82: The Cost of Doing Business – Pt. 1

“Marcel. Hello. Um…can you open the door?” Marcel grunted, but didn’t move. “Come on. Your master is waiting for me. Are you really going to do this now?” Marcel shrugged then stood more erect. “Wait, are you still mad about me shooting you?”   

“It took 8 hours to dig that bullet out of my shoulder! Every time I got it close to the surface, it burrowed back down again,” he growled before his face turned into a pout.

Victoria snickered and hid it behind a cough. “I’m sorry, Marcel.” He grunted again and repositioned in front of the door. “I am. Really, Marcel. I’m very sorry. I was angry seeing you hit Derrick like that and I…overreacted.”

“‘Overreacted?’ You could have killed me!”

“No, I wasn’t aiming to kill; only wound. But I really am sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight that day; surely you can remember why.” He looked away from her and sighed. “Please?” she gently rested her hand on his bicep and his eyes followed the motion. With a frustrated grumble, he stepped away from the door to allow her inside.

“Victoria!” Rowan exclaimed from his seat at the desk. He had a large grin on his face and a drink in his hand. “How nice of you to join me.”

“Yeah well, I wasn’t just in the neighborhood, Rowan. Why did you call me here?”

“To make good on our agreement.”

“Wow. Of course. You wasted no time calling to collect.”

“Well after that nasty bit of business with the Amazons and the dolls was finished, I figured I’d best collect before some other…unnatural event befell you and I was left empty handed.”

“Oh yeah and I’m fine after all that, thanks for asking. What do you want from me, Rowan?” Victoria asked, folding her arms against her.

The smile on his face widened and he leaned back in his seat. “Now, now, Luv. Have you learned nothing of asking such a loaded question? I’m liable to make a demand of which you are not fully prepared to sate.” Standing, he slowly approached her. When he reached a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, Victoria turned her head, catching just the tips of his fingers on her cheek before backing away. “I’m having a little trouble with a few associates of mine and I need help securing their cooperation.”

“So? Send Marcel. Isn’t that his job? Making sure your subjects remain in line?”

“This…task—requires a bit more finesse than Marcel can muster. I need someone powerful that I can trust to handle things discreetly. Someone who can convince these men that their insolence will not go unchecked.”

“I’m not killing anyone for you, Rowan. You forced my hand once…”

“No, no, not at all, Victoria. I’d never ask such a thing of these soft, delicate hands of yours,” he said, his heavily accented voice softening as he pulled her hands into his. “I need you to spell them; ensure they never defy me again.”

“Isn’t that what compulsion’s for? Can’t you make them do what you want without the use of a spell?” Victoria asked, feeling as though Rowan wasn’t telling her everything. Something about the situation didn’t seem right.

“Compulsion is an ‘in-the-moment’ quick fix; a bandage on a bullet wound. I’m looking for a more—permanent solution.”

“Permanently forced obedience? What is wrong with you?” 

Rowan smirked, and slowly released Victoria’s hands. “I’m a man of great means, Victoria. And right now, you just happen to find yourself a part of that bag of tricks. You owe me and this is what I require as payment. Just think of this as the cost of doing business. These men made promises. Promises of which they now feel they no longer need to uphold. You will show them otherwise.”

“Fine. Where do I find them?”

“Marcel will get you the address.” Victoria paused a moment and Rowan concentrated on her face as she appeared to consider her situation. “Something wrong?”

“Derrick. I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to tell him I made a deal with the devil.”

Rowan grinned at the connotation. Placing his hand under her chin, he pulled her eyes up to meet his. “I can handle Derrick. You just worry about getting the job done.” With a drawn-out sigh, Victoria nodded and turned to leave. “Oh, and Victoria, dear, please do be careful. I don’t fancy the idea of being the one to let old Derrick know you’ve met your demise over our little arrangement.”

“Gee, your concern for my well-being is overwhelming. How have I ever gone without it?” The last thing she saw was his arrogant smirk as she shut the door behind her.  

The address was for a large skyscraper in the middle of downtown Avondale. A quick search showed the place was owned by Synergy Corp, a conglomerate of big energy. Victoria circled around the building, scoping out the security and entry-points before parking her car in the lot next door.

“Here goes nothing,” she sighed as she started toward the front. Her mind wandered back to Rowan and why he would ask her to enchant a bunch of businessmen. The whole thing made no sense and left her with a deep feeling of dread.

Nonetheless, with a list of names in hand, Victoria entered the building and stopped at the directory on the wall. Four of the five names she was given were all located on the ninth floor. The fifth, however, was unlisted. “Strange,” she remarked as she noted the office numbers and started for the elevator.

Victoria stood, watching the numbers change on the display, that sense of foreboding only growing the closer she came to her stop. As the doors to the elevator opened, the sensation proved true as a bone chilling scream erupted from the hallway of her destination.

Quickly reaching for her gun, she followed the sound toward a large conference room and quietly peeked inside. Five men stood around a table, surrounding a barely conscious woman who rested on top. She was chemically restrained, taking in rapid breaths and had a look of pure horror on her face. Victoria followed her eyes and noticed a fifth man standing beside a workbench with innumerable surgical tools; all appeared well used.

The man beside the tools gathered a few onto a small table and rolled it toward the others. She watched as the four men began chanting something she couldn’t quite make out as the fifth raised his arms above his head as though channeling their energy. Music began to play from speakers positioned around them and the men began dancing and swaying to it.

Victoria had seen enough, with her gun raised high, she tried to access the room but found it was securely fastened. Thinking up a spell she again tried to open the thick glass-paned doors but was once more unable to penetrate the invisible force field that seemed to encapsulate the area. 

With syringe in hand, the man didn’t hesitate as he plunged it into the woman’s neck. Almost instantly she sagged as a drug haze overcame her, and yet she still managed a forceful scream. Intoxicated but conscious, the woman watched as a knife was drawn from the collection of instruments beside her.

Victoria struggled harder to enter the office; pushing and shoving as best she could to reach the young woman. The banging on the doors was drowned out by the banging of ceremonial drums inside the small room. The girl looked to her right and their eyes met, freezing Victoria in place. “No,” she mouthed as she watched the man move closer to the woman. “STOP!” she screamed but, the sound again was muffled by the music.

The woman screamed; begging and pleading with the men to stop. Her tear-soaked face moved to each of them, trying her best to reach one. The screaming grew louder when he cut into her chest with the ceremonial blade, carving a symbol into her flesh. The way he went about it was mechanical; his eyes conveyed cold detachment as he sliced away a part of the woman. It was much like butchering a cow or pig, only this meat could scream with a human voice. Blood soaked through the white canvas covering her, collecting in pools on the ground.

Victoria continued trying to get inside, her efforts going unnoticed by the inhabitants of the room. All she could do was watch; watch as two men held up the woman and the butcher slit her throat from behind.

These men seemed skilled at the task; no way was this their first time. Blood shot out of her neck and one of the men pushed a bowl beneath her and caught it. The blood splashed into the bowl and down her arms. What happened next made Victoria sick to her stomach. The men passed the bowl around, each dipping their hands into it and painting their faces with the warm liquid, leaving the draining corpse slumped on the table.

Then, each of them brought the bowl to their lips, taking a drink before finally placing it back into the hands of their leader. She watched him drink, paint his face and pour the rest over a shrine they had built near the center of the room. 

A small rush of fire erupted from the pyre and white smoke filled the room. Moments passed before the cloud began to dissipate and when it cleared, Victoria did a double take. Everything in the room appeared normal. Office chairs lined a thick wooden conference table with paperwork stacked neatly in one corner. A projector with slides and folders was now in the place the workbench once occupied. There was nothing to indicate moments ago a blood ritual was carried out and a murder had occurred. The men, the body, the blood…were gone.

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