Remedy Maker

by Sheri Fredricks

  Completely disoriented, and hanging somewhere between delirium and hysteria, she panted short, hard breaths. A strange numbing sensation drifted over her face. She bit her lip and confirmed the deadened feeling. She knew about hyperventilating, but wasn’t able to tuck her head between her knees to prevent the light-headedness.

  Patience gasped for air. Lack of oxygen compounded everything and she choked panic-stricken. A spotted gray haze exchanged places with the russet colored cloth swathing her head. Bewildered, she fought unconsciousness before it rushed over and pooled in her mind. Her weighted limbs tingled, but she couldn’t shake them out.

  She’d dealt with the mentally unbalanced before and always afforded them empathy and aid, whether she’d wanted to or not. So why was she so opposed to offering the same for these men—the ones who clearly wanted to assault her?

  This time, when blackness crouched near the edge of her vision, Patience welcomed the dark relief.

  * * *

  Fanatical voices argued and disturbed the erotic scene Patience’s dream painted. A heart-warming vision of Rhycious’s lust-filled eyes faded away and she moaned his departure.

  “Rhy . . . .”

  “Hey, Tom, it’s waking up.”

  “Keep the gun close, jus’ in case.”

  Patience awakened in a groggy haze, and took a deep breath. The stench of human hunters burned up her nose as though their bodies were made of smelling salts.

  Her eyes flew open and she immediately filled with dread. The humans had removed her hood and the terrifying memories washed over. Viewing her captors for the first time, her heart sped from zero to sixty in two seconds flat.

  A blond man with a hanging overbite stood the farthest away, near a cheap pressed-wood credenza. He picked up objects strewn over the surface and dropped them down again. In constant motion, the young man’s slight build fidgeted and fiddled. His bangs fell into his eyes and he constantly flicked his head to the side like a bad habit.

  Her mind processed the visual information as though she were advising a client in a counseling session. Instead of categorizing the auditory feedback into workable guidance, Patience compartmentalized each human into levels of threat.

  And there were three: bad, worse, and oh my gods!

  The youngest human appeared the least threatening. He refused to make eye contact with her and his restless actions signaled discomfort and lack of confidence.

  “I don’t like the way she’s looking at you, Tom.”

  The fat man named Tom, with a balding head and foul body odor, leered closer. She assessed him to be the hunter in charge. His greasy lips stretched in a crooked, missing toothed smile. Pig-eyed and close set, his gaze roamed over her, stopping to stare openly at her breasts and crotch.

  “Welcome to my humble abode. You comfortable?” Tom’s thick southern drawl cracked in fake solicitousness. His stagnate breath stained the air and blasted her with the reek of him. He licked his thick lips and smacked them together.

  Revulsion tripped down her spine, jacking her fear up higher. He held a short blue stick and moved toward her with unholy confidence.

  “If I answer no, will you let me go?” Nerves stretched to the breaking point, Patience became aware of the tension blasting through the room.

  “Hell no.” His grip on the stick went white knuckled.

  Terror rose in her throat. She swallowed it down, keeping the two other men in her sights. She shifted in her uncomfortable seat, which was more of a shelf attached to the wall. It leaned her back at an odd angle; neither sitting up, nor lying down.

  The dirty beige wall on her right side showed an assortment of plastic and leather paddles. Long nasty whips hung with menace, their handles wrapped thick and black.

  A quick inventory of her battered body proved her numb arms remained tied fast behind the backrest. Thighs spread and secured under the seat, curved grapples of cold rebar bent midway over her knees and kept them obscenely stretched apart.

  Patience forced herself to breath slower and read the hunters’ faces. Tom’s cold eyes bore into hers, and she flinched at his arrogant laugh. If she’d been capable, she would have shrunk away or shimmered into the nearest tree.

  “What do you want?” Though she tried to sound tough, her voice quivered.

  “Come ‘ere, Keith.” Tom turned to the thinly built man who slid to his partner’s side.

  Keith’s stringy mullet was probably blond under all the filth, though it was hard to tell. Sweat and food stained the front of his white sleeveless t-shirt.

  “Little fairy creature asks what we want.” Tom’s heavy mature body didn’t match his cracking puberty voice. Flecks of spittle flew from his harsh laughter, spraying Keith, who wiped at his face with his arm.

  “Tell her, Tom,” said Keith. “Tell her what we want from her.” He chortled with glee, his head bobbing like a piston.

  Tom lifted his sweaty palm to her thigh and let it drag a slow path to her knee. Patience tried to recoil from his touch, but the ropes and clamps bound her tight. Weaksauced and tired, she quit the strugglesville.

  Patience lifted her gaze to the cracked plaster of the ceiling. Cobweb valences, dotted with dead black bugs, hung in tribute to the dreary atmosphere. Is this what happened to Serenity? How could the gods allow this to happen to their people? Through her tears, she looked at Tom’s water-blurred image and she wondered how the hell she’d get out of this one.

  “We’ve heard stories about you Nymph people.” Tom reached for another pass along her leg. “Heard y’all like to . . . have some fun. That’s how the name nymphomaniac got started, you know. Well,” he glanced at the two men who stood on either side of him, “jus’ so happens we likes us a good time too, don’t we, boys?”

  Putrid dragon breath fanned her face. His teeth were rotten and smelled of onions. Stomach lurching, Patience prayed to Pan that her empty belly would produce enough bile to warn them off.

  “I’m no different than you are. Please,” she begged, “let me go.” She pleaded into each of their eyes, searching for a glimmer of pity to fall her way.

  Clarence stepped back and drew closer to the credenza. “Y’all suppose she got sumpin’ up inside her that might bite a man’s you-know-what off?” He neck-flicked the hair out of his eyes, but it all fell back again.

  “Nah.” Keith rubbed himself over his camouflage pants. “Never heard nuthin’ like that before.” He swung his gaze toward Tom. “Have you?”

  “Shut yer stupid mouths, morons. I swear, you two are dumber than an Amish in the city when it comes to these here Nymphs. Hell, they like a big stiff one shoved up inside o’ them. Don’t ya, honey?”

  Holy shit. Patience thought her heart would hip hop out and splat on the dirty floor. “You’re completely out of your minds! We’re peace-loving people. We have lives and families just like you.”

  Needing to focus on anything other than what her mind couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe, she glanced at the wall on her left. Ball gags, leather collars and harnesses, and blindfolds hung in a shocking display of medieval bondage. What did these human freaks do here—and to whom? Her frantic glance moved past the leather shop of horrors to where weak sunlight fought to brighten the room through a dirt-streaked window.

  Tom used the blue stick to gesture at her. “Who’d like the honors of helping our guest be more comfortable?” He looked to both his companions. At Keith’s quick nod, Tom swept his arm out, apparently judging himself magnanimous.

  The stick made her nervous. It was thick, curved at one end, and she wondered if it emitted an electric shock or something. The fat man made her sick. He seemed to have lost touch with reality and might very well take her life.

  Her body shuddered at a hundred horrible thoughts of what the hunters might do to her. Patience strained against the ropes. Terrified, she shouted, “You’re making a mistake. Don’t do this to me. Please.”

  Keith pushed the smaller Clarence out of his way, and stood between her spread legs. He
rubbed a dirty finger at his runny nose and wore an evil grin. Horrified at what he might do, she shook her head at him. “Leave me alone. Don’t touch me!”

  “Calm down, nympho. I ain’t gonna hurt you none. You jus’ look a mite hot, so I’ll help you cool off.” He reached to pop the buttons open on the shirt she’d borrowed from Rhycious. One by one, each little white disc slipped their hole with traitorous ease.

  “Keith, you don’t have to do this.” Patience licked her dry lips and closed her eyes for a split second. She desperately focused inward on her mediation skills. “You are your own boss, in charge of your life. Don’t let Tom tell you what to do.”

  Nearly unbuttoned, cool air swept her bare skin. Revealed to his greedy eyes, Keith yanked her shirttail out of her belt, ripping the material in his haste.

  “Ain’t nobody tells me what to do. Tom here is showin’ me respect by lettin’ me go first, that’s all.” The last button slid free. “So just shut yer purty mouth before I shove something in there to do it for ya.” Without hesitation, Keith parted the two halves of her shirt. “Hey, you got some nice tits on ya, girl.”

  Humiliation heated her cheeks and she turned her face away. Loud guffaws filled the confines of the small room, pushing her further into despair. The warmth of her clothing gone, Patience’s nipples tightened and peaked into hard nubs.

  There had to be a way to reason with these people, if she could only get her frozen mind to focus. Keith raised his hand to feel her breast, but Tom knocked his arm away before he touched her.

  “Get the hell out of the way. I go first.” Tom rubbed the bulge between his legs with a vigorous hand. His greasy lips pulled back in parody of a grin and he reached out, seized her breast, and squeezed.

  Pain streaked through her and Patience cried out, rocking back against the ropes holding her captive. Her heart pounded, and she doubled up her fists, tripling her fear.

  Raising her breast from beneath in one hand, he pinched her nipple with the other and gave it a shake.

  “Oh gods. Help me! This isn’t happening.”

  Tom let out a laugh that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck straight as trees, and released her nipple. Through a flood of tears, she witnessed the unbalanced light in the eyes of the human hunter. He was certifiably insane, and Patience had the knowledge to backup her diagnosis.

  “Clarence, it’s your turn.” Tom dipped his head in her direction. “Cut her shorts off.” He flipped his hand, as though commanding someone to expose another person’s privates were an everyday occurrence.

  “No!” Patience cried. “Please . . . stop. Why are you doing this? I’m not what you think I am.”

  “I dunno, Tom.” Clarence hesitated, his slow speech mirroring his simple mind. “It don’t seem right, her bein’ a nice girl an’ all.”

  Tom’s face grew ruddy, the flesh under his chin dancing a turkey wattle jiggle.

  “That,” he snapped, pointing his short stubby finger, “ain’t no girl. It ain’t even human, for fuck’s sake.”

  “He’s full of crap, don’t listen to him.” Hot tears coursed down Patience’s cheeks and dripped onto her bare chest. “Do I look any different than you?” Fright wound its coils tighter than the rope. The sweat behind her neck itched, and she couldn’t scratch it. Stress, fright, and frustration ate at her. If she hadn’t been so weak to begin with, perhaps the hunters would never have caught her.

  “Can’t we jus’ test her for now, see if she’s dangerous? You’ll have lots of time to get her naked later.” Clarence flicked a hesitant gaze to Patience and in that split second, she caught the glimmer of hope she’d been looking for. She didn’t understand why, perhaps a gift from the gods, but the insecure hunter offered a moment’s reprieve.

  Keith pushed his dirty hands through his thin hair. He smoothed his mullet’s tail out several times, petting it like a dog. “Well, screw that idea. I’m here for some sac emptyin’ action. If he don’t wanna do it, then I will.”

  Tom, the stupid puddle of skunk urine, seemed to consider the words of his two esteemed colleagues, troglodyte and numb-nuts. His eyes narrowed in thoughtful contemplation while he stroked his bristled double chins. Nodding slowly, he made up his mind.

  Patience couldn’t remember being this frightened in all her life. She’d never known physical punishment, nor had anyone treated her unkindly. To experience malevolence just for being different helped steel her backbone. It was prejudice at the peak of injustice.

  She trembled in the seat, though it might be her body’s natural reaction to shock, or so she told herself.

  “Please, just let me go.” She choked out from a throat that hurt from all her tears.

  “Clarence. Grab me the knife off the table and bring it here.” Tom held out his hand expectantly, never breaking eye contact with her. His twisted mind reflected in his eyes, the windows of his soul.

  Patience shook her head and tried to rock her shoulders free. Keith had done his job well in tying her down. There was nothing to stop Tom’s personal assault against her body.

  The front of her boxers—Rhy’s boxers, she reminded herself—cut like melted butter under the sharp blade in Tom’s hand. From the waistband down to her center, and then out to each leg, he butterflied the material apart.

  Horror of her situation flooded, terror and disbelief seizing her in a vice. She tried not to shake, or squeeze her eyes shut, but she couldn’t breathe. At the pulse points where the rope tied her down, the beating of her heart went wild.

  Her mind lost traction and slid toward the inky depth of madness.

  “No!” She wouldn’t go down without a fight, damn it. Struggles and slamming backward shook the contraption on the wall, but she couldn’t break out of the lunacy.

  “Well, dip me in shit an’ roll me in sugar. Her pussy’s as bare as a newborn babe. Will ya look at that.” Keith leaned down for a closer inspection and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. Smells like the air right after a rain.” He straightened and unsnapped the top of his jeans.

  “Keep yer pants on.” Tom gave Keith a shove. “We should see if she blows up or turns into some kind of dick eating monster, first.” He chuckled. “Hell, something like that Alien creature could come out of her, for all we know.” Slapping Clarence on the back, he snorted at his own joke.

  Tom pressed his thumb against a switch she hadn’t noticed on the base of the short stick. A motor hummed quietly to life. Eyes black as the murky depths of hell lifted to meet hers. A manic light glowed from within and reflected on the face of the demented man.

  He laid the vibrating stick against the skin of her sensitive inner thigh, and slid it back and forth a few inches. “You like that?”

  “Eat shit.” Patience’s skin crawled and her stomach dropped. After realizing she’d been holding her breath, it suddenly burst out. Her mouth was dry from crying, but she refused to ask for water—or answer Tom’s question.

  “Maybe you want it a little higher. Yeah. Let’s try that.”

  His glided the instrument higher, close to the juncture of her thighs. Afraid of the vibrating stick, Patience whimpered, and waited for what would come next.

  Meeting his eyes straight on, her voice shook when she warned him with lethal intent. “You are, for sure, corpsin’ if this goes down. You feel me, asshole?”

  “Yeah. I hear ya, bitch.”

  Then he lifted the wand off her leg and set the vibrator on her center—bull’s-eye.

  The shock of immediate stimulation on a hypersensitive body part swamped her nervous system. Patience tried to bounce her hips away from the pressure of direct contact, but there was nowhere to go.

  Her body betrayed her and tightened up inside. The sensation was much like how she felt with Rhycious, yet the differences were vast. Here, the stimulus was ugly, a betrayal. She closed her eyes—

  “Hey look! I think our little girl likes it,” Keith’s excited voice exclaimed.

  —and Patience let out a blood curdling scream for all she was worth
.

  Ten

  It was twenty-six bipedal strides across the length of Patience’s tree house, another fifteen at the width. Rhycious knew this because he’d been pacing the same angry path in the floor for the past seven hours. His t-shirt choked his throat, so he grabbed the neckline and stretched the material out. The slogan If you can’t drink it, wear it distorted out of shape.

  He’d lain on the suspended rope bed and inhaled her sweet scent on the pillow. Lost his mind in her living room—twice. Later, he discovered that no amount of pounding on her solid walls, even with both rear hooves engaged, would crack the surface.

  There was no way out, except for the way he came in. Shimmering.

  The scar on his cheek ticked faster as his mind ran the gamut of what-if scenarios. Shit, did the dirty little Nymph play a trick on me? Is Patience’s life in danger—or worse? The latter rattled his heart and he scrubbed the tick away.

  Aleksander would protect her. He saw the importance Patience played in Rhycious’s life. Unless he wants her for himself, Rhy’s mind teased. If Alek had been outside protecting her, wouldn’t she be here now, making love with him on the bed?

  He tunneled his fingers through his hair and gripped the roots tight, counting on the pain to focus his mind.

  Determined not to go down the path of suspicion with Alek again, he crossed the living room twice, fingers linked behind his neck. At the bottom stair leading up to her bedroom, he slowly kneeled. Elbows back, Rhycious stretched his chest, heard a snap as muscles loosened, and raised his arms straight out on either side. Tilting his head back in prayer to the gods, he made his request.

  “Blessed Bacchus and Pan, gods of nature and woodlands, on bended knees I come before you. Deliver me from the impenetrable home of Patience so I may vanquish my inner tortures and set my mind at ease for her safety. I pray you guard her well—”