by August Li
“Robin?” Lila asked.
“Go back to the station,” he told her, pressing the crowbar into her hands. “Halcyon shouldn’t be too far from here.”
“Robin, no!”
“I’m dead either way,” he said as he held his wrists out for the guards to shackle. “At least let it mean something. Get away and start a new life.”
“Oh, Robin, I’ve killed you,” the girl wailed.
“You haven’t. I brought it on myself. I don’t have time to explain, but all of this is my fault. I was a fool.”
Her sobs grew softer behind him as the soldiers grabbed his elbows and dragged him back toward the train.
Chapter 10
ROBIN sat on a velvet bench in Bunge’s small, personal car, and Bunge sat across from him. They’d bound not only Robin’s hands but his ankles as well. The old iron scraped and bit his flesh painfully.
Looking down at the tethers, Robin’s lip curled and he said, “You like your boys tied up, aye, Bunge? Because no one would willingly want anything to do with your ugly, old, fat arse.”
Bunge chuckled mirthlessly. “It was you, wasn’t it? You broke into my home and stole my Snowdrop.”
“I rescued him, you sick fuck!” Robin shouted, straining against his bonds as memories of the horrible machines in the secret room returned to his mind.
“I suppose I can see why you’d want to. He was, after all, a most delectable piece of ass. He learned to beg so prettily, and his cries were even lovelier when I hurt him. Ah, it was like music to hear him moan and plead. You can’t even imagine the things I did to that creature.”
Enraged, Robin leapt up and rushed the other man, butting his shoulder into Bunge’s swollen cheek, wanting nothing but to hurt him, make him pay. In an instant two guards hurried into the car, pulled him off and held him down against the opposite seat.
“Should we stay, sir?” one of them, asked.
“No need,” Bunge replied. “Our boy just became a little overzealous. He’s helpless, after all.”
“Sir,” they said as they departed.
“I like that passion in you,” Bunge told Robin. “I’ll like breaking you of it. I’m quite interested in behavioral experiments, you see. Clockwork and steam power are only part of the scientific wonders of our age. Equally interesting is the study of the human mind and its conditioning. You robbed me of a great discovery when you stole my Snowdrop. I’d almost succeeded in bending him to my will. Now I’ll never know how much it takes to batter down the fey psyche. At least not until I acquire another creature to study.”
“You son of a bitch,” Robin growled.
“It will be interesting to chronicle the difference between fey and human training, though,” Bunge continued, undaunted. “And best of all, I can sell my findings after I’ve had my fun. And I assure you, I will have my fun.” He stood and approached Robin until his erection was only a few inches from Robin’s face. He grabbed Robin’s hair and yanked his head back. “Don’t you look primal, with those leaves in your hair and the mud and blood streaked across your chest? Running barefoot through the fields. And those unusual eyes! You don’t have some fey in you, by any chance? Was your mother one of those filthy whores who coupled with the cursed things?”
“I’ve had some fey in me,” Robin spat, turning away from Bunge’s squat little penis. “Too bad you’ll never know how wonderful it can be when they’re willing.”
Bunge smacked him with the back of his hand. Robin’s lips swelled and stung, but Bunge’s reaction gratified him, so he pressed his advantage. “Too bad you’re so damn hideous. You can’t imagine how it feels to be lusted after. Snowdrop wanted me so bad, he almost tore me apart. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when he touched me. I remember his touch like it was yesterday. He was amazing! I don’t reckon that’s how it feels to plough your fat, fucking wife. And put your pitiful, little cock in my face again and I’ll bite it off.”
“You’ll be begging me to let you suck my cock, boy,” Bunge said as he stepped away from Robin.
“I’ll die first.”
“Snowdrop said the same thing, at first. Hmm. What will I call you? How about Sunflower?”
“Fuck off.” Either Robin was much mistaken, or the train had slowed considerably. They’d just stopped to refuel, and Halcyon remained several hours away. They couldn’t have traveled much more than a few miles since he’d been captured. Looking at Bunge, Robin saw that he noted their loss of momentum as well. He looked from side to side while he tried to mask his confusion. Soon the door opened, and a soldier entered the private compartment.
“What’s going on, man?” Bunge spat. “Why have we slowed down?”
“You’re not going to believe it, sir.”
“Spit it out.”
“Snow, sir. A blizzard. It’s getting so heavy that we can hardly plough through. The tracks are covered, and it’s still coming hard.”
“It’s the middle of bleeding July,” Bunge yelled, getting to his feet.
“Aye, sir. That’s why the engine don’t have her plough fixed on her front. Engineer says we can’t go much further.”
“Ridiculous. Let me see.” Bunge grasped Robin’s hair and dragged him along toward the locomotive. They had to navigate the narrow, grated catwalk that ran alongside the freight cars carrying the coal and water tanks. With his arms and legs tied and Bunge wrenching his head back, Robin worried he’d topple off. Luckily the train only inched along. Robin still feared falling beneath the four-foot wheels. They’d crush him even moving slowly. Fat flakes lodged in Robin’s lashes and melted against his cheek as Bunge yanked his curls and angled his face toward the clouded sky.
Robin couldn’t believe what he saw out the row of windows along the side of the conductor’s compartment: three or more feet of snow, with more falling so thickly from the sky that it formed a white wall between the train and the early morning light. He couldn’t see anything between the swiftly falling flecks. In the ten minutes he and Bunge stood watching, another six inches accumulated.
“I’m dead stuck, sir,” said the little red-headed man who drove the train.
“Unacceptable!” Bunge howled.
“Nothing I can do,” the conductor retorted. Snow encased the train, reaching to the windows in a matter of moments. Inch after inch built up, until it obscured all of the glass.
“Get the men out there and shoveling,” Bunge barked.
“Ain’t gonna do no good, sir,” the conductor said. “She’s coming down too fast for us to keep up.”
“It’s the middle of the fucking summer,” Bunge roared. “Somebody tell me what in the fucking hell is going on, and tell me now!”
“I’ll tell you,” said a calm, slightly amused voice.
Robin wrenched his head free of Bunge’s grasp to see Snowdrop standing near the engineer’s seat in a beautiful suit of lavender sateen. Both his hair and the fabric shimmered with crystals of frozen precipitation.
“Snow!” Robin exclaimed, overjoyed.
“You,” Bunge snarled.
“Me,” the faerie said. “I have decided, little man, that you will take nothing else from me.”
“Is that so?” Bunge squared his shoulders, straightened to his full height, and smoothed his coat. “On your knees, Snowdrop!”
The faerie’s head bowed, and he presented his wrists.
“No,” Robin said. “He can’t command you anymore.”
“I said on your knees. Did I fucking stutter, you damnable piece of filth?”
Snow’s chin dropped to his chest as he backed away. Robin finally understood the extent of the damage done to his mind. Though he commanded the forces of nature, Snowdrop sank down in the corner and sat on his heels. He trembled so hard that chunks of melting snow splattered the metal floor around him.
“See that, boy?” Bunge asked, wrenching Robin’s head back so their cheeks pressed together. His spittle struck Robin’s face, and Robin gagged. “That is true power. He’ll do anything I
say, and I didn’t need magic to accomplish it. Just good, old-fashioned pain.”
Without thinking, Robin brought his heel up behind him and drove it into Bunge’s groin. The other man screamed and sputtered, freeing Robin in an attempt to cradle his wounded goods. Robin spun around, held his bound fists tightly together, and swung them into the side of Bunge’s head, knocking Bunge to his side on the floor of the car. The conductor turned in his chair and grinned.
As quickly as his tethered feet would let him go, Robin went to Snowdrop and knelt in front of him. “Look at me, Snow,” he pleaded. The faerie raised his head. “Please, get us out of here. Get these things off my hands.” He held out his manacled wrists. “Use your magic.”
“Yes,” the faerie said, lifting a shaking hand. He pointed to Robin’s restraints, and they dissolved to rust and fell away. Robin also felt the weight and pressure disappear from his ankles. Taking Snow’s hands, Robin helped him to stand.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Just as the faerie nodded and started to come back to himself, Bunge hauled his bulk off the floor. Four of his guards, their rifles at the ready, hurried into the car amidst a gust of snow. The sight of his former master’s recovery crippled Snowdrop. He broke away from Robin and knelt down, his palms against the floor and his forehead on his knees. Standing in front of him to shield him, Robin said, “Snow. He can’t hurt you now. He can’t take away your magic. Make him pay for what he’s done. Show him that you’re stronger.”
“Robin, I—”
“How dare you speak, creature,” Bunge snarled. “I see it’s been too long since you’ve felt the bit in your mouth.”
“Leave him alone, you son of a whore,” Robin spat, opening his arms to protect Snowdrop. The guards pressed the butts of their guns to their shoulders and pulled the levers, their fingers waiting on the triggers. Bunge held up a hand to halt them.
“I don’t want either of them killed,” he said calmly. “Shoot their arms and legs if absolutely necessary. All of you should have the special bullets I gave you if the faerie misbehaves, though I don’t think that will happen.” Then, addressing Robin, Bunge said, “Kneel.”
Robin spat in his face.
Bunge reached into his coat pocket and brought out a thick, metal wand. He flicked his wrist, and it unfurled to three time its length. He struck Robin’s kneecap, not shattering it but almost certainly cracking it. Robin screamed and pitched forward but remained defiantly on his feet. Through his teary eyes, he noticed how uncomfortable the soldiers seemed with the situation, curling their lips and looking away. One of them even said, “Sir, he’s a human man. One of us. Her Majesty’s subject—”
Robin turned to the brave man and said, “It’s fine to abuse a faerie but not a human? None of this is right, and you men should put this sick bastard down.”
“Inspiring speech,” Bunge mocked. “But you’ll find that these men are much more interested in the gold I put in their pockets than philosophy. Now, you’ll get on your knees, or I’ll break your other leg. It matters very little to me either way.”
“Snow,” Robin whispered. The faerie could save him, though the fact that Snowdrop had cited his own slight by Bunge rather than Robin’s rescue as the reason for his appearance wasn’t lost on the young thief. It was something to puzzle over later, though. If Snow got them out of this mess, Robin didn’t care about his motives. He could barely stand, and the pain from his swelling knee traveled up his leg, making him dizzy and sick to his stomach.
“He won’t save you, either,” Bunge continued. “He won’t do anything unless I order him to do it. I’ve trained him to obey me, just like a dog. I’ll do the same to you. Before long you won’t even consider resisting me. I’ll say the word, and you’ll react without a second thought. I’m publishing a book on the subject, you know. One day I’ll be able to offer obedient, fey companions for sale.”
“You’re off your bleeding rocker!” Robin yelled. “What you’re talking about is slavery! People won’t abide this.”
“I’m afraid your knowledge of people is idealistic and wrong.”
“I don’t believe that,” Robin said, his chin held high.
Bunge chuckled. “Even after the actions of you dear friend, the whore? I have the knowledge to defeat, contain, and capture these creatures. I have the knowledge to bend them to my will. Do you honestly think anyone will object, after the nuisance they’ve been?”
Robin hung his head. He’d never imagined Lila would betray him. Maybe he held his fellow Anglicans in too high of esteem after all.
“You’re learning already,” Bunge said. “Now get on your knees. Say one more word and I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”
“Sir, I must protest!” said the guard who’d spoken out before. “You can’t expect him to kneel on a broken knee! He’s a human being, for the love of God.”
“You’re dismissed!” Bunge roared. “Get the hell out of here.” The man and his patrol partner exited the car. No fresh snow blew in when they opened the door.
Robin dropped down, sobbing at the pain as he rested his weight on his injured kneecap. He shifted to let his other leg support him, but it was still excruciating. He swallowed the bile he felt rising in his throat as not to give Bunge the added satisfaction.
“Now, Snowdrop, do something about this mess you’ve made. I’m quite eager to get the two of you home.”
“Don’t do it, Snow! He can’t make you! Don’t let him take you back to that awful place. Or me.”
A conflicted, segmented breath escaped the faerie, raising the pores on Robin’s bare back as he recalled that sound under much more pleasant circumstances. He decided that no matter what or how, he wasn’t letting Bunge reclaim this faerie. Maybe no one else would see Bunge’s actions as wrong, but Robin did. Knowing and doing nothing equaled cowardice, and Robin might have been a thief, a cheat, a slattern, and occasionally a whore, but he’d never been a coward. He chuckled at the irony of his moral superiority over Bunge, because no one else would ever see it in that light. “You’ll not have him back, you filthy, fat prick,” Robin said, looking up into Bunge’s flushed, swollen face. Purplish bruises spread over his cheek and eye socket where Robin had struck him.
“I already have him back,” Bunge said. “I’ve always had him, even when he was loose. Do you think he ever belonged to you?”
“Of course not! We were—” Robin considered carefully how to label their acquaintance. “We were friends. Tell him, Snow! Tell him we were friends!”
“Speak one word and I’ll make you sorry, creature.”
“Tell him, Snow!”
The faerie laughed softly as he lifted his head. “I think we are more than friends, Robin.”
“Ha! He doesn’t have to listen to you, and he knows it!”
“Sir,” said one of the two remaining guards. “Sir, this is no good! I thought you had that ruddy thing under control.”
“I do!” Bunge growled. He stalked toward Snowdrop, his metal rod lifted.
Pushing through a haze of pain and vertigo, Robin struggled to his feet. “You’re not touching him. Not in any way. Not ever again.”
With an inarticulate roar, the pudgy little man swung his club. Robin raised his arm in time to shield his face, but he felt the bone in his forearm explode in agony, likely broken even worse than his knee. With his other hand, he punched Bunge in the ribs as hard as he could. Before the other man could even double over, one of his guards shot Robin in the shoulder. The bullet tore across his flesh, taking a chunk of it along, before lodging in the window among a web of cracks. The other man fired, and Robin felt his bullet imbed in the side of his thigh. Pain beyond anything he’d ever imagined ripped through his body, and he collapsed. Sparkly dark flanked his vision. Through the fog, Robin saw Bunge standing over him, lifting his stick to strike again.
“What. Kind of man,” Robin choked, almost retching, “beats someone. Defenseless. On the ground? Spineless son of bitch.” He cl
osed his eyes and braced himself for the blow, but it never landed. He heard the whistle of wind swirling around and around the inside of the compartment. It ruffled his hair and cooled his sweaty, bleeding skin. Chilly, wet droplets showered the side of his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw the back of Snow’s light purple pants in front of him. The little storm danced in a funnel shape along the walls of the car, engraving them with delicate, icy designs. Between Snow’s legs, Robin watched Bunge tripping over his feet as he attempted to back away. Despite the anguish it caused him to move at all, Robin laughed, lifted his head a few inches and said, “Haha! Fuck you! What now?”
Snowflakes accumulated on the floor of the car. Ice formed around Bunge’s expensive shoes. Before long it covered them in a thick, transparent sheath. The portly little man struggled to lift his chubby legs, only to find them cemented to the sheet metal. Bluish-white frost spread slowly up his trousers, freezing the fabric stiff.
Snowdrop giggled like a wind chime and said, “You hurt Robin. That’s unacceptable, I’m afraid. I’m going to have to hurt you, Maxwell. A great deal, and slowly.” He drew out the last word with sensual relish, enjoying the feel of it on his tongue.
“Damned creature,” Bunge cursed. “How dare you call me by my name? You call me Master! How dare you rise off your knees and look at my face? I’ll whip you raw!”
“Believe me. I take no pleasure in looking at your face.” His voice wavered slightly. Robin hoped he alone had the familiarity with the fey to notice. In spite of his defiance, Snow was still afraid, and his resolve weakened by the minute as he fought against his conditioning. If he slipped again, Bunge wouldn’t hesitate.
Robin took a deep breath and willed his arm to move in spite of the wound to his shoulder. It had scarcely healed from being injured when he’d first fled Enline Station. He winced as he gripped the leg of Snowdrop’s trouser. The faerie looked down at him with a worried frown. “Snow,” Robin said, his voice as soft and rasping as wind through dried grass, a breeze drifting through dying things. “I’m losing blood. Hurry. Please.”
