“Want to see it again?” he asked.
“Stop it!” She crossed the room in a few paces and grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to his knees. Loclon did not cry out, or even struggle against her.
He simply reached out with his foot and kicked the cage, which set the demon off again.
R’shiel let him go and ran to the cage, but she could no more touch the enchanted bars than the demon could. The priests’ magic worked best on those who could channel the power of the gods. R’shiel had no hope of freeing the terrified creature. All she could do was kneel on the floor and watch it suffer.
Loclon climbed to his feet, laughing. Her attempts to open the cage were useless, even touching the latch was agony. She heard him move and turned to look up at him. The pain in her eyes was all he could have hoped for.
“Go ahead, let it go. If you can.”
R’shiel glanced back at the cage which had fallen on its side. The demon was screaming in agony. There was nothing she could do to help it. She couldn’t even right the cage to save the demon from the pain of contacting the bars.
As if she had realised the same thing, she climbed slowly to her feet.
“Giving up so soon?” he taunted.
Without warning, she turned and kicked the cage with all the force she could muster, lifting it clear off the floor. The cage clattered against the wall and landed with a thud. As it did, the base of the cage popped open and the demon gratefully scrambled clear of the trap.
“Be gone!” she cried urgently, as Loclon grabbed her.
The demon winked out of existence with a startled squeal.
Loclon punched her then pushed her onto the floor and held her there with his knee while he looked around the room for something to hurt her with. There was nothing handy. Terbolt had stripped the room of anything remotely resembling a potential weapon. He wished for his male body. R’shiel was physically stronger than Joyhinia. Fighting her with his bare hands was not an option. Lacking anything more substantial than his fists, he wrapped his hand tighter through her hair and slammed her forehead into the floor, over and over, until she was almost senseless.
He stopped himself just in time. He would be in enough trouble for letting the creature escape. Killing R’shiel could easily cost him his life.
“Get up!”
She did not respond.
“I said, get up!” He kicked her in the stomach and she grunted involuntarily, confirming his suspicion that she was faking unconsciousness. “Get up, you inhuman slut!”
R’shiel rolled over slowly and stared at him with defiant eyes, a little dazed.
“Get up, I said!”
She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. The wound on her forehead had opened and the blood flowed freely, obscuring her vision. Impatient with her slow response, he kicked her again, throwing her backwards against the wall. He laughed. This was what he wanted. What he needed.
R’shiel collapsed against the wall and for a moment she lay still, but when she looked up there was no submission in her eyes. Instead there was an expression of such hatred that he took a step back from her. Her eyes began to darken ominously. As she drew on her power the collar around her neck began to glow in response. She pushed herself up as her eyes turned black. The collar grew so bright it was almost painful to look on it.
Truly fearful of what he might have provoked, Loclon backed away from her. The sickening stench of burning flesh reached him as R’shiel gathered her power to her and the collar punished her for her efforts. She grabbed the windowsill and pulled herself to her feet, her eyes as black as night, the collar like a thousand candles burning under her chin.
With a visible effort she steadied herself and prepared to hurl her fury at him. The stench of burning flesh grew stronger. Loclon marvelled at her tolerance for the pain she must be in, but his own fear prevented him from taking any pleasure in it. If she broke through the constraint of the collar, he would not leave this room alive.
“Die!” she hissed.
Loclon expected his life to end at that moment, but the collar flared as she tried to unleash her power. She screamed and dropped to the floor, tearing uselessly at the burning necklet. Loclon let her drop, shaking with relief as she collapsed.
The screams stopped only when she finally passed out. He waited for a long, long time to be certain she really was unconscious this time.
When Loclon finally stopped shaking he was appalled to discover his bladder had let go and for the first time was grateful for Joyhinia’s long skirts. R’shiel lay under the window, her breathing shallow. He approached her cautiously, half expecting her to be faking again. As he neared her, he realised it was unlikely. Her magnificent long hair tumbled over her face, obscuring the worst of the damage, but blood streamed from her forehead and he could see savage blisters marring her neck above and below the now quiescent collar.
He prodded her experimentally with the toe of Joyhinia’s boot, but received no response. A harder kick got the same reaction. He kicked her again, this time for sheer pleasure rather than any attempt to determine her state of consciousness. The kick following that one was just for the hell of it.
He tired of that game soon enough. Bruises and broken ribs would heal in time. Even her scars would probably fade – she was Harshini, not human. He wanted to leave her with a reminder. He stood back and studied her for a while, wondering. Then it came to him. He crossed the room to the door and opened it a fraction.
“Bring me scissors,” he ordered.
The guard looked a little startled by the order but hurried to comply. Joyhinia taped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to return. When he hurried back to his post clutching the scissors, she snatched them from his hand and locked the door again.
Loclon dragged R’shiel to the bed, annoyed by Joyhinia’s weakness. If he had his own body, it would have been nothing to scoop her up and throw her onto the bed. As it was, he grunted and struggled to get his hands under her arms and move her across the room. Lifting her was almost beyond him, but he managed it somehow. When he finally got her on the bed, he laid R’shiel out with almost tender care, crossing her hands demurely across her breast. He combed out her glorious mane with his fingers until it spread like a fiery halo around her head then stepped back to admire his handiwork.
If one was prepared to ignore the blood and the burns, she looked quite stunning. He smiled, thinking he had never seen her quite this way – so peaceful, so... vulnerable.
Loclon sighed and picked up the scissors. He moved to the bed and planted a lingering kiss on her slightly parted lips.
Then he took the scissors and cut her hair as close to the skull as he could get. He hummed tunelessly as he worked, stopping only once to stare suspiciously over his shoulder.
He could not avoid the feeling that someone was watching him.
Chapter 52
When Tarja questioned first Hadly, then Sergeant Monthay regarding the whereabouts of the Karien boy, neither of them could provide a satisfactory answer. Hadly was too busy, and Monthay sounded genuinely perturbed. He could recall giving the boy the afternoon off, but not why.