Secret Ingredient

Secret Ingredient - 3

                                                                                          7

Despite her instinct to turn away, Emma couldn't help herself. Under the unforgiving glare of Ryan's flashlight, she gazed upon the horror that lay beneath Czienik's sheet. The skin covering the large mound of his abdomen had been flayed back down the middle like a jacket being unzipped. Small clumps of yellowish stuff remained from where Haverstrom had scooped out large fatty deposits. Now she understood why the table had those things that looked like gutters running down the sides. If she had ever seen anything more gross in her life, she couldn't remember it.

"Cover him up," she said, suppressing a sob in her voice. The poor man! How could he bear the pain?

Gently, Ryan lowered the sheet back into place. "That's totally sick.  And it’s gotta hurt a lot."

Czienik shrugged.  "Believe or not, there is not much pain. Humiliation is much worse. And like I say before, the wounds heal overnight – the renewal. By dawn tomorrow Czienik will be whole again."

"Until that monster comes back to cut you open for some more!"

Emma could feel both anger and tears swelling within her.  Haverstrom had seemed so cheerful, almost kindly.  How could he be so cruel?

Ryan bent to examine the nearest handcuff's lock.  “When will he be back?”

“He arrive before dawn every day.”

"We need to get you out of here before then."

Czienik's chalky face turned to stare at him. "Why would you want to do this?"

Emma looked at the vampire.  His face was a pale flat mask that evoked a basic sadness rather than terror. He looked pathetic and helpless, like a large animal caught in a snare. She felt sorry for him in a way she would have never imagined possible.

"Why would we do it?" she said. "Because you need help. And we can help you."

"But why would two young lycan care what happen to fat nossie?"

Turning to her, Ryan held back a grin – as if to say should we tell him?

Emma gave him a very slight shake of her head. Night had fallen beyond the window shutters and the room lay in deep shadow. She was certain the prisoner had not noticed the exchange.

Ryan looked back at Czienik. "Let's just say we're trying to do the right thing."

“‘The right thing.’  This is good enough for me.”  The vampire rattled the cuffs. "But how you get me out of these?"

She watched Ryan's eyes almost gleam as he considered the question, then pointed to the silver handcuff holding Czienik's wrist.  “Em, a little light here, please?  This thing is like a toy. Watch."

Reaching into his pocket, Ryan pulled out the little tools and slipped them into the cuff's key aperture. Click-click! The curved finger of the cuff no longer grasped the vampire's wrist.

"Astounding!” Czienik cried. “How you do this?"

"It's kind of a hobby of mine." Ryan stepped back, paused.

"What is wrong, boy?"

"Maybe nothing. But before I finish, you've got to promise you won't bite us or anything like that."

Czienik managed a small smile. "Now why would Czienik bite?"

"Because it's your nature, isn't it? Don't nosferatans prefer the warm blood of their victims?"