This time Lilith awoke in a different place. She was alone and cold, dressed, but lying prone on the floor. Someone must have carried her there while she was unconscious. She tried to move but when she did, the scabs on her back cracked and sent pain shooting through her. Regardless, she tried to haul herself into a sitting position, but her arms shook and quivered and she collapsed back onto the cold pavement floor.

She tried to think, tried to clear her head. She felt drowsy and drugged - had they drugged her? She didn't know. There was a long board before her. What was it for?

Lilith tried staring at it, but it slid in and out of focus. She couldn't look at it for too long, as when she tried to lift her head, her vision swam and she slumped back down.

Lilith blinked and when she mumbled a few incoherent words, they echoed and crashed in her ears, as loud and hollow as surf pounding on sand.

Her mouth felt oddly wet. She wondered if someone had poured water down her throat as she lay unconscious. Again, she wondered if she was drugged. Giving a bleary shake of her head, she closed her eyes to rid herself of the sight of the overhead light, a blinking fluorescent eye, bleeding all colours of the rainbow until they shattered about her like so many crystals.

She lay down again on her side. As her eyes swam open, she tried to count the tiles on the wall and couldn't. She was very cold and every part of her was numb with pain. She did not know how long she stayed there, lying on her side. It could have been only an hour. It could have been a day.

A guard came in then, and she curled up in fetal position. She could barely comprehend anything save the pain and the cold. She wanted him to go away, to leave her alone. She knew nothing. Had done nothing.

"Please," she whispered when he hauled her into his arms. She was only half play-acting when she begged. "Please."

He was wearing a balaclava, but he stared right into her eyes as he walked. His grasp was soft, almost tender, carrying her bridal-style towards the board.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, hiding his words by leaning over her to arrange her limbs and speaking into her hair. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm and full of tears.

She used all her strength to spit in his eye.

"Go to hell," she snarled at him, and, light-headed, collapsed back on the board. Her vision blurred and she saw black spots. Pain had never done this to her before, and her befuddled brain tried to make some sense of whether or not she was drugged. She assumed she must be.

He jerked back, wiping his face with his hand. His pity did not fade, which roused even Lilith's foggy mind to worry.

But it did not rouse it far, for she turned her head and blinked, even the effort of batting her eyelids causing her to reel for a moment.

She could have been lying there either a few seconds or an age when in came Christopher, with a bruise on his face, but apparently otherwise unharmed. She wondered why that was - why hurt her if he was the one who knew whatever it was Visage wanted? He was bucking and kicking in the arms of the guard, but when he saw her, he sagged instantly.

"Lilith," he said. He looked horrified.

Lilith closed her eyes and used all her strength to curl into the smallest ball she could. Her brain had been reduced to nothing more than the simplest functions in her beffuddlement. Now she sought to make herself small, to hide, to cower, like a wounded animal.

But even then it came to her what Visage was doing. Some part of the intellect and calmness that Christopher had lauded her for refused to give up and whispered in her mind.

Visage knew that Christopher was weak, and knew that Lilith was strong. And to break her, to undo her iron will and stony aspect, to rip even cold Lilith to bits in front of him would surely break him more effectively than anything they could do to him.

Now the door opened and Lilith was forced onto her back and restrained by cuffs at around her wrists and ankles.

"Poor dear Mrs. Farrar," said Visage's voice. She turned her head and saw him meandering towards her. He paused by Christopher. "Look, for a moment, at what you've done, Mr. Farrar."

Christopher did not look. Instead, he hung his head.

"You won't even look, will you? And you know what I'm going to do to her now. What, you won't beg me to stop? Offer to take her place?" said Visage. He grabbed Christopher's face in one hand.

"Please," Christopher managed. "Please, not my wife."

"What a disloyal husband you have, Mrs. Farrar, and quite undeserving of you," he said, and now he loomed over her. Lilith was afraid of him, but more afraid of admitting it. His wide blue eyes, so big and bright, seemed grossly large as her vision slid in and out of focus, until they dominated his face and overpowered every other of her senses.

Lilith tried to speak, but found herself hoarse with fear.

"What was that?" said Visage, and leaned close to her, placing his ear by her mouth.

"Go fuck yourself," she whispered, and sank her teeth into his earlobe. It took all her remaining strength to bite as he jumped back and roared with pain, and all her senses were screaming at her for a fool. Every feeling of decency that had for so long kept her as sensible Lilith now howled at her foolhardiness - antagonizing her torturer? She was out of her mind.

Blood was streaming from Visage's ear as he lurched back. He lifted his hand to his ear and it came back red, rivulets of blood staining his neck and shirt. And then Visage looked and smiled, the most terrifying expression she'd yet seen, his teeth sharp and pointed and to her addled mind, stained with gore.

"Oh, I like your spirit, Mrs. Farrar. Ones with spirit are always so much more admirable. And to show my admiration, I'd like to show you another of my techniques," he said. He waved forward a guard, who handed him a cloth.

"Have you heard of waterboarding, Mrs. Farrar?" he asked. As she watched, he took a jug of water and poured it over a cloth. Then, laying the cloth over her nose, he gradually inched it over her eyes as he spoke, till all she could see was the whiteness of the terrycloth fabric. "I'm sure you have. I'm sure you've also heard what it's like?"

Lilith's body seemed to want her to panic, to flee, but she would not let it. She was mistress of her flesh, and her mind, which had always been stoic, did not fail her.

"It's like drowning. Only when you drown you die - here, I can kill you if I want, but I can also bring you back and do it again. And again. And again," said Visage.

Lilith could hear Christopher whimpering. He pleaded now, but not with Visage. He pleaded with her to stay, not to abandon him, to fight. Had she had the strenghth, she would have told him she did not owe him that.

Lilith had realized she was going to die. When Visage poured water down over her face and agony seared through her, she felt oddly at peace, and proud of her own stoicism. Her last thought as oblivion took her was that if there was a God, she would like Him to make her a high-flying hawk in another life. And then, with her lungs like lead in her body, she sank into darkness.

But Lilith did not die. The darkness gave way to a bright white, and for a moment she thought she had been granted her wish - that she had become a hawk circling as close as Icarus to the sun.

She opened her eyes, and out of her mouth came a hawk's hoarse cry, for she had not died.

Instead of the blue sky above her, she saw Visage's eyes. He was smiling.

"See what I meant, Mrs. Farrar? Or shall I show you again?"

Part of her wanted to beg him to spare her. But that part was weak and her will was stronger. She said nothing and stared right up into his face.

"Please!" cried a voice, and it was not Lilith's. She was capable of a little astonishment to hear Christopher pleading for her life and not for his own. "She's done nothing wrong!"

Visage's head snapped toward Christopher. The pair of them stared at each other for a moment.

"But you have, Christopher," said Visage. His voice was quiet. And then, throwing the cloth back over Lilith's face, he went back to work. Water poured down over Lilith's mouth, nose, eyes, cheeks. She felt as though she was submerged without the strength to kick for the surface.

Her body bucked a little, against the desire of her mind to dive deeper, to seek refuge in the crushing depths of the ocean. She was not very strong, however; three days of a little water, no food, less sleep, and bouts of torment had made her weak. All her tired limbs managed was a listless flutter or two in response to the agony in her throat.

She sought out the darkness of the not-death of this torture, the momentary release from pain and cold, but it did not come. Instead, something ripped her from the ocean and threw her out on the sand, pale and gasping.

Lilith gulped at the air, blinking rapidly as she was brought back to reality and to the small room with the cloth gone from her face.

"Well, Mr. Farrar?" asked Visage. He was next to her, and her head was tilted towards him. Visage was speaking to Christopher, but Lilith did not have the strength even to turn her head. "You could end this for her. Just admit to it, Mr. Farrar!"

There was silence broken only by Christopher's whimpers.

"Mr. Farrar!" barked Visage.

"I've done nothing wrong!" howled Christopher's voice. It echoed around the room, loud and angry and hysterical. "Lilith's done nothing wrong! Let her go!"

"Oh, Mr. Farrar, you know that's not true. Now - one last chance. Tell me," said Visage.

Christopher did not get a chance to say anything, for a sound much louder than his voice came crashing down over Lilith's ears. She blinked and used all her strength to turn her head to see.

She wondered if she was hallucinating, for she saw how the door flexed and then, with a crash, banged open. In came three figures. They shot dead the two guards at the door and when Christopher surged towards them, caught him in their arms.

"Oh, shit," said Visage.

Lilith turned back to him. He was standing there, holding one hand to his chest. Scarlet blossomed from under his palm, spreading over his shirt. He stared curiously at his hand, removing it from the wound, and then up at Lilith.

Their eyes locked and then he pitched forward.

Lilith assumed he was dead. She did not know if the figures were rescuers or tormentors, but did not care. The strength she had used to turn her head had utterly drained her. Now her vision swam as she blinked and settled onto the board.

Blackness engulfed her, but not before her bonds were cut and she was gathered into the unmistakably soft embrace of a woman.

"I've got you now," murmured a voice, the loveliest Lilith had ever heard, and a pair of grey-blue eyes, as striking as Visage's but beautiful instead of frightening, floated into her field of view.

Lilith opened her mouth to speak, but darkness rushed over her and turned her gasp into a hawk's rasping scream.