A painting with two stories Part 3 (Nathayen POV)

We took a black van out of the subterranean garage which we had prepared for such occasions. The license plate on the car didn’t really exist, so every try to get information about its owner due to cameras wouldn’t reveal anything. 

Abducting an artist was a mere trifle. The man didn’t expect anyone could be after him, nor had he taken any security measures. Change brought it about that Jonas Krewood was coming home late to his apartment on this night. Maybe he had dined out to celebrate a successful sale for his last artwork – it didn’t matter to me. As soon as Dam had given me the signal from the car that the man was entering the building, I took my position. I lurked behind the corner of the stairway where the elevator stopped. 

Shortly after the doors opened and Jonas Krewood entered the floor with his back towards me, I knocked the man out with a strong hit against his head. Humans were hardly any opponent for our kind. But it was still a better idea to get them right on the first try. Especially if you didn’t wish your victim to resist loudly. I caught the unconscious man before he could hit the floor.

Afterwards, I threw him over my shoulder like a drunkard that I had to get home after a few drinks too many. Not that I met anyone during this hour who could have deemed my actions suspicious. But in case I’d run into any trouble, I had already an excuse prepared. 

I threw Jonas Krewood into the car, before I gave Dam the signal to drive off. 

“Did he scream?”, Dam wanted to know.

“He didn’t see it coming.” I snorted amused. “He was out cold immediately.” 

No, I had already overwhelmed far more able-bodied men, who had at least proven to be a challenge. I didn’t even bother with tying him up in the back of the car, but kept an eye on him nonetheless. Like I had expected, he didn’t regain consciousness throughout the drive. 

When we reached the warehouse, Juliel had already prepared everything. One dim lighting bulb was illuminating a chair he had placed upon one of our handy plastic tarps. In case things turned ugly, it would help us immensely with cleanup. 

We took off all of Jonas’ clothes apart from his boxer shorts. The pieces of fabric and the man himself were scanned to detect any possible wiretap. 

“That guy has a tracker”, I noticed prosaically as the device reacted. I extended my claws to cut into the flesh of the unconscious man. The transmitter hadn’t been put too deep into his body, so I had little trouble extracting it. But as soon as it had left Jonas’ body, the signal died. “The thing is done for.” To control it, I examined it with the scanner multiple times, but I couldn’t detect another signal. Too bad. With that, we had lost any opportunity to track the transmitted signal. Even though I had to admit, it was difficult for us to use the necessary technology. We had been in the human world for more than a decade, yet we didn’t see through all the human technology yet. It was a mystery to me how these primitive creatures even managed to create something of that scale. But maybe that primitivism was what we lacked to understand it? 

I sat the artist on the chair and tied him down with leather straps. It was no coincidence we had crafted such a construction. We could easily adjust the sizes, much more comfortable than with average ropes. Furthermore, the leather parts were reinforced with steel cables. Even though those didn’t press against our victim's joints directly, humans were unable to break free from it. 

“It’s possible he is still a bit dazed”, I explained to Lyras and Juliel. “But let’s wake him up.” Another good smack should be enough to bring him back to consciousness. 

“Can I?” Dam clasped his hands in excitement. 

“Sure, if you want it so badly.” I chuckled and leaned myself against the wall while Dam woke the man with a hard smack to his cheeks. 

“Welcome to your spontaneous holiday with unknown duration.” He grinned mischievous as he met the irritated gaze of the man, which soon turned into a shocked expression. Dam stepped aside to give Lyras the necessary room. 

Lyras only came close enough for the light to reach parts of him. He stayed half-hidden in the shadows, while he stared down at the captured man. It was easy for all of us to see clearly in the room. We didn’t even need the shine of the lightning bulb over Jonas’ head. But for the human, the effect was even more intimidating. 

“I’ll explain to you how our conversation will stay painless for you. I’ll ask a question and you will answer clearly, precisely and with all details. If you don’t…” He lowered his voice inauspiciously. “Who gave you the information for the painting?” 

Lyras was never a man to beat around the bush. The worm before him seemed even more shocked and began to stutter. “I, well, you see…” 

“Ts, ts”, Lyras hissed, so quietly the man’s focus was glued to him even stronger. “So slow-witted?” He raised his hand and slapped the man on his left ear. Straightaway, blood ran down on Krewood’s cheek. He returned the gaze wide-eyed as pain contorted his features. 

“If you want to keep your hearing on the other ear, answer my question”, Lyras murmured towards him. 

Like I had expected, the words started to spout from his mouth. “The picture is not from me, I cannot paint! The artworks are delivered to me and I sell them.” His voice became higher and higher until it turned into a panicked screech. “Please, you have to believe me. I don’t know anything about information.” 

“Free his hands”, Lyras instructed Dam. While Damahir was still following his request, Lyras pressed a notepad and pen into the man’s hands. “Name, address, bank account and social security number of your employer.” 

The face of the artist grew pale as he stared towards the paper as if a sudden miracle might appear on it. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know anything”, he squeaked. “It was all about secrecy, I shouldn’t know who created the paintings. They were delivered, always at the same time. The first Tuesday of every month for three years.” Jonas Krewood gasped for air as he had pressed the words from his lips so fast. 

Strange. I didn’t think the worm was able to lie to us in this situation. Yet, why should anyone bother to use a figurehead to sell off paintings – and that for three years? Had someone used the existing resources to send a message to us? We four exchanged gazes with each other. We all knew what this meant. 

Lyras turned towards Krewood again. “So, you’re nothing more than a clueless scapegoat. Useless.” He walked around the man, staying purposely out of his sight. Of course, Lyras knew it would be inefficient to kill the man. But humans had the practical trait to reveal useful details while fearing death. 

“I, well, he will notice if I don’t reply!”, Jonas stuttered, squeaking while turning his neck as far as possible. 

“Right. So, you’ll be staying with us, and we will see when someone starts looking for you.” Lyras beat him once more directly to his temple to send the embodiment of misery back to unconsciousness. 

“How can a man squeak this loudly?” Damahir muttered as he shook his head. “If I hadn’t seen his balls while we searched him, I’d have sworn he didn’t have any.”

I laughed and shrugged. “Whoever chose him probably didn’t expect that Krewood would end up in such a mess.” We managed to break his spirit far too easily under pressure to come to any other conclusion. “Dam, bring him into one of our guest suites. As long as we don’t know who might be missing him, he is more valuable breathing.”