Chained (Brides of the Kindred) (3 page)

He did as he was told, wading over to the
hopelessly stained satin pillow and the blinking Hurkon collar which was half
buried in the sludge.

“Ugh.” Maggie finally managed to stand up
but by now she was completely covered from head to toe in cold, brownish muck.
“This is awful. Maybe I should go back to my ship and change.”

“But if you do, we’ll be even
later.”
The
slave had rescued the collar and it was resting on the pillow, which he had
tried to wipe clean without success.

“All right,” Maggie said. But I’m hardly
fit to be seen like this.” She gestured to herself.

“True. True. And if my lady sees you this
way, she’ll know I failed. I will be punished for certain!” The slave was
nearly dithering with fright.

Maggie took a deep breath. “Look, don’t
worry—I’ll tell her it was all my fault. This kind of thing is
always
happening
to me. I’m not exactly as graceful as a ballerina.”

“I do not know what a
ballhyena
is, my lady,” the slave said humbly. “But you need not
take the blame—the fault is clearly mine.”

“No, no,” Maggie protested. “Seriously,
I’m an accident waiting to happen. That’s what my fiancé, Donald, always says.”

“All the same, if you wish to go change, I
cannot stop you. Though we will be
very
late.” The slave still looked
fearful.

Maggie was about to insist that she needed
to go take a shower and put on some new clothes (although she didn’t have
anything else even remotely dressy in her kit) when she had an idea. Surely if
she showed up in this state, Lady Pope’nose wouldn’t make her stay for dinner
or spend the night. She’d probably just want to do the deal and let Maggie go.

“Let’s just go see your mistress,” she
said, nodding to the slave. “Do you have the collar?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” He indicated the mud
smeared satin pillow and the collar, which was also quite muddy.

“Good, well then, let’s just go.” Maggie
looked at the rickety track over the vast chasm and shivered. “Before I lose my
nerve.”

Chapter Two

“My dear Lady Jor’don, whatever
happened
to you?”

Lady Pope’nose was a tall, severely thin
woman with sharp aristocratic features and strands of gold woven into her jet
black hair. She looked extremely elegant in her low cut black velvet gown but
there was a look of cruelty in her face—an expression that said she was just
waiting to be offended. Maggie reminded herself to be careful around her.

“I’m afraid I fell in the mud.” She
gestured to herself ruefully. She had scraped as much of the rich brown muck off
as she could but her ripped dress was still sodden and her skin was very dirty.
“I’m, uh, sorry about the prints on your floor.” She nodded at the muddy
footprints she’d left on the beautiful multicolored flagstones in the entryway.
Lady Pope’nose lived in a very big building which she apparently owned part
of—Maggie wasn’t sure what her business was but clearly she wasn’t hurting for
money.

“Think nothing of it.” Lady Pope’nose
gestured dismissively. “I’ll have a slave clean it up. But may I ask
how
exactly
this happened? Did your body slave drop you? If so, may I recommend severe
punishment at once. A clumsy slave is
not
to be tolerated.”

“I
dropped her, my lady.” The skinny slave who was also
covered in mud knelt abjectly at his mistress’s feet. “Forgive me but I had to
carry the little Mistress as her own body slave is dead and I was not strong
enough for the task. I…I failed,” he ended in a quavering voice.

“What?”
Lady Pope’nose’s face went scarlet and two little white
dents appeared on either side of her long, narrow nose. “Do you mean to tell me
you
dropped
my honored guest in the
mud?
You clumsy oaf! You
fool!”

“Forgive me, my lady!” the slave cried and
knocked his head against the floor at her feet, which left a large, chocolate
brown stain. “Forgive me! Oh, please,
forgive me.”

“I cannot.” Lady Pope’nose crossed her
arms over her narrow chest. “For this is an unforgivable offense. You must be
punished, Jonas, and severely at that.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Maggie said,
stepping between Lady Pope’nose and the cowering slave. “Please don’t hurt
him—this is my fault, really it is. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t deal with
the extra cupcakes I’ve been eating lately and I just slipped off his back,
that’s all. I’m not hurt, not even bruised—the mud cushioned my fall.”

“It certainly appears that way.” Lady
Pope’nose looked her up and down with an expression of distaste. “But Jonas
should not have
let
you slip off in the first place.”

“He did everything he could to try and
stop me,” Maggie said. “Besides, the important thing is that I’m here with the
collar you wanted and everything is all right.”

Lady Pope’nose began to look slightly
mollified.

“Very well, let me see the Hurkon collar.
I have been waiting ages to get it.”

“Of course.” Maggie went to retrieve the
muddy satin cushion, feeling relieved that she’d diverted the angry woman’s
attention to something other than the cringing slave. Poor guy, no wonder he
was so afraid of her! “Here you go,” she said, handing the collar carefully
over to Lady Pope’nose. “It’s a little muddy but once you clean it up, I’m sure
it will perform just fine.” She
hoped,
anyway. The lights on the collar
still seemed to be blinking so presumably it was still operational.

“Yes, it still appears to be in working
order,” Lady Pope’nose said at last, after a lengthy inspection.

Maggie felt a rush of relief. “Wonderful!
Well, then, if you’re satisfied then I’ll just take the documents you promised
and—”

“Where’s the remote?” Lady Pope’nose
turned to look at her.

“The, uh…isn’t it there?” Maggie’s relief
turned to worry as she peered at the muddy satin cushion which held only the
collar. “I mean I thought…”

“Forgive me!” Jonas the slave began
knocking his head against the multicolored flagstones again. “I must have left
it when I retrieved the collar!”

Lady Pope’nose’s face got red again.

“Do you mean to tell me that the only
means of controlling the very rare and delicate collar I ordered is currently
resting in the ooze outside the chasm?” she demanded of her slave. “Are you
saying you just
left
it there?”

“Forgive me, my lady!”

“Well, go and get it.
At once!”
Lady
Pope’nose’s voice was shrill with fury. “And you can expect a punishment when
you return, Jonas. A
severe
one.”

“Yes, my lady,” the slave whimpered. “To
hear is to obey.”

He scuttled off leaving Maggie alone with
the very angry Lady Pope’nose.

“I’m really sorry,” she began. “I should
have noticed that the remote wasn’t there but my glasses are kind of smeared
which makes it hard to see—”

“My dear child,
no
one is blaming
you.” Lady Pope’nose fluttered her long white hands expressively. “It is the
slave’s fault
entirely
. You must forgive me for sending him—Jonas has
always been trustworthy before. I thought he was dependable.” She shook her
head. “I see now that I was wrong.”

“He was actually very nice on the way
here,” Maggie offered, hoping to spare the slave his punishment. “He—”

“Never mind about Jonas—he’ll be dealt
with appropriately, I promise you,” Lady Pope’nose said ominously. “Now then…”
She clapped her hands. “Since the deal cannot continue apace until the remote
is located, perhaps you’d like to get cleaned up before dinner.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble,”
Maggie protested.

“No trouble at all, my dear. I’ll have you
shown to a guest room and see what I can find you to wear. I
think
I
have a dinner gown that might work for you…” She looked at Maggie critically.
“I wore it a few seasons back before I went on my reducing diet.”

“Oh, um…” Maggie felt her heart dropping.
Clearly she was going to be stuck here with this hypercritical woman for some
time. But if Lady Pope’nose wasn’t willing to relinquish the Kindred documents
until the collar’s remote was found, then what else could she do? Maggie just
hoped the slave, Jonas, could locate it without too much trouble or delay.

Lady Pope’nose clearly took her indecision
for consent.

“Right, then—that’s settled.” She smiled
at Maggie. “I’ll call for a slave at once. And then, after you’re all cleaned
up and presentable, maybe you’d like to see the slave I wanted the Hurkon
collar for in the first place. He’s a rare specimen—I’m very proud of him.”

“Of course.” Maggie nodded, resigned. “I
would be honored, Lady Pope’nose.”

* * * * *

He heard them coming down the hall well
before the door to his prison opened. The clatter of high heeled shoes was
unmistakable. Pope’nose was on the way for another one of her gloating
sessions.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw,
and prepared to endure her visit. There was nothing he could do to break free
at the moment so the best he could do was to be silent and not give her the
satisfaction of seeing his pain.

As the door opened with a loud creak, he
kept his eyes down. He saw two pairs of feet enter the room, both wearing
ridiculous three inch platform heels that were apparently the fashion this
season on this fucked up world.

“This,” he heard Lady Pope’nose say, “is
the reason I so wanted the Hurkon collar. He is a fighter from the Blood
Circuit—or he was until he killed his master. They wanted to put him to death
but I bought him instead. I like a
challenge.”

The prisoner kept his head down, not
caring to hear the visitor’s reply. This was not a new occurrence for him—ever
since she’d bought him, Pope’nose had been bringing guests down to show him
off. Apparently holding a multiple murderer in her dungeons made her feel
important.

But instead of words, all he heard from
the guest was a low gasp. The sound made him look up involuntarily, though he
had been determined not to. What he saw took his own breath away.

It’s her! The one in
my dreams! The one I see when I manage to nod off for a moment. Her!

The girl—because he could tell she was a
girl now, not a cyborg, despite the strange oculars on her eyes—was staring at
him with a look of shock and confusion on her lovely face. He still couldn’t
quite tell what color her eyes were but they were fixed on him and her entire
body was tense. Could it be that she recognized him as he had recognized her?

“You,” he growled hoarsely. “It’s
you.”

Chapter Three

“You’re absolutely right, it’s me,” Lady Pope’nose
proclaimed, obviously misunderstanding the prisoner’s meaning though he was
clearly staring at Maggie. “I’ve come to see if you’re ready to submit,” she
continued, frowning at the bound man.

“Never,” he rasped, switching his
attention to Lady Pope’nose. He glared at her, his slitted blue eyes filled
with a fury that was almost palpable. Maggie shivered, glad that his anger
wasn’t directed at her.

“Is that right?” Lady Pope’nose frowned.
“So stubborn, this one,” she said to Maggie. “I’ve had him for weeks and still
he refuses to acknowledge me as his mistress.”

“Um…uh…” Maggie didn’t know what else to
say. She was still stunned that the huge man in her dreams was somehow real.
How could this be? He was exactly how she had dreamed him, right down to the last
detail. Huge, mostly naked—he appeared to be wearing nothing more than a ragged
loincloth— muscular and covered in that silvery-gray dust. His cheeks were
rough with stubble which might have been black but it was hard to tell because
of the dust. He was even kneeling beside a small, chattering brook which
somehow ran right through the middle of his prison, just as he had been in her
dreams.

Maggie wondered if he was thirsty—her own
throat ached for him as she watched him kneeling there, glaring up at his
captor defiantly. A phrase from some half-remembered poem came back to her—“Bloody
but unbowed.” Yes, that fit him exactly. Here he was with his hands chained
behind his back, being held captive by the sadistic Lady Pope’nose but still he
refused to submit to her. Maggie felt a surge of admiration but it was clearly
an emotion her hostess didn’t share.

Lady Pope’nose took a step toward her
prisoner. “Say the words, slave. Beg my pardon and kiss my foot as is your
duty. The key to your chains is right here.” She indicated a large grey metal
knob hanging from a hook on the wall across from him. “Your freedom from pain
is within your sight.” There was a taunting note in her voice and a cruel
little smile was playing around her thin lips. “I leave the key here with him
on purpose,” she told Maggie. “To remind him how quickly he can be free if only
he will submit.”

“Never,” the prisoner growled again. “And
if you put your foot in my face I won’t kiss it—I’ll
bite
it. So stay
the fuck away from me!”

The smile left Lady Pope’nose’s mouth and
her face turned dark with fury. “How dare you insult and threaten me in front
of my guest?” She pointed at him with one long finger.
“Trab!”

At once the lights on the slave’s collar
lit up and began to blink. At the same time, he went rigid with agony, his face
contorted in a mask of pain. The cords on his strong neck stood out and his
huge hands knotted into fists. But though it was clear he was in anguish, he
didn’t make a single sound.

“Wait! What are you doing to him?” Maggie
stepped forward, wanting to end this awful show. She had never been able to
stand to see a helpless creature hurt or in pain. Once when she was nine she’d
taken on three older boys who were torturing a small, defenseless dog. She’d
gotten a black eye and a bloody nose before her protective older brother,
Michael, found her fighting but the dog had lived. In fact, it had been her pet
for years. Scrappy had been a fighter and so was Maggie—especially when it came
to helpless creatures who couldn’t defend themselves.

“I’m punishing him.” Lady Pope’nose’s face
was twisted into a sneer of triumph. With a sick feeling in the pit of her
stomach, Maggie realized that she
liked
this. That she was getting
pleasure
from it.

Sick! She’s sick!
she thought.
She’s not just hypercritical—she’s a
sadist!

“Well, stop it!” she said desperately.
“Whatever you’re doing,
stop!”
She ran forward, her hand outstretched to
the prisoner, as though she could somehow stop his pain. It was the same, blind
impulse that had gotten her beaten up when she rescued Scrappy and it had a
similar effect now.

The moment her hand touched his naked
shoulder, Maggie felt a jolt of pain lance through her. She gasped and went
rigid—it was as though she’s been suddenly struck by lightning. Agony ripped
through her, setting her nerves on fire, making her feel like she was going to
die.

“Krelb!”
Lady Pope’nose shouted, ending the pain. She rushed
forward to pull Maggie away from the chained man. “Are you mad?” She shook
Maggie roughly. “What’s wrong with you, getting so close?”

“I…I…” Maggie couldn’t think—could barely
even breathe. The pain was gone now, as though it had never happened. Not even
a faint tingling remained. But she remembered it well—it was the worst thing
she had ever felt even though it had lasted less than five seconds. How long
did the prisoner have to endure it every time Lady Pope'nose came to torture
him? “That…that was awful,” she finally managed to gasp.

“Of course. The collar is set to maximum.”
Lady Pope'nose shook her head. “That was a very foolish thing you did and not
just because you gave yourself a nasty jolt. This prisoner is extremely
dangerous—even bound and restrained he could kill you if you get too close.”

Maggie looked again at the chained man. His
huge, muscular body had gone limp and he sagged, his knees splayed apart. His
head hung down and he was panting like a wounded animal. He didn’t look like a
threat to her—not in his current state, anyway.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded. Now
that the pain was gone, she was so upset tears had come to her eyes. She took
off her glasses and swiped at them angrily. “How could you? He’s helpless! How
could you hurt him like that?”

“My dear Lady Jor’don.” Lady Pope’nose
frowned. “I’m simply trying to break him so he can be of useful service. And
I’m not doing anything he doesn’t
richly
deserve. Remember, my dear,
he’s a murderer
many
times over.”

“I don’t care what he did,” Maggie said
firmly, replacing her glasses. “No one deserves to be tied up and tortured.”

Lady Pope’nose looked at her blankly. “But
my dear, it is the
only
way to break a defiant slave. Just think—he
would be dead if not for me. If I hadn’t bought him, he’d be rotting in a
shallow grave somewhere with no one to mourn his loss. At least in his way he
may be made to be useful…
if
he will ever learn manners.” She frowned at
the still panting slave who was looking up again, studying Maggie’s face.

Anyway, Maggie
hoped
it was her
face he was looking at. The dinner gown that Lady Pope’nose had loaned her was
positively indecent. It was a dark green velvet and it dipped low—very low—in
front, barely covering her cleavage and then clung to her hips like a second
skin before falling to her feet which were stuffed into the crazy high heels
her hostess had insisted that she wear. For some reason, even though it was the
prisoner who was half naked, Maggie felt completely undressed when he looked at
her.

“Just…don’t hurt him any more,” she begged,
turning back to Lady Pope’nose. “I can’t stand to see that. We don’t treat our,
uh, slaves this way back home. I’m not used to it.”

“So I see,” Lady Pope’nose murmured dryly.
“Apparently you come from one of those misguided societies where they believe
in being lenient with their slaves. More’s the pity.” She sighed and shook her
head. “Well, I suppose everyone must have their own view.”

“Yes, well…” Maggie wanted to say that in
her view, torturing helpless people was brutal and sadistic but she still
didn’t have the documents she had come for. Reluctantly, she decided to hold
her tongue.

“I was hoping to have him broken by now,”
Lady Pope’nose mused, still looking at the bound man. “I’m going off-planet to
a retreat at the
Lo’thian
spa
tomorrow morning quite early. It would have been quite a mark of status to have
such a dangerous prisoner as my personal body-slave.” She frowned. “That is not
to be, I see. I shall have to pick another slave or maybe just make use of the
slaves they have at the spa.”

Seriously? A spa? Was the sadistic Lady
Pope’nose going to take time off of her busy schedule of torture and
persecution for a spa weekend? Maggie felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in
her throat and swallowed it down with difficulty.

“You’re going to a spa?” she asked,
instead.

“Not just
any
spa,” Lady Pope’nose
assured her with a superior smile. “The
Lo’thian
spa. They specialize in
very particular treatments for the relaxation and pleasure of their guests.
It’s lovely, I hear. I’ve never been before because I’m always so busy. But
this year I decided to
make
time and go.” She smiled brightly. “Of
course, I don’t want you to worry, my dear Lady Jor’don. I’m certain we can
finish our deal before I have to leave tomorrow.” She turned to the prisoner.
“And then
you
will be singing a different tune. Once you’re fitted with
the Hurkon collar, you’ll
beg
to kiss my foot and call me ‘Mistress.’
Just wait and see.”

He didn’t answer in words. Instead, a low,
menacing growl rose from his thick throat. The sound made the hairs on the back
of Maggie’s neck stand on end. Was Lady Pope’nose crazy, trying to tame a man
like this? Clearly he would rather die—or kill—than submit. Unless the Hurkon
collar thingy was even worse than the pain collar he had on now…The minute the
question entered her head, she had to ask it.

“Why is the Hurkon collar so effective?”
she asked, turning to Lady Pope’nose. “I mean, I’ve never seen it in action—how
is it different from what you’ve got on him now?”

Lady Pope’nose put a hand to her narrow
chest. “Oh, my dear—a Hurkon collar is
vastly
superior to anything else
on the market today. Why, it’s actually
sentient.
It
feeds
on the
pain of the prisoner so it’s constantly coming up with new and different ways
to cause distress. In fact, I’m told that even if the slave behaves himself, it
still gives out periodic shocks when it gets
hungry.”
She tittered, as
though she found the idea amusing. “Keeps the slave on his toes, don’t you
know. Also there’s a switch on the remote that’s capable of knocking out a rebellious
slave—a failsafe or ‘kill switch’ as it’s called. Very useful for security
reasons, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“Of course,” Maggie agreed dully. Inside
she felt sick. What kind of horrible torture device had she just delivered to
this sadistic bitch? How could the Kindred have let her do this? She sent up a
silent prayer that Jonas would
never
find the remote. She couldn’t bear
the thought of the chained man being tortured with an even worse device than
the one he already wore.

“Well…” Lady Pope’nose sighed. “I supposed
we should go. I’ll just let the thirst work on this miscreant a little longer
and come check him after I finish at the spa.”

Her words brought the other part of
Maggie’s dream back.

“But…what do you mean thirst? He’s right
beside a stream—within easy reach of the water.”

“Indeed, but the verium keeps him from ingesting
it. Speaking of which…” Lady Pope’nose walked over to a small wooden barrel
which was directly under the hook with the strange round, knobby key. She
pulled on a glove which was obviously provided for the purpose and scooped up a
handful of silvery-gray dust from inside the barrel. Then she took two careful
steps forward, reached out and sprinkled the dust over the top of the
prisoner’s head.

“Why did you do that?” Maggie looked at
her doubtfully.

“It wears off in time.” Lady Pope’nose removed
the glove carefully and dusted her hands together. “Verium is extremely useful
for sapping strength and suppressing power but you can’t forget to renew it
from time to time. That should hold him for a week, while I’m off to the spa.”
She gave a decisive nod. “Well, let’s go see if Jonas has managed to find that
remote yet. I swear I’ll have his hide nailed to my front step if he hasn’t.”

Maggie reflected that before the savage
display she had just witnessed, she would have thought that Lady Pope’nose was
joking. Now she was pretty sure the sadistic mistress was speaking literally.
If the hapless Jonas couldn’t find the remote, he was literally going to be
skinned—probably while still alive. But if he
did
find the remote, the
prisoner who was also the man in her dreams was going to live out the rest of
his life in unspeakable agony.

I have to do
something,
she thought as she
followed Lady Pope’nose out of the dungeon.
I can’t leave him like this—can
I?

Turning her head, she cast one last look
behind her at the chained man. To her dismay, she found that he was staring
right back at her, his pale blue eyes fixed on her every move. As she watched,
he nodded at her gravely, a look of respect on his strong features.

Maggie gave a quick, jerky nod in
return—she didn’t know what else to do. Then she turned back to the door and
fled.

* * * * *

She wept for me.

For a long time after the dungeon door had
clanged shut, the prisoner continued to stare at the place where the girl in
his dreams had stood. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spot where he’d
last seen her any more than he could stop the endless circle of his thoughts.