Makara decided she would need to refer to him as father. The most difficult part would be coaxing her to agree. Though it irritated him, he realized he may have to bargain with the child. Perhaps they could come to an understanding. But before that could happen they would need to communicate.
Since she was too young to know how to read and write he would have to teach her to understand signs. Makara didn’t think it would be difficult, since he had managed to teach them to some of his dumbest hunters. The memory of their many mistakes made him chuckle.
During his surveillance of her group he learned the child spoke some AEssyrian words and those of another unfamiliar language. He guessed it for an Earth language, though he couldn’t be sure. Even when he could speak he had only known AEssyrian and Kirillian. Regardless he had already determined Missy was at least above average intelligence. Maybe he could teach her some basic survival skills so she could be more of an asset. It would sure as hell make their trek go much faster.
Chapter 19
The past two days had been spent polishing Dzabol’s armor, cleaning his tent, packing and unpacking his hyperia, stripping meat off carcasses and cleaning utensils for the cooks. It wasn’t work common to a lieutenant in the Imperial Army but not unheard of either. Gypsy interpreted it as a hazing. For reasons she didn’t understand, other than her being female, Dzabol hated her.
In the army’s strict hierarchical system, males gained psychological advantage over each other by engaging in tests of dominance. A subordinate male would test his superior by doing something independent and seeing what the result was. If the superior didn’t reassert his dominance with a beating or a crappy, humiliating job, the subordinate would up the ante on the next round. This process would continue until either the dominant male finally killed his inferior or the subordinate would openly challenge him. A fight would ensue and the victor now became dominant. It did not guarantee a rise in rank, but it could, depending on who was beaten and the competence of the victor.
It was sort of like Rakon. The extremely hostile Razorback could probably beat most soldiers to death with no weapon but his hands. But as it stood, his trip wire temper and lack of social skills would make him a terrible officer so he would never be considered. Like her brother, he had no desire to advance his rank. Rakon and Desmond had a lot in common, only her brother wasn’t a frothing asshole like the primeval Razorback. She knew her brother could be an exceptional leader if he wanted it.
In Gypsy’s case, none of the males could agree on how to treat her. Because of her gender, she was automatically a threat to some, even ones who could easily beat her in combat. Others saw her as any other soldier whose only threat was competition for rank. Dzabol, because he objected to her presence in the military, fell into the first category. So until he felt secure in her subordination, the initiation would continue.
Ever since that first day, she would enter his tent just after the suns had set to see if her humiliation was at an end for the day or if there was something else this self-righteous prick wanted. Tonight was no different. Kneeling before him on the frayed edge of his ratty, skin rug she bowed her head.
“Is there anything else, commander?”
Dzabol was sitting in the center drinking his favorite glass of drugged piss for the day. By the Gods, how she hated that crap.
When he finished his standard few moments of studying her, he smiled. “That is all for today, Lieutenant. Why don’t you join me for a drink?”
Here we go again. This daily script bored the hell out of her but Commander Fuckhead seemed to relish their time together. Gypsy tilted her head up slightly but remained kneeling. He had already thumped her once, re-splitting her lower lip for unintentionally allowing her head to be higher than his.
“Is this a request or an order?”
The commander thoughtfully swirled the liquid in his glass. Then he stared straight at her. “Tonight it is a request.”
“Then I respectfully decline, sir,” she said, hastily lowering her head further to hide the shock that probably just plastered itself on his face.
Now what? Every night he forced her to drink and when she was limp and woozy he’d beat her for a time. He usually pounded her with his fists but she suspected he used an axe handle once. Only the drink’s numbing effects disconnected her enough to barely feel it. Maybe he drugged her so she couldn’t scream. The bruises, lacerations and split lips were a reminder every morning not just to her, but to anyone who wanted to cross the commander.
It wasn’t the taste of the vile brew or the beating that bothered her. It was the lasting lethargy and confusion. Sometimes Gypsy wasn’t sure if it was from the drink or the thrashing. Being a scrappy kid she’d been smacked around plenty of times in her life and none of them had left her head so screwed up. The struggle to concentrate would last all night and into the next day. Just about the time it started to fade, he made her drink more.
Unsure of where this new passive tactic was leading she stayed perfectly still.
“Sit,” he said gesturing to the rug. “Some of the men are complaining about my treatment of you. They say that if I am going to allow you to serve that you should do so in a capacity befitting your rank. What do you think?”
“I am a soldier, sir. I serve at your pleasure and the pleasure of the crown. The decision is yours alone,” she responded carefully as she sat back on her butt. Though she was getting better at these verbal contests, she was so very tired and didn’t want to play this game tonight.
Gypsy could confidently say she hated Dzabol as much, if not more, than he hated her. He was lazy and spouted snide sexist jokes that weren’t the least bit funny. She was no prude. A perverted joke could make her laugh just as much as any male, but some of his comments were genuinely mean. The worst thing he did was take his men for granted and would pit his favorites against one another. There wasn’t anything redeeming about him, and as a soldier and officer, being in his presence sickened her. But all she could do was sit and listen to him until dismissed.
“This is going to sound strange but I don’t know how to feel about you,” he said as he ran his gaze over her body. It’s time for his sanctimonious ramblings. Kill me now. “Part of me admires your strength, part of me wants you as my lover, and yet the strongest part of me despises you and all you represent.”
“I don’t understand, sir. The only difference between me and the other soldiers is my sex and my size.”
Dzabol’s arrogant stare dissected her like she was a strange and complicated riddle. “Stay the night with me.”
“No commander. That is outside the scope of my duty, sir. Is this something that you require of all of your officers?" she said burying a disgusted smirk.
Rage crossed his features and he back-handed her. It was well worth it. She absorbed the blow as it knocked her head to one side. But thankfully she didn’t fall. He’d have to hit a hell of a lot harder than that to bring her down. She resisted the urge to goad him further and decided on another tactic.
“I am married. Doesn’t that matter to your high moral standard?"
He coughed out a laugh. “As I recall, it didn’t hinder your relations with Lieutenant Falken.”
Gypsy didn’t respond. There was nothing to be gained by talking about her private life.
A chuckle tumbled from his throat. “You don’t need to worry. I wouldn’t have you anyway.”
Fucking liar. “May I be dismissed, sir?” she asked with her head bowed.
He made her wait until he finished his drink. “Yes, but you’re still on steward duty until further notice.”
Gypsy nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you and good night.”
Chapter 20
Though it had been close to thirty years since Harlan had been to Titan’s castle, it hadn’t been long enough. An eternity wouldn’t have been long enough. The castle was as she remembered, perched on a landmass surrounded by jagged cliffs that dropped into a dark, gaping crater. The only mortal access was by a land
bridge barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. It was the perfect home for a man as emotionally distant and detached as Titan Theron.
After a brief discussion she and Dragon decided that it was too risky to take their hyperia across, so they were going to have to walk. The prospect did not fill her with joy but the Deadlands were too vast to exit on foot. They needed to minimize the risk of Titan killing their mounts just for spite. Dragon said Titan would be too preoccupied to do something like that but he agreed with her nevertheless.
The bridge stretched out before them like a long corridor to hell. Harlan wished she was anywhere but here, but she wanted Gavin back. After all the misery Titan had caused their family, she’d be damned if she was going to allow him to claim Gavin as another twisted marker for his awful cemetery.
A cold wind blew the hair back from her face. It felt like the castle was trying to recall her from memory. Standing next to her, Dragon looked transformed. Though he had made great strides in his health and social skills before everything went to shit, he was very different now. The homicidal madman who chattered his teeth and walked in a hunch now stood straight and tall, glowing with confidence. Everything about him had changed. She couldn’t help staring at him the whole ride over, amazed by his renovation. To be imprisoned and manipulated by your own father, the very person who is supposed to love and protect you caused irreparable emotional damage. No one could have convinced Harlan that Dragon would be, well...normal. Even their discussions on the long ride to the castle were normal. But whenever he smiled there was a ghost of his old, demonic grimace costumed within.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
Dragon drove a metal O-ring spike into the dry ground and secured their reins through the loop. He stood and dusted his hands off on his pant legs. “Titan is waiting for me to come and wake Gavin. If Titan gets to him first, he’ll poison his mind with a spell and manipulate him into attacking me. Your presence and strength are crucial. Titan won’t be expecting you. You being here will preoccupy the other.”
“What exactly do you mean by preoccupy the other? You have me a little worried.”
“Let’s just say we have more to worry about than just Titan and Gavin.”
Harlan shuddered. “I don’t want any details. What should I do when Gavin wakes?”
“Calm him. You must gain control of his emotions. I love you, Harlan, and I would never hurt you, but I am not going to let him cut me down. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I do.” And she really did. If Gavin attacked Dragon, he would defend himself even if it meant killing his own brother. Harlan understood this all rested on her.
“What if Titan tries to stop us?”
“Ignore the vicious threats and illusions. Focus on getting you and Gavin out of there as quickly as possible. You are under my protection. Remember, Gavin will be angry and confused. Contain and keep him from going after me or Titan. That will only waste precious time.”
“What about you?”
“I have to find something. If Titan figures out what I’m after, he will stop at nothing to keep me from it. Leave quickly; don’t wait for me. If you linger, Titan will use you against me.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?" she questioned.
Dragon flashed a private smile. “This has been a long time coming. I’ll be fine.”
The walk across the land bridge felt like hours, though she was sure it was only fifteen minutes or so. The castle doors were unlocked but not standing open in welcome as she had heard they usually were. Harlan followed closely as Dragon pushed through into the entry hall. Off to the right there was a grand foyer with an ebony staircase going up, narrowing at the apex. The black throne at the top was vacant. Ghostly voices whispered to them from the shadows. Harlan folded her arms, ignoring their warm seductive invitations. The air drew frosty breaths from her.
It was a little easier to tolerate all this nonsense while Dragon was close. He didn’t seem bothered by it. And why should he? He had lived here most of his life, even if it was as a captive statue. Harlan had once spent a week here and that was enough. By the end she was ready to jump from the battlements.
A shadow moved in her peripheral vision and she turned to see Titan emerge from a dark corner. He advanced only enough for his outline to be visible.
“Ah, my son, you have returned home and you’ve brought company. Someone to occupy your time?”
“We have come to collect Gavin, nothing more, and then we will be gone,” Dragon replied.
Titan shot Harlan a nasty look. “Won’t having your husband and lover in the same room make your life somewhat complicated?”
Harlan was about to respond but Dragon replied in her place. “Is that the lie you intend to feed Gavin?”
Titan threw his head back and laughed. It echoed off the walls with evil glee. “It doesn’t matter. I need not say a word. Look how cozy the two of you are. The sexual chemistry between you is magical. Gavin will see that look in your eyes, Dragon. He will know you want to fuck her and he will kill you for it. Besides you do want to fuck her very much. Don’t you?”
Dragon let the words dissipate into the silence that built between them. His eyes narrowed in malevolence and he said, “Tell me about my mother?”
An indefinable emotion swept across Titan’s face. Whatever it was, there was no denying Dragon had hit a nerve.
“Your mother’s identity is irrelevant.”
Like an old horror film a woman screamed from somewhere in the castle. It was a sorrowful, demented shriek that sent blades of ice up Harlan’s spine.
“Share with me your desire to fuck your brother’s wife and maybe I’ll give something up,” Titan snarled. He looked to be visibly shaken by the noise.
Dragon, who still held her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was a warm, protective gesture that made her feel a little better.
“Harlan is an intelligent, beautiful woman; of course I want her, lots of men do. But she only loves and wants Gavin. If she won’t fuck me free of constraint or guilt, then I don’t want her.”
Titan took a few threatening steps forward. Sunlight from the stained glass windows above illuminated his appearance. It was awash in furious hate. Placing one hand delicately over his chest he released a mocking sigh.
“Please don’t say anymore. Your staunch nobility is making my heart swell with pride.”
Dragon laughed, it was cruel and chilling. “Speak to me of my mother.”
An erotic image of she and Dragon coupling invaded Harlan’s thoughts, then left just as quickly. Usually Titan’s mind muggings went on for hours. Dragon was a lot more powerful than she had realized.
Dragon turned away from his father and headed for a side door.
Harlan heard a strange shuffling sound. Moving up close behind Dragon the muted sound drew closer. A woman slipped out of the darkness before them. Her long auburn hair hung in matted locks around her dirt smudged face. The smell of the grave clung to her tattered, emerald green dress.
Pulling each step, she approached. Dragon didn’t move; he just watched her with a mixture of calm interest and pity. Coming to a stop before them, she lifted her dress up around her hips. Bunching the green, velvet layers in one fist she raked her fingers between her legs with her free hand.
“He fucked me right here!” Her fingers disappeared, scraping the flesh between her pale thighs. “Do you understand? He fucked me right here!” she screamed over and over again.
“I know, mother, and I am truly sorry. I am your son, the product of your violation,” Dragon said, pointing to Titan. "Your incestuous rapist is right over there.” Then in barely a whisper he said, “Go seek your revenge.”
The ghostly mad woman turned toward Titan and let out a bone-chilling shriek. Her eyes blazed with dazzling hate. She ran at the wizard with her hands curled into claws. Titan stumbled backward.
Harlan didn’t get to see what happened next because Dragon yanked her through a heavy met
al door to the outside. It slammed closed behind them, making her skull rattle. There they stood in the cemetery. This place is just as frightening as I remembered it. Even through her own fear, she could still hear Titan shouting something in a language she didn’t understand.
Moving through the gravestones and sculptures, they came to an area in back of the castle Harlan had never seen. They walked to the far rear corner of the graveyard and approached a detached stone building with wooden double doors. Both were banded with studded iron strips at the top and bottom. A heavy bolt was drawn across the doors with fresh chains wrapped around the handles and secured with a steel key lock.
Dragon turned to her. “Gavin is in here. Prepare yourself. This could go bad very quickly. I need your strength and resolve more than anything. He loves you, Harlan; use that to make him listen.” Then he turned to the door and said in that quiet voice, “Awaken brother.”
“Dragon!” Titan screeched, but his voice was faded by distance.
“What is she doing to him?” Harlan asked.
Dragon didn’t take his attention from the doors. “I don’t really know.”
Before she could ask a question there was a deafening bang on the door in front of them. The rancorous noise caused Harlan to cry out and jump back in fright. Then another loud bang accompanied by an even louder crack. The blows continued, their frenzy increasing as someone or something attacked the doors to get out.
The outer wood split and the tip of an axe blade gleamed in the sun through the broken seam. A snarling roar tore itself free from the small building. It was followed by a distorted torrent of curses, both in English and AEssyrian. Harlan recognized that voice. It was Gavin. But her husband’s voice sounded crazed and out of control. For one of the few times in her life, she was afraid of him. What if Titan had done something to him?
Devoured Innocence Page 12
