[Reviews - 51]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 1219 times

- Text Size +




Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following story

‘…’ Indicates thought


Chapter 7:
Glimpse of Hell

***********************************************************

“Forgive me my Lord,” the voice was quiet but fraught with tension.

‘Was she in hell? No one answered. Apparently Satan was the laconic sort,’ Ororo thought.

“I thought you meant to punish her.”

‘Punishment. So it was hell. Xavier had been right. She should not have been so haughty, so aloof. She should have tried to understand the plight of her subjects. Still…even in hell it felt good to simply lie in silence and let time slip quietly away.

“I had no way of knowing she meant something…”

“Summers!” Satan growled. “Shut the hell up!”

Someone chuckled.

“Yes, my Lord. Am I dismissed, my Lord?”

There was another growl, which she failed to comprehend. A door opened and closed. Too loud. It echoed in her head. She moaned and lifted a hand tentatively to her brow.

“Here, put your hand down.”

She opened her eyes, but only to slits, for the light seemed ungodly bright, blurring her vision.

“Who…”

“Quiet now,” he said.

“Howlett!” So he was the devil. ‘Of course.’ She attempted to sit up. He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and pulled her upright.

“So you’ve finally learned my name.” His voice was rough, his touch the same. “Here, drink this,” he ordered, and pressed something to her lips.

She would have enjoyed refusing, but she was horribly thirsty. Sitting was difficult. He steadied her with a hand to her arm and tipped the mug forward. Too fast. She sputtered and gagged and the herb-laced wine burned her lips and throat.

She coughed, winced, and coughed again then opened her eyes to glare at him. “I’d think Satan would have better seduction skills.”

He stared at her with a brooding glare. “You’re raving,” he said, and felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

She jerked her head to the side and was rewarded with a quick jab of pain through her eyeballs. She gritted her teeth and spoke none the less. “Threats, imprisonment and drowning in cheap wine. Is that the only way you can convince women to sleep with you Howlett?”

Someone chuckled again. She turned her head painfully, sweeping her gaze past a tumble of hazy artifacts to land on a man near the door. It was the ominous Lebleu. A grin was planted on his handsome features.

She scowled groggily and turned back to her captor. “What next? A whipping if I don’t capitulate?”

He was silent for a moment. “The dungeon is generally incentive enough for most maids.”

“I am not most maids.”

“Of course not, you are magical Megs.”

She laughed. “Even in prison you called me Megs. I would think you would know my true identity.” Ororo said. “Given your…station.”

“My station?” he was ungodly handsome, but of course Satan would be. Some thought the God of the underworld ugly and old, but she had always known better. Beauty disguised a host of sins and drew admirers all at once.

“God of hell,” she explained, though reality was seeping painfully into her head.

Anger sparked his eyes. “So you prefer last night’s accommodations?”

She refused to shudder, refused to dwell on the stench of the dungeon he had saved her from, for he had also been the one to put her there. Memories from the day before sluiced in, and she glanced down quickly, but she was still clothed, though her sleeve was torn.

So she was well, basically uninjured and virtually untouched. Circumstances could be worse. She raised her gaze back to his and pursed her lips.

“Let me go Howlett, and I’ll seek no revenge.”

“Vengence!” he jerked to his feet and paced back and forth before the enormous bed she found herself in for the second time. “And tell me, Megs, how would one in your position go about seeking vengeance?”

She longed to tell him the truth, to inform him that she had an army at her disposal, but she had said too much already. Instead she remained perfectly still and watched him.

“If you think Creed will avenge you, then you are a greater fool that I believed.”

“Tell me Howlett, how long have you been obsessed with this Creed fellow?”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and for a moment she thought he might strike her, but he settled back in the mattress and watched her. “I might ask the same of you.”

“And I might tell you…again…that I know no one by that name.”

He smiled and reached out to touch her cheek. She refused to draw away, but met his gaze with her own hard stare.

“Maybe you don’t realize what I can do to you Megs,” he said instead.

“I think you already did it,” Ororo replied.

The Cajun chuckled again.

Logan turned to glower, but Ororo didn’t shift her gaze. Her statement was not entirely true, of course, for he had saved her. ‘But yhy? If he meant to have her tortured. Why was she back in his private chamber?’

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Logan asked, and she realized that he was talking to Lebleu.

“Not at the moment. Since it seems I’ll have to wait to torture la petite.”
“You are of French descent?” she asked. Both men turned to her in unison, and she realized her mistake. Most women would not assume to question a man in such a situation.

“I am,” replied Remy

She nodded, remembering traveling to the beautiful country as a child, but Logan was scowling.

“Tell me Remy,” she said. “Are you in need of employment?”

His brow rose. “What’s that?’

“I seem to have lost my guard. But I wondered if you might wish to take up that position.”

The slim man shrugged. A shadow of a grin played around the peripheral edges of his mouth. “What do you pay?”

Logan swore under his breath.

She didn’t glance toward him. “I’ll give you twice what he does.”

Remy laughed. “That won’t be difficult, for he pays me nothing.”

“Ahh…just in my price range then.”

He laughed. She smiled.

“Get the hell out of here!” Logan ordered.

Remy glanced at his master and friend in some surprise. “The lady made me an offer, monsieur”

“She’s not a lady.”

Remy smiled. “Better yet.”

“Go check on Summers.”

“You worried he’s going to kill himself for disappointing you?”

“Actually, I’m afraid he’s not.”

Remy once again returned his attentions to Ororo. “My apologies,” he said and kissed her hand. It seems I am being sent to rout wild geese.

“Consider my offer.”

“But of course, mademoiselle,” he agreed and nodded. “That I will, and if the brute here gives you any trouble…you’ve but to call.”

“And if I call, what will you do?”

He shrugged. “I’d have to charge extra to kill him.”

“I shall bear that in mind.”

Remy chuckled as he turned to leave. The door shut solidly behind him.

She shifted her attention slowly back to Logan. “Loyalty is a difficult commodity to come by.”

“I don’t believe in loyalty.”

“Why is that?”

“Because there are women like you.”

“You think me disloyal?”

He was still scowling. “Here he said, and lifted the cups to her lips. “Drink this.”

She turned away, making a face of disgust. “It tastes like sheep dung.”

“Drink it before I pour it down you throat.”

She considered arguing, but his expression changed his mind. “What is it?”

“Heather wine laced with arsenic.”

“Then I am certain you understand why I must respectfully refuse.”

“You’re in to position to refuse anything.”

“What about Remy?”

Logan laughed. “You expect him to save you?”

She shifted her lips into a parody of a smile.

“From me?”

She said nothing.

“For a woman of the world you are a poor judge of people, Megs.”

“Am I?’

If you think Lebleu will set himself against me to save you.”

“So loyal is he?”

He saw the trap just a moment before it snapped shut. Indeed, he almost smiled at his misstep. “I prefer to call it force of habit.”

“He has been with you a long while?”

For a moment some unknown emotion crossed his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “Drink the wine,” he commanded once more.

“I’ve a strange aversion to poison.”

‘He looked tired she thought, and older than she first thought.’

“Tis nothing but herbed wine.”

“And I should trust you?”

“I don’t care if you trust me or not, but I’ll not have you swooning again!”

“Swooning!” Indignant anger bubbled up inside her. “Is that what you call it when one is struck on the head while defending herself from execrable brigands?”

“Execrable brigands!?!” he scoffed, perhaps at her choice of words. “They were nothing but a one armed petty thief and his dwarfed companion.”

She drew herself up. “I’m sorry if my tormentors were not to your liking.”

He shook his head. “Tis a sorry day when Scotland’s premier thief can’t best a pair of doddering miscreants.”

“Again, my apologies.”

The room went silent. He had the deep penetrating gaze of a wolverine. “So you admit you true identity?”

“I admit that you are a spineless cur.”

“You almost make me wonder why I rescued you.”

“Rescued me!” She growled the words at him, though, if she remembered correctly ladies weren’t suppose to growl. Drawing a deep breath she steadied herself. “It was you who put me into their midst. It was I who distracted them with their own witless brawling.”

“You set them to quarrelling?”

“I thought it preferable to rape.”

For a moment she thought he would respond, but he remained as he was. “Drink this wine,” he said instead.

“No.”

“Drink it!” he ordered, “or I swear, Pikeshead prison will look as rosy as an afternoon jaunt in the park.”

She wanted nothing more than to resist him, but his eyes were deadly earnest, and she was no fool. The wine tasted like yesterday’s death.

“Where else do you hurt?”

“What?’

“Besides your head.” He said the words as if she were daft. “Where else are you injured?”

“Why? Do you keep a list? So many a day to reach your quota?”

“Dammit, woman! I’m surprised he didn’t kill you, too!”

Her stomach twisted. “You said he was only a petty thief.”

Logan scowled. “Is that what he told you?”

“We didn’t have a great deal of time to converse. What with his companion wanting to rape me, and the woman in the next cell…”

“Christ I’m talking about Creed!”

She blinked trying to assimilate the new information. “Whom did he kill?”

A muscle jumped inside his jaw, and he drew a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “Where else are you hurt?”

“If you are so concerned with my well being, then you should allow me to see a physician.”

“Hoping to escape Megs?’

“Hoping to stay alive, regardless of your cruelty.”

“Perhaps you want me to check your well being for myself?” he asked, his hand was suddenly caressing her thigh.

She glanced at him. “Touch me again, and I shall not need Remy’s help to dismember you.”

“You threaten me again?”

“No.” She raised her chin. He touched a finger to its center. She jerked away. “I tell the truth.”

His eyes laughed at her. His mouth remained absolutely immobile. “So you would kill me,” he dropped his hands to hers, “with these hands?”

She nodded. Bending slightly, he kissed the center of her palm. Hot feelings shot through her like a flaming arrow. His lips were much softer than she had expected.

“Tis a soft little hand, for one who uses a threat so boldly.” He said, and pushed the sleeve up her arm. “And a frail arm,” he added and kissed the veins that throbbed rhythmically at her wrists.

Her body jerked at this uncustomary contact. “Cease,” she commanded.

He raised his gaze to hers as if worried. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

She sharpened her scowl. Her heart was beating overtime, and her breath was coming fast. “Unhand me or you shall surely rue the day.”

“Rue the day.” He smiled at that. “You speak very well, for a murderous thief,” he said, and kissed the bend of her elbow.

“Desist Howlett, or you shall regret your actions.”

“I have many regrets,” he said, and when he raised his gaze to hers, it seemed almost like she could see them there, shadowed by a veil of bravado, but still visible. “I doubt if touching you will be amongst the worst of them.”

**
Authors Note: I hope you all enjoyed my pitiful attempt at subtle humor in this chapter.





You must login () to review.