Unrequited

by Camille Oster

  This was obviously not something Miss Samra had done to herself. It was a massive imposition placed on her and she was effectively the pawn in someone's game, disabling her in her duties. It was also something that the humans couldn't do, which meant they had help from the demonic community, someone who sought to undermine these negotiations.

  Now he was burdened with managing her. She couldn't be released; she would only return, seeking his company with a manic determination. Her safety could best be managed here. Although he grew tired of Miss Samra's prickles and wariness, she didn't deserve this.

  If he knew exactly what had been used on her, he might be able to find some way to reverse it, but not knowing made it too risky as it could make things much worse. For all intents and purposes, unless someone confessed, there were no antidotes and her body had to process the magic until it worked its way out of her system, which could take up to a month.

  In the meantime, he would have Tarquin look for a culprit. This was obviously a form of subversion, of attacking the family and the ongoing negotiation process with the humans. It had to be rooted out and destroyed.

  Hopson appeared in the doorway.

  "Is she safely stowed away?"

  "She is chained in one of the guest bedrooms. She is highly confused and is asking to see you."

  "Make sure she is fed. She is unlikely to eat willingly." The potion would rob her of sense and reason, wanting only to be near him. She could be quite dangerous in that quest, seeking to employ any tactic to achieve her aim. "Inform all in the house of her presence. You are the only person to deal with her."

  "What shall you tell the human administration?"

  "Perhaps we could construe that Miss Samra has gone on holiday. I will inform Tarquin; he will make the arrangements for it to appear so."

  Hobson left and Adaeus leaned back, wondering if perhaps he was better off killing the girl. A month of dealing with a manic, love struck human was too much to bear, but then she was an innocent in this occurrence, even if he found her trying as the chief human negotiator. She was more intelligent than the last one, and certainly prettier to behold. He was not one to rush to find a new one.

  Hopson would have to keep her locked away until this had all passed and she could safely be released.

  Chapter 29:

  * * *

  There were manacles on her wrists. Melisande didn't understand—why were there manacles on her wrists? She was in a bedroom, a nicely decorated bedroom with an old four poster bed and white wallpaper with bamboo printed on it. These chains kept her here, away from him. He needed her. These chains had to come off. Didn't they see that they were keeping her from him when he needed her? Twisting the chains around, she tried to put enough pressure on them to break them. It hurt, but it needed doing.

  "Mademoiselle," a man said. Wrong man. She didn't want him; she wanted Adaeus. "Where's Adaeus?" she pleaded. "He needs me."

  "Adaeus is in his study," the man said. That made her feel better. He was nearby. In his study. The man was carrying a jug of water. "Are you thirsty?"

  "I need to see Adaeus. Let me go. You have no right to chain me."

  "What have you done?" said the man, coming closer. "Your wrists are bleeding."

  "I must see Mr. Chartrice; it is imperative. Release these chains. I command you." Her voice shook as she spoke and a twinge in the back of her mind sent a warning, but it faded. This person was keeping her from Adaeus. He had to be evil. No doubt Adaeus was searching for her and didn't know where to find her. "Adaeus!" she screamed, over and over again, hoping he would hear her and come rushing in to save her.

  "Hush, Mademoiselle. You cannot keep screaming. Do not make a nuisance of yourself," he said beseechingly.

  "He will hear me," she said, staring at the man, ensuring he knew what trouble he would be in when Adaeus found her. "He will destroy you."

  "It's not me I'm worried about," the man said, trying to grab her wrists. Melisande whipped them out of his reach.

  "Adaeus!" she screamed.

  "Are you hungry?"

  "No. Unlock these chains. You have no right to keep me here."

  "I have brought you a change in clothes."

  She looked over to the chair he had indicated, seeing a soft shirt and pants there. Was the man insane? She looked beautiful in this. Adaeus wanted her to look her best. He appreciated her like this—he loved her like this.

  Tugging on the chains hard, they made a grinding noise around the post of the bed.

  "Mademoiselle, please stop doing that. You will be more comfortable in those."

  "No."

  "You must sleep."

  "Are you insane? I'm not lying down to sleep here." She certainly wasn't going to sleep around this ogre. Who knew what he had planned while she was sleeping? He might drug her. The food was drugged so she would pass out and he would carry out his evil deeds. She had to refuse everything he gave her.

  Another twinge of something shot through her mind, but it melted away before she could grasp its meaning. Maybe she didn't want to know. The only thing of importance right now was to thwart his plans and to reach Adaeus.

  "I must see to your wrists," he said.

  "Do not come near me," she said, scuttling over the bed to the other side. The man was old and he moved slowly. He would never catch her. She had to move quickly, find some way of breaking these chains. Or did the man have a key somewhere on his body. She would knock him unconscious and find it. But how? The chains. Maybe she could use them to strangle him.

  *

  Hopson appeared at the study door and Adaeus silently exhaled, knowing this would be about the girl. Was there any way this would not be a huge imposition?

  "What is it, Hopson?" he said, seeing the man's uncomfortable expression. It wasn't so much an expression, because his expressions didn't change, frankly; it was more an air that changed in the most minuscule way, but Adaeus had learned to read his butler well, and vice versa.

  "She is tearing herself apart fighting the chains," Hopson said. "It seems I am keeping her from you. She will not eat or drink."

  The chair groaned for him when he leaned back and entwined his fingers. Again, was there any way this would not be a complete nuisance? Her screaming echoed through the entire house, screaming his name. He had never experienced that before. Yes, people screamed, but never his name, and with such despair, like a lost child.

  There she went again.

  "She believes if you knew where she was, you would come to her," Hopson said. Adaeus raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous notion, but then she was completely out of her mind. "She will eventually exhaust herself."

  "If someone doesn't kill her first," Adaeus said tartly. He wasn't the only one who would be at their wit’s end with her screaming all night. They could drug her, but that would be risky, with a strong possibility that it would interact with whatever potion she'd been given. "Perhaps we should put her down in the cells." They were built to contain screaming.

  "I suspect she would injure herself further in her attempts to escape."

  Adaeus pursed his lips in annoyance. If someone did this with the aim of annoying him to no end, they were certainly succeeding.

  Miss Samra wasn't a weak woman, meekly doing as she was told. It was the reason she had been assigned as a negotiator in the first place, and the reason she was now a nightmare. She wasn't going to take Hopson's or anyone else's direction—except him. She would follow his direction, the potion making her eager to please him if no one else. "Fine, bring her here," Adaeus said. "Chain her in the corner. If I can't make her silent, we will have to place her in the cells and her body will have to suffer."

  "As you wish," Hopson said, retreating out of sight.

  Adaeus could hear Miss Samra pepper the manservant with questions all the way down. Her mind only had one goal—single-minded determination. On some level, this was fascinating. The fierce warnings around love potions were something he'd never doubted. Victims could be extremely destruc
tive in their aim to be closer, to be accepted, even to clear the path to the object of their obsession with the most brutal of means.

  Hopson appeared, then the girl, still wearing the same formal dress. Her eyes lit up when she saw him and she yanked herself out of Hopson's grasp and ran to him. She couldn't embrace him as the manacles kept her wrists together, but she did the best she could, clasping onto his waistcoat.

  With large, dewy eyes, she looked up at him. Her face was still a mess, her makeup having disintegrated or run. She was still beautiful though, a perfect picture of health. No even bad makeup could hide her true beauty. But she was a human, and Adaeus didn’t indulge in such tawdry relationships. He didn’t actually approve of diluting the demonic bloodlines, knowing their strength lay in demonic blood. Human blood weakened it.

  "I've been looking for you," she said breathily. "That man kept me away. You couldn't hear me." She twisted slightly, still tightly snuggled into his body, so she could watch Hopson with suspicious eyes.

  "I could hear you, Miss Samra, and Hopson here does my bidding."

  She looked up at him again, confusion shining through her large, clear eyes. Of course she didn't believe him; the potion wouldn't let her. No doubt her mind was twisting his words into something coerced. In her mind, it was them against the world and everyone else was evil, or completely unimportant, including his family. Both Castran and Tarquin were capable enough to easily fend off someone like her, but her complete irrationality was still a threat. She had to be managed.

  Adaeus looked down on her, again wondering if it was best to kill her. Her large eyes looked back and she smiled tenderly. Like a lost puppy, only happy to be with him.

  "You will sit over there," Adaeus said, pointing to a chair in the far corner of the office. "If you are good and do what I say, I will leave you unchained. If you are bad, the chains will be firmly in place and you will not be able to move. Do you understand?"

  She nodded eagerly and Adaeus groaned in vexation.

  "Go sit."

  Unwillingly she did as he bid, taking a seat in the chair. She didn't relax though, only keeping the barest of seats, ready to spring up whenever he let her. At least she followed direction—it really was her saving grace. Obviously this wasn’t the strongest potion in creation, so she could be somewhat managed.

  Adaeus returned to the paper on his desk and started reading. She would tell him anything he wanted to know about the humans' negotiation tactics: their aims, fall back positions and touch points. It was too easy to find out, but equally he didn't need to know. He knew full well he would get exactly what he wanted. Not knowing their camp would make this tedious process a little more interesting.

  She shifted in her seat, making it scrape slightly on the parquet floor.

  "Quiet," he said and the noise stopped. Again he sighed. It was going to be a long month. When he looked up, her eyes were still eagerly watching him, watching everything he did, even reading. She would perhaps learn everything there was to know about him through her constant observation. Maybe there was method in someone's madness sending her in like this, under the influence of a love potion. He wasn't quite sure to what degree she would remember everything, but she was silently cataloging everything about him in her addled mind.

  Chapter 30:

  * * *

  The girl clearly didn't trust Hopson, cringing away whenever he came near. It made Adaeus snort with amusement because she had it so very wrong in where she placed her caution and fear. He wondered what he could make her do—probably just about anything. There was little joy in baiting a love struck fool, but he was curious from an observational standpoint if there were any limits a strongly principled person like Miss Samra would stop at. Then again, a love potion was by its very nature overpowering.

  Her wrists were still bleeding, but she wasn't going to let Hopson near her, probably no one else either. She wasn't by nature a trusting person. Did those traits still hold some sway over her actions?

  "Hopson, bring a first aid kit," Adaeus said as Hopson was retreating from the room.

  "As you say," the man said and disappeared, returning before long with a dark green box, placing it on the edge of the desk. "Would you like me to tend her wounds?" Adaeus could tell Hopson wasn't relishing the task. The girl would fight him, and although that might be amusing, Adaeus actually had some work to do that evening.

  "No, it is fine. I will do it. Come." Hopson retreated and Adaeus turned his attention to the girl who was still sitting eagerly on the edge of her chair. She rose immediately, moving swiftly toward him. "Kneel," he said and she complied, falling down on her knees beside his chair. She looked at him with grateful eyes, observing everything. She licked her lips as if ready to devour.

  Adaeus observed her for a moment. It was strange to be the object of someone's single-minded determination. What was it she wanted? She was in his presence, but it wasn't enough. She was still waiting. At least she took direction, instead of turning into some raving, lust-filled zombie, intent on only one thing. Miss Samra had an all-encompassing obsession, but what did she want from him in her addled mind?

  "Give me your wrists."

  She held them out. There were people who were like this, eager to please, who craved being ordered around, told what to do and expected to comply. They wanted to be treated like this, dominated. Miss Samra was not one of them. She was anally retentive in her independence, her need to be seen as strong and capable. Her behavior now would mortify her.

  He placed her wrists on his thigh covered by black, fine wool. Any blood would not be seen. He could not be the person he was if he was squeamish about a little blood.

  Hopson was right, she had torn her wrists apart. It did show how far she'd go to get what she wanted. "Does it hurt?" he asked. She shook her head.

  "It probably will now," he said as he poured the astringent on a cotton square and wiped it across the wound. Her sharp intake of breath showed the painful sensation she experienced, but she made no more sound. She was strong, he conceded, probably stronger than he'd given her credit for. "You are not to hurt yourself," he stated, "under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

  She nodded. It would be difficult to explain her holiday if she came back ripped to bits.

  "If you are detained, you will not injure yourself by trying to escape. I will come for you. Do you understand?"

  She shifted a little bit to closer where he sat, her legs folded neatly beneath her. In her crazed mind, she believed every word he told her. He supposed there was no harm in her believing there was some allegiance between them. If it stopped her from doing herself damage, it served a purpose.

  Unrolling the bandages, he wrapped them around her wrists. Her wrists were so thin, so small. In another sense, she was so very weak. Her hands were weak, feminine, slight fingers unadorned by any jewelry. Clear gloss made her modest nails shine. She always kept her nails neat, never colored. He'd noticed during their negotiations. He finished the bandages and tucked the ends away within the folds.

  "Go back to your seat," he said dismissively and she hesitated for a moment before complying. Adaeus returned to his work, still aware of her continued scrutiny. It was disconcerting, being watched so closely. It was not something he had experienced before so persistently. True in social situations, people watched everything he did, afraid or in awe, they watched. But he'd never been a man who'd given himself to having pets, human or otherwise. He had enough power to not need constant demonstrations of it.

  Adaeus worked for a while, clearing away the tasks he'd set himself, even forgetting the cumbersome girl in the process. It was getting late when he checked the clock. The kitchen staff would be waiting on him. Perhaps it was time to dine. He did prefer to dine late, always had. He called for Hopson to inform them he was ready.

  "Are they boys dining tonight?" He still referred to his sons as boys, even though they, particularly Tarquin, were far from it these day, but on some level they would always be in Adaeus' mind.


  "Master Tarquin is here, but I believe Master Castran is out." This was good news; Castran had been moping at home too much of late. Adaeus was glad to see him out of the house again. Hopefully with his fiancée. The boy was straining against this marriage, another objection recently developed, all because of some obscure haunting. He would come around. Chartrice men rarely made successful marriages, but marriages were required—heirs were needed, and if a marriage produced an heir, then that was success enough.

  "Come," he said to the girl who rose the moment the word was out of his mouth. She had anticipated it, he supposed, noting he was readying himself to leave. She softly padded behind him across the marble of the hallway. Her shoes were lost somewhere in the process, leaving her in bare, exposed feet. The marble would chill them, but she didn't care. He would have to secure some footwear for her, something soft and unlikely to do damage, whatever she did. Heels were out of the question. She couldn't be trusted with anything that could be used to pierce. In fact, there were sharp and heavy objects everywhere. Vigilance would be needed to ensure no harm came to her or anyone else. The momentousness of the imposition assaulted him again and he exhaled with annoyance. He really wanted to torture whoever had done this, itched to hear them scream under his blades.

  He seated her in Castran's chair and waited for Tarquin to arrive. Tarquin's steps were heard before he appeared and he paused at the door. "I see we have company."

  "Our guest will be joining us," Adaeus said. Miss Samra looked pleased and Adaeus wondered what illogical thoughts were processing through her mind.

  Tarquin sat and Miss Samra smiled in welcome. That was interesting. She could acknowledge the presence of another person, even be cordial. Was this her nature or was she trying to be a hostess on his behalf, taking the position of mistress of this house? He didn't know exactly what her aim was in this thing.

  The food arrived, starting with a soup course.