Toys

Chapter 87

McGill didn’t waste any time getting right in my face. My old buddy and partner was a distant memory, and an illusory one at that. This two-faced bastard was no friend of mine.

“That first shot was sloppy, Hays,” he said. “Not like you. Are you losing it?”

“Hanging by one hand, with a second to aim and shoot?” I snapped back. “Next time, you take the shot, good buddy. I’ll be the critic on the sidelines!”

Suddenly, his mask of camaraderie flashed. “Hey, take it easy,” he said. “I’m just saying-maybe you’re not as steady as you thought you were.”

I nodded. “You’re probably right, partner.” Then I turned away quickly, before he could see my sneer. No, make that my hatred of him.

I began to walk to my car, gripped by the fact that I was abandoning Lucy to slow death. The torture was a perversion of regeneration therapy. The victim’s body was permeated by an electromagnetic field that sent impulses to specific areas, thousands of them per minute. But instead of healing, the impulses attacked nerve clusters with violent shocks. It was like having a white-hot probe moving inside the body, with the victim never knowing where it would stab and wound next-only that it would.

The agony could go on for weeks, and with someone as strong and determined as Lucy, it probably would. What made it even worse-Lizbeth had managed the team that perfected the torture machine. My sweet little Jinx.