King for a Day (The King Trilogy #2)(41)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Oh Lord. “Mine.” That meant that Vaughn would kill the unlucky girl.

The men smiled hesitantly and exchanged nervous glances. Even they seemed to fear Vaughn’s insanity.

Vaughn looked at me. “What do you think, Miss Turner? The wager sets the odds in your favor since these men are all looking forward to their treats tonight.”

“You’re saying they’ll die if I don’t guess correctly?” I asked.

Obviously, the women didn’t speak English because their smiles didn’t even flicker.

Vaughn nodded. “That is correct. So, are you still certain you are a Seer?”

“Yes. But I might see something your guests won’t like. How do I know if they’ll tell the truth?” I asked.

“Do not!” Vaughn slapped me across the cheek, and it stung like hell. “Insult my guests, Miss Turner!”

I almost lost it right then and there, but I hung on by the skin of my teeth. If I wanted Vaughn to see me as something other than his next victim, he needed to see I was like him.

I pasted on a sick little smile and rubbed my cheek appreciatively. “Mmmm…Thank you. Wager accepted.”

Trying to hide my revulsion and terror, I strutted over to the first man closest to me. He wore a dark gray suit and looked to be the youngest. His thick, wavy, brown hair was combed back, and I noticed a giant gold pinkie ring.

I smiled appreciatively at him, hoping to win points. “Just relax, sweetie. This won’t hurt.” The girl on his lap, who wore a tight, red Spandex dress, eyed me with curiosity. She had no clue her life was in danger.

It didn’t take long for the colors to begin sprouting. The man I stared at was yellow. I couldn’t remember all of the colors. Hell, I’d only discovered my gift a month and a half ago. I knew black, red, purple, green, and blue. Yellow and orange? Were they hate or love? Were they jealousy? I had no clue. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I pointed to the man’s hand. “May I?” He held it out for me. His palms were black. Solid black. “You killed someone today.”

The men around the table burst out in laughter and began clapping. My victim pulled his hand away and whispered, “Santa Maria.”

What was wrong with these people? He kills someone and then prays to the Virgin Mary? Nice.

“Very good, Miss Turner,” said Vaughn. “Please proceed to the next guest.”

Okay. One down. Four to go. I felt the sweat trickle down the small of my back. I wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and the leather trapped in all of my body heat. I felt like a baked potato wrapped in foil.

I moved down the table to the next man. The girl in his lap scurried off as he turned his chair. He offered his hand immediately. His body color was red, but his hands were green. Pain and life? I didn’t know what to make of it, so I took the more general route. “You are in a lot of distress, but you like to do things that create. You see it as making new life.”

Again, the men applauded wildly. “He likes to garden!” They laughed, and my second victim shot them an ugly look. I don’t think he would want to admit he had a creative “life-giving” side to address whatever pain he hid inside.

Oh God. King, if you can hear me, I’m upstairs. I need your help! I’d made it through two, but there were still three, and the guy on the end looked nasty.

The next two were easy, blue and blue. Sorrow. That meant something bad had happened to them that they’d yet to overcome. I politely phrased it as “their jobs were filled with some nasty shit, but they were going to be fine because they were tough dudes.”

Vaughn, who stood in the corner of the room, watching with wide eyes, clapped enthusiastically each time I guessed.

When I got to the last man at the other side of the table from where I’d begun, I immediately knew he’d be trouble. He wore a dark blue suit and had a wide belly and receding hairline. The blackness—death—appeared in dark splotches all over his torso. The rest of him was red. Was the man sick? Perhaps dying? Oh, Lord. What was I going to say?

“Ummm…you’ve had some serious health issues recently. They’ve been worrying you, but it’s going to be okay.” Of course, I had no idea if he’d be okay. All I knew was that I needed him to give me a thumbs-up so that the young woman on his lap wouldn’t die tonight.

He looked at me and smiled.

I let out a mental phew.

Vaughn applauded once again and even made a little jump. “Now, you must do me, Miss Turner.”

I smiled my best fake smile. “Maybe later, Vaughn.” I winked and tried not to wretch. “I’m sure your guests are dying to get to their fun for the evening?”

He laughed. “Right you are, Miss Turner. Right you are.” He looked around the table. “So, let us see a show of hands. Who here agreed with Miss Turner’s interpretation?” All of the men raised their hands except for mister green palms.

“Oh no,” said Vaughn with a superficial pout. “It looks like we have one unsatisfied customer.”

Shit. “Let me try again. Sometimes the reads are a little off.”

Vaughn shook his finger. “Uh-uh-uh. No do-overs.” He bowed his head. “Gentlemen. I will return shortly.”

Vaughn took me by the arm and whisked me back toward the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“We are done with our fun. You are going back to your cell.”

“What about the girl?” I asked.

“She is no concern of yours.”

“But he was lying. He lied to you. You can’t punish her for that.”

“Oh. I can do anything I like. Even to you. And I plan to.”

“But don’t you believe me about the Artifact? King is the only one who knows how to use it. He won’t help you if you hurt me.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” He opened the door to the basement and gestured for me to go inside the stairwell. To the na**d eye, it was simply dark, but to my eyes, the blackness looked like the mouth of a demon opening wide to swallow me whole, the walls dripping with red blood. I didn’t want to go back down there.

“But you do have the Artifact, right?” I said, still hopeful that he’d say no and might see value in keeping me alive. “I don’t know what it looks like, but I can recognize its light pattern.”

His thin lips turned down in the corners. “I don’t have it, but I know exactly where it is.”

I’m such a useless f**kup. Who was I to believe I could go up against people like Vaughn and win? My mind wasn’t warped enough to see the angles that create leverage in this sick game. I was far too trusting and eager to see the good in people—not that I saw any in Vaughn. But I’d walked a mile in King’s shoes, tripped and fell. I couldn’t be King. I couldn’t even be his assistant. I was so damned useless. I was so damned…