Page 37 of The Satyr's Guilt
Lizette shuffled to the kitchen, the chainlocked to a collar at her neck dragging along the dusty floor,leaving a pattern. She set the berserker’s plate and utensils onthe table. The outside door snapped shut. He’d probably left topee.
She removed a dozen eggs from therefrigerator. They weren’t from chickens, but she didn’t know whatkind they were. Likewise, the cured meat she fried in the pans onthe stove wasn’t ham or bacon. Similar. She didn’t care enough toask what it was. She cooked what he bought. Pancakes were next.About a dozen and a half would do. She set butter and syrup on thetable.
The hair on her arms shot straight whenSpear stepped back into the hovel. It was as if fear walked in withhim. She could smell it like rotting meat. It was a gnat buzzingaround her head.
Spear’s chair scraped along the floor,sending a chalkboard chill through Lizette. Once he sat, she servedhis breakfast.
“Eat with me.”
Pouring his coffee first, Lizette tilted thepot over her mug. She sank into the seat at the opposite end of thetable, wrapping a hand around her steaming cup, drawing on thewarmth. She sucked in a deep breath, controlling her voice andemotions. “I’m not hungry right now. I like to eat after you leaveso I have something to do while you’re gone. It makes the timewithout you pass faster. The coffee is good. Thanks so much forgetting it.”
Wearing ripped jeans and a dirty graysweatshirt, but not looking any more civilized than he did in hispelts, Spear seemed to consider her statement for a moment. Hegrunted while he scooped an overloaded fork of pancakes into hismouth. Syrup dripped down his chin. He wiped it off with the backof his hand. Too late. A blob landed on his shirt.
His chair scraped along the floor again whenhe pushed up and stomped to the hook where his coat hung. He jammedhis beefy arms into the sleeves. Reaching into the pocket, heremoved a key. “You will fix the roast for my dinner. My potatoeswill be the way I like them.” He tugged his thickly braided, rarelywashed hair from under his collar.
She nodded.
“Come. Outside.” When he unlocked the chainwhich connected to an eyebolt on the floor, he clipped another tothe choker around her neck. Once he opened the door, Spear led heroutside like a dog. She barely snatched a threadbare shawl from thehook and threw it over her shoulders before being pulled to theporch.
Spear stayed nearby as Lizette stumbledbarefoot, walking as far as the chain allowed. At least she hadsome privacy behind a bush so she could go to the bathroomunobserved. Before leaving the shelter of the tall shrub, sheinhaled. Pine. She smelled pine, and the air passing into hernostrils was crisp, pure. Somewhere others breathed in the odor ofclean freedom. Were they close? She listened to the silence. Thesong of a bird interrupted. Maybe a meadow lark? Damned if sheknew. She was a city girl. Never one for the rustic life. Then herneck snapped when the berserker hauled back her chain. He led herinside, re-clipping the indoor metal leash to her collar, securingthe lock.
“I will have a kiss before I leave.”
Lizette calmed her stomach, keeping thecoffee down as she lumbered toward him, stretched onto her toes,and swiped her lips across his as he commanded. His harsh, pricklybeard scraped her cheek.
“I have decided to keep you. No more talk ofkilling.”
She breathed a sigh. Spear’s fear of beingcaught frequently led him to consider killing her. Lizette becamepsychologically and sexually inventive in order to survive. “Thankyou, my love. Have a wonderful day.”
She waited once the door shut. The berserkersometimes peeked back in to see what she was doing. She lingeredover her coffee. Her eyes focused on the cup in her hands while sherecalled the smell of pine along with the crisp, clear air whichcarried the song of a bird.
The chain at her neck attached to an eyeboltin the floor, permitting her to reach the bedroom, the kitchen, andthe small sitting area by the fireplace. It did not extend to thefront door.
When Spear did not return for a surprisecheck, she slipped on a shirt and calf-length skirt. She kneeled onthe dirty floor, bent low, and shoved her head under the bed. Shereached a hand behind one of the large legs against the wall.Lizette’s heart skipped a beat when her fingers did not strike hertreasure. Once. Twice. She patted the wood planks, trying not topanic. When her palm finally smacked down on metal, she pulled outher prize. She smiled for the first time that day. In her grasp wasa huge rusty nail she had scooped up from outside while Spear wasnot watching.
As she did all day, every day, except whenit was time to stack wood in the fireplace, light it, and fixdinner, she jammed the nail between the eyebolt and the floor,wiggling it, trying to loosen the connection. Her plan was to jimmythe bolt until it broke free.
She made sure the wooden plank where thebolt was attached did not appear disturbed. Any time she createdchipped wood or sawdust, she scooped it up, depositing it out ofsight. When the fastener broke from the wood, she would be free torun. Where? She had no idea. Away from here. Away from Spear. Shewasn’t on Earth, but she knew she would run away from her nightmareFreddy Kruger.
Lizette sat on the floor, gouging, scraping,and wriggling. Her chore was slow, tedious, but it was her plan toescape.
When she worked at the radio station, everyday she answered calls from people with problems. Maybe they fearedintimacy. Maybe they were sex addicts. Had a drinking issue. Livedwith an abusive husband. She always walked them through the samethree steps. First, clarify the situation. Is your husband hittingyou when he drinks? Second, devise a plan. Wait for him to leavefor work, pack a bag, and go to a women’s shelter. Third, carry outthe plan. Just do it. Basically, she helped troubled people solveproblems.
Her abduction, sale to a beast, and tortureshould have been an impossible occurrence, but she didn’t believein impossible. As long as she survived, she could escape. Thecurrent plan was to make the hole big enough so she could jigglethe bolt out. She would grab up the chain and run to freedom.
She had no idea where freedom was, but sherecited steps one, two, and three again. Once she escaped, shewould apply new steps to the new situation.
****
In the afternoon, theAeternal Cerberus met Dante at a London gentleman’s club, thebuilding dating back to the early 1700s, the same century thePrince of Wales joined. They sat in a private room away from thehearing of human members and, more importantly, away from thesensitive ears of Aeternals. Of course, the club had never beenaware of these special members.
Though intellectuals and the famous gatheredin these grandiose meeting rooms to argue politics, philosophy, andthe arts, Cerberus saw only pompous, abundantly rich humans withtoo much time on their hands. Ants beneath his feet. Instead ofsand, they dug in massive piles of greed. He would bring them totheir knees, where they would bow to their conqueror. All would beas it was fated to be. As the prophecy predicted.
In this club he first met Dante, a mandistraught over the death of his daughter. Capitalizing on theEnglishman’s grief, Cerberus revealed the existence of Scath. Heinvited him along with his vast resources into a plot. Theydiscussed a plan to reunite Earthers and Aeternals, to open tradeand relations between the two realms. Good business. Dante was infavor of it. Cerberus explained how descendants of the Blood Covenwere necessary to open the portals between the realms.
From the beginning, however, Cerberussuspected the Englishman had another end. He suspected Dante soughtto expose Scath, to wipe out Aeternals.
Tit for tat, Cerberus was not being honesteither. His scheme within the scheme was tricky. His true end gamewas to rule Earth, to use humans as a food source for the breeds.He almost salivated at the challenge. The arrogant Englishman wasfar out of his depth.
