Demon Seed Page 2

“Hold up! Brigit, turn your horse. You’re going the wrong way!”

  Her voice seemed to be swallowed and muffled by the thick bank of fog. Brigit’s voice came back to her, but it was indistinct and Colette didn’t catch the words. She saw though that Brigit didn’t slow or turn the horse.

  A moment later, Lady Beauchamp’s mount veered sharply, almost unseating her as it whirled to follow the horse Brigit was riding. Despite the poor visibility, Colette was close enough that she could see her mother was struggling with the horse.

  “Robert! William! Help!” Colette called, pulling back on her make-shift reins to follow her mother and sister and then urging the horse to move faster to catch up to them.

  The fog was far thicker along the narrow two rut lane they had turned upon and within moments both Lady Beauchamp and Brigit had completely disappeared from sight. Colette’s surprise and mild concern gave way to anxiety that deepened rapidly when she realized she wasn’t gaining on either of the other riders.

  “Mother! Brigit! Stop!” she called out, ignoring the limited visibility and urging her horse faster.

  Somewhere ahead of her, she heard the scream of horses. Brigit’s terrified high pitched screams cut across the mingling sounds of her mother’s cries and the horses’ whinnies of alarm and distress.

  The sounds cut through Colette like knives, driving her own anxiety into full fledged terror. Instinctively, she pulled back on the reins, trying to slow her horse, her first thought that the two horses had slammed into each other in the fog and her mother and sister had been thrown. The horse ignored her, barreling into the thick fog in mindless panic.

  Abruptly, something huge and back against the dark fog parted the mist before them as it landed in the middle of the road. Colette screamed almost simultaneously with the horse as the horse came to a sudden, skidding, rearing halt. The horse’s antics tore the reins from Colette’s grasp and she felt herself tumbling backwards. The ground seemed to rise up to meet her, slamming into her so hard it punched the breath from her lungs. Stunned, she curled into a ball instinctively to protect herself from the horse, covering her head. Even as she did so, large fingers curled into her upper arm, jerking her to her feet.

  “I am Nuri, lord of these lands,” he said in a low growl that seemed to vibrate from deep in his massive chest like the ominous rumbling of distant thunder. “And those who trespass upon my domain are violated.”

  Still too stunned and shaken from her fall to allow room for any sort of emotions, Colette tried to pierce the gloom and the tangle of hair straggling over her face to look up at the man who held her. A hazy impression of sharp, angular features filtered into her dazed mind, but one glimpse at the curling horns that grew out of his head and the leathery, spiked wings behind him wiped everything else from her mind.

  An internal darkness gathered around her mind. She struggled against it, trying to keep her feet under her as he hauled her through the disorienting fog. A monstrous black horse appeared before them. Catching her around the waist, he swung her onto the beast’s back as if she weighed no more than a feather and then leapt up behind her, curling an arm tightly around her. Weak and dizzy, still fighting the blackness that threatened to claim her, Colette slumped limply against the hard wall of chest behind her, looking around vaguely for her mother and sister. The writhing, restless mist unveiled two other horses much like the one she was mounted upon. Her mother was upon one, Brigit upon the other, both limp, both captive of misshapen creatures that barely bore resemblance to anything human beyond two arms, two legs and a massive, grotesquely malformed head.

  Like the drifting mist, darkness wove in and around her as the beast who held her kneed his mount, commanding the steed into a gallop that might have unnerved her if she hadn’t been too dazed to consider the possibility of the horse losing its way in the fog and crashing into a tree.

  Awareness surfaced after a time as Colette lifted her head and saw the towers and twisted spires of Sinister Abbey through the mist before them. Darkness lay upon most of the sprawling structure so that the windows looked like eyeless sockets staring down at them. Flickering red and gold light poured through the cavernous door in the center of the great hulk, like the yawning maw of hell, but even that failed to penetrate Colette’s shock enough to rouse her from her semi-stupor.

  Drawing his mount to a halt before the wide entrance, the demon dismounted. Deprived abruptly of her support, Colette struggled to rouse herself and failed, sliding into darkness even as she felt herself slipping from the horse.

  With awareness came the sound of weeping, though Colette didn’t instantly recognize what seemed distant, distorted voices. Light flickering against her closed lids roused her awareness further and Colette struggled to open her eyes. She stared blankly at the man’s face that was scarcely a foot from her own as her eyes slowly focused and memory flooded back.

  The flickering light of the torch he held in one fist, whipped by a chill draft, bathed his features in a golden glow, limning his sharp features eerily and picking out blue lights in the long, virtually straight midnight hair that fell around his face and shoulders. Colette’s belly clenched, but fear was not amongst the emotions that rolled through her, tangling in a hard knot in her belly. As hard and angular as his face was, it was fascinating in a wholly pleasing way that went beyond beauty, or handsomeness. Beyond the pleasing regularity of his facial structure and hard, finely chiseled lips, his eyes were truly beautiful, surrounded by thick, long black lashes that formed a perfect, exotically almond setting for his gem colored eyes.

  Colette blinked slowly, breaking the spell that had held her entranced. “Why have you brought us here?”

  Something flickered in his emerald green gaze. His lips hardened. His eyes narrowed. Until she spoke, she hadn’t realized that he was examining her face with equally intense scrutiny. “No one trespasses upon my domain with impunity, mortal.”

  Fear at last awakened, but anger, as well. Colette pushed herself upright and glanced finally toward the weeping pair, seeing the dim shape of her mother and sister huddled in one corner little more than an arm’s length from where she sat.

  Her gaze focused on the rough stone, weeping moisture, behind them. She could tell little else about the windowless room beyond the fact that the torchlight flickered upon walls close around on every side, but she knew instantly that they were in a dungeon cell. Scooting away from him abruptly, she sought comfort in the nearness of her mother and sister. Neither looked up, for they were clutching each other desperately, their faces hidden by their wet, straggling hair. “We didn’t come willingly. You brought us here,” she said accusingly. “What did you do to Robert and William?”

  Something flickered in his emerald green gaze. His lips hardened. His eyes narrowed. “The yellow bellied mortals that kicked their horses faster and sped away even as you cried out for help?”

  Distrust settled uncomfortably among the dregs of fear and anger. Would they have done such a thing? Left them? Or was the demon lying? Were they dead? Had they fled for help? But that last thought brought no comfort. Even if they had, her and her sister and mother would not be found unless the demon allowed it.

  It occurred to her after a moment that she had cried out for help when they had left the main road, confirming her suspicion that the demon had orchestrated their ‘trespass’. “Most likely, Robert and William went for help,” Colette said, as much in defense of the men as to reassure herself that there was a possibility that help might come.

  His face hardened. “This Robert--he is your lover?”

  Colette’s jaw dropped in stunned surprise and embarrassment. “He most certainly is not! He is a servant in my father’s house, sent along to protect us on our journey.”

  “William?”

  “No!”

  “They have done a remarkable job of protecting,” the demon growled sardonically.

  The anxiety in Colette’s belly tightened a notch. “What do you mean to do with us?” she demanded a litt
le weakly.

  He tilted his head speculatively. “I’ve need of an offering to appease my overlord. Two pure maidens may please him enough to end my exile.”

  Any doubt that Colette had nursed that her sister was too wrapped up in her misery to attend the conversation fled. Brigit let out a scream of terror, clawing at her mother as if she would crawl inside and hide herself. The demon winced as the sound sliced through him. Colette felt her belly clench painfully, not just from the scream, but from the demon’s calm pronouncement of their fate.

  “Bully!” she snapped, fear and despair fueling her anger. “Foul, craven monster! How dare you speak of Robert and William as cowards when you prey upon women half your size and strength! Nay, not even that, for we are mortal women and you a demon beast!”

  “For godsake, Colette!” Lady Beauchamp cried out. “Have you lost your wit? Leash your tongue. He will slay us all!”

  Colette’s heart cramped painfully, but she barely glanced at her mother. “He has already said he meant to. He can not kill us more than once!”

  The demon rose to his full height, slamming the torch he held into a bracket on the wall. Before Colette grasped his intent, he leaned down, his hands clamping painfully around her upper arms. Effortlessly, the demon dragged her to him until they were nearly nose to nose and her feet were dangling in the air. “There are other things that are not at all pleasant that I could do to you,” he snarled.

  “Then we will not die slowly here,” Colette snarled back at him. “My sister and mother are weak and chilled to the bone. How long do you think they will last in this foul dungeon?”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. Her blast of temper, instead of fueling his, seemed to deflate it. He studied her curiously for several moments and set her on her feet, turning to consider the two women still huddled together on the floor. “This is true?”

  “Of course it’s true. We are all soaking wet. This place is freezing. We will grow ill and die. Look! Brigit already shivers with a chill.”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You can not escape,” he said slowly.

  The thought hadn’t entered Colette’s mind until he put it there, but the moment he did she realized that there was at least some possibility of it if they were not locked in the dungeon.

  “The imps will take you to a warmer room and allow you to see to their needs.”

  “It would be far better if you simply sent us along our way,” Colette suggested boldly.

  “No.”

  She’d expected as much and was still deeply disappointed. “My mother and sister then?” she said on sudden inspiration. “My father will gladly send you a dozen virgins if you will only free us--and I would be willing to stay as surety of his word,” she lied, for she could not believe her father would even consider such a horrible thing. If her mother and sister were freed, however, she felt her own chances of escaping would be tremendously better. She certainly could not consider escaping and leaving them behind and she had a very bad feeling that even if the three of them could manage to escape the Abbey, they would not get far before the demon caught up to them for Brigit would do nothing but weep and ring her hands and would have to be dragged every step of the way.

  His gaze flickered speculatively from Colette, to Lady Beauchamp, lingered there for several moments and then moved on to Brigit, who cowered in white faced terror. “No.”

  Before Colette could try to convince him, he vanished in a whirl of smoke. The door to their cell creaked open. Brigit shrieked as a gnome like creature that was little taller than Colette entered the room. The misshapen creature grinned, exposing a mouthful of pointy teeth and then cackling delightedly at Brigit’s scream of horror. “I am Jala. My master summoned me to take the prisoners to a tower room.”

  Brigit balked. Resisting the urge to slap her, Colette helped Lady Beauchamp carry her from the room. Before they were halfway up the steep stairs that led up from the dungeon, Colette’s shoulders and arms were burning and aching from the strain. “Stand up and walk,” she hissed at her younger sister, “or I swear I will let you roll to the bottom!”

  “Colette!” Lady Beauchamp gasped, outraged. “She does not mean it, sweety.”

  “She does!” Colette snapped, losing patience. “And she will!”

  Brigit, apparently convinced, straightened her spine and thrust Colette’s hand from her, leaning on her mother instead.

  “Take care, else you and mother will be at the bottom together.”

  Brigit sniffed, but she ceased to hang upon Lady Beauchamp so heavily. Without pausing, the imp, Jala, led them down a long corridor once they had reached the upper level, across the great hall where a whole tree trunk burned in a fireplace as wide as their coach and then up a spiraling set of stone stairs. Colette glanced around curiously as they passed through the great hall.

  The demon, she discovered, was standing before the hearth, his legs braced slightly apart. She sensed that his gaze was focused upon her, though she couldn’t be certain at such a distance and knew he could simply be watching the procession as a whole.

  Awe and fear cut through her like a knife--and disbelief that she’d had the temerity to speak so challengingly to him.

  He stood head and shoulders above any man she knew and there was no softness about him. The knee breeches he wore conformed faithfully to rock hard muscles along his thighs and that part of his calves not encased in high, black leather boots. The white shirt he wore hung open to the waist, exposing a chest and belly equally well defined with bulging muscle. The loose fitting sleeves were deceptive, for she recalled vividly the feel of those arms and knew they were as large and muscular as every other part of him.

  Shock had turned her mind to mush and she had had nothing to fall back upon but the instinct to battle for her life with an ill advised ferocity. Her mother was right. She was fortunate he had not taken her viper tongue to heart else she would not have lived long enough to consider escape for he could’ve crushed her with no more effort than killing an insect.

  Weak kneed from the memory of what she’d said and done, she had to brace her palm along the wall as they began to climb the steep stairs upward. By the time they had reached the top she felt both ill and faint with dread. It took an effort of will to steady herself and follow the imp to the room he indicated at the top of the tower stairs.

  Once inside, she discovered the room was nearly thrice the size of the one they had so lately occupied. Tall, narrow windows covered in scraped hides ringed the circular room. A narrow cot, barely wide enough for one, stood against one wall, a tall armoire against another and a washstand that contained a pitcher and bowl.

  In the center of the room a tub had been set up. Two imps, each of which looked a little uglier than the last, were busily filling it with buckets of steaming water.

  There was no fireplace, but the room was far warmer than the dungeon cell, warm currents of air flowing upward from the great hall below.

  “Oh!” Brigit cried, clapping her hands in delight. “A hot bath! How divine!”

  Colette sent her sister a curious look. Even for Brigit the behavior was empty headed to the point of bizarre, but she supposed Brigit had had enough to scare her witless.

  Jala, they discovered at that point, was not only female, but she assumed she would attend them in their bath, which Colette very much feared they were expected to share. Brigit began to struggle from her wet clothing the moment the door closed behind Enis and Pell, the imps who’d been filling the tub. Since she wouldn’t allow Jala within three feet of her, Lady Beauchamp helped her out of her wet clothing then handed them to Jala, ordering her to remove them and have them cleaned.

  Jala took exception, screaming obscenities at Lady Beauchamp and pelting her with the soaked clothing, one soggy, muddy piece at the time as Lady Beauchamp raced around the room trying to escape her and dodge the muddy missiles.

  Colette was too stunned to react at once. Brigit, after gaping at the quarreling pair for several stunned
moments, merely climbed into the tub and ignored them.

  “Colette! Do something!” Lady Beauchamp screamed as she made another circuit of the room.

  Thus adjured, Colette leapt into the creature’s path. The collision sent both of them crashing to the floor, Colette on bottom. Nevertheless, Colette recovered first, bucking the screaming imp off and rolling on top of her.

  She hadn’t had the time or the presence of mind to formulate a plan, however. She had merely reacted to her mother’s tearful plea and once she’d gained the upper hand, had no notion of what to do with the creature.

  Before she could decide, two great hands caught her beneath her arms and lifted her off of Jala.

  Chapter Three

  “Be still!” Lord Nuri, bellowed in his rumbling growl.

  Colette wasn’t certain if the order was intended for her or the others, all of whom were screaming by now in fear or fury, but she went weak all over and consequently limp as he caught her against his massive chest. The others were apparently just as certain they were the target of his wrath, for they fell silent as suddenly as if their voices had been throttled from their throats.

  Satisfied that he’d struck terror into the hearts of all, Nuri shifted Colette until she was hanging beneath one arm like a wayward child and departed. Curled in the crook of his arm, Colette thought as he strode down the spiral stairs that her ribs would surely crack from her own weight. She could not have cried out if she had been so inclined. It was all she could do to fight for breath.

  To her partial relief, he set her upon her feet when they reached the second floor landing. Grasping her upper arm, he strode down the long corridor with her stumbling along beside him, halting when he came to a set of double doors almost halfway down the passage. When he’d pushed them open, he thrust her inside, closing and bolting the door behind them.

  Colette froze when she came to a stop, her gaze glued to the massive bed before her.

  “You will bathe there.”

  Colette looked at him and finally followed the direction of his pointing finger.