by Laura R Cole
CHAPTER 18
Jezebel smiled at Gryffon, who stood shackled to the cell wall, and watched with pleasure as he spit out another mouthful of blood. She could feel the power emanating from him every time she caused him pain, and it made her shiver with pleasure at the sheer ecstasy of feeling the power flow into her.
It was ten times what she got when working with the hellhounds, and she made a mental note to make sure that she had Devon invite her to these chats more often from now on. Now that I know how to use the power to get the full pleasure out of them. The book hadn't mentioned using the pain spells on people, but she found they worked much the same as with animals. Except that it doesn't seem to make him obedient, only cause him the same pain. But that is satisfying in and of itself. I will just have to work a little harder to get the good little puppy to obey.
Devon had found the shackles for her, supposedly they dated all the way back to the Dark King's era, and Jezebel was happy to be able to try them out. They had a magical binding on them which prevented the wearer from touching the power, and if they tried they got a lovely little jolt of pain. Jezebel had found it quite entertaining to watch when Gryffon had discovered this special property.
Gryffon lifted his head and glared at her through puffy eyes. “You're despicable,” he insulted her.
She rewarded his insolence with another slap on his face. His head jerked sideways with the force, but he brought it back around and met her eyes again.
“You really are the most disgusting woman I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”
She hit him again, balling her fist this time so that a large gash appeared where a ring tore out part of his cheek. He infuriatingly turned back to her and stared her down again.
“You mean, rotten, hateful, little liar.”
Smack!
“You don't deserve the air you breathe.”
Smack!
“Nasty, manipulative, ugly whore.” He spat out another mouthful of blood and Jezebel felt the heat of her fury rising.
She hit him again and again, using hands and feet and strengthening each blow with her talent, until she was panting with the exertion. Then she stood back, and watched as he coughed up blood and winced with pain at a large welt that was already appearing where she had kicked him in the ribs.
“Let me show you this neat little trick I just learned,” she purred at him breathlessly and pointed a finger at him. Her whole hand started glowing with power, and Gryffon's body writhed in pain, as lightning bolts shot from her finger and were absorbed into his body through his chest.
As she drank in the power, she threw her head back in pleasure. After a long satisfying moment, she angled her chin back down to face him once more, enjoying the agony etched plainly on his face. She watched with rapt attention as a dark spot appeared slowly, ever so slowly, burning itself onto his chest. Darker and darker it grew as she held the stream steady, dropping it only when she was starting to sweat from the exertion of maintaining the contact.
She cocked her head to the side. “Isn't that interesting,” she commented, poking harshly at the rune that had shaped itself from the burn. That was an unanticipated side-effect. I wonder what it means.
Gryffon's head lolled against his chest, and his lips were cracking as they swelled. Still, he raised his head with obvious effort, and coughed at her, “Stupid bitch.” His eyes rolled back in his head, and his body went limp against its chains as he lapsed into unconsciousness.
“Revive him,” she ordered Devon who came forward with a bucket of cold water, but then hesitated.
“I admire your endurance, mistress, but you may want to consider that if we kill him, the rest of the Council won't be nearly as pleased with you for bringing a spy to justice. Especially since that spy is also suspiciously someone you may have a grudge against.”
She saw the reason in his argument but was in no mood for it with the power still flowing through her veins. The frenzy of her anger threatened to overpower her tenuous control, but she fought hard to control it anyway. He is right, after all. And besides, I have all night to play with Gryffon.
With effort, she took a deep breath and then another, dissipating the power that still sparked on her fingers. She nodded. “You're right, of course.” She reached out instead to stroke the rune which had welted on Gryffon's chest. She brushed off a charred chunk of flesh before turning to Devon. “Come. Let's take some tea in the library while we rest.”
As they sat in the library sipping their tea, a soft knock sounded at the door and the little mousy-haired servant girl peeked in, looking scared. “There's a minstrel at the door, Councilor, begging an audience. Would you care to be entertained?”
“Why not,” Jezebel said cheerfully. “I'm in the mood for some music. Show him in.” The girl nodded and retreated, returning with the minstrel in short order.
The minstrel was an old man, with a withered face that told of years of hard work under the brutal sun, and he used gnarled fingers to unsnap a case that held a beautiful lute. He settled himself onto a pillow on the floor provided him, and he started to play. The knotted fingers proved to be surprisingly flexible as he wove out a tale, adding his voice to the music, and though it was coarse with age, it held a strong baritone quality.
The music slowed, and Jezebel found herself relaxing. She sank deeper into her chair, her earlier excitement forgotten. That is, until suddenly a tremendous crash sounded from below which startled her into sitting straight up.
She looked wildly about for the source of the commotion, and at the same time Devon jumped out of his seat and took a step towards the door. Then he stopped abruptly and made a small grunting noise.
Jezebel watched him curiously. He turned back towards her slowly, and she saw that a knife was buried deep in his stomach.
Her gaze flew to the minstrel who had a sadistic grin on his face and his arm outstretched in a throwing motion. Another knife left his hand and hit Devon, who staggered backwards, blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. He looked down uncomprehendingly at the handles, bringing up a hand as if to brush them off and then took a step towards the minstrel, a pained grimace on his face.
Jezebel finally regained her self-possession and she reached for the power. Anger at the minstrel's offense gave her strength and she saw the old man’s smile falter for a moment as he noticed her movement. She gave a triumphant shout as she felt his fear.
He turned on his heel and fled out the door. She followed, sure of her victory, but skidded to a halt when she saw what was happening in the hallway.
The little harlot of a maid that she had had thrown out was sprinting down the hall, clutching something to her chest. Fury raged inside Jezebel at the sight of her, and she unleashed the power she had been gathering for the minstrel at the girl instead. It sped towards the hussy like a gigantic ball of electricity, but then bounced off some unseen force, ricocheting into the wall and shattering a vase there.
Jezebel howled in frustrated anger, and she reached out a hand to claw at the girl as she passed.
The girl tripped as Jezebel’s hand made contact, and she was swung around with the force of her momentum. Jezebel caught hold of her hair and yanked; causing the girl to lose her balance and she tumbled to the ground, bringing Jezebel down with her.
They landed in a pile of sprawling limbs, the girl exclaiming in pain as Jezebel's elbow jammed into her stomach. The box she had been holding tumbled out of the girl's hand as it hit the stone floor roughly, and she scrambled out from under Jezebel to make a grab for it.
Jezebel brought her foot around, kicking the box away from her, and resumed her attack. She balled a fist and smashed it into the girl's side.
The girl grabbed at her ribs reflexively and then whirled around to face her, bringing up her fists as she did. Her expression held pain, but behind it was an intense anger that Jezebel had never thought possible
on the innocent-looking face.
It distracted Jezebel for a moment, allowing the girl to land a shot on her jaw. It hit off the mark as she was still off balance from her turn, and it was only a momentary setback. Jezebel whipped her head back around to laugh at the girl, but was taken by surprise when she was hit again.
She blinked her eyes as stars danced in front of them, and she grabbed for the girl. Her fingers closed around the blond hair once more as she pulled the girl forward to interrupt her barrage of punches.
The girl countered this by bringing her head forward sharply, connecting with Jezebel's nose in a tremendous burst of pain and blood.
Jezebel's fingers loosened their grip, and the girl turned to crane her neck around, searching for the object she had lost.
The last thing Jezebel saw before darkness overtook her was a strange symbol behind the girl's right ear.