Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 147673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“Okay, okay. You are fucking confused. Did you hit yourself on the head? Does it hurt?” the giant asked, following his dog down a flight of stairs and into a corridor similar to the first one Laurent saw, less messy and lit by the same strange lamps. Then again, they were all melting into an enormous labyrinth, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it truly was the rooms that were moving while they were only trying to catch up with them.
“I… it does hurt,” Laurent whispered when he thought of the place on his head where Fane had punched him. It still throbbed with pain.
The giant exhaled and finally stopped at one of the entrances. There was a curious plaque by the handle and he tapped it a few times. The lock clicked, stunning Laurent into backing away slightly when he realized the item must have worked as a key would.
“Maybe we can have a doctor look at you later, or something,” the giant said.
It was a curiously kind thought to come from a man who spewed such rotten words minutes before. “You have doctors here?” Maybe just to patch up those who were tortured, only so that they could be tormented again.
But the giant didn’t get to answer, because another huge man was already approaching. “Who the fuck is that?” the newcomer bellowed in a voice so pleasant it was unbecoming in relation to such vile language.
The giant faced the other stranger. “He says he’s looking for you.”
Laurent straightened up to take in the man before he could come so close that his features became distorted. “Are you King?”
Chapter 5 - Laurent
Laurent would have suspected the man’s identity even without being told, because King had the kind of presence that made people want to stand and listen. His facial features were symmetrical, handsome the way only a mature man could be, and short golden hair adorned his head like a laurel. He was wearing black though, just like his… soldier?
When King came closer, the features worthy of a medieval monarch turned into a flesh-colored fleck in front of Laurent. “This is the first time I see him in my life. And what is he wearing?”
“Says he hurt his head. We need to see if he’s not injured,” the giant said, finally pulling Laurent into the chamber. It too was rather large and sparsely decorated, with burgundy walls and gray sofas of a similar type as the one Laurent’s seen in the mirror room.
The massive dog cut across the room, all the way to a large pillow where he rested after making several circles around it. But it was what stood next to his fabric nest that had Laurent’s mouth go dry. A bookcase so full some of the volumes were stacked on top of others. His enthusiasm dimmed somewhat when he realized that if Hell had books, they might be filled with empty pages, to mock anyone who reached for a novel to soothe their mind.
King let out a barking laugh. “He must have. Only someone not right in the head would be walking around dressed like that.” He pushed something on the wall, and a light as bright as a dozen candles illuminated the room all at once. “Jesus, fuck! He’s covered in it! It’s like he’s been on a zombie killing spree or something!”
“I did not kill anyone!” Laurent was quick to say, once he decided that was the best course of action.
“Then what happened?” asked the giant, pulling him into a short hallway with three more doors. He headed for the open one and once again switched on a bright lantern above with a tap on the wall. It was a chamber completely covered by ceramic tiles—black on the floor and a grainy sort of gray on the walls. Under a large mosaic of colorful glass was a bathing tub, also covered by gray tiles from the outside but white and smooth on the inside. Behind it stood a translucent screen that revealed a collection of colorful items and metal piping, then there was a chair made out of white porcelain, and a cupboard housing an empty washbasin on top. Above it hung a small, flat cabinet.
The space overwhelmed Laurent with its oddity, the smoothness of the surfaces and complete spotlessness. Was this where he would have his audience with King? He only claimed to need one so that he could find the man and start organizing his plan, but he was smart enough to improvise.
Laurent looked up at the two men. “I don’t remember. I’m not sure.” Showing confusion has been the best strategy so far, so he would stick with it for now. Not that he wasn’t actually confused—because he was, and it was giving him a headache already.
King stepped closer and Laurent tried not to scowl. He hated that moment when people’s facial expressions became unfocused, particularly so in moments of vulnerability, when being able to read facial cues could be a matter of life and death. “We just need to know what happened. We can’t have you running around covered in blood.”