7
Jase
Imight find it alarming, huh? Damned straight, I found this disturbing! Who the hell expects you to open a door to someplace far away and get dragged off to jail? Not me, that’s who. Especially not when we’re supposed to be discussing the rules and negotiating bonuses for the extra hits he added to my contract. That’s it. I’d say I’m out, except I’m not able to go anywhere, seeing as I’m bound by some magic mumbo jumbo thanks to agreeing to a job contract. Not to mention the whole being tied up thing. I’ll never be able to look at a potted plant the same way ever again.
The four goons carried me through the building. It looked like an old school police station, complete with a wooden front desk and a booking sergeant. Only instead of being brought back to talk to any cops, I’m booked into a fucking suite. Unfortunately, that too turned out to be a trick. The Forget-Me-Not suite was a fucking dungeon. Stone walls, dirt floor, tiny window up by the ceiling, with bars and no glass in it, too high up to look out and way too small to even reach a hand through if I could find a way to get to it. Which I could’ t, because, oh yeah, there were shackles.
I was cut free of the vines and manhandled to the wall where I was clapped into the irons they so thoughtfully provided, for both arms and legs. Put me to be bed, indeed.
“So, The Forget-Me-Not Suite,” I snarked. “Great decor. Who thought the name up anyway? I want to be able to give them props for all this on Trip Advisor.”
One of them looked me dead in the eye. “It’s always been called that. It’s because it’s the one non-torture master serviced rooms without an oubliette.”
I’m now sorry I said anything. These guys are whacked. I thought Lord Asshole was a bit off, but given what I’ve seen of the other fae so far, he’s pretty normal. It’s actually a rather frightening thought. In the Army, I saw a lot of stuff. I know there are some sadistic bastards out there, but they can be taken out any number of conventional ways. These guys, though, they have magic and can trap you with just words. How do I fight that? Was this what he meant by me learning the rules? Was this some sort of crash course? Shit. The goon mentioned a torture master. I was glad he’ wasn’t coming to see me though I was now wondering if this meant Lord Fae Asshat was going to reappear and torture me himself.
Maybe this has all been a long con to just get the stupid human to follow him to where he could have fun pulling out my fingernails. The more I think about it, though, the less that seems likely. I mean, he could have used his magic mojo to whisk me anywhere, restrain me, and do unspeakable things.
“Psst.”
I looked around, looking for where the noise is coming from.
“I’m up here. Listen, I see you’re still wearing Earth clothes. How long you been here?” a man’s voice said.
If this was a trick, it was a pretty dumb one. Plenty of other fae saw Lord High and Mighty bring me from Wynter to his condo. “Just arrived today,” I answered.
“Have you eaten or drank anything?”
“Um, not today, no.”
“Don’t! If you eat or drink anything while in Faerie, you get tied to this realm and can’t go home.”
“Not anything?”
“Not unless you brought some food from Earth, no.”
Well, that sucks. I’ll have to try to hold out, wait for Lord Mucky Muck to let me go, and then convince him it’s all good. I can go grab a burger and buy some boxes of granola bars and shit after I kill my human target. Some bottled waters, too. That way, I can have something to eat and drink while I make my way through his kill list. If it’s too long, I can negotiate for those bonuses to include human food and drink. He could just hop back on over through a rift.
“Thanks,” I said. There wasn’t a reply. Whoever it was had gone. Great. Now all I had to do was wait for my new boss to come to fetch me out of here. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be any time today. You better believe that I’m adding this to his bill.
* * *
It turnedout that this place had two light settings. A dusk of purple haze and pitch dark with a fucking lavender moon that cast stray beams of light through that laughable window. The cell was cold and dank, the walls full of condensation, and my arms and shoulders ached from the weight of my body hanging from them. My neck hurt like a sonofabitch, too. My jacket, shirt, and ass of my trousers were damp from the wetness leaching into them from the wall, leaving me chilled. I was bored, hungry, and thirsty when one of the goons appeared the second day. He cut my clothes from me, advising me that it would be best to piss and shit now if I needed to as he was about to douse me with a bucket of water and soap.
By the time the darkness came signaling the start of the second night, I was shivering, my nose running, and teeth chattering. Oh, and I really needed to piss and shit because I had refused when Lurch told me to. Go me. I was beginning to understand one thing, though. The fae all seemed to tell the truth. Maybe not the complete truth as they omitted important shit, but if they said something, I could count on what they actually said being accurate. I really should have gone. Still, if he came yesterday, maybe he’d come again tomorrow. Probably with food. No one had brought any so far. Given what my mysterious informant said, I was inclined to believe it was because they wanted me ravenous. So ravenous that when they let me down, I’d stuff myself silly. Nope, not happening.
I went ahead and relieved myself, though. Lurch’s buddy Frankenfurter wasn’t so thrilled about it when he arrived shortly after first light.
“Filthy animal!” he snarled before storming out of my cell. He came back moments later with a length of hose, which he fed through the bars of the cell, calling out to someone to turn the faucet on. He hosed me down along with the floor. The water was frigid, and I instinctively tried to curl away from it. I was unable to do more than cringe thanks to being bolted to the wall. He stopped when he decided both the cell and myself were clean enough and shouted for the water to be turned off. He took the hose away, returning with a plate of food and what looked like a cup of wine. The food wasn’t anything fancy, just some boiled potatoes and some kind of vegetable greens. No meat or gravy or anything. I’m not a fussy eater, but that looked unappetizing, the greens all stringy and the potatoes dry and overcooked looking. Hooray for prison food. At least it made my vow to not succumb to food temptations easy. I bet that the wine tasted like vinegar, too.
“I’m going to let you down to eat,” Frankenfurter said.
I did’t mention that I won’t be eating. I wanted down to relieve my aching muscles. He uncuffed me and left, locking the door of the cell behind him. I rolled my stiff neck and looked for something to dry off with. Not so much as a scrap. I ended up wiping my runny nose on the back of my hand, feeling gross as I did it. Great, there’s a bit of green. I’m getting sick being in here. I rolled my shoulders, ignoring the shooting pains as I do so. Then I walked around my cell slowly, working out the pins and needles in my legs and feet as I gauged the best place to stand in the room with the least draft. It’s equally drafty, no matter where I stand. Whoever designed this room was diabolical. Clever but absolutely evil. I’d mention that to these guys, but something tells me that they’d take it as a compliment.
Frankenfurter came back after a while and eyed my still full plate and cup. “You’re not going to be offered anything more until tomorrow,” he informed me.
“Stomach cramps,” I told him.
“Just don’t yak all over yourself,” he replied, re-entering my cell. “Just the leg shackle tonight.”
