Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4) by Helen Harper (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

to plan this.’ He gestured towards the source of the humming. ‘I have a portable generator and all the equipment I need. You’ll be down here for a long, long time.’

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why focus on me? This can’t simply be about revenge because I refused to stay dead all those years ago.’

He laughed. ‘No, you’re right. It’s not.’ He turned away and disappeared into the darkness beyond the glare of the light. The bugbear remained where it was, its slitted eyes fixed on me.

I heard the clank of metal upon metal then Rothsay’s voice floated back to me. ‘You see, what made Pops so good was years of practice combined with the strength and help that Barney gave him. I can pick up where he left off, but I’ll never be able to match his experience. Not without you.’

He reappeared with a metal tray in his hands. ‘You die and then you are re-born.’ His eyes shone with ardent, chilling fervour. ‘It won’t matter how many times I kill you or what different methods I use, you will always come back. I’ll be able to learn so much about the limits of a body’s endurance for pain, the best ways to kill someone quickly – and slowly. You and I will have years together to practise. And everything I do to you, I can then do to others.’

He crouched in front of me and picked up a scalpel. ‘I thought we’d start simply. The Chinese invented the death of a thousand cuts – but will it actually take a thousand cuts? I’ll count and see. I know it’s a bit old school, but I have plenty more ideas. I’m going to learn a lot from you. Frankly, Little Em, you’re a serial killer’s wet dream.’ He lifted his head and glanced at the bugbear. ‘I’m actually getting a hard-on just thinking about it.’

‘You seem to have thought of everything,’ I managed.

‘Yes.’ Rothsay looked pleased. ‘I have.’

‘But,’ I said, ‘you haven’t actually thought of everything.’

He frowned.

‘You see,’ I said, ‘you don’t know everything about me. You think you do, but you don’t.’

His expression of pleasure turned to one of confusion.

‘A lot of people know that I resurrect after death,’ I said. ‘But very few are aware that every time I die, I grow more powerful.’

Rothsay’s bottom lip jutted out. ‘More powerful?’

I really wished my head didn’t hurt so much. ‘Oh yes.’ I tensed my arms then I yanked my wrists apart, snapping the plastic ties. I sprang up and grinned. ‘Much more powerful.’

The bugbear reacted faster than Rothsay. It didn’t roar or growl, but it leapt towards me with its jaw stretched wide and its claws extended.

I dived to the side, narrowly escaping injury, then jumped to my feet. I knew there were weapons in here – Rothsay had already shown me his damned torture scalpel. I ran to the right, heading for the dark corner where he’d picked up the metal tray.

The bugbear lunged for me again, this time connecting with my calf. I howled in pain as its long curved claws dug into my flesh. I twisted from my waist and punched it in its snout with as much force as I could muster. It didn’t make a sound but it did pull back.

‘You won’t escape,’ Rothsay said. He’d backed away, leaving the bugbear to do his dirty work. ‘It doesn’t matter how strong you are, Barney is stronger.’

Did I imagine the note of uncertainty in his voice? I heaved myself up once more. There was a strange wooden contraption to my left. Jesus – was that a medieval torture rack? I shuddered and kept moving.

I’d already played my hand; if I didn’t get away this time, I probably never would. If I died and then resurrected, Rothsay would ensure that I never had the chance to escape and attack him again. I had to throw everything I had at him.

Still with no idea where the exit was located, I bumped into a table. Squinting through the dark, I saw all manner of gruesome-looking equipment. Some were obvious – a knuckle duster, a machete, a pair of pliers – but I could only imagine the purpose of the rest. It was probably better not to think about them.

I reached for the machete and spun as the bugbear bore down on me again.

‘Get her!’ Rothsay roared. ‘Kill her!’

Nope, not today. I swung the machete at the bugbear’s head. It drew back, suddenly fearful. I gritted my teeth and swung it again. Come on, you bastard. Come closer. Silver crossbow bolts didn’t work against it but it wouldn’t be quite so energetic when it no longer had a head.

The machete didn’t connect with the bugbear’s head, but it did slice deeply into its shoulder. Thick dark blood spewed forth. So, the fucker did bleed after all.

‘Tear that bitch’s throat out!’ Rothsay screamed.

As satisfying as it was to injure the bugbear, I knew I had to employ the same tactics I’d used against Lazarus. Bobby Rothsay was the weak link. Dealing with him and cutting off the bugbear’s escape route was the best way forward. I swung the machete again. As soon as the bear reared back, I leapt for Rothsay.

As he realised I was coming for him, Rothsay’s eyes widened in fear. Yeah, not so cocky when your victims actually fight back, are you, I thought. I ran at him, brandishing the machete and he freaked out, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. I prepared to grab him – but unfortunately the bugbear had other ideas.

In one breath it was on me, leaping onto my back and knocking me face down onto the hard, rocky floor. Rather than put my hands out to break my fall, I concentrated on keeping hold of the machete. I managed it – just.

There was a hiss of hot breath by my ear as the bugbear prepared to chow down on my jugular. I steeled myself then, using all the