Kidnapped by the Gentleman

by Drake LaMarque

  He turned back to the door and I kicked my bound legs uselessly. “I don’t consent to being bathed by any of your bizarre cult,” I said, loudly. “I don’t consent to any of this!”

  Harrow ignored me and called the others in.

  “If I’m the chosen one like you keep on calling me, why do my desires not matter?” I asked. The Spanish sounding man hauled me to my feet.

  “Because you were chosen by us, to be the vessel and the centre of it all. But we could just as easily have chosen another.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, trying not to topple over, as my centre of gravity was all messed up. The Spanish man caught my arm with his hand and steadied me.

  “Will you cooperate if we untie your legs?” The pinched face man asked.

  “I couldn’t possibly speculate,” I said.

  “Giuseppe, Charles. Bathe him, apply the sacred oils and dress him for the ritual,” Harrow said. “I shall prepare the ritual in my own way, and we’ll be ready to go when the moon sets.”

  Chapter 24

  In which Cedric enjoys a bath

  The bathing wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared it might be. For one thing, they had to untie me to do it, so my shoulders got to relax and I was able to stand unaided.

  They’d brought me to what had to be the guest bedroom, which had a large porcelain tub set in the tiled antechamber. The water was steaming and pleasantly scented, and once I saw it I became utterly aware of how long it had been since I’d had a proper wash. As soon as the ropes were gone, I’d shed my clothes and jumped in without prompting, forgetting the circumstances in my need to wash the grime and sea salt off my skin.

  Once I was submerged in the water, I felt my every care only distantly, so soothing was the heat on every part of me. I leaned my head back on the edge of the tub and sighed.

  I heard someone clearing their throat and remembered a little of why I was there.

  How best to play this? They want a frightened hostage, or a chosen one, I suppose. Well, they know I’m not going to show them how frightened I am, so I might as well play up the Chosen One aspect and see if I can’t get some benefit before they do whatever awful thing the ritual entails.

  Maybe if I can get them running about on errands for me, I could see a way to escape?

  Unfortunately, they’d brought me upstairs, which did make the idea of escape a little more complicated, but it wasn’t like I didn’t have experience sneaking out of Manor houses.

  I cracked open one eye.

  “So, what should I be calling you two?” I asked, trying to sound like a bored prince, and not the confused captive.

  “We are but humble acolytes of the Unknowable Way,” Pinched Face said.

  “You must have names,” I prompted. “Go on, you can call me Cedric and I can call you…”

  “Giuseppe,” said the Spaniard. “And this is Charles.”

  “And how long have you been with the Unknowables?” I asked, picking up a bar of soap and making good work of scrubbing my feet.

  “All my life,” said Charles. “My father was Unknowable before me, and now I am lucky enough to be present as we part the stars.”

  I froze, remembering the stars in my dream, and what was behind them. It sounded as if Dante really had been right and they were about to try and summon some kind of ancient god from beyond, or behind, the stars.

  I slipped my feet back under the water and sat more upright, washing the rest of my body slowly. My witch’s charm swung and thudded dully on my chest. I hoped they hadn’t noticed, I was surprised they hadn’t taken it off me but perhaps they didn’t know what it was.

  “We ought to clean your back,” Giuseppe said, almost reverently. “The symbol, it ought to be distinct, as unclouded as possible.”

  I inhaled and sighed out my breath. “It’s fine how it is, thank you, kindly.”

  Giuseppe had moved closer, and was looking hopeful, smiling slightly. “I’d be happy to assist.”

  I stood up abruptly, the idea of this man touching my skin was abhorrent.

  “That will not be necessary. Neither of you should touch me any more than you already have, it might… sully the ritual.”

  “We shall need to touch you in order to anoint you,” Charles said.

  “Charles. Charlie. Give me the oil and I’ll take care of it.” I held my hand out, palm up. “But you’ll have to leave me alone to do it. I need some time to prepare for what’s about to happen, and I can’t have you two peering at me the entire time.”

  They exchanged looks, clearly fearful.

  “If we just waited right outside the door…”

  “There’s nowhere he could go.”

  “And we’d hear him moving about even if he tried something…”

  I was reminded of the two clowns I’d seen in a particularly farcical play back in London, once. I sighed, and tried to be patient as they discussed their plan. I rinsed the suds off my body and sunk under the water to rinse my hair, and they were still talking when I resurfaced.

  I picked up the linen towel they’d left for me and started to dry myself off.

  Finally, they agreed it could do no harm, Charles gave me the oil and they both retreated to the hallway, closing the door of the main room behind them.

  I stepped out of the tub and looked around the room. My old clothes had been removed, presumably one of them were holding them out in the hall, and the only garment I could see was a pale cotton robe. I didn’t like the look of that at all, but at least it would cover more than the towel. I slipped it on like a dressing gown, leaving it hanging open as apparently it had no belt. I made my way to the window and tried to get it open.

  It was stiff, and I really had to yank at it before it so much as budged.

  “When was the last time someone aired out this room?” I muttered, puffing out air as I strained against the stiff windowpane. Finally it slid up, but it did so with a horrible, grating screech.

  “What was that noise?”

  Damn it all, why did this have to be so difficult?

  I shoved it up further, and was halfway out when Charles and Giuseppe burst into the room. I was trying to slip out the window when they grabbed me by my back foot and hauled me inside again.

  “Though you had us fooled, didn’t you?” Charles said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me deeper into the room.

  “Oh get off!” I cried, and stamped my heel down on the arch of his foot.

  He cried out, and his grip on me loosened and I tried for the door, but Giuseppe was blocking the way.

  “Now, now, quiet down,” he said. “There’s nowhere you can go, the house is full of Unknowables, and we all want you for the ritual.”

  He grabbed me by the shoulders, and my stomach turned over. The sick feeling got worse as he turned me around, stripped the robe off, letting it fall to the floor. Charles went about the oiling process. Thankfully it wasn’t particularly extensive, just a few dabs of the stuff on my chest, shoulders and cheeks, and then they turned me around to smear some over the tattoo.

  To my abject horror, I felt a tightening of the skin over my back.

  “What is that?” I croaked. Giuseppe was holding my arms and facing me, and his face contorted with confusion.

  “It stirs,” Charles said. “Just as it should. You’re almost ready.”

  The sensation was bizarre, a tightening and releasing of my skin, moving quite without my input.

  My chest tightened and I found it hard to catch my breath. My knees threatened to give out and I found myself leaning on Giuseppe. “Please, I don’t want this,” I gasped.

  Giuseppe held me tight and Charles picked the robe back up. “Lift his arms,” he said.

  Giuseppe and Charles manipulated my body and slipped my arms through the robe. Some part of my mind noticed that I’d put it on backwards earlier.

  The robe opened in the rear, my back exposed to the air. Charles tied something around my waist, holding it closed and hiding
my buttocks. The front of it was like a seamless shirt, and was rather modest. It stuck unpleasantly to the oil on my chest.

  “Don’t want this, please. I’ll get you money,” I said, meeting Giuseppe’s eyes. “If you let me go, my father will pay you so much money, I promise.”

  Giuseppe smiled at me as if I was an imbecile. “I don’t care about money, Chosen one. I want to see what happens. I want to greet our God. I want to see the stars dance.”

  At his words I felt an odd twisting sensation on my back.

  Did the tattoo just respond to his words? Oh fuck, I’m so fucked. I’m going to die tonight.

  “Incredible,” Charles said.

  “We’re ready. Now, Chosen One, are you going to go along nicely with us or shall we bind your hands again?”

  I swallowed. I wasn’t at all sure I could stand unaided, let alone walk calmly down to the room where I was going to be executed or whatever they were going to do. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to crack a joke.

  “At least buy me dinner first.”

  “Tie his hands,” Giuseppe said. He pulled my arms to the front and Charles produced some rope from somewhere. Had he brought it from downstairs? Was it part of the furnishings of the room? My mind spun with possibilities, fixating on this instead of what was about to happen.

  The rope wound several times around my wrists and was knotted tightly.

  “And I’m taking this,” Giuseppe said, yanking the witch’s charm off my neck, tearing the ribbon.

  “Hey, no, that’s mine,” I said, trying uselessly to pull free of the ropes.

  “Don’t want outside magic interfering with the ritual.” Charles said.

  Then they frogmarched me downstairs.

  Chapter 25

  In which a ritual is held

  It was damned uncomfortable on the table.

  Giuseppe and Charles hadn’t been gentle at all with the whole getting me onto the table fiasco, and to my credit, I’d fought them like a tiger. Or at least, like a scrappy house cat who didn’t want to go on the table. They had overpowered me very easily after all, but I got in some good scratches before they stretched me out and tied my limbs so I could barely wriggle.

  There was no good place to hold my head and my cheek had started to ache.

  At least whatever had been happening on my back seemed to have stopped, although I didn’t think for a moment that was over.

  It was awful, feeling all helpless and exposed and everyone around who wanted something abhorrent. I still didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, but from what I could see from the odd angle I was on, all of them had wickedly sharp blades.

  Harrow approached, took up position near my head and gloated down at me. “Comfortable now are you?”

  “Fuck you, you pompous, delusional jackass,” I said, and I thought that was rather eloquent given the circumstances.

  He rubbed his hand through my hair and chuckled. “Your part is about to begin, Chosen one. If you don’t stay quiet, then I’ll happily gag you again.”

  I tried to spit at him, but the angle was all wrong and I ended up making the table a bit wetter. Aside from that I went quiet, but only because he’d taken all the rest of my freedom and I wanted at least my tongue to deliver a witty barb at the correct sort of time.

  Various people gathered around, I could hear the shuffling of their feet. After a pregnant pause, Harrow began to speak.

  I hadn’t been present for a lot of magic being worked, and I wasn't at all sure what to expect from it all. But as he spoke, and the others started to intone responses, I felt my attention waver. It was a little like being a few too many wines into a good party. My vision went blurry, and I blinked a few times.

  Then every atom in my being was focused on the skin of my back.

  The tightness I’d felt earlier was nothing compared to the sensation of my skin being pulled that hit me. I started to cry out, in surprise and pain. It felt as if there were needles in my skin, or fish hooks, drawing up towards the ceiling.

  I started to gain some volume, when someone, Harrow I assumed, fisted their hand in my hair, yanked my head back and shoved a hard wooden stick into my mouth like a horse’s bit.

  Some part of me was grateful, I could bite down on that and it relieved a little of the pain. I closed my eyes tight and breathed hard as the pain died off and I was washed with a feeling of numbness. Whatever had happened on my back had subsided to something like movement without the pain.

  Perhaps it’s someone with a paintbrush, making a landscape on my skin. Or perhaps it’s a seascape, with a beautiful ship on it?

  That thought made me tear up, although I wasn’t sure why.

  I faded in and out of a dreamlike state, aware of little except for the sounds of voices and an ongoing creeping sensation on my back.

  Chapter 26

  In which Captain Lucifer attempts a rescue

  Gabriel swore again.

  “These horses aren’t nearly fast enough,” he snapped.

  “It’s a complicated ritual,” Dante said. “We have time.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I almost fell off the horse again!” Marco called from behind them. Dante hissed beside him and leaned forward, urging his horse to run faster.

  The road the carriage had taken was at least relatively smooth. Hiring the horses had cost them precious time, as had instructing the crew on how to ride. Now, Gabriel felt every second ticking past as if it were the end of the world.

  What had they done to Cedric already?

  How could he have been so stupid as to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach? How had he let Cedric go at all?

  The road led to a large, English style manor house. The black carriage was outside, parked in the front. Gabriel smiled grimly.

  “There, we have you now.”

  Dante held up a hand and reined his horse in, the others all pulled their horses down to a walk. “It’s best if we can maintain the element of surprise,” Dante said. “We have no idea how many are inside.”

  Gabriel nodded his assent and led the crew to the garden on the side of the road and dismounted. The horses could graze while they retrieved Cedric from inside.

  Dante and a few of the rest of the men dismounted smartly, but Marco more or less fell off his horse.

  He walked up to Gabriel with a pained look on his face. “That hurt, and I didn’t like it. I’ll come back on someone else’s horse as an otter.”

  “Fine.” Gabriel drew a dagger. He eyed the house. “One group will go in the back through the servant’s entrance. I’ll use the front door. Dante?”

  “I’ll go high,” he said. Then he put his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and squeezed it. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a brief moment. “We’ll get him back.”

  “I might burn the house down,” Gabriel said, trying to control the anger threatening to overcome him. “If they have hurt him…”

  Dante nodded as if this were something he had expected. “Try to stay quiet as long as you can, Captain.”

  They started walking towards the house, sticking to the shadows of the garden, although it didn’t look like there was anyone keeping watch. Appearances could be deceiving, though.

  Marco took a half dozen men and skirted around the back of the house.

  Dante looked up at the wall and then started to scale it, finding finger and toe holds where Gabriel could see only smooth wall.

  “One of the benefits of being a vampire,” Gabriel murmured to himself. Then he signalled to Kaito and the remaining members of his crew and they approached the front door. Moving as silently as they could.

  The door was locked, so Gabriel gestured Kaito forward. “Pick it.”

  Kaito nodded, withdrew his lock picks from inside his jacket and got to work. It didn’t take long at all, and the door swung open silently.

  Gabriel led the way, moving slowly so as to not make a sound on the floorboards.

  His experience
in houses such as this one gave him a good understanding of the layout of the rooms, but that didn’t mean he knew where they had Cedric.

  He paused a few steps in and listened, tuning out the sounds of his crew behind him.

  There was movement in the room to his right. From the large double doors it looked to be a ballroom of some sort, the doors closed and unwelcoming.

  There was the slightest noise on the stairway. Gabriel looked up to see Dante descending, sword in hand. He shook his head, indicating that Cedric was not on the upper level.

  Shadows moved down the hallway and Marco appeared from the kitchens, the others behind him.

  Gabriel nodded at the double doors and lifted his fingers to his lips.

  Marco pointed to the wall near him, there was another set of doors there. Gabriel nodded and approached the door, holding his sword in guard position as he closed his hand over the door handle.

  Dante was beside him in a heartbeat, his hand on the other door handle.

  Their eyes met. Gabriel tipped his chin up and they threw the doors open.

  The room was rather dark inside. None of the lamps were lit, instead there were candles dotted here and there. Large candles, of the kind you might see in a church, as wide as Gabriel’s arm. The flickering light made the hooded figures seem even more ominous.

  Although, as a few of them turned to look at the interlopers, the faces looked largely ordinary under the hoods. They seemed to be chanting something, although Gabriel couldn’t make out the words.

  About a score of robed people stood in a loose ring around a heavy wooden table. On the table was the familiar form of Cedric, tied spread eagled on his front, wearing a curious robe that left his back bare. Gabriel froze as his eyes traveled over the sight.

  Because the tattoo seemed to be moving.

  And that was surely impossible.

  In the moment he hesitated, one of the cultists cried out. Her voice pierced the room. “They’re trying to stop the ritual! Kill them!”