Ch.16: Nicholas and Valentino

The female captor kept the gun to Milo's head while the man crouched in front of Nicholas, untying his ankles. Then he stood, grabbed Nicholas's arm, and forced him to his feet. Nicholas walked arduously along towards a rickety door to the left, sparing one last pitiful glance at Milo.

The door creaked as the man opened it, dust swirling off the edges. Nicholas coughed and tilted his face away, and then looked back into the space beyond the door with a frown and squinty eyes: there was a steep staircase that led to a small room below. Lit-up candles lined it all around, and a lounging chair was set in the middle. 

A hand pushed on Nicholas's wrists that were still tied behind his back, so Nicholas made his way down the stairs, his heart dropping every time a worn rung groaned under his feet. He felt like it would crack and his ankle would slip through the hole, but he ended up reaching the room safely. 

The man forced Nicholas onto the chair and started tying his ankles to it. He freed his wrists, made him wear a new, clean black dress-shirt, then tied his hands down onto the armrests. 

Nicholas was silent the entire time. He didn't even try to resist, even when his hands were free. Not with Milo at risk. Anything, anything, but causing him more pain. 

Nicholas only tensed as the man grabbed his hair and forced his head back, until it hit the backrest. The captor brought a lens, prepared it, then put it in Nicholas's eye.

Nicholas's eyes burned and teared up from the discomfort, and he watched through watery vision as the man climbed back upstairs to get Valentino. A few seconds later Valentino appeared at the top rung. The captor escorted him down and started untying his hands. 

"Don't try anything stupid," the woman called from above. "Both of you. Unless you want to hear Milo cry louder, or maybe I'll just shoot him. Try your luck if you wanna find out." 

Valentino rubbed his wrists as the man made his way up the stairs again, then closed the door, releasing a slow, loud squeal. Chains clattered, and Nicholas felt like was back in the beginning, locked with Milo in the captors' house. His heart skipped a beat at the recollection. 

But they didn't have any time to waste, so Nicholas said, "I have a plan." 

"Me too." Valentino glanced over his shoulder at the staircase behind him. He lowered his voice even more. "But it depends on you." 

"No, it depends on both of us. How long did you tell them the ritual will take?" 

"Thirty minutes."  

"Look. We can't do anything as long as she's got the gun on Milo. I'm not risking him," Nicholas said. "We need to get them both away from him before we can try taking them down." 

Valentino nodded. "They're both obsessed with their son. They both miss him. You can make them lower their guard pretty fast if you act well." 

Nicholas couldn't believe his own self right now. Despite the situation, there was a part of him that still wanted to argue. A part that wanted to tell Valentino to shut up even though he agreed with him. A part frustrated with Valentino explaining something he already knew. 

"I can," Nicholas said. 

"You have to." Valentino bent a little closer, gazing at Nicholas with soulless, exhausted eyes. The pattern drawn under his eye was a little smudged now, oozing towards his cheekbone. "You can't mess this up." 

"You can't mess this up. I'm gonna distract them, but you have to knock them both out alone. Can you do that?" 

"Yeah." 

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "If they don't untie me, you have to do it when you're done. You can't leave me here." 

Valentino shrugged. "I need someone to help me with Milo when we get out of here. So I won't leave you, don't worry." 

Nicholas scoffed and leaned back, frowning at the ceiling. "Side-pocket," he said. "There's a piece of glass in there. Get it. Use it if you need to."

Valentino looked at Nicholas's pocket, then reached in, fishing the shard out. He observed it, raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, and nodded as he hid it in the pocket of his vest. 

"So." Valentino cleared his throat. "In which arm did they put the tracker again?" 

Nicholas frowned. "Why?"

Valentino looked back and forth between Nicholas's left and right arm, his brows furrowed. "There should be an open wound there, right?" 

"Why the hell are you asking?" 

Valentino pursed his lips, then grabbed Nicholas's arm and squeezed it, right over the raw, bleeding gash that Albert had cut open.

Nicholas let out a cry at the stinging, burning pain, jerking against his restraints. 

"There you go," Valentino said. "Keep making noises like this while I summon my demon. Taking your soul out is supposed to be painful." 

Nicholas glared at Valentino, wishing he wasn't tied so could punch his face. "They're not here. We don't have to pretend—" 

Valentino started chanting. His voice was loud and clear enough for the captors to hear him, to know that he was doing his job properly, that there was no need to hurt Milo. 

That was the only reason Nicholas didn't interrupt him anymore. 

Better yet, Nicholas ended up focusing on what Valentino was saying. It turned out to be a good distraction from the horror nipping at his insides, even though at some point Valentino wasn't speaking English anymore. 

Nicholas couldn't tell if Valentino was talking in Latin or if it was complete gibberish. But Valentino was a natural at it, and never once did he pause to think or come up with more nonsense. He clasped his hands behind his back as he spoke and paced across the small room. 

Upstairs was entirely quiet. Not even the thud of footsteps could be heard. The captors weren't hurting Milo, probably too busy listening to Valentino's ritual instead. So his act was working.

As he was summoning his demon, Valentino grabbed a few candles and threw them, shattering the little ceramic cups holding them. Then, when he finished speaking, he started blowing the rest out one by one. 

Nicholas didn't even question why. All of this was likely part of the ritual too. So instead he tried to relax in his chair. Valentino's turn was over, and now Nicholas needed to show the captors that the chanting and shattering actually worked. 

Valentino blew the last candle out, then straightened and took a step towards Nicholas. "Let's go over the plan again," he said. 

Nicholas nodded, and they discussed it in hushed voices. 

Then it was time. Then the air burnt Nicholas's lungs as it entered, and it stung like thorns as it left. Now there was no room for mistakes. He wouldn't be the first to pay the price for messing up. Milo would. And that was much, much worse. 

Valentino pressed his back to the wall, slumping down against it with an arm across his abdomen, pretending to be exhausted. "It's… It's done," he called as he knocked on the wall to get the captors' attention. "Come get your son." 

The chains rattled immediately. The door opened. Nichoals's heart crashed against his ribs, thumping so loud he couldn't hear anything over it. He closed his eyes. A small quivering sigh left the tiny part of his lips. 

Footsteps approached. 

I can't mess this up, Nicholas thought. I can't mess this up. I can't mess this up. 

He tried to force his chest to stop moving so violently with each inhale and exhale. 

"Your son's soul needs a little time to adjust," Valentino said from his place on the floor, his voice breathy and raspy. "You... You have to be really careful and gentle, okay?" 

Nicholas sensed someone bending over him, a shaky, choked breath fanning across his face. His lashes fluttered, then he slowly peeled his eyes open. The male captor was the one staring right at him.

"Dad…?" Nicholas's voice came out uneven, but it ended up helping his case. "Where…" He lolled his head to the other side, studying the surroundings. "Why am I…?" He strained against the rope chafing his hands and ankles, glancing down his front. "Why am I tied? D-Dad, why am I tied like that?" 

"Thomas, son…" 

"Why am I tied? I don't get it, Dad. I don't understand. Why am I here?" 

"Don't let him get worked up," Valentino said. "It's bad for him." 

The man turned to Valentino. "What should I do then?" 

"Listen to what he says." 

"Dad, please. It hurts," Nicholas said, struggling against the restriction. "My wrists hurt. Take it off. Please." His eye was already watery from the lens, and so his tears fell easily. "It hurts." He let out a quiet, choked whimper. "Is… Is this a punishment? Do you hate me? Is this why you tied me like this?" 

"No! No, no, no," the man said, fumbling with the rope on Nicholas's left wrist. "We don't hate you. Tom, we love you. We love you so much. You're our only son. You're the most important person in our lives. This isn't a punishment! We did all of this just to have you back."

Behind the captor, Valentino's eyes were wide and hopeful, and he gave Nicholas a small, encouraging nod. 

Go to hell, Nicholas thought. 

When the rope on his wrist fell, Nicholas slowly raised his arm. The skin was blood-red and dented. The captor worked on untying Nicholas completely. Briefly, Nicholas checked the top of the stairs, only to find the woman standing there, one arm keeping Milo against her, the other still holding a gun to his head. 

Shit. He needed to get her down here too. 

The male captor gently, softly helped Nicholas sit up straight. 

"I didn't mean the things that I wrote," Nicholas said. "In the letter." 

"I know. I know you didn't. You don't hate us. You love us. We know that," the man said, wrapping his arms around Nicholas. 

Ew, Nicholas thought. Then he hugged back, swallowing down the pained grunt as the captor tightened his grip. 

"Does Mom hate me? For what I wrote?" Nicholas asked. "Is that why she's not here? Because she doesn't wanna see me?" 

The male captor quickly pulled back. "No, she loves you so much too. I promise. She's- She's just…"

"I'm here!" the woman called from the top of the stairs. "Thomas, sweetie. I'm here." Her voice cracked. "I love you too! I love you more! I know you don't hate me." 

But she wasn't moving. Her posture was tilted forward, like she wanted to run towards Nicholas, towards her son, but she was holding herself back, aware that Valentino could pull a stunt if she left Milo. 

"Then come, Mom," Nicholas said. He wiped his tears, scooting off the chair. His weight fell on his leg, and he let out a meek whimper. Then he stared at her, giving her his best sad, yearning look. "Please. Why are you just standing there? Come. I'm sorry about what I wrote. I didn't mean to make you hate me. I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me."

Bile burnt Nicholas's throat. This was the weakest, most pathetic, disgusting thing he'd ever said and he hated it. It took every particle of power he had in his system. 

"I-I know you didn't mean it—"

"Then come. Please. My leg hurts, Mom. I can't move a lot. I need you." 

She started going down the stairs, hauling Milo along. Nicholas looked at the man, then quickly pretended he was collapsing, so that the man had to hold him upright. 

"S-Sorry, my leg hurts a lot." 

"It's okay." The man smiled, brushing Nicholas's hair out of his face, then kissing his head. "We're gonna make it up to you. I promise. It's just the three of us forever now."

Nicholas kept one arm around the man's shoulders, and he extended his free hand to the woman. She hesitated, not knowing what to do with Milo, since the man was occupied with making sure Nicholas didn't collapse. 

"Why won't you hug me?" Nicholas pushed. 

Come on. 

The woman's bottom lip trembled, and then she shoved Milo aside, and he ended up slamming his head against the wall so hard he groaned and slid down, gathered on his knees on the floor, unable to move because his torso was wrapped in ropes. 

Nicholas had to curb his reaction. Valentino scrambled towards Milo. 

The woman squeezed Nicholas too, tightly enough to break his ribs. The gun was still in her hand, and the cold metal pressed against his back as she hugged him. Nicholas moved his arms and reciprocated the embrace, holding both captors down without them realizing it. 

And then there was a mouth kissing Nicholas's cheek. A face pressed to his head. Hands touching him here and there, bodies too close to him for comfort. Fingers threading through his hair, caressing his face, feeling his jaw and his cheeks. Words and affection whispered in his ears. 

Nicholas's breath picked up. 

I want this to stop. 

Tears and snot stained his shoulder and skin. There were sobbing noises in the background. It wasn't the background. It was right beside him. But Nicholas couldn't register it anymore. The haze returned to his brain, his senses dulled. 

And through it, he could only think of one thing: 

Valentino, this is your chance. End this. End this. End this. I want this to end. I can't breathe anymore. I need space. 

A pitched cry rang across the room. 

It pierced Nicholas's trance, and his consciousness perceived the world properly again.

Nicholas tensed. The male captor wasn't hugging him anymore. He was sprawled on the floor by Nicholas's feet. So Valentino really did it. He took the captor down by smacking his neck. The woman glanced at the man, and then whipped around to face Valentino, pointing the gun at his head. 

"You!" she shouted. "What are you—" 

Nicholas grabbed her wrist and raised it so that the gun was pointing upwards, then fought to disarm her.

"No!" Nicholas said. "Mom, what's going on? Don't shoot! Who are these people?" 

"Thomas, honey, don't worry. I won't hurt you. I just… need… to… Let go! He wants to take you from us!"

As Valentino crossed over the man's body on the floor to knock the woman out too, the man caught his leg with the last of his consciousness. Nicholas's eyes widened. Valentino nearly tripped, but he swung his arm out and steadied himself with the wall. Nicholas used his good leg to kick the man's face, then he stomped on his hand. The captor shouted in pain, forced to let go of Valentino's ankle. 

"It's a trap!" the man said. "They tricked us! This isn't Thomas!"

"Shut the hell up!" Nicholas kicked the man one last time, using every bit of his power. Sadly, it was at the expense of the strength he was using to steady the woman's arm upwards, and the next thing he knew, she was trying to direct it towards Milo while hollering vile profanities at Valentino. 

Panicking, Nicholas poured all his strength to raise the woman's gun again, all while she strained to reach the trigger, and amidst the chaos, the weapon fired. Nicholas's ears rang. He didn't even know how it happened. Bullet after bullet after bullet shot out. They all hit the ceiling. Little particles and dust sifted down, and a chunk of wood dangled, just about to drop right on Valentino's head. 

"Valentino! Move!" Nicholas said. "Get Milo out of the way!"

Valentino looked up, then gasped and quickly dragged Milo aside. A big piece of wood crashed against the floor. 

Nicholas still kept the woman's arm held up at an angle. Right next to him, she glared at him with hatred blazing in her wide, blood-shot eyes. All the love they cradled a minute ago vanished. 

"I know why the ritual didn't work!" she said, her spit ramming against Nicholas's face. 

The next few seconds were a blur. 

The woman caught Nicholas completely off guard by suddenly halting all resistance. She stopped trying to lower her arm while he strained to raise it. His equilibrium was knocked, and in the split-second he took to regain his balance, the woman had taken a knife out. 

"Watch out!" Valentino said. 

"The ritual didn't work because we didn't actually blind you!" 

The knife swung for Nicholas's eye.  

• • •

Hii. Thank you for reading/voting/commenting, it means the world to me! ❤️ This chapter was the hardest to write so far. How did it turn out? Did you enjoy it?