Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 8) Read online

  “The sooner we have the chip, the easier you’ll sleep, having sweet dreams of your son.” Godfrey got to his feet. “I know what it feels like to lose a child. Believe me, nothing will prepare you for the pain of the loss, so make sure you don’t screw it up.” He waved his hands at Doumar. “You can go.”

  Doumar’s tenseness didn’t evaporate until they were back in his car, heading toward the trailer park. Sky clutched her bag in her lap, the mobile phone she’d bought with Doumar’s money burning an imaginary whole through the plastic.

  “When Godfrey gets what he wants,” she started carefully, “what happens to us?”

  “He’ll go away, and we’ll carry on as always.”

  She dared to glance at him. “He’ll never go away. He’ll just find something else to use us for, like the senator and the president.”

  Doumar’s jaw clenched, but he remained quiet.

  “Sooner than later, we’re going to get caught. We won’t get away forever with what he’s making us do. We need to take Niels and run.”

  His backhand lifted so fast she hit her head on the side window in a reflex to avoid his fist, but instead of hitting her, he curled his fingers into a ball and dropped his hand. “Don’t play me. I’m not a fool.”

  For the rest of the way, she said nothing. Doumar dropped her at home and took off without a word. When he turned the corner, she dropped the bag to the pavement and rummaged through it for the phone. The red dot that showed Doumar’s progress lit up on the screen. Pushing to her feet, she grabbed her bag and ran up the road as fast as her heels allowed. The connection was distance sensitive. It permitted only a few miles. If she lost the signal, the risk she’d taken would be for nothing.

  A short ways up the road, she found a taxi. With a sigh of relief, she shifted into the backseat.

  “Go,” she instructed the driver. “I’ll give you directions.”

  They drove for a good forty minutes before the dot came to a halt in a posh neighborhood on the outskirts of the city.

  “Stop,” she said, her heart hammering in her ribcage. “Pull over, but keep the engine running.”

  Five minutes later, the dot still hadn’t moved. Doumar had parked. She paid the driver with Doumar’s money and got out in a lane flanked by trees. Keeping behind the protection of the thick trunks, she advanced to the place the dot indicated. It was a double-story house. She ducked when Doumar exited a garage and walked to the front. Fear made it hard to breathe. She could’ve asked Frans to come with her, but it would’ve been unfair to put him in a situation so dangerous. Following Doumar to find Niels was one thing, but stealing his money to plant a bug on him was something completely different.

  The front door opened before Doumar reached it. A boy came running out in a blur of speed, rushing straight into Doumar’s arms.

  Niels.

  Sky had to clamp a hand over her mouth to prevent his name from slipping out loud. Doumar’s body obscured her from getting a good view. Pain lanced at her heart, seeing them so happy together, when she was hidden behind a tree, an outsider to his world. She hungrily waited for a better glimpse, emotions clogging up her throat.

  Her son.

  She’d found him.

  All that was left to do, was to grab Niels when Doumar wasn’t looking and run.

  Doumar laughed, spinning the boy in a circle, and then her world stopped turning. The boy didn’t have blond hair. He had brown curls, and he was a head taller than Niels. The strength left her knees. She sagged against the tree as reality sunk in.

  Doumar deposited the boy on the ground. Hand in hand, they mounted the steps. A brunette wearing a homely apron and a smile, the loving kind that doting wives reserved for husbands, opened the door. Stopping in front of the woman, Doumar threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her gently. The embrace went on until the boy tugged on Doumar’s hand. Only then did he release the woman with a laugh that reached the perimeter of Sky’s hiding place like a taunting echo. The woman stepped aside for Doumar and the boy to enter, patting at her disheveled hair. Her face was flushed with a happy glow.

  As the door closed them into the warm light of the handsome house, Sky went down on her knees in the damp soil. Her hope caved in. She’d blown her only chance. Her insides twisted painfully, sending nausea up her throat.

  Taking strength from her resolve to save her son, she straightened, holding on to the tree for support. She shouldn’t give up, yet. Niels could be in that house. He could be living with them. She dusted her knees and looked up and down the street. Certain that no one was looking, she crossed the street, slipped through the gate, and went around to the side of the house.

  Light shone from a window. Keeping her head low, she peered inside. The woman and boy sat at a dining room table, a book open in front of the boy.

  Please, God, let Niels be here.

  She straightened to move on to the next window when a big hand clamped over her mouth.

  Chapter Eight

  The hand covered Sky’s nose and mouth, cutting off her airflow. A muffled cry escaped her lips. She fought for life and death, but a strong arm circled her waist and trapped her arms at her sides. As she was lifted off her feet, she kicked at air. Her attacker flung her body around, knocking her into the wall. Dizziness overwhelmed her as her head hit the bricks. Before she could find her bearings, he trapped her body with his, holding her in place with one arm while he stifled her scream with his hand over her mouth.

  Her gaze lifted from the familiar coat to Doumar’s cold, blue eyes. His face was contorted with fury and hatred.

  “Shh, baby,” he said with a wicked smile. “Not a word.”

  He released her mouth and dragged her by her arm to a shed at the back where he flung her inside. She stumbled two steps on the mud floor before she regained her balance. A spade and rake rattled against the wall as she backed into them. By that time, he’d shut the door and flicked on a torch lamp. For a moment, they only regarded each other from opposite ends of the small space. Sky’s chest heaved. Her nostrils filled with the pungent smell of decomposing leaves. Between them lay the distorted shadow bars of garden implements and nine years of lies and deceit.

  Doumar’s fingers flexed and clenched as he advanced on her. “What are you doing, following me around?”

  There was no acceptable answer. She could only stare at him.

  He stopped in front of her and cracked his neck. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out you were having me followed?”

  Fear snaked up her spine, making her break out in a sweat. “How…?”

  “I knew all along. Frans works for me, you see.”

  Her lips parted in shock. She shook her head in hopeless denial. It couldn’t be. Not Frans.

  “Thanks for the extra money,” he continued. “You surprised me with how much you can make after-hours.”

  “Dou, I—”

  He held up a finger. “Don’t speak. Don’t say a fucking word, or I’ll break your useless, unthankful neck. All you need to do is listen. Do I have your attention?”

  She nodded, her body shaking uncontrollably. This had to be the end. All was lost. She wouldn’t save Niels, and she’d die before he was old enough to hear the truth.

  “Kneel,” he hissed, taking the garden shears off a hook on the wall.

  She dropped her bag and fell to her knees, looking up at him through her tears. “Doumar, please.”

  “I said don’t talk. Won’t do you any good. It’s too late for begging.”

  As he positioned the blades over her collar, pressing on her breastbone, she pinched her eyes shut. The fabric made a ripping noise as he started to cut. He went all the way to the hem of the dress, and then snipped through the elastic of her bra and panties. Next, he ripped the ruined material from her body until she wore nothing but her boots. Catching the long strands of her hair in one hand, he pulled up until her scalp stung. The shears snipped as he attacked her hair, cutting off pieces close to her scalp. The metal was
cold where it raked over her skin. Warm tears dribbled over her cheeks as the uneven strands fell around her on the ground. He jerked her head left and right, up and down, and didn’t stop until there was nothing left to grip. For all her resolve not to give him her tears, she couldn’t stop them from flowing. She hated herself for that weakness as much as she hated him.

  He pointed at his feet. “Kiss my boots.”

  When she only stared at him with unspoken defiance, a cruel smile transformed his face. “I won’t cut off your fingers, but Niels can do with only nine, or maybe eight. He’ll be disappointed if he can’t learn to play the piano. Did you know that’s his dream?”

  Not having a choice, she groveled in the soil at his feet, kissing first the one, then the other boot.

  “They’re dirty from running after you in the mud and all,” he said when she straightened. “Lick them clean.”

  She swallowed her humiliation as she’d done so many times before, dragging her tongue over the dirt that covered his shoes. He made her do it again, and again, until there was not a trace of mud left, and then he instructed her to remove her boots.

  “Stay on your knees, slut.” He took the boots and dumped them in a garden bin. “Now, you can crawl out of here on your hands and knees, like the dog you are. I’ll be watching you. If I see you get to your feet, you can kiss Niels’s fingers and piano lessons goodbye.” He snapped the blades of the shears together. “Go.”

  She reached for her bag, but he kicked it out of her reach.

  “Crawl,” he snarled, giving her a kick on the backside.

  The action sent her face down in the mud. Before she could scurry away, he stepped on her back with his boot, pushing her deeper into the wet soil.

  “If you ever come near my family again, you’ll be sorry.” He lifted his weight off her. “Now go. On your hands and knees, bitch.”

  Hurt and shame coursing through her, she crawled to the door, and out into the garden when he opened it. Stones and sticks dug into her palms and knees. The sound of his boots crunching on the gravel followed behind her on the path, but she didn’t look back, not until she was halfway down the road. Only then did she look over her shoulder to see him standing on the pavement under the lamppost, the shears thrown over his shoulder. From street-facing windows, curious faces looked on as she crawled naked under the streetlights to the corner. There, out of Doumar’s sight, she rolled under a shrub and curled into a fetal position, unable to stop her shaking. She took only enough time to get her breathing and tears under control, and then she got up and walked toward the city with a straight back. Thankfully, it was dark, and in the residential neighborhood she could dodge behind trees when cars passed.

  Closer to town, she stopped at the first shop where a compassionate shopkeeper gave her an overcoat and asked if she could call an ambulance, or the police. Sky declined the offer, but accepted the bus ticket the lady offered. The stop nearest to her place was only three blocks away. Exhausted and emotionally drained, she stumbled into her caravan, happier than ever to find the welcoming little body of the cat. After feeding him, she washed outside and tended to the scrapes on her knees, then took a pair of scissors and fixed her hair as best as she could. Dinner was a tin of soup. She didn’t bother heating it up. She crawled into bed and stared at the stars she’d stuck on the ceiling. There was no saving for people like her. Niels deserved a better mother, but her heart wouldn’t let her give up on him. Not as long as she still breathed.

  How she got through the night, she didn’t know. She alternated between shivering and crying. In the morning, she steeled herself with a few deep breaths, applied dark make-up, and got to the club just in time.

  A shock ran through her when she entered Doumar’s office to report for the day. He sat behind his desk with Diamond on a leash next to him.

  “Good morning,” he said in a sickening, jovial voice. “Nice haircut.” There was mocking in his tone. “Sleep well? Come here and give me a kiss.”

  She eyed the dog with caution. “You know she doesn’t like me.”

  “Keep your panties on. If I wanted you dead, I would’ve killed you last night. You owe me money. How much did you take?”

  “You know how much.”

  “My kiss?” He tilted his head up.

  The dog snapped at Sky as she rounded the desk. Swallowing her repulsion, she pressed her lips to Doumar’s and retreated to a safe distance.

  “Good. Now you’re ready to start making back the cash you stole.”

  Relieved to get off so lightly, she made for the door.

  “Not so fast,” he said. “You’re not going to repay me with fortune telling. That’s for your keep, you unthankful whore. I’ve found another way for you to repay me.”

  The door opened and Bono entered.

  Taken aback, she stared at Bono’s tight face as he took in the situation, his gaze flickering between the dog and Doumar. When his eyes landed on her, shock registered on his face.

  Disregarding Doumar, he strode to her and cupped her face, turning it from side to side. His expression turned dark when he asked, “What happened?”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Doumar’s warning look. She shrugged. “Time for a change.”

  Bono turned to Doumar with a rigid back. “Why am I here?”

  “I called you to do both of you a favor.” He leaned back in his chair. “You want my whore, and she needs money, so you’re going to pay to fuck her.”

  Sky felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “Doumar…”

  “Of course, if you don’t want to, I’ll find someone else,” Doumar continued.

  Bono clenched his teeth. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “How much?”

  “Two thousand per hour.” Doumar got to his feet, jerking on Diamond’s leash. “Payment’s upfront.”

  Taking a credit card from his inside pocket, Bono threw it on Doumar’s desk and said with contempt, “Take as many sessions as you need.”

  Doumar’s lips curved into a smile. “Come with me.”

  Sky wanted the earth to swallow her, but her only option was to follow in Doumar’s steps, feeling Bono’s eyes burn a hole in the back of her head.

  Doumar led them to one of the fuck rooms with a peep window, and said to Sky, “Strip.”

  Bono stepped forward. “I’m capable of handling this.”

  “This is how we do business at the club.” Doumar took a challenging stance, letting an inch of the leash go. “You want to take me on?”

  Bono opened his mouth to speak, but Sky put a hand on his arm.

  “It’s all right.”

  Doumar leaned on the wall, watching with a smirk as she stripped. When she was naked, he took her bundle of clothes. “Do your thing, baby.” With a wink, he closed and locked the door.

  Sky swallowed and motioned at the bed. “Shall we get started?”

  “No.” Bono gripped her arm. “We’ll do nothing of the kind.”

  “You paid.”

  “I paid for your time. What I do with it is my choice.”

  “You want to talk?” she asked with a wry chuckle.

  “What’s going on? Why is he doing this? I thought he didn’t share you.”

  “It’s his way of punishing me.”

  “For what?”

  “He’s just not happy with me. He doesn’t like it when I defy him.”

  “Why did you defy him?” He moved closer until their bodies touched. “What did he do to you?”

  She stared up at his face. “I always defy him.”

  “What did he mean when he said you need money?”

  “Doumar always needs more money,” she said evasively.

  “It’s me, isn’t it?” he asked darkly. “He’s jealous.”

  She cupped his face. “It’s not your fault. This is my life.”

  “Not for long.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Soon, this’ll be over.”

  “Shh.” She leaned against him, burying her face in the clean-smelling fabric of his s
hirt. “Don’t make promises you can’t meet.”

  He placed his hands on her hips and guided her to the bed. “Sit.” When she’d obliged, he took the silk sheet from the bed and draped it around her. “I promise you, I’ll find a way.”

  “Be quiet.” She reached for his pants, but he caught her hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have to give you something in return for your money. He won’t let us out unless I’ve performed.”

  “I won’t let him treat you like a prostitute.”

  “This has nothing to do with Doumar. I want to.”

  “Not like this.” He sat down next to her and pulled her into his lap. “Why doesn’t your door have a lock?”

  “At the trailer park?”

  “Yes.”

  “Everyone knows this symbol.” She let the sheet slip to reveal the tattoo. “No one will touch me. They know it’ll cost them their lives.”

  “I didn’t mean for the others. I meant a lock to keep him out.”

  “I can’t keep him out.”

  “He doesn’t own you, dammit.”

  “Let it go, please. You don’t understand.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “Bono, please.” She sagged against him. “I’m just so tired.”

  “It’s all right, beautiful.” He kissed her temple. “You don’t have to talk, not unless you’re ready.”

  “We’ll be in here for at least an hour.”

  “Then sleep.” He eased her back onto the bed, covering her with his body. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She closed her eyes and did exactly that. It felt like she hadn’t slept in days, and it felt like she’d only been asleep for a few minutes when Bono woke her with a gentle stroke of his hand over her shoulder.

  “Wake up, beautiful.”

  She shot upright. “How long have I been out?”

  “Almost an hour.”

  Her gaze moved to the door that stood ajar. “Who opened it?”

  “One of the security guards.”

  He took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Where’s the change room? I’ll take you.”