"Does she have any charms hidden anywhere?" The official asked. And the jailer shook his head.
"Then shave her," the magistrate said.
Without soap, without water, with only a razor that looked as though it was to shear sheep, they scraped the hair from her skull, bringing blood that ran into her eyes and leaked into her mouth. She couldn't bring any sense to her mind, no words, no images, nothing. The only thing that screamed to her was terror. She had never been so frightened. As they bound her hands in front of her, and led her toward the strappado, her legs finally did go out from underneath her and she fell onto her nose. A scream of agony tore through her, finding an exit through a mouth that didn't seem to close anymore.
"Only guilt could create such fear," the magistrate said. "Begin the questioning."
She was hauled forward like a sack of potatoes, hooked into the strappado by her bound hands. They tied heavy weights to her feet and the next she knew she was lifted high into the air and the only way that she could escape the terror, flee from the pain was to let the pain take her consciousness.
Dragon: Act 9
"That was more terror than you've ever known," Theda said to the hood in front of her. She knew that in another lifetime this man had been a woman accused of witchcraft. She'd endured unspeakable pain at the hands of her questioners. Theda's own skin itched with it crawled with the horror even as she sat in front of him in this day and age. There was something more in the vision, she knew, something that wanted to overtake the residual terror that Frau Gerlinde had felt. That sense that no matter how much she denied being a tool of the devil, no matter how much she had confessed in the end, the men took a perverse delight in torturing her. Yet this man in front of her, the same girl generations later, didn't so much as buckle beneath the weight of that horror.
"Take off your hood," she said.
"That was quite a trip," he said from beneath the material.
A sickening sense crept up Theda's spine, because the stoic response that might mean her salvation also meant he was unaffected by what he experienced. Even so, she soldiered on.
"Enough to win me a few extra hours?"
He pulled off his hood and she could see that there was some perspiration on his neck. She would have sighed in relief except for the smile that played across his mouth.
"You may have bought yourself more than a few hours," he hedged.
A panic akin to the one she'd felt as she walked him through the girl's lifetime moved across Theda's skin, but she didn't dare ask what he meant. Instead she asked the most time sensitive question.
"You won't kill me then?"
"Not right yet." He swallowed and she watched the Adam's apple plunge down and bob back up. "How many of those rides can you take me on?"
She tried to keep his gaze as she answered, but she couldn't stand to see the hunger in his eyes. "As many as you like," she lied. "But not one after the other. I need to rest."
He straightened on his feet and looked down at her. "Then I'll wait."
It was obvious that he hadn't connected the girl to himself at all. Whether or not he was slow witted or just hungry for shame and torment, Theda didn't even want to entertain. It was bad enough she'd have to feel his finger in her mouth again, but she also had to hope against hope that his next ride would be equally as terrifying. Because what if it wasn't? What if the next life she brought him to was a peaceful one? One where he had the love of another, felt happiness. That wouldn't be a ride suitable for this man. No. He'd want to relive something torturous and she had no control over where the magic took her.
"Maybe you could untie me?" She suggested.
He swung his gaze back to her from the contemplative stare that had his gaze pinned somewhere behind her. "I love the way you joined up with Anne Boleyn at the beginning," he said. "Almost as good as a segue in a movie."
Theda chewed her lip. She'd never before seen two lifetimes in one re-vision and she wondered if indeed her current reality had merged with the magic to create some sort of transition.
"Maybe we could try different things," she prompted. "You know, to sort of mix it up a little."
She had his attention; his eyes lit with excitement. "We could try Cleopatra?"
"Or we could try something really regular. You know to heighten the contrast of the terror. Maybe something as simple as a woman lying in her bed at night, sleeping, maybe dreaming. Then moving into something..."
"Something terrifying," his eyes gleamed. "Yes, that could work."
All she wanted was to lie down somewhere, just for a few moments. Catch her breath. But now she wasn't so sure. She felt like Scheherazade trying to buy herself a few more moments of life. But in this case each moment of life might be more torturous than the end of the life she would gain.
She wished she hadn't wasted her godspit smear on Salima.
She knew she should try to ask to be released again; her shoulders ached and the burn somewhere between her shoulder blades robbed her of any thought more coherent than needing to adjust to relieve the pressure.
She didn't have time to form the words. He yanked on her hair, pulling her head backward until she heard her neck crack. He stared down into her eyes and she wished the sting of tears would wash away the sight of his greedy, proprietary gaze.
"Such a pretty neck," he murmured before his tongue ran across her windpipe, biting down so hard she gagged. She felt her voice box lodged between his teeth, felt the sway of the chair as his weight bent her farther back. She expected to fall, to have her throat torn out as she went down, but he loosened his grip just enough that he could drag his teeth to her earlobe. Theda couldn't help the shriek of pain.
"So fleshy," he said. "I love fleshy." He bit down again, this time rubbing his groin against her chest. His erection was massive enough that she felt the first true twinges of terror. She prayed all he would do with it was vaginal.
"Please," she whimpered. "I can take you on another ride."
He unzipped and the fat thing fell out, all red and angry looking. She couldn't tear her gaze away.
"Nice, huh?" he said. "Most women love a big cock, but so few get to enjoy one." He rubbed the tip against her tightened mouth. "You're one lucky spitter."
She resolved to bite that disgusting worm if he shoved it into her mouth, but he didn't attempt it. Instead, he stepped away and zipped his pants back over the straining bulge. She heard her own relief exit in a long sigh. He quirked his brow at her.
"Oh, it's coming," he said. "But I'm not about to cut to the chase just yet. That's for boys who know nothing of pleasure."
He donned the hood again, posing for her. "Maybe a little asphyxiation first? Bare hands? You'll spit at me first, won't you? Nod your head, you stupid bitch."
She nodded, feeling blood trickle down her throat.
"Good. I'll give you plenty of time before I start squeezing in earnest. Make sure you aim for my eye. It infuriates me."
He lifted his hands, clawing the air, as he approached. "Then when you come to, you can take me on that ride. That should be rest enough."
She knew she should protest, but her brain wouldn't fire the language section into action. She had finally gotten the words formed into some sort of order in her mind when the door burst open inexplicably; it took her a few blinks and a few deep breaths before she could register that the person flying through the open door was Ezekiel. And even as she realized it, he had already made the trip across the room startling the John and jamming the Taser beneath his ear. The portly bastard crumpled to the floor on his knees and then fell to his side as Ezekiel charged him, again and again. The man straightened out in a stiff seizure, the hood climbing up his face until all but the hair was exposed.
It all happened so fast that the only real thought that went through Theda's mind was that the bastard deserved it. That he deserved worse.
She collected water in her mouth, hurling herself, chair and all, at the inert form on the floor. A second man, who had followe
d Ezekiel into the room had made his way behind Theda and was cutting her from her bonds. The chair fell noisily behind her.
She didn't care who it was, she only cared about the face in front of her.
She let go a load of spit onto her John's face and was gathering up more when Ezekiel grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her away.
She could've kissed him. She could have fallen at his feet and wrapped herself reverently around his legs. The gorgeous green eyes, the charcoal hair, the Taser in his hand.
She flew at him, curling her fingers into fists and letting them land wherever they would. His jaw, his chest, his nose. She had no idea she was crying until the snot ran into her mouth, and her vision blurred so much she couldn't see him anymore. She landed blows wherever she thought he was until her knuckles began to ache from the contact. Still it wasn't enough.
"How could you?" She sobbed. "How could you leave me here in this place? How could you bring me here?"
She was gathered into his arms just as her knees gave out. He held her tightly against him, smoothing her hair, pressing her face into his neck, shushing her.
"It's okay, Minou," he soothed. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."
She couldn't stop the shaking. Even if she wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing herself against him as closely as she could, her body wouldn't stop trembling. She hated the sound of her teeth clicking together. She couldn't make any coherent sounds, let alone true speech.
He held her like that for a long moment until the man who had come in behind him cleared his throat.
"We need to do something with him," the man said.
Theda twisted out of Ezekiel's embrace and turned to his companion.
"It can't be," she said, gasping as she realized who it was.
"It is," her jailer said. He'd been the one who fed the godspit to her at the boutique.
"I don't understand," she started.
"You don't have to," the jailer bent over to grab the John's feet. "He's a heavy bastard," he grumbled. "
"Not just a heavy bastard," Ezekiel murmured. "A heavy councilor."
Theda looked at the man again. True, she wouldn't know a politician if she'd seen one up close, but his face did have a familiar look now that she was paying attention. Not that she cared who her tormentor was, because she didn't. She didn't care one lick about him; he wasn't worth the energy interest needed.
She tottered to the bed and fell on it, watching the two with an almost dispassionate awareness as her jailer plucked a couple of smears from his pocket, pulled the strips off, and laid them on the man's tongue. It was too good for such a piece of shit, and she hoped he'd overdose on it, or at the very least have a hell of a withdrawal. She put her fingers to her temple; it wasn't fair that a man like him would get to enjoy a good 48 hours of pure bliss. She was the one who needed it.
"We need to get out of here," Ezekiel said.
"That' s the understatement of the century."
The jailer looked up from settling the councilor into a recovery position on the plastic.
"If you're going, you better get now, before they shut the place down looking for you, besides, this piece of shit is going to want his money back when he comes to." He kicked the man in the stomach, releasing a groan from the man's mouth. She wished she had thought of that.
"Let's get moving, then," Ezekiel said to her. "We don't have much time to waste." He looked at the jailer. "Will you be okay, Eddie?"
Eddie nodded. "I'll leave buddy here on his plastic sheet. He didn't see me so I have no worries about him ratting me out when he does come to. About three days from now." He chuckled humorlessly.
"There's a woman," Theda said. "A redhead."
Ezekiel laughed darkly. "That's no woman; that's Sasha. We don't need to worry about him. I left him blissed out in his little boutique. Damn he's ugly when he drools."
"Sasha has an entire stable of spitters." Theda watched Eddie carefully as she said this, uncertain what he would do with this information out in the open.
Ezekiel nodded slowly. "Of course he does," he said. "It's the reason the den is so..." he fluttered his fingers thoughtfully. "Successful."
"We need to get them out of there."
He shook his head fiercely. "I don't think so, Theda. We're in enough danger as it is."
"Then one of them, at least. There's a young girl in there who is about to be viciously murdered."
"That's her problem," Ezekiel said, making his way across the room and taking her by the hand.
She resisted. "But we have to--"
"Since when do you care?"
"I'm not a monster," she protested.
"We have to get out of here," Ezekiel said. "That's it. Do you want a repeat of what you just suffered? Would you like to see it come to pass because you wanted to help a girl who sold herself for a few smears of godspit?"
The way he said it burned in her chest. She shook her head numbly, already feeling the stress of the day thickening her tongue, shutting down her synapses. She hugged herself, trying to catch Eddie's eye as Ezekiel pushed her toward the door.
"She's okay for now, Theda," Eddie said. "The smear you slipped her was enough to keep her down long enough that we had to send someone else in her place." He looked at his watch. "Jack only visits about once a month. You've got some time."
She wanted to tell him to look out for her, to try and get her safe, but she knew he'd risked enough already. And she just couldn't think anymore, she didn't want to remember any of what had happened here. All she wanted was to get out. She kept hearing Ezekiel's words rattling around behind her ears, and she wanted away from those, too. She needed air. She needed a smear or two.
They were at the door when Ezekiel paused.
"What?" She asked him.
He looked her up and down. "You can't go out there like that."
The costume. Of course.
"I thought you went to get me--"
His hands were on the bodice before she could finish the sentence. He ripped it neatly down the middle and pushed it off her shoulders. The entire gown puddled at her feet.
"The necklace too," he said. "And the shoes."
"I'm beginning to think you like your women barefoot," she said, trying to joke, but the thought that another girl had taken Salima's place, of the things that must have happened to her, made the smile twist into something that made her cheeks hurt.
"Don't think about it," Ezekiel said. "Don't think about any of it right yet." He stepped close enough to slip his arm around her back and pull her hips to his. The roughness of his jeans against her bare skin made her acutely aware that she would have to travel the entire spitters'den in nothing but her bra and panties.
"I can't do this," she mumbled.
"You can. I'll be with you the whole way. I won't let anything happen to you."
She nodded mutely and drew in a breath. She watched the pulse in his throat for a few seconds, counting the beats, focusing.
"Are you ready?" His voice was tender but urgent.
She moved to catch his eye, to let him know that she was ready, but his gaze was on her throat, lingering at that tender spot at the base. He seemed mesmerized for a moment before he shook it off and put his hand on the knob. He twisted, easing the door open as casually as a regular john would. Then in one deft movement, he lifted her into his arms, holding her beneath her knees and behind her back as he strode out into the hallway.
Theda didn't protest; she didn't think she could make her legs work anyway. She buried her face in his chest, not willing to see anything in the den anymore. She'd witnessed far more than she ever wanted to see again. If she kept her eyes closed, then none of it could touch her.
She felt his lips move against her hair now and then, almost as though he was trying to soothe away the thoughts within and when she clung to him all the more, he tightened his grip on her, walking ever more determinedly forward. By her measure, they had made it to the common room when he slowed his pace. Moans
came from within, and shrieks of pleasure, enough heavy breathing to make a porn star blush.
"Almost there," he said into her hair. "I think you better walk from here." He eased her onto her feet, holding her gaze has he waited for her to steady herself. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Don't leave me."
His throat convulsed as she watched him, waiting for his response. She couldn't go any farther on her own. She would completely break down if he left her now. And yet something in his manner made her afraid that was exactly what he was planning to do.
"I won't leave you," he said huskily. It must've taken a great effort for him to agree because he looked away as he said it, unwilling or unable to keep her eye. Still, it was enough for Theda. She took a deep breath and stepped into the common room.
Before she was three steps within it, he had grabbed her from behind and was pulling her into his arms, one broad hand cupping her ass and the other cupping the nape of her neck, forcing her mouth against his. She lost her breath to his as he kissed her.
Dragon: Act 10
It made no sense, but the tightness of her chest, the way her stomach fluttered, the way both of those things needed to be relieved couldn't be argued with. She melted against him, tangling her arms around his neck, letting her fingers creep up into his hair.
His lips broke from hers as he trailed kisses across her cheek to nibble at her earlobe.
"We need to blend," he said against her ear. "There's a henchman in here."
She nodded, feeling drunk from fear and a strange sense of heightened passion.
With an ease that surprised her, he pulled her along with him a few paces. She opened her eyes, watching him settle onto a chair just within the doorway and to the right of half a dozen people enjoying each other in ways Theda didn't. She was sure, before he pulled her down onto his lap encouraging her to lean forward, that she saw one woman's entire hand disappear into another woman's sex. Her eyes flew two Ezekiel's face, but his eyes weren't on hers, they were hooded and scanning the room carefully.
Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection Page 88