by R. J. Blain
As I had no idea what to call the bastards chopping apart their other test subject, I decided they counted as fucking assholes. While I had no problems with willing donors giving their bodies to science, I suspected the man on the table hadn’t been willing.
If he had been willing, he was no better than the animal abusing assholes I wanted to wipe off the face of the Earth.
Willing participants didn’t need to be kept in cages, and the presence of multiple cages gave me all of the information I needed to decide I would show no mercy to those in the room with me.
They were so absorbed in their dissection they didn’t notice me observing them, so I turned my attention to the manacles securing my hands over my head and doing a damned good job of making sure my shoulders would hurt for hours or days to come. Once freed, I would recruit Jonas for basic treatment. If he couldn’t make me forget the persistent discomfort, nothing could. I shifted my weight, wincing as my knees and ankles protested the movement.
Whatever they’d drugged me with, it had done a good job of keeping me down and out.
The next time I volunteered to be bait, I would set some important restrictions. First, I would establish a timeline for rescue. If it would prevent me from being the next poor bastard to be chopped up on a surgical table, I would play the best damsel-in-distress to ever be distressed. I would even toss in a few good screams for good measure, and once rescue came, I would swoon for the benefit of my rescuer—or rescuers.
Pride mattered little when it came to dodging dissection.
Second, I would establish a requirement to minimize any loss of my blood. Judging from the amount caked to my arm and side, the fucking assholes who’d kidnapped me hadn’t cared about something like blood loss.
Diana and Darian would not be happy if they needed to serve as my personal blood bank again.
Third, I would demand more than a tracker embedded in my arm. Fortunately, while I had a lot of cuts decorating me, they hadn’t gotten close to where Lucifer had implanted the device. Under the guise of scratching my nose, I poked and prodded at the spot, which ached and had a slight bump.
Assumptions could create me trouble later, but for the sake of my sanity, I would cling to my belief the tracker was still in place.
The men cutting up the poor bastard on the table didn’t notice my movements. I eyed the manacles, which seemed to be secured with a bolt and a wing nut.
What sort of fucking morons left a prisoner manacled with a bolt using a wing nut of all things? I checked my bare feet, pleased to see they had not bothered to bind them with anything. My shoulders would hate me for a while, but I wiggled until most of my weight rested on the manacles, brought my knees up to my chest, twisted until my toes could get into proximity of the wing nut, and went to work loosening it.
In the future, I would practice manipulating things with my toes, but in addition to inflicting their stupidity upon me, my captors had gone the lazy route, only tightening the wing nut enough to keep me from forcing the manacles open without dealing with the bolt first.
I hated idiots. I hated them, and I would get the satisfaction of escorting them straight to hell. Once I got them to hell, I would beat the stupidity right out of them, making certain their seeds would forever remember why they would not indulge in stupidity or laziness in their next life.
It took a few minutes, but I wiggled the manacles open enough to free my right hand, after which it took less than five seconds and a single good spin of the nut to free my left.
Excellent. I left the wing nuts in place, eased my arms down so my motions wouldn’t draw unwanted attention, and focused on my next challenge, which involved breaking free of the actual cage.
Had I been in charge of their operations, I wouldn’t have used a basic catch mechanism on a cage intended to hold anything smarter than a single-celled organism hostage. I lost a solid minute staring at the latch in disbelief.
Right. I dealt with exceptionally stupid people—people who dissected their victims and left a variety of tools for the job in reach of their hostage.
Well, if they wanted me to make a mess of their day through leaving random, sharp implements available for my use, so be it. I didn’t have to figure out how to shift to a spicy pony with bite to get the job done. Any one of the scalpels left out and about would do, as would one of the larger cleavers, which I could only presume was intended to cut through the bones of their dissection victims.
My virus approved of my intent to bring a great deal of harm to the three bastards working on the corpse. She savored the idea of leaving their bodies to cool on the tiles. Rather than stab them, she wanted to go the bludgeon route. As I could fully respect and get behind taking a baseball bat, crowbar, or some other hard object to the heads of some fucking assholes, I searched for a good weapon.
The lab lacked any baseball bats or crowbars, but there were several fire extinguishers nearby. I had no idea why the surgical tables needed fire extinguishers nearby, but I’d used one before.
They weighed enough to do some serious damage if it came into contact with someone’s skull. Better still, if I sprayed them in the face with the foam, I would have plenty of time to bash their heads in and remove them as a threat. Hedging my bets on them being too absorbed with their grisly work to notice me, I eased the cage door open, careful to prevent the spring-loaded clasp from snapping back into position. Once certain the mechanism wouldn’t make unwanted noise and betray me, I tip-toed to the nearest fire extinguisher, checked the pressure meter to confirm it would do what I needed, and pulled the pin out.
With vicious glee, I took aim at the idiots hard at work and opened fire with the extinguisher, unloading the canister’s entire contents onto them and the corpse they worked on. As merely spraying them failed to appease my virus, I made sure to aim for their mouths and noses to minimize their ability to retaliate.
“Wear safety gear when working in a lab, assholes,” I said before I adjusted my hold on the fire extinguisher and swung, taking aim for the nearest asshole’s head. The metal collided with his temple with a crunch. To my virus’s disappointment, blood didn’t spray everywhere in a glorious fountain, although the business end of my new weapon glistened with crimson fluid.
As fire extinguisher foam did a good job of turning screams to gurgles, I didn’t have to deal with excessive noise while I finished beating the life out of the other two jackasses. To make sure they wouldn’t get up and bother me again, I armed myself with a scalpel and went to work slitting their throats.
Slit throats spilled a great deal of blood, and none of my victims lasted for more than a minute or two before they headed to their next destination, where they would enjoy the Devil’s not-so-tender care. Muttering curses over wearing someone else’s blood thanks to my decision to ensure my kills, I prowled around the lab. Once upon a time, an entire wall of the place had been dedicated to captive animals, although the cages were long empty and covered in a layer of dust.
I returned to the bodies, selected one of the tools with a nice point, and dipped it into one of the growing puddles of blood. Using the fucking asshole’s blood to do a practitioner working counted as a little rude, but I figured if they’d wanted me to be polite, they would have extended a better invitation. Like I had at the previous lab, I drew an aversion, but I limited the number of exclusions to include any equines infected with lycanthropy and incubi.
I would have to hope the lab didn’t have any sex demons working for them, but if they did, I would make good use of one of the lab’s fire extinguishers.
Pleased with my precautions, I explored.
The building consisted of three bedrooms, an office, a bathroom, and the lab. In the office, I struck gold. Stealing a ream of printer paper, I used my magic to copy every document. Every scrap of information on me went into a pile, which would come with me when I left. I also collected their information on Diana and Darian, which would likewise be escorted away from their lab. Someone had left the computer unlocked,
which made it trivial to search for files including our names, print copies of everything important, and delete their data. After some experimentation, I accessed the cloud they stored their backups in, and with ruthless delight, overwrote their research with copies of classic novels.
Then, as I could be a bitch on a good day, I tossed in a bunch of medical research documents from the internet to the beginning of each file to make it appear as though they still had viable data.
I hoped whoever discovered their medical research on whatever-the-hell they were doing broke their brain. I also hoped the five hundred pages of data I’d printed wouldn’t break my brain. Grateful the office chair had wheels, I loaded the damned thing up with as many papers as possible and rolled it out into the hallway connecting the office with the lab, the bathroom, and the bedrooms. Getting the paperwork out would test my creativity, especially as I had no idea what waited for me outside. I’d located the door out, but I hadn’t tested my luck—or even peeked out through the peep hole.
I already courted enough trouble.
Armed with my chair, my stolen papers, a pen, some blank sheets of paper, and a fire extinguisher, I approached the door leading to freedom, took a few deep breaths to steady my nerves, and peered through the peep hole. An overgrown clearing surrounded with trees waited for me.
If the plain white walls hid the fact I’d been taken to a creepy cabin in the woods, I would find somewhere private to scream out my frustration. Then, because I had as sick of a sense of humor as the Devil, I would hunt down every horror movie I could find featuring creepy cabins in the woods and binge watch them all to remind myself it could be worse. Of course, assuming I survived watching so many horror flicks without dying from a heart attack, I would need a lot of tender, loving care from an incubus to recover.
My virus approved of my plan, and I got the feeling she hoped we’d been taken to some creepy cabin in the woods—no, not just in the woods, deep in the woods, where good girls like me were brutally murdered.
After being used as a science experiment.
I regretted I had taken the efficient route of murder. Muttering curses, I cracked open the door.
Yep, the bastards had taken me to a cabin in the woods, although the exterior lacked the creep factor I expected from a place used to test on and dissect humans. They’d even added some pretty flowers around the place to make it appear normal people lived in the place. Shuddering, I left my chair burdened with stolen documentation in the doorway and scouted around the clearing to discover a mud-covered SUV parked at the end of a dirt road in dire need of some maintenance.
Heaving a sigh at having to turn around and find the fucking keys, I marched back into the cabin, returned to the bodies, and searched their pockets until I found their wallets and keys, all of which came with me. I located the keys for the SUV, turned it on, and checked the navigation system to discover I’d been taken two hours away from Athens. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, debating where I wanted to take my plunder.
Of the residences Jonas had taken me to, I’d liked one of the smaller country homes the best, enjoying its cozy, intimate vibe. Getting back to it would take some effort, but as long as I got back to the nearby town, I could get there.
The Devil tended to plant red maples near his properties as a warning to the wise.
I loaded up the SUV and left, careful to obey the speed limit, as I doubted I would be able to explain why I was covered in blood without admitting I’d murdered three people. Of course, all I would have needed to do was summon an angel and confess I’d done it in self-defense, and once I stated they’d been dissecting some guy on the table in front of me, no sane jury would convict me.
The entire drive, I fretted, tapping a random beat on the wheel while digging out every curse I’d ever heard in my life.
I made it to the Devil’s house without incident, and sighing my relief, I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, drawing a rune to break the aversion I’d set at the cabin. Then, as Diana wasn’t the only one who could summon the Devil, I hauled my loot into the house, drew a basic summoning circle, and inscribed Lucifer’s name seven ways—all spelled wrong.
Within a few seconds, the Devil manifested in a cloud of brimstone, angry enough he’d used one of his true forms, breathing fire.
In the courthouse, my glimpses of his figure had scared me. Now, the absurdity of having pissed him off that much made me laugh. Standing on my toes, I reached up and patted him between his curved horns. Soot covered him and his hair, and I figured no amount of brushing him off would help, but I did it anyway. “I have always wondered if that would work,” I admitted.
Lucifer sighed, his form shimmered, and he assumed a more human shape, taking on a bronzed skin tone. “And I thought giving you a look at my form would scare some respect into you.”
“After watching some guys dissect somebody, you don’t even blip on my horror meter. Sorry. Ask me again tomorrow.” I showed him my arm, which still had a collection of cuts, although they’d stopped bleeding. “They were so stupid I want to cry.”
“Why don’t you tell me all about it? None of the triggers to draw my attention were activated, so I’m assuming all they did were these cuts to judge your regeneration rates while keeping you drugged. Jonas is pacing trenches through my hells at this point. I tried to tell him you are a self-rescuing princess, but he isn’t in the mood to listen.”
“They used wing nuts, Lucifer. They used fucking wing nuts to close the manacles. I was kidnapped by fucking idiots.”
“You were kidnapped by those who did not anticipate you having a matured virus plus a heightened resistance to their drug cocktails. The instant they cut you, your virus went to work ridding your body of their drugs and addressing the cuts.” Taking hold of my arm, he examined my injuries, frowning. “They’ve had you for two days, in case you were curious.”
“No wonder my virus is whining.”
The Devil chuckled. “Just wait until I release Jonas’s ability to teleport. He’s been showing his wings all day. As such, my darling is showing her wings. Once he has taken steps to ensure your general health, you’ll get to see him in his prime. I’ll make sure food appears at the appropriate intervals, as a hunting incubus with something to prove doesn’t tend to remember the basics.”
“I brought you a present of data, and as they helpfully left their computer unlocked, I modified all of their data to include copy-pastes of medical studies from the internet along with some of my favorite classics I stole.”
“Most classics are no longer under copyright, so it’s not theft,” he replied.
I pointed at the tracker. “Did this thing work?”
“It did, yes. Honestly, I was hoping to discover what a spicy pony with bite is, but your display of competence did not meet any of the typical conditions required to induce a first shift. On one hand, I’m pleased with your display of competence, but on the other, I really want to know what a spicy pony with bite is.”
“Why not ask your father?”
“That would be admitting defeat, and I simply cannot lower myself to asking Him how he meddled with my intern.”
“Do you know what I do to stupid people, Lucifer?”
“I’m very curious to find out, honestly.”
“I spray them with a fire extinguisher before bludgeoning them to death or a near death state followed with slicing their throats.”
The Devil tossed back his head and laughed. “Do you know what Diana did when I set her loose in a lab?”
“What did she do?”
“She just lit everything that upset her on fire. While fitting her nature, she did not score many points for creativity. She also didn’t have the sense to do something to annoy me to summon me. I’m going to enjoy teasing her. Your summoning circle was very effective. Of course, it didn’t precisely force me to come to you, but after the first few horrific invocations of my name, I may have wanted to teach you a lesson. I managed to teach you absolutely nothing,” he
complained.
“I had already seen that form,” I told him.
Lucifer’s expression darkened. “I had hoped your vision hadn’t progressed that far. My visages tend to scare potential interns away.”
His reaction, so genuine and human in its compassion, made me stop and consider everything that had happened since the courthouse. “Well, you are the Devil. I’m lacking sense, as I seem to forget how to fear you.”
“That was quite the surprise, yes. But my father probably foresaw my need long ago and made sure there was someone with the fortitude to become a spicy pony with bite—or whatever other forms he had in mind for your conversion.”
“They were all spicy in some form or another.”
Relaxing, Lucifer headed deeper into the house, waving for me to join him. In the kitchen, he held out a chair for me. “I’ll retrieve your stolen goods, and we’ll start going over them while we talk. It’s a good time to figure out your general place among the minions without the other minions hovering. Jonas could use some extra separation time. The idea is to make sure you two have good nights, not develop separation anxiety if you have to go away for a night or two.”
“Lucifer, there is a difference between being kidnapped and going on a business trip. He’s justified in being concerned, although I should probably remind him I was a willing participant. Do self-rescuing princesses get rewarded?”
“Separation anxiety in incubi manifests as territorialness, an unwillingness to allow their prey to escape, and a very exhausted partner.”
Did the Devil think I would complain about any of those things? I stared at him. “What’s the problem?”
“If being trapped for a week or two with a hungry, fretting incubus doesn’t bother you, there’s no problem beyond having an annoyed boss waiting for the incubus to settle his nerves.”
“But will my boss give me a week or two to calm the poor, hungry, and fretting incubus?”
Lucifer snickered. “Apparently, the spicy portion of spicy pony with bite involves your inclination to indulge with an incubus. You’re definitely going to have a spicy sex life if that’s your general approach to his separation anxiety.”
