The machine tethering her limbs seemed to be an unending cycle of electroshock “modes.” Sometimes it pulsed in short, punchy spurts, like an over-caffeinated heartbeat. Other times, it cranked through slow, rolling waves that set her biceps twitching. She’d lost track of how many times it switched gears—could’ve been hours or days. The lines blurred.

She screamed, voice rough with exhaustion. The only answering sound was the faraway hum of the generator and the steady beep-beep of her own personal torture device. No car horns, no wind, nothing but cold silence and stale air.

Her mind started wandering, slipping toward a dark place. Memories kept crashing in: the insane test in Miraleth’s Pellet, the times she’d second-guessed herself over Aiden, Ricky, Ellie… She tried to re-center. Maybe this was another test—some cosmic challenge put in place by forces that wanted her to suffer. Or maybe it wasn’t as high-level as that. She felt hatred for whoever orchestrated this—someone with a grudge, or a job, or a twisted fetish for torture.

Darcy? A wild thought. Could Darcy be behind the mask? That made no sense—Darcy needed Suzi’s help to save Jo. Couldn’t be her.

Jo. Jo’s mind was stuck in Suzi’s own head, while Jo’s body was out there, possessed by a demon that’d stolen the Ring of Eae—time ticking away. The thought made her stomach knot.

She thought of Ellie, tried calling out to her mind with every trick she knew—but no response. Same dead silence. Not surprising on holy ground, or with her thoughts so muddled.

One last card: Lahabiel. She closed her eyes, fighting to time a quiet moment between pulses of electricity. “Lahabiel,” she whispered, voice hoarse. The next jolt was still there, but softer, like a phone vibrating under a pillow. She opened her eyes and saw, in the corner, a dark-haired young man with a slick pompadour, smoking a cigarette. The half-lit aura around him seemed straight out of a 1950s movie scene.

“Demon Reaper,” he greeted, voice low and melodic. He tapped ash off the end of his cigarette with a faint sneer.

Her breath caught. “Lahabiel?” She almost barked a laugh. “Not the look I was expecting.”

He exhaled smoke, white t-shirt gleaming. “This was the last human form I used.”

“You’re about eighty years too late. Why not just appear to me in your true form? I do appreciate the trust, however.”

“My true form would break your mind. At the very least, it would terrify you into a catatonic state.”

Suzi’s eyes narrowed. “Fair enough. Please get me the fuck out of here.”

He stubbed his cigarette on the concrete floor and stepped close, kneeling. He took her hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Suzi. I can’t. We can only intervene if demons or angels are directly involved. This is human free will at play. My hands are tied.”

She couldn’t stop the tears threatening to spill. Some of it was frustration, some was relief to see a familiar face—someone—even if it was an aloof celestial, but mostly because he called her ‘Suzi’ and not ‘Demon Reaper.’ “You can’t interfere? You interfere all the time.”

“We guide, or steer, as you put it. But the final choice is always the human’s.”

She wanted to scream at him. “Kariel healed Tom after his brother stabbed him. That’s direct intervention!”

“He was under demonic influence,” Lahabiel said simply. “Total free will had been compromised.”

A spurt of helpless rage burned her eyes. “Then…guide Darcy to me. Or somebody.”

He shrugged. “I’ll leave signs, but it’s up to them to read them.”

That hollowed her out, a black pit in her chest. “Please, Lahabiel, I’m scared.”

He shook his head. “You’re not scared, Suzi—you’re angry. Angry you’re helpless. Angry you don’t have all the answers. Angry you know you’ll survive, no matter what.”

He was right.

She jerked under the straps. “You’re wrong! I’m scared I won’t reach Jo in time.”

“That…” he paused. “…is unfortunate. But again, it was a decision of free will that cannot be changed.”

“What? Who’s free will?”

“Yours, Demon Reaper. You decided to possess Jo’s essence and impress the demon into her body.”

She swallowed, a taste like bile in her mouth. “Help me fix it. Please.”

“I am fully aware you will blame yourself for her demise. I would suggest you use your abilities then to free yourself from your captor and save her.”

“I don’t have access to my abilities! I’m being drugged or electrocuted, plus I’m on Holy Ground.”

“How quickly one forgets the life they had before,” he offered with a half-smile. “You do not need your Celestial abilities to break the will of others. Good luck, Demon Reaper.” Then he vanished, fading like a wisp of smoke, just as a heavier wave of electricity rattled her arms.

Suzi’s head sagged. She screamed, rage twisting through her chest. Straining at the straps only bit into her wrists, the metal chair steadfastly bolted to the floor. She fought until her muscles shook, no respite from the endless pulses. If Darcy didn’t come soon, she would have to find another way.

She clenched her jaw, ignoring the burn. They picked the wrong fucking victim. She’d find a way out, and when she did, whoever orchestrated this was going to wish they’d never crossed her.

She didn’t know how long it was before she heard the rattle of a metal gate. Her pulse spiked.

Salvation.

She yelled, “Hello! I’m in here! Please help!”

Eventually, footsteps came. The door opened—and in walked that damned masked man again, pressing his finger to his lips in a mocking shush.

“Shhhh,” he teased. “Someone might hear you.” Then he laughed, a dry mechanical sound.

She glared, chest tight. “Let me go. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Anything?” he repeated, a lascivious note curling in his voice as he ran a gloved finger across the neckline of her shirt.

Her teeth clenched.

“So, if I want that, is that allowed?”

She forced a calm she didn’t feel. “I need to save a friend,” she said, voice rough. “If I can get to her in time, yes—anything. Just let me the fuck out of here.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He cocked his head. “Your friend is…poisoned, or something?”

She swallowed. “It’s complicated. But yeah, not far off.”

“What’s her name?”

Caught off-guard, she answered, “Gracie Jo. I made a mist—”

He stood as if he had been electrified. “What?”

“I said, her name is Gracie Jo.”

“What is wrong with her?” sincerity and concern were emoted through the modified voice.

“It’s difficult to explain.”

He began pacing around the room, mumbling to himself. Finally, he stopped and asked, “Would whatever is wrong with her make her act out of character?”

Suzi frowned and was taken aback by such a specific question. “Most definitely. Why? Do you know her? You have to help me get to her. If you know her, you know how kind of a person she is!”

“I have to think about this,” he turned and fled.

“Dude! What the fuck!” she screamed after him. “Let me out of here!”

But he bolted, ignoring her plea, fleeing down the hall. “What the fuck!” she screamed after him, thrashing against her restraints.

Silence.

He finally returned, slowly, rummaging in that mini-fridge. Without a word, he produced another syringe.

“No. No no no no no,” Suzi pleaded, raw panic surging. But he stepped close, jabbed her arm before she could yank away. The sedative’s calm, poisonous warmth seeped in, dragging her under yet again.

* * * * *

Suzi snapped awake, head spinning, every nerve screaming a warning as she wrestled with foggy awareness. Instinct told her something was off before she even opened her eyes. She tried tugging her arms, her legs—both refused to move more than a useless inch. Tied. Again.

Wait… The realization jolted her. She felt something else, too: the scratchy texture of the mattress pressed directly to her skin. No clothes, no covers—just her bare flesh exposed to the chill of the room. Panic swelled behind her ribs like a storm front.

“What the fuck…” she began, blindfold blocking her vision. Her voice sounded small, unfamiliar.

Someone else was there, footsteps on the concrete, an uncomfortably calm presence. “You really do have an incredible body, Suzi. Although, I’m disappointed that some of your tattoos are fake. Some kind of henna?”

Her heart hammered. “What the hell are you talking about?” She yanked at the restraints again. “Let me up!”

The voice gave a humorless snort. “When she came to me with this plan, I was reluctant. But then she said we could be together forever if you were ‘handled.’ Didn’t realize how out of character that was.”

A jolt of dread crackled through Suzi’s veins. “She? Jo? Jo asked you to do this?” She needed the question to sound incredulous, even though every instinct told her it was true. “That’s not Jo. She’s—she’s fucking possessed.”

The man exhaled, a thoughtful sound. “I’m starting to get that now. Especially after you said you did it to her. And that your first guess was that I was a demon, which means you’re into some truly dark shit.”

Suzi bit down on her fear. “Yeah, and Jo got caught in the crossfire. If you’d just let me go, I could help her.”

He let out a low chuckle. “I’ve planned this for days. She had specific requirements, like making sure it was holy ground. Let me tell you, that’s not easy to arrange.”

Her pulse drummed in her ears. “I can fix this. Both of you can walk away unscathed if I get to her in time— Wait,” she rasped. “You said you’ve been planning this for days?”

“About a week.”

“That’s impossible,” Suzi blurted, heart smashing so hard she was sure he could hear it. Jo had only been taken by the demon so recently—none of this lined up.

He ignored her protest. “I thought it was weird as fuck too. The more I considered it, the more I realized you’re the problem. You’re controlling—cutting people down, pulling strings. You manipulate everyone.”

Her mind reeled. “What?”

“So, if I can’t have the real Jo, I’ll settle for you. My second reward, I guess.” A twisted satisfaction crept into his voice. “No one knows you’re here, not even Jo herself. No one visits this cemetery, and it’s out in the middle of nowhere.”

Suzi sensed him move closer. The soft brush of the mattress told her he was right there, looming, while she lay bound and exposed. Her breath hitched; she tried not to let the sheer terror show. Fuck, she thought, this is so wrong. But the chords around her limbs refused to slack.

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. She needed a plan, something to stop this madness before it got worse—because it was definitely heading that way. Her entire body trembled with the certainty that if she didn’t find a way out, she’d be in deeper danger than she’d ever been in her life.

Suzi felt the heat of the man’s body next to hers as he lay on the bed. She began to sweat profusely.

“What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I want. I was going to come in here and play the hero and save you, but even then, that would not oblige you to give yourself to me, so I will just take what I want.”

She felt the caress of his fingertips over her arms and down her ribs, his bare hand against her bare skin. She cringed from his touch.

“Now, now. Don’t be like that. Just give yourself. Don’t struggle. Let it happen.”

Suzi bucked and screamed with every ounce of energy she had. He laughed for the first minute, then she felt him shove a piece of cloth into her mouth, held her mouth shut, and taped it.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he said as he straddled her, his hand caressing her stomach and then cupping her breast.

She could feel his firm manhood on her leg. Suzi froze and began to cry, shrieking into the unyielding gag in her mouth. She willed herself to be anywhere but here. She prayed that Jo and her other selves were unconscious and were not experiencing this. His hand roamed up to her neck, where he slightly choked her, then slid between her breasts, to her stomach, over her hip, and down her thigh.

Suzi wished herself numb.

She begged for oblivion.

She felt his hand on her mons pubis. As his hand slid lower and his fingers began to part her precious pieces, Suzi felt the telltale sign of an orgasmic seizure as the man moaned and warm ejaculate covered her thigh as she choked down vomit from an empty stomach. She sobbed for this nightmare to end, but she knew who he was.

Suzi’s heart slammed in her chest, her pulse roaring so hard she wondered if he could hear it. Each deep, panicked breath only seemed to turn up her body temperature even more, burning through whatever sedation remained in her bloodstream. She needed just a few more minutes of lucidity—enough to summon one of her personas, enough to figure a way the fuck out of here.

But she couldn’t fight him, not yet. If he caught on to what she knew, or if she bruised his fragile ego, he’d tighten his hold. She forced the gears in her head to spin, searching for a way to drive him off without making it obvious.

The man cursed and scrambled away from the mattress, pulling up his pants in a flurry of hurried gestures. Suzi tested the gag, found she could move her mouth enough to speak. She let out muffled words, feigning some weak, garbled attempt at communication. He hesitated, confused, and then ripped the tape from her face and yanked out the cloth.

Suzi licked her dry lips, her voice low. “Thank you.” She let a tremor of relief slip in, trying to sound like she was grateful, maybe even compliant. “Listen—you need a woman to take control. You were right. I like to be in control. I’m a dominatrix. You have a gentle touch, and don’t be ashamed. What you experience happens to every man.”

He froze, tension rolling off him. “I’m gonna go,” he mumbled, sounding more defeated than threatening now.

She had to reel him back. “No—wait, I have an idea,” she said quickly. “I have a sex dungeon, see. All my ‘slaves’ wear a certain mask.” She acted as if a memory hit her like a revelation. “Damn, I just remembered—I took it to my apartment to clean it. It’s in my closet, can’t miss it.” She kept her tone husky, almost as if confiding in him. “Bring it back here, untie me, and I’ll give you an experience you can’t even imagine.”

His body language screamed suspicion. “You’re just trying to get free,” he countered, voice still crackling with that electronic distortion. He buttoned and zipped up his pants, movements jerky with doubt.

“I do want to go free,” Suzi admitted, mustering a sultry edge, “and you want me. That’s how you get me. Knowing you’re wearing that special mask, hidden from me—there’s something about a man like that that drives me crazy. You’ll still be anonymous, and I won’t know who you are. I promise, I will blow your mind.” She forced herself not to choke on the words.

“How can I trust you?” he demanded, interest warring with unease behind the modulated tone.

She took a measured breath. “Look, I’m still doped up, aren’t I? I’ll be here, weaker than ever. If I’m lying about the mask, you’ll come back, find me still tied down, no harm done. But if I’m telling the truth, and you don’t go…you miss your shot.” She let a slow smile curl her lips. “Any attempt I make at escape, you’ll easily overpower me.”

He hesitated, one hand clenching into a fist at his side. “If I let you leave, it’s only once,” he said. “Otherwise, I could stay and…play with you as long as I want.”

She fought a tremor of revulsion. “Sure. You could have a toy,” she said, voice low with insinuation, “like a little kid, or a real woman who’ll take you like a goddamn man.”

He breathed out a shaky laugh. “Yes, ma’am. Fine! I’ll be back in a little over an hour.”

She heard him scramble, footsteps pounding away down the corridor. Then came the squeak of the metal gate—signaling he’d left the mausoleum.

The instant he was gone, Suzi turned her head, bile rising in her throat. She vomited, her stomach contracting viciously, mind swirling with horror and relief at the small reprieve.

Just hold on, she told herself, spitting the acid taste from her mouth. In an hour, she’d either be free or be forced to gamble on some other plan. But at least he was gone for now. And if luck existed, Darcy or anyone else might find her. Or she’d claw her way out by herself—whatever it took.