When Rachel came to she was not alone — and not just because of the omniscient psychic entity watching who was watching events unfold. No, there was also someone else — someone she could hear moving around.
Rachel tried to look around. She was hindered in this by the fact that she had been restrained on Michael’s ritual table. Still, by twisting her head painfully to the left she was able to catch a glimpse of someone in a skirt walking just out of her field of vision.
“Hello?” Rachel called. “Hey, you there… Can you do something about these straps? Um… please?”
The person stopped walking, though they didn’t come back where Rachel could see them.
“Yes,” a dull, almost emotionless voice answered.
“Oh, thank God!” Rachel exclaimed. “Hurry, quick!”
The person turned and shuffled listlessly to Rachel’s side. She was revealed to be a tall, svelte woman in an overdone sexy French maid’s outfit. She was also wearing a battered leather collar with a deep red gem — a piece of jewelry that was out of place with the frippery of the rest of her outfit.
“Who are you?” Rachel asked while the stranger unlatched one of the belts that had her strapped down. “Where am I, and what’s going on?!”
“My name is Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said. There was a hint of warmth in her voice when she said it, but that was washed away with her next statement. “And you are in my master’s ritual chamber.”
Rachel opened her mouth to ask: Master? But before Rachel could get the word out, Elizabeth tugged hard on the strap she’d undone, tightening it sharply enough to steal Rachel’s breath. Then Elizabeth buckled it back into place and moved on to the next belt, tightening it as well.
“And as for what’s going on,” Another voice — Michael’s voice — suddenly added, “I think I’ll take the pleasure of answering that for you, myself.”