Black Riders. Samuel I Sinclair

Black Riders - Samuel I Sinclair


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      He lifted the glass to his lips and drank.

      7

      The effect was almost instantaneous. He felt at peace, but something was wrong. He could hear laughter. He brought his eyes up to look back at Christine, but for some reason, as he did this, he felt so exhausted that he wanted to sleep for a decade. He realized he was still in his home, and Christine was looking at him with a grin he knew all too well; the grin Izac made when he was having fun.

      He tried to speak but had such little strength that he collapsed to the floor.

      Christine stopped laughing and looked down on him.

      “Now the fun can begin, my pet. So get up,” she said in a cold and seductive voice. He felt his body move without his command, as he rose to his feet. “Good. Now, tell me your name, darling.”

      He resisted the mind-numbing effect that her voice had on him until he felt her slap him across the face. This was no ordinary slap, though; the pain he felt from it was almost unbearable.

      “I said, tell me your name,” she said in a cold and calculating voice.

      “A-Adrian Flinch.” He obeyed.

      “Good, good. Now, tell me what it is that you do.”

      “I am an alienist with a…a passion for…for…understanding the mind of the insane and unbalanced.”

      “That isn’t all that you do, though, is it?” Adrian tried to resist but had no strength to stop himself from shaking his head. “So what else do you do, Dr. Flinch?”

      He knew what she really wanted to hear, and it was the secret that he had kept inside and never let anyone know since that fateful night.

      “Please, won’t you share,” she spoke in her seductive voice.

      “I—I—” he stuttered, resisting the drug. Her smile faded, and she raised her hand. “I will take the pain to keep my secret private,” he said through the drug.

      She didn’t slap him, this time; she took two fingers and pressed as hard as she could into the pressure point on his shoulder. The pain he felt from this was empirically the second worst thing he had ever felt. He tried to resist, but he couldn’t stop himself from telling to make it end.

      “I said, tell me what you do!”

      Adrian was about to shout it for all to hear, but he felt a strength rush into him, and he withstood her pressing fingers. Christine noticed this and pulled back.

      “Fine then.” She sighed in slight defeat. “I still have one way to get you to speak.”

      She reached into her sleeve and pulled out an electric rod that was used by Royal Guard Institute workers to help with their lessons. She turned it on, and when the buzzing was audible, she moved behind Adrian and touched it to the base of his neck. The pain that followed was insufferable.

      “Now, I will ask you one final time,” she said, lifting the rod from his skin. “What is it that you do?”

      “I—” He resisted. “I—I take care of my”—the last word was where he put the greatest struggle to resist saying—“brother.”

      Chapter 3

      Looking Back Part 1

      1

      “Your brother?” Christine said curiously. “Now that is interesting. But from my studies, you have no family at all. So where is he exactly?”

      “He is nowhere and everywhere,” Adrian replied, knowing there was no reason to resist anymore.

      “A paradox then. Oh, this is getting good. But that isn’t really an answer.” She pressed on his spine with the rod again. This time, the pain was less. Perhaps the drug was wearing off, or perhaps it simply needed time to recharge, like most older models.

      “Tell me the truth, and all this will disappear.”

      “He…he…he died twelve years ago.” Adrian panted. “I was too weak to…to…” He began to weep. “I was too weak to help.”

      “Oh, now we are getting to the juicy stuff. So tell me what happened.”

      “Screw you, bitch!”

      He then began to laugh uncontrollably.

      “We mustn’t be rude or use such language, or else Daddy’s teachings didn’t sink in.”

      There was something different about this voice. It seemed more powerful and something else that Christine couldn’t put her finger on.

      2

      He continued to laugh until Christine put pressure on the point in his shoulder again. When she did, he moved as quick as a bolt of lightning. In one movement, he knocked her to the ground and grabbed the electric rod she had dropped. In less than the time it took for her to blink, she was on the floor, and he stood above her, completely unfazed by the drug.

      “Now, how about we have a little fun time together?” he snickered as he brought the rod above her heart. “By the way, I am Adrian’s brother, Izac.”

      He laughed slightly, looking at the rod.

      “Now I know that this rod is able to deliver a constant supply of electricity and at quite a high voltage I might add. So how about we test how much your heart will be able to handle, shall we?”

      Christine began to laugh herself.

      “Finally, we meet Izac. I’ve been trying to piece everything together. And I almost have the complete picture. Now tell me about yourself, please.”

      Izac laughed, but that didn’t shock her. With this lapse in concentration, Christine had all the time she needed to turn the tables on him. She moved even faster than Izac had. She jumped onto her feet and took the rod from his hands. With the rod in her hand again, she used one of her feet to sweep under his leg and knock him to the ground. In response, Izac laughed.

      “Is death funny to you, boy?” she asked.

      “Yes, and if you kill us, then you will also kill another innocent woman. And if you are here to take my life, then you will have no way to save her.”

      “What?”

      “It is a simple situation. You let me get up and put the rod away, then I lead you to the woman who you free. And finally, you kill us with a clear conscience.”

      “Who said I wanted to kill you?”

      “From what I observed, you have no sympathy toward us, and you clearly had some plan to torture us, for some reason or another.”

      Christine smiled and said nothing, but the smile confirmed Izac’s suspicions.

      “You don’t want to kill us? Then what?”

      She interrupted him before he could finish his thought.

      “I may still kill you but not until I am satisfied,” she corrected as she let him go.

      “Well, you can color me intrigued. Now if you want to save her, you will follow me.”

      Christine removed the rod and allowed Izac to stand. Izac stood and started for the door with a smile and slight hum, with Christine following at his heels. He moved with a spring in his step down the road, slightly skipping, until he reached the first adjoining alleyway. He turned down it, first making certain no one was looking at them.

      They went five paces down the alley, then ten, fifteen, and they stopped at seventeen. When they abruptly stopped, Christine looked around to see what was what. They were stopped at a cluster of ivy that had been grown from the top of the building to the very bottom. There were some clusters of dead vines, but for the most part, it was lush and healthy. Izac grabbed a thick cluster of dead ivy and pulled on it. As he pulled on the ivy, he also turned his left hand to the left, and Christine


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