by Geonn Cannon
She was babbling, she realized, moaning, “No, no, no,” in a rapid-fire murmur as tears streaked down her face. Her strong front had been shattered in one instant as she saw how she had been mutilated.
“I believe that is enough,” Orville said softly. “Lady Boone, look at yourself.”
She couldn’t bear to. Orville stepped forward and rapped her knuckles with his, and the pain shot up into Dorothy’s arm. She stared in shock at the back of her hand, complete and intact, attached seamlessly to her arm with nary a sign of cutting. She spread her fingers and chuffed softly as she curled her fingers into fists. She dug her nails into the palm hard enough to hurt, and fresh tears rolled down her face as she realized what her cruel captor had done.
“I would like to introduce you to Milena Petric,” Orville said as a woman stepped forward from the shadows. She wore a brown leather coat like the rest of Watershed’s members, but her head was completely shaven. Her eyes were obscured behind tinted sunglasses even in the barely-lit room. Orville smiled at her and said, “Milena is the one responsible for the little illusion about your hands. It seemed real, didn’t it? The pain, the shock. If I’d allowed the deception to go on a little longer, your body would have started reacting to the trauma. It would have actually thought you were losing blood. Scary, isn’t it?”
Dorothy glared at him. She knew her skin was ashen and her face was still wet with tears, but she refused to let the bastard hold the upper hand.
“Milena is also responsible for the little dream you had while we were waiting for our ride. It was a good dream, wasn’t it? She can put you back in it.”
She felt Charlotte’s breath on her ear, heard the nasty things that had been said on that long-ago night. She closed her eyes and brought her knees together, half-expecting to feel Charlotte between them. Dorothy squirmed in the chair and, almost against her will, let out a quiet moan of pleasure. She arched her back and pushed herself down against the wooden seat to prevent her hips from thrusting upward in an obscene caricature. Then, as quickly as it had started, the phantom released her.
“So much easier than actually causing the damage. No mess to clean up. I can cut off all your fingers, move on to your toes, and then I can start all over again. It doesn’t matter if you know it’s all an illusion. Your body won’t.”
Dorothy cried out in agony as her right hand withered, desiccated and died.
“And I can give you your pleasant memories...”
Once again she was on the ship, guiding Charlotte’s hand between her legs. She looked up and recoiled when she saw that Charlotte’s flushed features had been replaced by Orville’s.
“...and I can destroy them from within.”
“Stop,” Dorothy gasped.
He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down so they were eye-to-eye. “Then help me. When we land, you will help me find the stone. You will not stand against us when we depart, and you will allow the Society to create Felix Quintel without interference.”
“Fine.”
Another flash of her night with Charlotte, once again with her lover replaced by Orville. She sobbed as he whispered, “Say the words Dorothy...”
“I’ll help you. I’ll help you find the stone and I won’t raise arms against you. Now get out of my fucking head.”
The cabin faded and was replaced by her cell. Orville leaned back and tugged at the cuffs of his coat. “I do apologize for the violation. Before we found Milena we were forced to take physical measures. Did you know it’s more sensible to cut off a person’s index finger than any other? Some think it’s the pinkie, but no. Once the forefinger is gone, the secondary finger adapts to take its place. The things you learn by trial and error.” He laughed softly and shook his head. “We should be landing in Heraklion within the hour. You should get washed up. And dressed.”
Dorothy looked down and saw she was nude. Her face flushed and she squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel the cotton on her skin, knew without a doubt she was fully-clothed and had been the entire time, but her brain was stupid and slow to process the physical information. When she opened her eyes, Orville and the other men in the room were gone. Milena moved to stand guard in front of Dorothy, blank lenses of her glasses locked on Dorothy’s face.
“You toyed with something precious,” Dorothy said. “You used it as a thumbscrew. I will not forget this.”
Milena said nothing and made no outward acknowledgement of what had been said, but Dorothy suddenly felt the seat drop out from underneath her. She was falling, tumbling end over end, plummeting through the bowels of the ship and out into clear air. She bit her tongue and squeezed her eyes shut, her head swimming with the sensation of weightlessness. Her body braced for the inevitable impact. Her heart raced.
“You bitch,” she growled. “You bitch whore, I will make you pay for this...”
She began falling faster. Against her will, Dorothy began to scream.
#
The screams echoed through the airship, rising in volume before being choked off. Trafalgar kept her eyes straight ahead, focusing on the ceiling above her rather than speculating on what was being done to Dorothy elsewhere on the vessel. She had a feeling her dose of the Sandman had been less than what Dorothy received; the coat had provided a thicker barrier to penetrate and she had pulled it out almost immediately. But she had still lost consciousness and, when she woke, her arms and legs were bound to a table in what appeared to be a medical examination room. Her jacket and clothing had been taken from her, leaving her only in a thin undershirt and underwear. She was gagged by some sort of hard plastic that she couldn’t get her tongue around to dislodge, though she spent most of her time after regaining consciousness trying to.
The door swung open and admitted a verminous-looking man in an unbuttoned leather coat. It swung open to reveal the manticore design on the inside pocket. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes pronounced, his graying his cut short to give him a large forehead. His ears stuck out on either side like small horns, and when he smiled his lips crept across his face like a crack opening in an arid landscape.
“Good morning. My name is Daniel Weeks. And you... well, we all know who you are. There has been much speculation about you over the years, miss. Enoch Solomon’s men spoke of a young girl called Trafalgar who killed their master, urging him to commit suicide in front of them. Then she stole his jacket and took command of the vessel. And then...” He waved his spindly fingers in front of his face. “Just vanished into the world. Some of us thought you were just a myth. But you’re not. Are you?”
A beautiful bald woman in glasses stepped into the room behind him and closed the door. He looked at her and then began to circle Trafalgar’s bed.
“I apologize that we had to undress you so completely. A bit crude, I know, but once we discovered those nasty blades you had hidden up your sleeve we had to be certain there was nothing else concealed in the folds of your clothes. Never fear, we have several female acolytes who did the deed. You have nothing to worry about in terms of being violated in that manner.”
Trafalgar clenched her fists and tightened the muscles of her arms, testing the restraints she’d already confirmed couldn’t be broken. Daniel patted her shoulder.
“Save your strength, Miss Trafalgar. I suspect you’ll need it once we land.” He stepped around the table and extended an arm to the bald woman. “I’d like to introduce you to Mircea Petric. She and her sister have a unique gift. I like to call it archaeology of the mind. A bit like time travel. They can reach into your mind and dig out a moment, a day, or just a feeling, and bring it to the surface. Every sensation is exactly as you remember it. Only better. The human mind filters the world down to its most important elements so we can keep it. Colors dim, details fade. Mircea and Milena can bring the memory back so vividly that it’s as if you have physically traveled back to that moment.”
Trafalgar could think of a few moments it would be torture to revisit, but she had a feeling she knew what the Watershed Soc
iety would be most interested in.
“Solomon put the stone in your mouth and began the ritual. The forces were at work, they just weren’t allowed to complete their job.” He leaned over her and rested his hand on her forehead. His palm was cold and clammy, and she tried to shrink away from it. “Something was started that night, Trafalgar, and a seed was planted. A small piece of darkness in your mind, like a lighthouse on the shore calling to our friend in the other realm. When we find the second stone, Mircea will expand that piece of darkness to fill your entire mind and call forth the creature that will soon rule this world. You will be a lighthouse upon the shore of this realm, guiding it safely to us.”
Sounds as if I will be more like bait, Trafalgar thought.
“For the time being, however, we need to ensure you won’t attempt to escape before we arrive at our destination. Like I said, we need you to keep your strength up. So Mircea will stay with you, and she’ll make sure that your mind remains occupied while we’re in transit. I would say pleasant dreams, but that’s really up to Mircea, isn’t it?” He grinned and nodded at Mircea on his way out of the room.
Trafalgar looked at the woman who seemed to loom over her bed. Her mind was racing, as if her memories were nothing more than cards that this stranger had picked up and started to shuffle. She imagined the words DON’T DO THIS writ large in her mind, but the words scattered as soon as she constructed them. As Mircea dug deeper into her mind, the screams elsewhere on the ship started again.
#
It was late afternoon before the Kestrel took off from Rome. It turned on a south-southeastern trajectory that would take it across the boot of Italy to Athens. They would refuel there and continue south to the city of Heraklion, on the island of Crete. The trip would take twelve hours, plus however long they were delayed at the Athens airdock. The skies ahead of them were clear, and the skies behind them were full of the bustling Roman air traffic.
There were so many other airships aloft, so many gondolas reflecting the setting sun, that no one would have paid much attention when one of them altered course as if in pursuit. The second airship gave the first a good head start, hanging back until the Kestrel was little more than a pumpkin-seed shaped object on the horizon.
Once its captain was confident they wouldn’t be observed, the Skylarker gave full thrust to its engines and set off in pursuit.
Chapter Fifteen
Dorothy’s torture continued for a hundred years. No. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus. One hundred years was impossible. She took a deep breath and remembered she was dealing with someone who could play with her mind, who could make her see and feel things that didn’t exist. She lifted her chin from her chest despite her brain telling her she was too weak, and she gazed at the bald bitch standing in front of her.
“You’ll have to do... a lot better than that.”
She thought she saw a hint of a smile cross the woman’s face before the trembling subsided. Once again she was young, but she was exhausted. She had no idea how long she’d actually been strapped to the chair. Her waistcoat and fob watch were gone. Her ascot was gone. Her socks and shoes had been taken off, and the floor was cold to the touch. She tried forcing her feet down onto the metal to let it absorb her body heat, but it didn’t seem to work.
“You know,” Dorothy said, “we’ve spent this whole time learning about me. What about you? Hopes. Dreams. Fears. Let’s get inside your head for a little while.”
The bones in Dorothy’s chest were crushed. She sagged forward and gasped for air as her vital organs were punctured by the shards...
...and then released. She panted to catch her breath and looked up at Milena through her bangs. “Okay. You don’t want to talk about yourself. That’s fine.”
The door to her cell opened and Orville came in.
“Orville,” Dorothy said. “Nice of you to join us. We were just about to talk about Milena’s childhood. Apparently she wasn’t hugged enough as a child.”
Orville ignored her and focused on Milena. “We’ll be landing soon. It would be best if she was a bit less of a handful.”
Milena nodded and approached Dorothy. For the entirety of their session, however long it had been, Milena had never spoken out loud or touched her. Despite herself, Dorothy cringed when the silent woman reached out and tapped her middle finger against Dorothy’s forehead. Orville was the one who spoke, moving so Dorothy could see him.
“You will be asleep when we arrive in Athens. You will sleep throughout our time on the ground so as not to cause problems with the airdock crew. You are falling asleep as we speak.”
“Sorry to disappoint. But you throw such lively parties that I’ll be up for hours.”
Orville smiled. “I’m afraid that’s not the case. How long has it been since you slept, Lady Boone? Twenty-four hours? Thirty-six? Forty-eight?” She felt her head growing heavy, her eyelids sailing downward of their own volition. She jerked her head back up and forced her eyes open. “Certainly not sixty. Seventy-two? Dorothy, have you been up for eighty hours?”
She wanted to toss out a quip, wanted to take one last dig at him, but sleep was crowding in on her senses. She couldn’t gather the strength to open her mouth, and her thoughts were far too jumbled to be clever. She slumped forward in her chair, her entire body slack in a deep and unbroken sleep.
#
Airship crew gathered in small clusters on the rainy airdock tarmac, stamping their feet to stay warm in the cold drizzle. Some of them held cigarettes cupped protectively in their hands, curled protectively around the burning tips so they wouldn’t be extinguished by the surprise downpour. Above them the massive airships glistened and cascaded more water down, as if each one was its own steel-and-canvas raincloud that had been tethered to the ground. The newest arrival, the Skylarker, rested a few slips down from a smaller craft designated Kestrel. Two ships among dozens, nothing to distinguish them from their neighbors.
Normally the crews were unflappable, having seen a large swath of the great big world during the War. They flew across Europe, to the furthest reaches of Asia and Africa, and to a man they claimed there was nothing that could make them shake in their skins. But today every man on the Athens dock was skittish. Out on the Saronic Gulf, the waves were dappled by sunshine that had escaped from behind the cloud hovering over the city.
It started with rumors about wet footprints on the concrete, impressions of a woman’s bare foot that crossed a dry space with no women - shod or not - anywhere near. And then when the drizzle began in earnest, some people said they saw the shape of a woman outlined in the droplets. She, or it, ran when anyone tried to get close to it. The last reported sighting was underneath the Skylarker, but no one was willing to risk career suicide by telling its captain that she may have a ghost aboard.
The Kestrel left a few minutes past seven-thirty in the morning. Some of the first people to report the ghostly footprints said they seemed to be coming from the Kestrel. A few minutes later the Skylarker requested permission to disembark. Departure was granted, and it lifted off with its ghost apparently still aboard.
The roughnecks on the dock said nothing nor did they react outwardly. But they all breathed a sigh of relief as the two ships - one that had lost a ghost and another that had gained one - drifted off over the Mediterranean. Whatever fate tied the two ships together, and whatever the true nature of the invisible woman might have been, it was no longer their problem.
#
Dorothy was jarred from her slumber to discover she had been transferred to a vehicle. She was once again fully-dressed, although she could feel that her gun was missing from her belt. They were on a road cut into the slope of a hill, with lush vegetation rising high overhead to her left with a soft decline on the right. In the distance she could see the rise of a neighboring hill covered with a blanket of greens and yellows. The sky was utterly clear save for a few clouds near the far horizon. She pushed her shoulder against the door to sit up and turned to see Milena seated b
eside her in the backseat of the car. The bald woman didn’t acknowledge Dorothy’s waking.
Orville was seated in front beside the driver, and he looked back at her with a smile. “Good morning, Lady Boone. We’re almost to our destination. Have you ever been to Crete before?”
“Once.” Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, and she worked up a bit of saliva before she spoke again. “What day is it?”
“The day after we captured you in Rome. You haven’t been unconscious the entire time. I simply asked Milena to remove some of your memories from the past twenty-four hours.”
That information didn’t put her at ease, but she had to assume that was his intention. “Where is Trafalgar?”
“She’s in the truck ahead of us. Once we arrive at the site, we’ll be requiring you to help us search for the stone. I know Milena left the memory of what will happen if you refuse or attempt to delay us in any way.”
Milena slowly turned her head to look at Dorothy. The memory of severed limbs and physical violations flashed in Dorothy’s mind, and she shuddered.
“I’ve been hired by people I don’t particularly like in the past, but I haven’t let that get in the way of doing my job. I do believe you may have the distinction of being the most despicable client I’ve ever had. So there is that.”
Orville laughed. “That’s the spirit. Do it for the love of discovery.” He faced forward again. “This has all turned out for the best, all things considered. We have archaeologists in our employ, people who I’m sure would have served us well here, but I cannot tell you how happy I am to have someone as revered as you on our side.”
