Otherworld: Part Four

[minviendha]

Just occurred to me that I'm probably killing your flist. The cuts help, I hope? You can kill me soon.

All around me are cages. Cages in row after row as far as I can see, each only about five by three feet, if that. It’s lit down here with a light that gives off an eerie red glow. I feel as if I’m in a bizarre and dangerous zoo. It’s like looking at murderers in cages. You feel safer when they’re there, but it’s still very strange. On my left, a small figure is crumpled in the bottom of the cage, hands still wrapped around the bars. I move a little closer and the creature lifts its head. I stumble back, horrified. It is a child, her face a mass of bruises, her hair raggedy and shorn in places. One of her large, dark eyes is bloodshot and watery, the other appears normal. I can see dried blood streaking from her nose, the remains of an old nosebleed. She can’t be more than four or five years old. She blinks at me and her webbed hand reaches through the bars. She’s so skinny that there is room on either side of her stick of an arm. “Mama?” she says in a hoarse whisper. “Mama, is that you? Have you come to take me away? They’re hurting me. I want to go where you went, to the quiet place. Take me to the quiet place, Mama.”

                My gorge rises. I stumble back and clang into another cage. Wheeling, I look into blank, dead eyes, a face pressed against the bars, dark streaks of blood marking where he banged his head into the bars trying to get out. As I look closer, I realize: no, not trying to get out. Trying to die. Film covers the brilliant green eyes, but I can still see the remnants of a handsome face, his fangs invisible in the light. He could almost be human. His skin is like wax. I wonder, vaguely, how long he’s been there.

                I hear a hiss behind me and turn to see the rest of the rows stirring sluggishly to life. I’ve woken them. The small Selkie’s piteous cries continue behind me. As I move away from the dead werewolf, I turn to see a young woman curled in the center of her cage, her shoulders shaking. She’s repeating words over and over to herself in some strange language. She doesn’t even look up as I pass her, but I catch a glimpse of green-veined skin and wonder what this place does to her, locked away from trees and green things.

                “If you’ve come to kill me,” drawls a strange voice, “Do it already, please. I’ve suffered long enough.”

                I turn to find myself facing the mirror image of Taine – or Taine as he might look, if his nose were broken, his trousers torn, his black coat gone and white blouse ripped down the chest, with blood dripping from a fresh wound above his eye. Actually, nothing like Taine at all. It takes me a little while to realize what else is strange about his face. One of his eyes is strangely unfocused. He notices me staring, and flashes a bitter, white grin that glows red in the strange lights. “Admiring your handiwork?” he says in a peculiar voice, with only a vestige of the silkiness that marks Taine’s. “Makes things cursed hard, only being able to see out of one eye…you could have at least put out the other one, too, then I would just be blind, not useless…” He stares at me and tilts his head, swaying a little. “Go on,” he says. “Out in the sun we go then, hm? Nice cheery bonfire for the evening? I’m sick of being here anyway…so dull…and the light is horrors on my complexion…”

                I stare at him, unable to reply. My throat is very dry. I notice that one arm is strangely limp. His gaze follows mine and he continues his strange commentary without a pause. “Oh, yes. And the arm…horrible, having a broken bone at my age…or any age, really, I’ve always despised broken bones…now if I could just have some nice, fresh blood I could fix things up right away like I used to…but no, I don’t suppose you’d provide me with that…I’d probably kill you anyway, nothing personal, you know, just a bit hungry…” He smiles at me genially. “So what are you waiting for? You have the keys, I can’t open the door on my own…go on, I’m ready to die anyway…at least take the child out while you’re at it, she’ll die in a few days anyway…those baths you’re giving her aren’t enough, she needs her Pod…you know nothing, do you? Not that you try, anyway, all about the research, isn’t it?”

                I shake my head slowly and manage to croak, “Not one of them. Captured.”

                He brightens a little. “Ah, I see. A fugitive from justice? Excellent, excellent. Well, stick around here for a while. Don’t worry, I won’t eat you, I can’t even manage to try to slip past these now…silver, you know, makes me horribly nauseous every time I try…oh, hush up there, you!” He says harshly to the sobbing Dryad. She stops. The other noises continue. I hear a cry of “Mama?” and quickly try to shut it out. “So lonely down here, you know. You’d think at least they’d give me some company…but perhaps we’d plot an escape…not that there’s any way past silver, of course…but nonetheless…” he smiles at me again. “So if you’re not one of them, I suppose I ought to introduce myself. Tristan. No surname required, can’t remember it if I’ve got one, anyway…think they poked that needle a bit far when they put out my eye, took out some of my brain too…can hardly remember anything anymore. Such a bother. And you?”

                “Anna,” I croak weakly, still not quite able to get over the shock of carrying on a reasonable conversation with a vampire. Albeit a very strange conversation with a very strange vampire.

                “Excellent, excellent,” says Tristan brightly, “I’d shake your hand, but, silver, you know…” He shakes his head sadly. “In the old days, they’d never have dared,” he says mournfully. “Such a pity. Well, I suppose we ought to have seen it coming…ah well. Oh, you…” he says, suddenly in a clearer voice. “Tell my brother I said hello…and if he survives, send him to my house, it’s his now…dear Taine, he was always such a Prick. Spymaster…” he laughs fondly. “Well. You never know, I suppose…at any rate, I don’t suppose I’ll be alive much longer…just hope he survives…now if you can help him, do – I know he’s a Prick, but he has honor, and he’ll honor a debt until his death. But that doesn’t matter anymore, not really, not to a half-blind cripple of a vampire…they’ll never let me last another week in this condition, they take us out by the cartload when we get too weak and I think I’ll be the next to go…oh, and if you find any more brothers, tell them to stop fighting. It’s not worth it.” He jerks his head at the werewolf. “I start to think he had the right idea, getting out while he could…death would be nice, sometimes…”

                I retch, painfully. He blinks at me. “Oh, dear,” he says in the same distracted tone of voice. “I’m sorry, have I upset you? Well, I do hope you find whoever you’re looking for…it would be the werewolf, brought down about a half-hour ago, I should think? Ah, yes…didn’t look in good shape, that one…if she doesn’t stop trying to get away she’ll be dead in less than a week…the lucky ones are…if you find her, tell her that dying now is better than waiting for a rescue that won’t come…”

                I turn and run, feeling sick. His words trail after me. Finally, I slump to the floor, exhausted, tears pricking at my eyes. The cage behind me is empty and I have to wonder who the occupant was. Selkie, Vampire? Dryad, Werewolf?

                “He’s just Other,” I tell myself firmly. “Just Other. A Vampire. A heartless, blood-sucking bastard.” He needs to be caged. He needs to be contained so that we can be safe. But remembering the genial way he talked about death and suicide, his own imminent demise and the utter despair in his voice, I wonder if he really deserved it…if any of them really deserve it.

                I think of my boyfriend, dead in a war that didn’t concern him, and harden my heart with an effort. It’s hard, though, and I find myself swallowing tears.

                Slowly, I stand up again. I’m not done looking. I go back to the main walkway and walk on silent feet. A few creatures stir as I move past, and I catch glimpses of baleful eyes watching me from time to time, but nothing more than that for a long time. It seems like forever, and I’m thinking about turning back – after all, why do I even want to find her? – when I hear a shout of triumph, followed by a howl of pain and rage that isn’t quite human. I break into a trot, slowing down as the sound draws nearer and the light increases. Frowning, I crouch down and peer into a strange structure, trying to breathe softly.

                There is no need. They’re making enough noise to cover anything but a stampede. There are two men and Viviane. She’s been stripped down to underwear and is tied on her stomach, spread-eagled to four posts on the ground. I can see her back muscles straining to break free, her body slick with sweat, but they don’t budge. One of the men takes a whip, swings it back with a whoop and brings it lashing down across her bare back. She screams, and this time there’s less anger and more pain. “Not so brave now,” the other man yells. “Hey, tough girl, show some teeth.” The whip swings again. Another scream. “Oooh, I’m scared. Do it again, sweetheart.”

                Disgust rages through me, warring with satisfaction, remembering the expression on her face as she had me trapped in my apartment, helpless. Lost in my discomfort, I hear the footsteps too late as I am hauled to my feet by my hair.

                “Ah ha!” guffaws my discoverer. “The little girl from the throne room wanted to watch the wolfie get what’s coming to her. No need to hide, babe. Come on down and join the fun.” He tugs me down the stairs and before I know what’s happening, I’m standing down in the arena with the two men and Viviane. She turns her head, teeth bared in a rictus grin of pain, and sees me. Her face freezes.

                “Come to gloat?” she hisses. “Come to see what your kind will do to me to see me broken?”

                “Shut up, bitch!” someone yells. The whip cracks. Viviane hisses, but her eyes remain locked on mine.

                “Do you like what you see?” she croons softly. “Do you like seeing me here? Humiliated, destroyed…is this what you wanted?”

                I don’t know what to say. I stare at her, bewildered. The whip cracks again, and this time she throws back her head and screams. The spell is broken, and I back away, frightened. One man is tightening the ropes around the posts. The other tickles the whip down her back.

                “Good looking, for a wolf,” he says, and chuckles darkly. “Hey, babe,” he says in a sugary voice to Viviane. “You know what I want?”

                She spits in his face.

                He snarls and backhands her. I wince, but I can’t look away. I stare, transfixed, as he pushes her stomach down to the ground and straddles her, his hands holding her hips and sliding her underwear down. Her body bucks, but only succeeds in trapping herself between his legs. He grinds against her for a moment and then shoves her back down. The other man whistles. The man straddling Viviane slides his greasy hand between her legs, and I can see it probing. Her face is full of shame, her eyes closed. She begins to whimper. Finally, as he bares himself and positions himself between her legs, I manage to look away. By the time her screams begin, I am slinking out of the arena. They chase me down the corridor and out of sight, but I can still hear her pleading.

                “Please…no…please…”

                I stumble back to the room with the cages and stop, panting and trying to quell the churning in my gut. I take a deep breath and nearly gag on the stench of filth and infection that I haven’t noticed before.

                “Freeze!” a harsh voice cries. “Stand up, hands on your head!” I stand on wobbly legs. A flashlight is shined in my eyes. I put my hands in front of my eyes as someone seizes my arm. “What are you doing down here? This area is out of bounds! Get out now!” He pushes me towards the door, hurrying me out into the falling dusk. I turn around and open my mouth to explain, but two things happen at once. I catch a flash of green eyes and hear the hoarse hiss of Tristan’s voice. As I struggle to hear what he’s saying, a wail of absolute despair issues from the corridor, a howl from the bowels of the building filled with fear and excruciating pain. Everyone turns around as the cry continues and continues, and the cages erupt in a cacophony of noise.

                The man who shoved me out looks at me, looks at the cages, and slams the door in my face. I have no choice but to leave, all sound cut off by the closed door but the sounds still ringing in my ears.