Bete Noire

by Christina Moore

  A Dungeon.

  I’m in a fucking dungeon.

  “Yes,” Ash sighed, hugging herself where she leaned against a wall in her own cell.

  Yes, she was fine but she wasn’t about to tell him that she was embarrassed at how easily she was caught. That she was now paying for her carelessness by being locked in the ancient castle prison, naked. That’s right, Lucien saw it fit to relieve her of not only her weapons, but her clothes too. He said that they’d be coming off soon anyway and folded them neatly as if he meant to give them back to her again. They both knew he intended to kill her.

  “You have been out for some time… It is nearly daybreak. Are you all right?”

  He cursed under his breath. “Yeah…,” he grumbled, rubbing his forehead where Sebastian hit him and found a knot. “I’m okay. Sebastian, he killed this woman. I tried to save her, but...” He let out a long sigh. “I lost.” For now. “Jesus Christ, Ash couldn’t you read his mind to know he was a traitor?”

  “No.” It was short and clipped. “I told you before, the faerie have to allow us to read their mind. Sebastian had his mind closed to me the entirety of his stay. I assumed he wanted to maintain his privacy.”

  “Well, shit.” He slumped into the corner, letting it hold him up. He realized all his weapons were gone—big shock—and his feet were bare and cold. At least he still had his shirt and pants. “Wait. Didn’t you read anything from his blood when you had that taste the other night?”

  “While only a few vampire alive are strong enough to keep another of our kind from reading their memories while feeding, all fae have that ability naturally.”

  “Damn…”

  Ash gave her own dismayed sigh in answer. “Agreed.”

  Legs a little unsteady, Tristan used the corner to stand. He felt weighted down on bottom and light on top. He suppressed a disorientated groan and fell against the wall even as he reached out to walk forward.

  “Shit,” he hissed, forcing himself to move.

  Ash moved across her cell to the wall separating them. “What is the trouble?”

  He groaned again, his vision threatening to blackout. God, his ankles felt like he was wearing work-out weights. He had to look just to make sure he really wasn’t. “Nothing, just that fucking Sebastian—he hit me and then drugged me with something, I don’t know what, but it fucking hurt… felt like my veins were filled with razor blades made of dry ice.”

  “I wish I could see you…,” she said softly, sounding sad and wistful.

  He smiled at the honesty of it. When he reached the end of the wall he let go, falling forward into the bars. They looked old and were covered in crud that rubbed off on his hands, but they felt solid. Strong. “Can you bend the bars?”

  “Do you not think I have tried?” She sounded snippy. And with due reason. While Tristan had been out for the past few hours, she’d been wide awake and thoroughly aware of their less than favorable situation. One she wasn’t sure she knew how to get them out of. At least she knew the coming day wouldn’t see her end in their windowless hell.

  Tristan looked to the door, longingly. He knew. He knew it was futile, but he had to do it. He dragged himself over. When he got there, he felt her, the faint hum of vampire. It was so familiar and welcomed that he smiled, sighing wistfully before he grabbed the door bars and giving them a hard shake.

  Ash felt Tristan’s presence too through the wall and when she spoke again she sounded less agitated. Vampire may have felt cold to Tristan, but to Ash the Uruwashi felt warm. Like being wrapped up in a thick blanket that smelled like your favorite thing. “Locked.”

  “Had to at least try,” he grumbled. He’d be angry with himself if he didn’t. It’s like locking your keys in the car—you just know all the doors are locked, see the little alarm light blinking at you, mocking and yet, you still have to test the door. All of the doors, even the trunk, because maybe, by some otherworldly miracle, you’d get lucky and find one that opens. That was the will of determination.

  “I understand.”

  Tristan sighed and rested his head against the bars, too tired to hold himself up anymore. There were cells across from his, all empty, their doors propped open as if teasing him. As far as he could see there was nothing but dank empty cells and deep shadows.

  “Ash?” he whispered.

  A pale, dirty hand shot out the cell to the right of his. He gasped, diving for the corner. He reached out, their fingers barely about to touch and electricity shot through him at the familiar feel of her smooth, cold skin. She may have decided she was done with him, but he was still lost on her. He needed her just as much as she needed him, only Tristan was still willing to admit it.

  “Look, Ash, I know this is isn’t the time for this but we have to talk. Well, no. Just listen to me, that’s all I ask. In need to tell you some things.”

  “Tristan—” she breathed a moment before the presence she felt coming interrupted her.

  “Mon dieu, I hope it isn’t too important,” the smug French accent echoed down the hall.

  Tristan jerked back, pulling his arm back inside his prison, but not before pranging his elbow on a cross bar. He moaned, holding his arm to his chest as he fought with his balance. He could stand on his own but it wasn’t easy. If he had to fight, he knew he was toast.

  Ash’s hand disappeared back into her cell and the lying bastard faerie himself appeared before Tristan’s cell. He was still dressed in the same uniform he’d been wearing since his arrival—black slacks, white button-up, non-descript tie—but now his clothes were all askew. His shirt was untouched, his tie hung in a loose noose around his neck and the blood, it was everywhere else, matted the man’s shiny black hair to his head, staining his cheeks, neck and hands. With his hair like that, Tristan saw the man’s ears for the first time. They were pointed, just like the woman from upstairs.

  “I really must thank you,” he said to Tristan. “If you hadn’t insulted me, I might have had to find a less effective way of denying Ash my blood. Lucien would have been most displeased with me if she had shown up well fed and with the power to level this place.”

  “Sebastian,” Tristan hissed. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you betray us?”

  From the other cell Ash gave a deep sigh, almost groan. Tristan stiffened. He knew that sigh all too well. She was about to lose her consciousness to the sun. Anxiety surged through him, making the swaying steady just a little as the adrenaline helped him get a grip on reality. She would be defenseless within moments and despite his one-up on her, being conscious, he was defenseless too. There was no way he could fight in his current condition. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. The moment the fae got close enough for him to get his hands on…

  Sebastian’s bright green eyes flicked to Ash for a moment and then back on Tristan. He smiled, showing all of those pretty white teeth. “Sorry, but I lied. You understand, Lucien is my real Master. Yukihime had sent that half breed bitch upstairs as your attendant. I had wanted to enjoyer her longer, but after that mess you made with your little fire toy—amusing monsieur hunter, terribly amusing—I had no choice but to kill her fast. Ah, but I did find a great deal of joy in dissecting her. I never really knew how much blood my kind held... the elixir of life as they say.”

  “Bastard! That woman didn’t deserve—“ He bit back his anger, telling himself he had to remain calm and maybe he’d glean what he wanted to know. “What is it you get out of all this anyway, huh? Lucien promising you immortality?”

  The fae gave a little cock of his head to the side. “Immortality? Truly you can’t be so naïve to think such a thing exists. Besides, I know how to live as long I wish without turning to such… primitive dealings.”

  Tristan frowned, not understanding. Ash never said anything about fae being immortal, just long lived. “Then what? Why come play perfect servant with us? Was it just to fuck with us? Spy?”

  Sebastian smiled, a crooked, shit-eating kind of smile that gave Tristan a chill. “It is the nature
of my kind, mousier.”

  There was a heavy, annoyed sigh and then Ash’s strained voice saying, “Faerie cannot help but put their noses into trouble. I should have known better. How foolish of me to not think beyond the obvious.”

  Tristan’s breath caught, having not realized she was still awake.

  Sebastian took a few steps towards Ash’s cell. Suddenly on high alert, Tristan flung himself against the bars and reached out as if he could stop the fae. “Hey! Leave her alone.”

  Sebastian only gave him a passing glance. “There is no reason to worry. I shall not harm her.” He turned to Ash again. The look on his face was considering as he looked her over. He spoke to Ash again, in French. Somewhere in there was Tristan’s name. Ash’s answer was a sharp and definitive, “yes.” Sebastian laughed, speaking in his soft, reserved French again.

  Worried, Tristan spoke over him. “Ash. Ash? What is he saying?”

  She cut off Sebastian’s smooth speech with her own harsh, angry words. The fae frowned hard and took a step back. Her hand, finger pointed at Sebastian, shot through the bars. “And that is what will happen to you before I allow you to parish,” she growled.

  Tristan raised his eye brows, blinked once, twice and then grinned. She just threatened Sebastian on Tristan’s behalf. It made him happy to know that she still cared enough to threaten bodily harm for his sake.

  Feeling stupidly confident, Tristan barked, “Hey, elf.” The fae snarled, baring those blocky, human teeth. “You’d better watch your elfy ass, she’ll do it too.”

  Sebastian curled his lip back and let loose with a string of curses. Some were in French, some in English, others in a language Tristan had never heard before. But all of them made Tristan grin, knowing he hit a very raw nerve. The fae’s face started to flush bright red. Not the blush he had worked up when he was pretending to be oh-so-modest in the hotel, but true anger. Still cursing like a drunken sailor, Sebastian spun on his fancy patent leather shoe heels and stormed down the hall to the right, the direction of the exit.

  Tristan reached a hand outside of the bars and waved to the fuming man’s back. “Bye, bye,” he said in a mocking voice.

  Something solid and heavy slammed. The sound echoed through the whole subterranean room.

  Tristan let out a long groan, lowering himself to the ground, suddenly exhausted. The effects of the drug were still in his system and the loud noise didn’t help. “Hey, Ash?” he whispered.

  “Here,” she said sounding as if she were forcing herself to speak. “I am here.”

  He sighed, shutting his eyes. His head spun worse, but his eyes felt better. He gave a little moan against the vertigo and then said, “Thank you.”

  “What?” Her voice was high and full of surprise. “For what?”

  “For defending me.”

  “You did not understand a word of that,” she answered sounding a bit surer.

  He chuckled softly and then sighed as the spinning started to settle. “I still got the gist. Thank you.”

  “I—it was nothing, Tristan. Really.”

  He smiled, knowing better and sat silent for a minute. “Can I ask you something?”

  Ash was nearing her limit. She was terrified to let the sun take her as much as she wanted to give into it just to have a reprise from the pain it wrought on her cognizance. “Yes?”

  “What about your powers? Can you use your earth power to get us out?” They were surrounded by earth.

  She sighed, turning her back against the wall separating them so that they both felt each other’s presence. “Seikonō .”

  He opened his eyes, though there was nothing worth looking at. “What?”

  “Our powers, as you call them... we call that manifestation of our spirit motonō for base abilities like telepathy and glamour, and seikonō for the more powerful elemental gifts.”

  He had to laugh. They were in deep shit and Ash had finally decided to start talking to him, tell him things he should have known ages ago. “You have the worst timing sometimes, Ash.”

  “Thank you,” she said in a soft, wispy voice.

  “For…?”

  “For not giving up on me.”

  He smiled, resting his head back again to shut his eyes.

  “No,” she finally answered. “I am not strong enough to call upon my seikonō. If I’d fed on Sebastian before leaving then perhaps yes, I could have leveled this whole building.”

  Holy Jesus. The whole damn place, really?

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Really.”

  “What’s going to happen to us?”

  There was a long silence. The only thing he could hear was the soft drip of water in the corner of his cell joined by another from somewhere down the hall. He thought she wasn’t going to answer, when she finally did.

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighed, opening his eyes again. They stung with dryness and watered up immediately but he didn’t have the energy to even lift a hand to wipe the tears away even if they tickled his cheeks. “Don’t play coy, Ash. You told me once that Lucien was once in Malik’s service. That means whatever disgusting things Malik did, Lucien does too. I’d like to know what’s in store for us. Maybe I can form a plan while you sleep.”

  Ash sighed heavily from within her cell and the scrape of her body sliding down the stone wall sounded very close. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  He rubbed his forehead, feeling that knot again, and groaned. It’s why he asked. “Thought you were being forthright all the sudden?”

  She sighed again. “There will be blood, of course.”

  “Yeah, I figured...”

  “There will be torture. I will be bled, but the vampire in me will like it. The human in me will be afraid, weak. I will be beaten, my body made to move in impossible positions as daggers, hot iron and other sharp instruments pierce my flesh, only to heal around the cold metal and then be yanked free, opening the wound again.”

  Her voice took on a cold, hollow tone as if she were only reciting the words, far removed from the feeling or memories they possessed. “I will be skinned, in whole, in part or just a piece: a breast, a finger, an ear... And then the days of painful healing as it grows back, feeling each and every fiber of my preternatural being forming the missing part. I will be denied any blood to help aid in the healing and regeneration making the healing hurt even more. I will be half mad and starved. I will beg for food then, any food. And I will kill innocent beings. Even you.

  “Then there will be rape. If I am lucky, it will be only one of them at time. If I am very lucky, I will have already lost consciousness from the torture beforehand. But if I am unlucky, as such as these things tend to go for me in my life... they will both have me at once and with implements not made of flesh and blood. And this rape with steel, wood, whatever they have that causes harm, will happen over and over again until Lucien exhausts his interest in me.

  “After they are done breaking my body, they will promise me all my heart desires only to take it away again and again. And once my mind proves to be just as broken as my wretched body, they will turn to you. You will, of course, be bled and raped too. Once your body is broken and near death, then, maybe then, he will make you one of us. And to make my suffering the epitome of hell, he will give you to me and in my hunger driven lunacy I will attack you and kill you. Regardless of the means, their end is clear…

  “Death,” she whispered softly, “not so beautiful.”

  Tristan’s eyes were full of tears and it had nothing to do with how dry they’d been. These tears weren’t for his fate but of the horrible things she just described—the very horrors she lived through for centuries.

  “My god,” he whispered in a shaky voice, “I… I had no idea.” How could anyone do such things to another living person? How could people treat each other that way?

  “We are not people, Tristan,” Ash answered quickly, her voice sharp. “We are monsters.”

  He shook his head although Ash couldn’t see it, a
nd a tear found its way down his cheek. “Is that really the life you led before you escaped Malik?”

  “I fell to his charm and by the time I realized the folly of it all, the danger I was destined for,” she sighed heavily, “it was far too late. Far, far too late for me and so many others like me.”

  “Disgusting monster.”

  “No arguments there.”

  “How? How did you survive that?”

  She gave a sudden and curt laugh that made him jump. “I was under his thumb for...” She paused, making a soft hum, a considering noise. “Nearly two hundred and sixty years. I persevered because I felt I deserved the pain. For my sins, the sin of being what I was.”

  “Fucking hell... no one’s sins are worth any of the horrors you just—”

  “I know,” she said softly but firmly, interrupting him. “I understand that now. I may be three hundred and forty-two years old and preternatural, but I am still human at my core. Dying never changed that for me like it does for so many others. My thoughts and feelings are born of the human I once was. In truth... I,” she made a small noise that was almost a laugh, “I still carry the blame for others actions, when they are clearly in the wrong—it was something I did when I was alive. I suppose old dogs never do learn new tricks, as they say.”

  “Oh Ash…”

  The silence hung for a few minutes. Tristan started to drift. He knew he had to stay awake but the drugs still in his system were working against him.

  “I miss Haruka,” a soft voice whispered and Tristan’s eyes shot open. He’d been nearly asleep.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “She… After I escaped Malik, after being tortured and having watched everything I loved die, all I wanted was to seek my own death, on my terms. That was the only reason I escaped was so that I could die in peace. Yukihime found me in a dirty alleyway just moments before the sun was to rise and turn me to dust. I wonder so many nights now if she knew. She had to have known. And like Malik, she offered me a new life—to be reborn again. I was too weak to say no, and too weak to stay in the open and let the sun take me. And I let her remake the person I was. It wasn’t until that snowy day in 1985 that I finally found my true salvation, the girl that would then become my martyr.”