I FELT HIM SMILE AS HE MURMURED AGAINST MY LIPS, “I cannot tell you how long I’ve wanted to do—”
A thunk vibrated through me. Bran went instantly limp in my arms and slithered bonelessly from my grip. My eyes popped open, and I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing.
Bran puddled on the cold stone. And behind him, a stout club still raised in his fist, stood Eustace Clarkson.
“Hallo, pretty,” the foul guard said, showing mossy teeth.
I scrambled away until my back met the cold stone wall. With an arrogant nonchalance, Eustace dropped the club and bent over Bran, his greedy eyes brightening at the sight of his fine, twin blades.
The side of his face where I’d struck him with the candlestick was purple and swollen. Eustace caught my look and touched the cheek.
“It’s time to collect payment for this.” His hand moved from his cheek to the ties on his hose.
Disgust twisted my guts. Think. Think. There has to be a way out of this.
Eustace lunged without warning, raising me up and slamming me hard against the wall in one motion. My head smacked into stone. Waves of pain crashed through my brain. He was huge, his muscles hard and sinewy. My torn fingernails dug for his eyes. I tried to stomp his instep or kick him in the crotch like Phoebe had taught me. But he was too close, and I only connected with his thigh.
His lips drew back in a snarl, and he slapped me with such force, I nearly went limp. Stars exploded in my vision an instant before the pain arrived.
Bran. Oh God, please, Bran. Please wake up.
But I was alone. And no one would ever hear me scream.
My left eye was already swelling shut from the blow. A trickle of liquid ran from my nose, rimming my teeth with the iron taste of blood. I slapped and scratched at Eustace, but he merely clamped my wrists together in one hand and slammed them above my head. His bulbous nose smashed against mine as wet, flabby lips wormed over my closed mouth. I squeezed my thighs together as he viciously tried to wedge his knee between them.
Weak. Weak. Weak.
“NO!” I writhed and twisted, but he was too strong. He yanked at my bodice. My dress ripped down the front like it was made of paper.
Furious tears turned the torches into giant prisms. God, I wanted to tear out his eyes, his black heart. Black as the inside of the chasm.
The chasm.
My eyes darted to the small opening and chasm beyond. An idea began to form as he slobbered on my neck.
“So,” I made myself say, “you’re nothing but Becket’s lackey, huh? While he’s dining with the king, he sends you down here to do his dirty work.”
I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going with this. But the jealous words Eustace had spat at the other guard earlier had roared up in my memory.
In minute degrees, I forced myself to meet his pale, insipid eyes. “I bet he didn’t even mention the treasure.”
A glimmer of confusion flickered behind his eyes. He leaned closer, his stubble grating against my cheek as he growled in my ear. “There’s no treasure.”
I made myself slump in his grip, trying not to wince at the rotted-meat stench of his breath. “You’re right. Just do whatever you want, then. I won’t fight. But leave me here when you’re done.” I looked pointedly at the chasm. “I didn’t want to share it anyway.”
Eustace followed my gaze, just as I’d hoped. His mouth and chin gleamed with bloody spittle. “You lie.”
But I saw the indecision on his face, and pressed on. “Don’t pretend you haven’t heard. Everyone knows about the treasure of the abbey cave.”
He studied my face. When his tongue flickered out to lick my blood from his lips, I clenched my teeth to keep from gagging.
With a final twist of my wrists, he let go and backed away. “All right, wench. What treasure? Where?”
Again, I let him see my eyes flick to the dark opening.
Careful now. Not too obvious.
“Um, I’m not sure exactly.”
When he wrapped his fist in my hair, I could feel each individual strand rip loose from my scalp. He forced me to my knees, bending my head back at an unnatural angle. “You tell me where it is,” he snarled in my ear as he moved behind me. “Or . . .”
I heard the snick of steel just before the edge of his blade stung my throat. A trickle of blood oozed down my chest.
“Fine.” Terrified, I didn’t dare breathe. “It’s there. Just inside that opening in the stone.”
“Show me.”
He jerked me to my feet and frog marched me to the entrance of the Dim. As we approached, a cold breath of wind huffed out of the chasm. It smelled of grave dirt and nightmares, and even Eustace took an involuntary step back. When it ceased, the goon’s hand flew forward, wrapping around my throat. He lifted me until my toes barely touched the ground.
I heaved, scratching, fighting for breath.
“Tell me where!” he bellowed, tossing me back to the floor. I landed hard on my hip. A stab of pain shot up my side as the Nonius Stone—nestled deep inside my pocket—plowed into my flesh. I rolled over, retching.