A Maidens Grave

Kielle’s face.
    “I’ll distract him. You go behind pipe there. See it? Go over there and hide.”
    “What should I do?”
    “Wait until I give you signal to come out. He’ll be talking to me, won’t look for you.”
    “And then?”
    “Stab him as hard as you can in back. Okay?”
    “Yes!” The little girl smiled, her eyes no longer fiery but cold as stone. “I’m Jubilee! No one can stop me!”
     
    Brutus had his back to the interior of the slaughterhouse but he must have seen her reflection in a pane of cracked glass. He turned. “Whatta we got here?”
    Melanie had slipped from the vat and circled back toward the killing room. Now she walked toward them, smiled at Shannon.
    She looked at Handy and mimicked writing. He handed her a yellow pad and pen. She wrote, I don’t want you to hurt her. She nodded toward Shannon.
    “Hurt her? I’m giving . . . away. Understand?”
    Why not both her and the sick girl? she wrote. Mention her name, Melanie thought. Maybe he’ll be more sympathetic. Beverly, she added.
    Brutus grinned and nodded at Bear. “My friend . . . wants to keep the pretty ones . . . for a while.”
    He’s saying this just to be cruel, she thought. Then reflected: He is cruel, yes. But what else is he, what else do I feel about him? Something strange; there’s someconnection. Is it because I can understand his words? Or do I understand him because of the connection?
    Stoat stepped away from the window and said, “ . . . coming . . . two . . . packs.” He winked and continued to chew on a toothpick. But Brutus wasn’t looking out the window; he was scanning the slaughterhouse, looking around, squinting.
    What can I do to keep him from seeing Kielle?
    Try to seduce him? she thought suddenly.
    What she knew of love she knew from books, movies, and girl talk. Melanie had had boyfriends but had never slept with any of them. Always, the fear . . . Of what, she didn’t know. The dark maybe. Trusting somebody that much. Of course there was the problem that she’d never met anyone interested in making love with her. Oh, there’d been plenty of boys who wanted to fuck her. But that was so different. Look at the two terms: Saying “fuck” pinched the nose and made your features tight and lonely. “Making love” . . . it was soft and opened up your face.
    Suddenly Brutus laughed and stepped forward, grabbed her and pulled her close. Maybe he was far smarter than he seemed. Or maybe her eyes could keep nothing secret; in any event he knew exactly what she was thinking. He stroked her hair.
    She waited for the hands on her breasts, between her legs. She remembered how she’d recoiled when a boyfriend had slipped his hand up there quickly. She’d leapt off his knee like lightning, smacking her head on the car’s hot dome light.
    Then Brutus turned his head and said something she didn’t catch.
    Bear and Stoat were laughing.
    Abruptly he shoved her away, leaned his face close, and said, “Why’d I want you? A busted little thing like you? You’re like a boy. I want women only.” His black eyes bored into hers and she broke into sobs. With satisfaction he looked over the horror and shame in her face. “I got me a real woman. Pris’s all I need. She’s got herself a woman’s body and a woman’s eyes. We fuck for hours. You have a boyfriend?”
    Melanie couldn’t answer. Her arms were weak and hung at her side. In the corner of her eye she saw Kielle slip through the shadows of machinery. She struggled to stop the tears, refused to wipe them away.
    “Pris’s a real character. A ballbuster . . . Think I’m bad? She’s badder. You hate me? You wouldn’t like her one bit. Now, she might fuck you. She’s a bit that way and I’d like to watch. If we get out of this we’ll do that, her and me and you.”
    Melanie stepped away but he took her by the arm. The grip cut off the blood to her hands and she felt them tingle painfully.
    Stoat, hand on his crew cut, was calling something. Brutus turned to the window, looked out. Melanie felt a vibration in the air. Brutus looked toward the phone. Smiling, he let go of Melanie’s arm and picked up the receiver.
    “Hello . . .”
    Was he talking to de l’Epée? What were they saying?
    Behind the pipes near the door was Kielle’s shadow. The girl held the knife in her hand.
    “ . . . almost here,” Stoat called, pointing his gun out the window.
    Brutus lowered his head and kept talking into the