Trapped

by E J Pay

  “You will see, Pearl,” he whispers into my ear. “I have given you your chance. Any more opportunities will come at a much higher price.” He pushes me back into the chair and turns to the guards. “Bring Demetrius,” he tells them. Gileaus stands. He finally stands.

  “Master Abraxas,” he yells. Has he reached his breaking point? Is he ready to turn against Abraxas no matter the cost? Is a part of him screaming through the fog? “Allow me a moment to try with the prisoner.” He begs. “Let me see if I can persuade her.” Me. He is calling me a prisoner. Not his fiancé. Not his Athena. Not even Pearl. The prisoner.

  “There may be another time for that,” Abraxas answers. “But that time has not yet come, my young man. I think you had better return to your room.”

  “But Master, please,” Gileaus begs. It’s like watching two completely different people living in the same body. He is fighting within himself. He must be under a spell. The false Gileaus holds a thin power over the real Gileaus, my Gileaus.

  “Guard,” Abraxas calls out. The closest guard to Gileaus reaches for him and takes him by the arm. He is strong and easily controls my fiancé in his weakened state. He leads him from the room and up the stairs. I hear Gileaus calling to Abraxas the entire way. Abraxas reaches for the jade around his neck and Gileaus quiets. Abraxas returns his attention to me.

  “Pearl,” he says in a condescending tone, “I’m sure you think you are being very noble. I’m sure you think there is nothing so wonderful as to sacrifice oneself for another. Am I correct?” I do not respond. My silence is my answer.

  “This is as I expected,” Abraxas continues. “But you see, Pearl, I do not live in that kind of world. I am not at all worried about the self-sacrificing people who throw themselves in harm’s way to protect everyone around them. No, I deal in more practical ways.” Abraxas clasps his hands behind his back and paces the floor between Hortencio and me. I watch Abraxas. Hortencio keeps his eyes on me.

  “You see,” Abraxas continues, “I learned a very long time ago that people willing to sacrifice themselves for what they call the greater good are not always willing to make that same decision for other people.” A small pit of nerves is opening in my stomach. I am willing to sacrifice myself. I don’t care what he can do to me. But he is talking about something else entirely. “Your convictions are strong now,” Abraxas tells me, “but I have a feeling they will not be so strong when someone else’s safety is on the line.”

  I hear the low chuckle I have been waiting for. I don’t even look up. I know Demetrius is here. I thought he was coming for me, but I was wrong.

  “Guards,” Abraxas commands, “Secure our prisoners.”

  At least three guards head toward me, others are already behind Hortencio. He is being tied to his chair. It is a ridiculous precaution. In his weakened state he cannot do anything to fight back. My guards reach me and lift me by the arms. They take me to the far wall where chains are attached to the stone. I am shackled into place. I save my strength.

  Hortencio still meets my gaze. He is a brave man and he is trying to send his strength to me. But this is the skill I know best. I send out deep blue tendrils of strength and courage. When they reach Hortencio, I see him glow. It is something only I can see. The qualities have found their way into a home where they are already alive and well. I have given him power that he did not need. But that does not mean he will not be harmed.

  Abraxas turns to leave the room, but addresses me one more time. “I will be interested in hearing from you tomorrow, Pearl.” And with a flash of dark purple, he is gone.

  Demetrius rubs his hands together as he comes up behind Hortencio. He is laughing as usual. It is the disgusting laugh of pleasure he takes in hurting others. With a swift movement, he strikes the back of Hortencio’s head with the back of his hand. Hortencio’s head jerks forward and his chair rocks. Demetrius walks to the table and lays out a leather satchel he has brought with him. He unrolls his bag to reveal the tools of his trade. I only need a moment to see the instruments he chooses. I cannot let the moment pass and do nothing.

  I send thick and strong images into Demetrius’ mind. His tools are red-hot. Every time he touches them, he thinks he is being burned. He wouldn’t mind, but when he looks down at his pained hands, he sees them melt. Only Demetrius knows what I am sending to his mind. Only he can see the vision I have created for him. Only he responds. He lets out a scream of pain and falls to the ground. He pushes his hands into the floor to stop the pain. But as he pushes, I make him see the melting. I make him see his entire body melting into the floor. He is screaming and begging to be saved.

  Something Demetrius would never do.

  There is a procedure for this, a procedure to be followed when I toy with Demetrius’ mind. The guards in the room know I am responsible for his behavior. They have a job to do. The three around me grab my arms. I give them the same vision I am giving to Demetrius. They are melting. They scream and five more guards rush at me. I am doing all I can and I will take as many as I can with me. Two more guards fall when they reach for me, each screaming about his melting hands that are perfectly sound. Demetrius lies exhausted on the floor. I cannot continue to reach him and fight off the onslaught of guards. I am growing weak.

  I am finally overwhelmed by the guards rushing at me. I cannot attack them all. Someone behind me, someone I cannot see, someone I cannot attack, throws a black bag over my head. I cannot see. I can no longer attack. All I can do is listen. And I listen for hours. And when Hortencio finally begins to scream, I am listening.

  Chapter 36

  For more than a week, I have listened to screams, but I am not swayed. In his screaming, Hortencio begs me not to give in. He is willing to die to preserve the government, to keep Abraxas from a tyrannical rule. The memory of his feelings and character are enough to keep me strong. I withstand the repeated messages I receive from Abraxas:

  Are you ready to help yet?

  A single line for every message. My answer is always the same. No. No, I will not help my captor anymore. I will fight until I am free from his greedy hands. I am strong. But when Hortencio’s daughters are brought in with me, my strength cracks.

  The first time the women are brought in, I am not wearing a hood. Abraxas wants me to see their faces. He wants me to see the fear he creates in them. But Hortencio’s daughters are products of their upbringing. They have the will to fight, to endure. That’s too bad for them. Their beatings and torture will be longer as a result. I do what I can to send them imagery of home, helping them to recall why they are here and what they are being used for. I send them strength, courage, and ability to withstand. I send it all until my face is covered again. Then it is back to listening. Listening to screams. Listening to laughter. It makes me sick.

  Another week goes by and I am faltering in my resolve. It must show because today has been quiet. No officers have been sent to take me to the interrogation rooms. No screams are heard down the hall. I wonder, and even hope, that Hortencio and his daughters are dead. Then they would at least be released from their suffering. But the thought is selfish, a desire to keep me from their pain as well as them. I want more for them.

  There is a quiet knock at my door and it creaks open. I move my eyes toward the entrance of my cell to see who is coming to get me today. It is Namaah. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her hair is disheveled and loose. Her clothing is wrinkled as though she has been sleeping in them.

  “My Athena,” she signs to me. “My precious friend. I am come to help you.” Namaah turns back to the hall and retrieves a large basket. Inside are the items I have come to expect from her visits: clear and clean water and washing rags, fresh robes, even food. She is here to make me over and freshen me up again. Abraxas must want to see me. He never visits his captors until they are clean.

  I allow Namaah to care for me, feed me broth, brush my hair and wash my body, but I sign nothing. I do not communicate anything to her. There is too much sorrow to share. Once I am clean, Namaah
tidies up the room and sits beside me.

  “There is much disturbance in the fortress,” she signs to me. “A close friend of Hortencio’s has come to Abraxas. He is searching for Hortencio and believes Abraxas has something to do with his disappearance. He is a man with many resources and influence. Abraxas is fearful of him. Some of the other servants are guessing that Abraxas will kill Hortencio and his daughters to keep them from being discovered.”

  “What’s going on in here?” There is a guard at my door and he is watching Namaah as she signs to me. Our ability to communicate has been our secret for so long. I cannot lose it. I send tendrils of memory loss to the guard, but I am too late.

  “What is it?” a second guard asks as he, too, enters my room. I am always heavily guarded. I should have known something like this could happen.

  “The servant was moving her hands in a strange way while the prisoner watched,” answers the first. “I think it is some sort of code. I…” The tendrils of forgetfulness finally hit their mark, but the damage is done. The first guard falls to the ground, speechless. In my fear and distraction, I pulled too much memory away from him. There is no telling how far gone he may be.

  Guards spill into the room and surround my cot. One grabs Namaah by the arm and yanks her to her feet. Her face twists in pain, not a sound escapes.

  “Put her down!” I am on my feet in a split second. My arms are spread wide and low as I stare down the guard before me. Several guards fall to the ground as though I pushed them away. My feet rise a few inches above the ground. I have never felt this kind of power rushing through me. I can feel it pulsating through my veins.

  “I said put her down!” I yell once more at the guard. Someone in the room cries out and I am rushed. Guards jump on top of me, pulling me to the ground. Before I fall, I see Namaah fighting her guard. Someone pulls out the ever present black sack and I am blinded again.

  I kick and scream and thrash and pull. I am hit and pulled and carried. We leave the room, a cacophony of sound echoes down the hallways through which we travel. We enter another room and I am forced into a chair. I still kick and scream and bite - whatever I can do. I know I cannot fight them all off, but I want to hurt anyone I can. I hear the muffled sounds of too many men squeezed into the space. Rough, angry hands tie me to the chair. Chains encircle me until I can move nothing but my head. One by one, the men leave the room. I call out and no one answers. I thrash my head about, trying to dislodge the bag, but it is no use. I relax my body, allowing the air to come in and out of my lungs again. More time passes, my breathing slows, and I fall asleep.

  When I wake up, it is because someone has yanked the black bag off my head. My head whips back, hair is caught in my eyes and mouth. I try to shake it free, but I cannot get everything out.

  “Oh, do help her clear her face. I want her to see me.”

  Unseen fingers brush my hair free from my face. I breathe and I can see. Abraxas is sitting at a table in front of me.

  “I had hoped to be meeting with you in one of the upstairs rooms, Pearl,” he says. “But as it is, I understand that you have been in communication with one of my servants. Tell me, what has Namaah told you?”

  I shake my head. “Namaah has told me nothing,” I say. “She was trying to comfort me. That is all.”

  “Trying to comfort you?” Abraxas asks. “So, you can communicate with her. Tsk tsk, Pearl. Now I cannot send her to you anymore. It’s a pity you should lose this one comfort.”

  I’m not worried about my own comfort. But now that they know I have been communicating with Namaah, she will be punished, maybe even killed.

  “Tell me, Pearl,” the monster continues, “how have you spent the last several weeks?”

  “You know how I’ve spent them.”

  “I?” Abraxas asks in a mocking tone. “How could I have known? I haven’t been down here at all during that time. I prefer to leave these rooms to Demetrius, you see.” The sickening chuckle comes from the corner of the room.

  “And how did Demetrius like his time with me?” I ask. The chuckling stops and Abraxas is the one to laugh this time.

  “Yes, I heard about that,” he says. “That is why you have to be blindfolded from time to time, my dear. You are the one who has to miss out. Demetrius has done some of his best work these past few weeks.”

  “What’s happened to Hortencio and his daughters?” I ask. I am open with Abraxas. I hide nothing from him. It is the best way to get information from him. Direct questioning.

  “As I said, my dear,” he answers, “Demetrius has done some of his best work in the past few weeks. Surely you’ve noticed the quiet in the corridors? You are the only one making noise now.

  “Hortencio finally agreed to my terms. His forces will be at my disposal.”

  “How is that possible?” I ask. Abraxas sighs.

  “An old man can only watch his daughters suffer for so long, Pearl,” he answers. “Hortencio is a good father. He wants his children to be happy. Of course, one of them, the youngest, will still be staying with me. A little incentive for him to stay on course.”

  “You’ve got what you wanted then,” I spit, “what more do you want from me?”

  Abraxas is quiet for a moment. He shakes his head. “That is a dangerous question, Pearl,” he says. “Once I no longer have need of you, I no longer need you here. And I am sure you understand that I cannot just let you go once your work is finished.” He is silent for a moment before continuing.

  “I have a new problem, Pearl. You see, since you were so unwilling to help me with Hortencio, it has taken too much time to get what I wanted from him and he has been missed. One of our mutual acquaintances, a man I detest but must submit to openly, has come to inquire after his friend. Naturally, I have assured him that all is well and that Hortencio is not with me. But the man will not be swayed. He insists that something is wrong and is threatening inquiry.”

  “Anyone investigating you would find it very interesting, I am sure,” I interject.

  “Hmmm, yes,” Abraxas nods, “I am sure they would. I am a very interesting man.” He stands now and uses a gold-covered walking stick as he paces the room. A limp has developed in his right leg. I hope it is painful for him.

  “But you see, Pearl,” he continues, “I don’t want to be investigated. I’m sure you can understand.”

  I let out one laugh and roll my eyes. Abraxas pauses to assess me.

  “You didn’t do your job very well the first time, Pearl, but I am willing to give you one more chance.”

  “You must be desperate then,” I accuse. Abraxas nods.

  “Indeed, I am,” he says. “And you know, my dear, desperate times do call for desperate measures.”

  “You will have a hard time getting me to help you,” I tell him. “I think I have already proven that.”

  “You have, Pearl. You have. That’s something I love about you. You are strong in so many ways, difficult to break. There is something so enjoyable about the chase, you know. You make it that much more enjoyable for Demetrius, too.”

  “Demetrius doesn’t frighten me,” I say.

  “Oh, I know, my dear. I know.” Abraxas stands still, facing me head on. “I need you to erase the memory of the man in my home, Pearl. I need him to forget why he ever came here. I know you can do it. You’ve done it to my guards. I want you to come to my home - kind, willing, submissive - as my cousin again. Dine with me. Take his memory away.”

  “You have no power over me, Abraxas,” I tell him. “Demetrius cannot use any tactic that would make me fall prey to your will and whim.”

  Abraxas nods. “I know that’s how you feel, Pearl. But I don’t think you have taken everything into account. I have more on my side than you are thinking of.”

  I stare at him, mute. I wait for him to tell me what he means. He snaps his fingers. A guard comes to his side. Abraxas whispers in the man’s ear. The guard nods, turns, and leaves the room. We wait, but it doesn’t take long for his plans to become
clear.

  Within moments I hear the rustling of guards in the hall. They have someone with them. A prisoner. Maybe more than one. Who else will Abraxas be torturing for my benefit? A path clears in the doorway and the prisoners are brought in. Gileaus and Namaah.

  “Athena!” Gileaus calls in a loud voice. “Athena! What has happened?! Do nothing for him! I do not know what he is doing! Abraxas! What is happening?! Why is Athena in chains?” Abraxas reaches for the jade around his neck and squeezes it in his hand. Gileaus goes silent and still. Namaah’s eyes are wide and pleading. She has endured so much. She does not fear Abraxas as she should. She wants me to save myself. My love for them both has led to their pain.

  Abraxas rests both hands on his walking stick, facing me. “I ask you now, Pearl. Will you do as I ask or do I need to apply pressure?”

  “Do nothing, Pearl!” Gileaus yells. He is struck by a guard. Demetrius goes to his side and takes his hand. I hear a sickening snap, Gileaus cries out, then he moans. Demetrius takes a step toward Namaah. Beautiful, wonderful, silent Namaah.

  “STOP!” I scream. “Take one more step and you will be begging for Tartarus to take you!” But I know that even the prison for the titans will not strike fear in him.

  “Oh, Pearl,” Abraxas sighs. “Such a threat. What did you think Demetrius meant to do? I’m sure he was only going to give Namaah a gentle kiss or a pat on the shoulder. Isn’t that right, Demetrius?”

  “Of course, Master,” Demetrius responds. His eyes are on Abraxas, but his hand is moving toward Namaah.

  “Why don’t you prove it to Pearl, Demetrius?” Abraxas says. “Show her you meant Namaah no harm.” Demetrius bows and in a flash, he produces a knife from his robes. He is so fast, I don’t have time to prevent him. The knife slices the air then slices Namaah’s scar-less cheek. Fire fills me and I send the flames straight to Demetrius. I have the satisfaction of watching him crumble to the ground, hands on his head, before the black bag again covers my face.