact, or at least the first floor was still in place. The other half had collapsed completely, filling the cellar below it with a mound of rotting wood that ramped up over the sides of the foundation.

Arthur raised him higher and he could feel rough wood scraping against the back of his hand and wrist. Tom knew he should be distressed over his predicament, but he couldn't even summon enough curiosity to look up. Arthur held Tom in place with one hand while holding something in front of Tom's nose with the other. Arthur waited patiently until Tom managed to focus his eyes on the object and then chuckled when Tom gasped in recognition and fresh fear.

Tom finally began to struggle, but his blows were too feeble to so much as inconvenience the immortal. Silently, Arthur traced the point of the rusted railroad spike up the length of Tom's arm, stopping just below his wrist. Staring into Tom's eyes, Arthur began to push.

Tom screamed as fresh pain lanced through him. Hot liquid ran in a torrent down his arm as the thick, iron spike passed through his flesh and into the wood beyond. Desperately, Tom sought to return to the darkness, to escape from the pain in the oblivion of unconsciousness. But the alien presence was still lurking in his mind, and it blocked him from that comfort.

"Come now, Tom," Arthur whispered in his ear, "These are the last moments of your life. Surely you don't really want to miss them, however unpleasant they may be."

Tom screamed again as Arthur spiked his other arm to the transverse floor joyce that ran across the basement ceiling. His arms had been spread wide apart so that his feet dangled inches from the floor, forcing the pierced and battered flesh surrounding the spikes to bear his full weight. Tom gritted his teeth as he tried to get a grip on the white hot agony that flared brightly each time the tremors of his body tore those awful wounds anew. Mercifully, the overloaded nerves in his arms soon numbed and the pain receded slightly.

Defiantly, Tom spat in Arthur's face and hissed, "I don't care what you do to me. I'm not telling you anything."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise before he threw back his head in laughter. "Oh my dear boy," he said condescendingly once the laughter had faded, "this isn't an interrogation. Have you learned nothing of us from your time with Mia? I already know all of your secrets, from the time you were twelve and pleasured yourself in the catholic school bathroom after glimpsing the cleavage of one of the nuns to the fact that Mia is even now in the bedroom of your apartment along with another delectable morsel.

"You once used Mia as bait in an attempt to lure me into your pathetic little trap. I am merely returning the favor. I left a trail that she should easily be able to follow. On that subject, Thomas, I could use your advice, as one who, like myself, knows Mia intimately. What do you think would hurt her more when she arrives: to find you dead; to find you little more than a rabid animal; or to be forced to fight you after I turn you into a true fledgling? Hmmm, then again, perhaps it would be best to keep you alive until the moment of her arrival and then throw your still beating heart at her feet."